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PRINCETON  •  NEW  JERSEY 
PRESENTED  BY 

_  Mrs«_Vincent^Serafini 
BR  65  .A6  E5  1886 
Augustine, 

The  confessions  of  s. 
Augustine 


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THE 


CONFESSIONS  OF  S.  AUGUSTINE. 


The  Ancient  and  Modern  Library  of  Theological  Literature. 


THE    CONFESSIONS 


OF 


S.    AUGUSTINE 


Books    L-  X.   V/^- 


A    REVISED    TRANSLATION 


GRIFFITH,  FARRAN,  OKEDEN  &  WELSH 

(SUCCESSORS  TO  NEWf.FRV  AND  HARRIS) 

WEST  CORNER  ST  PAUL'S  CHURCHYARD,  LONDON 

E.  P.  BUTTON  &  CO.,  NEW  YORK. 


The  ris^hts  of  /ranslafion  and  of  reprodnriion  are  reserved. 


Zo  tbe 
VENERABLE    BROUGH    MALTBY, 

ARCHDEACON  OF  NOTTINGHAM, 

AS  TO  ONE  WHO  KNOWS  MANY  BOOKS 

AND  LOVES  THEM, 

AND  SEEKS  THE  BEST  BOTH  OF 

OLD  AND  NEW, 

THIS  LIBRARY  OF  ANCIENT  AND  MODERN 

THEOLOGICAL  LITERATURE 

56  IRespecttuUs  ^nscribeO 

BY  HIS  FAITHFUL  SERVANT, 
MINDFUL  OF  MANY  KINDNESSES, 

THE  EDITOR. 
Michaehnas,  1886. 


PREFACE. 


CAINT  AUGUSTINE,  the  ''Doctor  of  Grace,"  was 
born  in  the  year  354,  at  Thagaste  in  Numidia,  and 
the  incidents  of  his  early  life  up  to  the  thirty-third  year  of 
his  age  form  much  of  the  matter  of  this  book.  After  his 
conversion,  upon  the  interruption  of  his  journey  to  Africa 
by  his  mother's  death,  which  is  recorded  in  the  ninth  book 
of  the  *'  Confessions,"  he  turned  back  for  a  while  to  Rome, 
but  returned  to  Thagaste  about  the  year  390,  where  for 
some  time  he  lived  a  retired  life  in  community  with  some 
of  his  friends.  At  length,  though  very  reluctantly,  thinking 
that  the  excesses  of  his  youth  were  a  disqualification  for 
holding  office  in  the  Church,  in  obedience  to  the  great 
desire  of  Valerius,  Bishop  of  Hippo,  and  the  Christian 
Church  in  that  place,  he  consented  to  be  ordained  to  the 
priesthood,  and  was  soon  raised  to  the  Episcopate  as 
coadjutor  with  Valerius,  at  whose  death  he  succeeded  to 
the  Bishopric. 

The  three  great  heresies  of  the  Manichaeans,  Arians,  and 
Pelagians,  and  the  Donatist  schism,  during  the  life-time  of 
S.  Augustine,  menaced  the  Catholic  Faith  :  of  his  associa- 
tion with  the  Manichaean  heresy.  Books  III.  to  VIII.  of  the 
"  Confessions  "  contain  the  record.  Upon  his  conversion 
he  became  a  most  stout  and  valued  champion  of  the 
Catholic  Faith,  and  had  the  happiness  of  seeing  the 
Donatist  sect  almost  entirely  reabsorbed  within  the  Church, 
and  the  Pelagian  heresy  utterly  discredited. 


viii  Preface. 

The  "  Confessions "  of  S.  Augustine  are  exceedingly 
interesting  in  the  picture  they  present  to  us  of  the  Church 
in  the  fourth  century,  surrounded  with  paganism  and  heresy; 
in  conflict  with  both,  as  also  with  the  moral  degradation 
which  marks  the  decay  of  the  Roman  Empire.  Clearly 
manifest  is  the  fact  that  "  She  was  indeed  the  Salt  of  the 
earth,"  which  but  for  her  must  have  continued  to  wallow 
in  corruption.  The  life  which  she  at  that  time  demanded 
of  her  '•  Faithful "  members  was  strict,  severe,  and  ascetic ; 
and  to  the  calm  contentment  of  such  a  life  were  drawn 
those  who  were  wearied  with  the  turmoil  and  restless 
activity  which  belonged  to  the  secular  life,  with  the  pleasures 
and  pursuits  of  that  day.  It  may  possibly  have  been  in 
danger  of  becoming  not  only  "  not  of  the  world,"  but  almost 
"not  in  the  world."  Verecundus,  for  example,  long  delays 
his  conversion,  because  he  was  a  married  man,  and  the 
ascetic  celibate  life  of  the  Church,  which  thus  was  rendered 
impossible  for  him,  was  what  most  attracted  him  j  and  if  he 
could  not  be  a  Christian  of  that  type,  he  would  not,  he  thought, 
become  a  Christian  at  all.  The  fruit  of  this  teaching  and 
practice,  in  souls  such  as  that  of  S.  Augustine,  was  an  entire 
renunciation  of  the  joys  of  the  world,  and  a  complete 
absorption  in  the  religious  life. 

The  temperament  of  the  Saint  was  ardent,  affectionate, 
and  excitable.  Whether  in  early  youth  he  is  led  by  desire  of 
his  companions'  praise  to  rob  a  neighbour's  orchard,  or  re- 
cords the  desolation  of  soul  caused  by  the  death  of  a  friend, 
whether  later  he  dwells  on  the  characters  of  Alypius  and 
Nebridius,  or  that  of  Adeodatus,  the  son  of  his  sin,  or  whether 
it  is  his  converse  with  Monica  his  mother,  and  her  loving  and 
tender  care  of  him,  or  his  sorrow  for  her  death,  that  is  his 
theme,  he  reveals  himself  as  a  loving-hearted  man,  to  whom 


Preface.  ix 

friendship  and  fellowship  were  absolutely  essential,  and 
one  in  whom  was  no  trace  of  paltry  personal  feeling.  The 
style  of  the  "Confessions"  bears  many  traces  of  his  training 
in  rhetoric.  It  is  often  epigrammatic,  and  in  a  stately  and 
untranslatable  way  he  plays  on  the  sound  of  words,  and 
balances  them  with  extraordinary  care.  His  familiarity 
with  and  common  use  of  Scripture  is  remarkable.  His 
mind  was  thoroughly  steeped  in  it,  and  its  phrases  had 
become  so  much  a  part  of  his  vocabulary  that  they  are  of 
constant  recurrence  in  his  writings.  The  piety  of  his 
purpose,  which  does  not  shrink  from  unveiling  the  darkest 
recesses  of  his  soul,  cannot  save  the  book  in  parts  from 
being  terrible.  The  long  struggle  between  his  higher 
spiritual  impulses  and  his  lower  carnal  habits ;  the  way  in 
which  his  moral  character  and  conduct  act  and  react  upon 
his  mental  clearness  of  vision,  and  his  state  of  religious 
doubt ;  these  things  are  set  forth  in  a  manner  which  cannot 
fail  to  awaken  deep  interest,  and  to  manifest  the  intimate  con- 
nection between  moral  habit  and  right  faith.  To  the  Agnostic 
of  the  nineteenth  century  the  "  Confessions  of  S.  Augustine  " 
are  a  warning ;  while  the  complete  satisfaction  and  rest 
which  his  keen  and  cultured  intellect,  after  at  the  prompting 
of  his  lower  nature  it  had  subtly  sought  many  respites  from 
a  faith  which  demanded  a  purer  life  than  he  was  prepared 
to  live,  found  at  length  in  the  Creed  of  the  "  Catholic 
Mother,"  may  suffice  to  convince  that  the  Religion  of 
Christ  has  in  it  depths  which  can  afford  to  the  most  logical 
and  scientific  minds  a  peace  which  will  elsewhere  be  sought 
in  vain. 

The  translation  is  revised,  and  the  issue  of  this  edition  is 
made  in  the  hope  that  the  self-humiliation  of  S.  Augustine, 
in  so  baring  his  inmost  soul  to  the  criticism  of  a  gainsaying 


X  Preface. 

world,  may  under  God  still  bring  forth  its  iruits  in  the 
conversion  of  many,  and  the  establishment  of  more  in  that 
true  life  of  Catholic  Faith,  sacramental  in  its  origin,  in  its 
course,  and  in  its  close,  which  he  describes  as  being  the  Hfe 
of  his  mother  Monica,  and  in  which  after  his  conversion  he 
lived  most  holily  until  his  death  in  the  year  430. 

EDITOR. 


CONTENTS 


Booh  5* 

AFTER  AN  INVOCATION  OF  GOD,  AUGUSTINE  DECLARES  THE 
BEGINNINGS  OF  HIS  LIFE  ;  HIS  INFANCY  AND  BOYHOOD 
UP  TO  HIS  FIFTEENTH  YEAR.  HE  CONFESSES  THAT  AT 
THIS  AGE  HE  WAS  MORE  FOND  OF  CHILDISH  AMUSE- 
MENTS AND   FOLLIES   THAN    OF   LEARNING. 


I,   He  declares  the  greatness  of  God  ;  and  by  Him  aroused 

desires  to  seek  and  call  upon  Him     .  .  .  i 

II.   That  God,  upon  whom  we  call,  is  in  us,   and  we  in 

Him  .......  2 

III.  God  wholly  filleth  all  things ;  but    Him,  nor  heaven, 

nor  earth,  containeth  ....  3 

IV.  The  Majesty  of  God  is  supreme  ;  and  His  perfections 

cannot  be  expressed  .....  3 

V.   He  seeketh  rest  in  God,  and  forgiveness  of  his  sins        .  4 

VI.   He   describes   his   infancy,    and    extols   the   protecting 

care  and  eternal  providence  of  God  ...  5 

VII.   He  proves  that  even  infancy  is  prone  to  sin        .  .7 

VIII.  That  a  child  learneth  not  to  speak  by  rules,  but  from 

the  gestures  and  words  of  his  parents  .  .  9 

IX.   Concerning  the  hatred  of  lessons,  the  love  of  play,  and 
the  fear  of  being  whipped,  noticeable  in  boys  ;  and 
concerning   the    inconsistencies  of  their  elders  and 
masters  ...... 

X.  From  love  of  sports  and  shows  he  neglects  his  studies, 

and  the  precepts  of  his  parents 

XI.   He  is  taken  ill   and  desires   to   be   baptised  ;  but  his 

mother  defers  it   until  his  recovery,  as  his  father  is 

not  yet  a  Christian     ..... 

XII.   He  was  compelled  to  labour  at  his  studies ;  and  con- 
fesses in  this  that  God  is  good  .  .  .13 

XIII.  He  used  to  hate  the  Greek  grammar  and  language ; 

but  delighted  in  his  Latin,  and  the  empty  tales  of 

the  poets        .  .  .  .  .  .13 

XIV.  Why  he  disliked  Greek,  and  easily  learned  Latin  .  15 
XV.  He  prays  that  he  may  use  in  God's  service  what  he 

learned  as  a  boy  .  .  .  .  .         .16 


10 


1 1 


12 


xii  Contents. 


XVI.   He  blames  the  method  in  which  the  young  are  taught ; 

and  shows  why  the  poets  attribute  vices  to  the  gods         i6 
XVII.   He  continues  the  subject  of  the  last  chapter       .  .         i8 

XVIII.   Men  keep  with  care  the  rules  of  grammar  ;  but  neglect 

the  eternal  laws  of  lasting  salvation  .  .         i8 

XIX.   He  proves   that    infants   are   not  without   faults;  and 

details  the  guile  and  faults  of  boyhood  .  .         20 

XX.   He  thanks  God  for  benefits  conferred  on  him  in  boy- 
hood .......         21 


JSooft  %% 

HE  PASSES  ON  TO  HIS  YOUTH  ;  BEGINNING  FROM  HIS  SIX- 
TEENTH YEAR  ;  WHEN  HAVING  LAID  ASIDE  HIS  STUDIES 
HE  INDULGED  HIS  APPETITES,  AND  WITH  HIS  COM- 
PANIONS  COMMITTED   THEFT. 

I.  He  deplores  the  sins  of  his  youth  .  .  .22 
II.   In  the  deepest  grief  he  recalls  the  sensual  indulgence  of 

his  sixteenth  year  .  .  .  .  .22 

III.  Concerning  his  father,  a  freedman  of  Thagaste,  the  helper 

of  his  son's  studies ;  and  his  mother's  counsels  to  chastity         24 

IV.  He  joins  his  companions  in  an  act  of  theft ;  tempted  not 

by  want,  but  by  a  certain  loathing  of  righteousness       .         26 
V.  That  the  motive  to  sin  lies  not  in  the  mere  love  of  evil, 

but  in  the  desire  to  acquire  something  .  .  27 

VI.   What  it  was  that  he  loved  in  his  theft ;  since  all  things 
that  prompt  to  sin  by  an  appearance  of  goodness  can 
only  be  true  and  perfect  in  God  alone  .  .  .28 

VII.   He  renders  thanks  to  God  for  the  forgiveness  of  his  sins, 
and  warns  against  pride  any  whom  God  has  kept  from 
such  grave  odences         .  .  .  .  .30 

VIII.  That  in  the  theft  it  was  the  companionship  of  his  fellow 

sinners  that  he  liked      .  .  .  .  .31 

IX.  There  is  pleasure  in  laughter,  and  in  the  deceiving  of 

others    .  .  .  .  .  .  .31 

X.   With  God  is  true  rest,  and  life  undisturbed  .  .         32 

TREATS  OF  HIS  SEVENTEENTH,  EIGHTEENTH,  AND  NINETEENTH 
YEARS  SPENT  AT  CARTHAGE,  WHERE  IN  ADDITION  TO  HIS 
STUDIES  HE  WAS  TAKEN  IN  THE  SNARE  OF  LAWLESS  LOVE, 
AND  PLUNGED  INTO  MANICH^EAN  ERRORS. 

I.   Captive  to  a  lawless  passion,  a  man  base  and  dishonour- 
able would  fain  be  fine  and  courtly        .  .  .32 

II.  He  arouses  empty  feelings  of  pity  in  himself  by  stage 

plays      .......         34 


Contents. 


Xlll 


CHAT.  I'AGE 

III.  Not  even  in  church  does  he  govern  his  desires;  in  the 

rhetoric  school  he  abhors  the  doings  of  the  "  Subver- 

ters "      .  .  .  .  .  .  .35 

IV.  In  his  nineteenth  year,  two  years  after  his  father's  death, 

the  "  Hortensius  "  of  Cicero  recalls  his  mind  to  philo- 
sophy, to  God,  and  to  a  better  mood  of  thought  .         36 
V.   He  throws  aside  Holy  Scripture  as  being  too  simple,  and 

by  no  means  comparable  with  Cicero  for  dignity  .         38 

VI.  By  his  own  fault  he  fell  into   the  errors  of  the  Mani- 
chseans,  who  boast  of  a  true  perception  of  God,  and 
thorough  investigation  of  all  things        .  .  .38 

VII.   He  combats  the  Manichrean  doctrine  of  evil,  of  God,  and 

concerning  the  righteousness  of  the  Patriarchs  .         40 

VIII.  He    continues    his  argument    against    the    Manichaeans, 

concerning  the  nature  of  vices  .  .  .42 

IX.   God  and  men  judge  of  human  crimes  by  a  different  stan- 
dard      .......         44 

X.   He  rebukes  the   follies  of  the  Manichseans,  concerning 

the  fruits  of  the  earth     .  .  .  •  •         45 

XI.   He  relates  the  tears  of  his  mother,  and  a  dream  she  had 

of  heavenly  comfort  concerning  her  son  .  .         46 

XII.  The  wise  answer  of  a  Bishop  to  his  mother's  entreaty  that 

he  would  convert  her  son  .  .  .  .47 


-^oo^  3lt), 


HE  DESCRIBES  THE  NINE  YEARS  WHICH  FOLLOWED  HIS  NINE- 
TEENTH YEAR.  HOW  HE  LOST  HIS  FRIEND  AND  WROTE  A 
TREATISE  ON  THE  "  FAIR  AND  FITTING."  HOW  HE  GAVE 
SOME  ATTENTION  TO  THE  LIBERAL  ARTS,  AND  TO  THE 
ARISTOTELIAN  CATEGORIES. 


I.  Of  the  most  unhappy  time,  in  which,  misled  himself  he 
misled  others  ;  and  of  those  who  scoff  at  his  confession 
II.   How  he  taught  rhetoric  ;    was  true    to  one   love  ;    and 
spurned  the  magician  who  promised  success  by  his  means 

III.  Not  even  the  most  learned  men  could  persuade  him  to 

abandon  the  folly  of  astrology  to  which  he  was  devoted 

IV.  Being  deeply  sorrow-stricken  upon  the  death  of  his  friend 

he  found  no  consolation  but  in  tears 
V.  Of  weeping  :  why  it  is  pleasant  to  the  wretched 
VI.  He  holds  that  of  his  friend,  though  dead,  in  himself  the 
half  remains  alive  ..... 

VII.  He  is  so  greatly  harassed  by  restlessness  and  sorrow  that 
he  leaves  his  birthplace  and  returns  to  Carthage 
VIII.   How  his  grief  yielded   to  time,  and  to  the  consolations 
of  his  friends  .  .  .  .  • 

IX.  That  human  friendship,  which  consists  in  interchange  of 
love,  perishes,  and  that  he  alone  who  loves  his  friend 
in  God,  loseth  him  never  .... 


49 

50 

51 

53 
54 

55 
56 

57 


58 


xi'v  Co7itents. 

CHAI'.  V^C,K 

X.  That  all  things  begin  to  hasten  to  their  end  ;  and  that 

we  are  not  saved  unless  God  have  us  in  His  keeping    .         58 
XI.   That  parts  of  the  universe  are  not  to  be  loved  ;  but  the 
changeless  God  that  fashioneth  them,  and  his  Eternal 
Word  .  .  .  .  .  -59 

XII.  Love  is  not  condemned  ;  but  love  in  God  excelleth  :  in 

which  is  rest,  through  Jesus  Christ         .  .  .60 

XIII.  Love  hath  its  origin  in  the  attraction  exercised  by  grace 

and  beauty         .....  62 

XIV.  Of  the  books  he  wrote  upon  "  The  Fair  and  Fit,"  which 

were  dedicated  to  Hierius,  the  Roman  .  .         62 

XV.   In  this  treatise,  being  blinded  by  corporeal  images,    he 

failed  to  discern  the  spiritual  nature  of  God      .  .         64 

XVI.   He  understood  with  ease  the  liberal  arts  and  Aristotle's 

"  Categories,"  but  did  not  truly  profit  by  them  .         66 

-^oo^  It). 

HE  DESCRIBES  HIS  TWENTY-NINTH  YEAR.  HOW  HE  DIS- 
COVERED THE  FALLACIES  OF  THE  MANICH^EANS,  BECAME 
A  PROFESSOR  OF  RHETORIC  IN  ROME  AND  MILAN.  HOW 
HE  HEARD  S.  AMBROSE,  AND  BEGAN  TO  RETURN  TO  HIS 
RIGHT  MIND. 

I.  That  it  becomes  the  soul  to  praise  God  and  to  confess  to 

Him       .......         69 

II.   Of  the  vanity  of  them    that  would    escape  from  God, 

seeing  He  is  everywhere  present  .  .  .69 

HI.   Having  heard  Faustus,  the  most  learned  bishop  amongst 
the  Manichreans,  he  understandeth  that  God  the  Creator 
of  things  animate  and  inanimate,   hath  especial  care 
for  the  lowly      .  .  .  .  .  .70 

IV.  That  no  scientific  acquaintance  with  things  terrestrial  or 
celestial  can  give  happiness,  but  only  the  knowledge  of 
God       .......         73 

V.  Concerning  Manicha^us  ;  his  pertinacity  in  teaching  false- 
hood, and  his  pride  in  claiming  to  be  the  Holy  Spirit  73 
VI.   Faustus  was  an  eloquent  disputant,  but   ignorant  of  the 

liberal  sciences  .  .  .  .  -75 

VII.   By  God's  grace  he  departs  from   the  falsehoods  of  the 

Manichxans,  now  clearly  perceived       .  .  .76 

VIII.   He  sets  out  for  Rome,  though  his  mother   in  vain  dis- 
suades him         .  .  .  .  .  .78 

IX.   He  lies  dangerously  ill  of  a  fever  .  .  .80 

X.  After  leaving  the  Manichceans  he  retained  low  opinions 

concerning  God,  and  sin,  and  the  Incarnation  .  .         81 

XI.   Ilclpidius  well  argued  with  the  .Manicha:ans,  concerning 

the  authenticity  of  the  New  Testament  .  ,  84 

XII.   He  practises  as  a  rhetorician  at  Rome,  and   experiences 

the  fraudulence  of  the  students      .  .  .  .84 


C 071  tents.  XV 


XIII.  He  is    sent   to   Milan    to    teach   rhetoric,    and  becomes 

acquainted  with  Ambrose  .  .  .  .85 

XIV.  After  hearing  the  Bishop,  he  reaHses  the  power  of  the 
Catholic  Faith,  nevertheless  he  is  sceptical  after  the 
manner  of  the  later  Academics      .  .  .  .86 


Book  m 

HE  IS  NOW  THIRTY  YEARS  OF  AGE,  AND  UNDER  THE  TEACH- 
ING OF  AMBROSE,  PERCEIVED  MORE  AND  MORE  CLEARLY 
THE  TRUTH  OF  CATHOLIC  DOCTRINE,  AND  DETERMINED 
TO  AMEND  HIS  LIFE. 

I.  His  mother  followed  him  to  Milan,  and  prophesied  that 
she  should  not  depart  this  life,  until  her  son  should 
have  embraced  the  Catholic  Faith  .  .  .88 

II.  She  discontinues  her  habit  of  commemorating  martyrs,  on 

account  of  the  prohibition  of  Ambrose  .  .         89 

III.  On  account  of  the  pressure  of  business  and  study  upon 

Ambrose,  Augustine  had  few  opportunities  of  consult- 
ing him  concerning  Holy  Scripture        .  .  .90 

IV.  He  discovered  the  falsehood  of  his  own  opinions,  and 

committed  to  memory  a  saying  of  Ambrose       .  .         92 

V.   Faith  is  the  foundation  of  human  life  ;  and  man  cannot 

discover  the  truth  which  the  Sacixd  Scriptures  reveal  94 

VI.   Concerning  the  origin  and  measure  of  true  joy,  which  he 

is  brought  to  dwell  on  by  the  sight  of  a  beggar's  gaiety  95 

VII.    He  reforms  Alypius,  his  friend,  who  had  been  captivated 

by  a  foolish  passion  for  the  shows  of  the  circus  .         97 

VIIL   The  same  Alypius  is  dragged  by  companions  at  Rome 
to  the  Colisseum,  and  is  delighted  with  the  gladiatorial 
games    .......         99 

IX.  Alypius,  though  innocent,   was  apprehended  as  a  thief, 

but  set  free  by  the  skill  of  a  certain  architect    .  .       100 

X.   The  extraordinary  integrity  of  Alypius  injudicial  matters  ; 
and  the  firm  friendship  between  Nebridius  and  Augus- 
tine       .......       102 

XI.  Troubled    by   most   serious   perplexities,    Augustine   de- 
liberates upon  beginning  a  new  life        .  .  .103 
XII.  A    discussion    with    Alypius    concerning   marriage    and 

celibacy  .  .  .  .  .  .105 

Xin.  He  is  advised  by  his    mother   to   marry;  and  found   a 

maiden  who  pleased  him  .  .  .  .106 

XIV.  A  plan  of  living  in  community  with  his  friends  soon  comes 

to  naught  ....  .  •       107 

XV.   He  dismisses  his  mistress,  and  obtains  another     .  .        108 

XVI.  The  fear  of  death  and  judgment   weighed   upon   him, 

owing  to  his  belief  in  the  immortality  of  the  soul  .       108 


xvi  Contents. 


HE  RECALLS  THE  BEGINNING  OF  HIS  MANHOOD,  TO  WIT  THE 
THIRTY-FIRST  YEAR  OF  HIS  AGE  ;  IN  WHICH  HAVING  ABAN- 
DONED HIS  MOST  SERIOUS  ERRORS  CONCERNING  THE 
NATURE  OF  GOD,  AND  THE  ORIGIN  OF  EVIL,  AND  HAVING 
MADE  A  MOST  ACCURATE  STUDY  OF  THE  SACRED  SCRIP- 
TURES, HE  ATTAINS  AT  LAST  TO  A  TRUE  KNOWLEDGE  OF 
GOD,  THOUGH  NOT  YET  RIGHTLY  UNDERSTANDING  THE 
INCARNATION  OF  JESUS  CHRIST. 

CHAP.  PAGE 

I.  His  conception  of  God,  not  exactly  in  the  form  of  a 
human  body,  but  as  a  corporeal  substance,  diffused 
through  space  .  .  .  .  .        i  lo 

II.  An  argument  of  Nebridius  against  the  Manichasans, 
upon   the  question,    "Whether  God  be  or  be  not 
corruptible?"  .  .  .  .  .112 

^  III.  That  the  freedom  of  the  will  is  the  cause  of  evil  .        113 

IV.  That  God  is  not  corruptible,  or  He  would  cease  to  be 

God    .  .  .  .  .  .  .114 

V.  Questions  concerning  the  relation  of  evil  to  God  :  since 
if  He  be  the  sovereign  good,  He  cannot  be  the  cause 
of  evil  .  .  .  .  .  .115 

"^VI.   He  rejects  astrological  divinations         .  .  ,116 

^  VII.   He  is  terribly  distressed  about  the  origin  of  evil  .        1 19 

VIII.   By  the  help  of  God  he  httle  by  little  draws  nigh  to  the 

truth  .  .  .  .  .  .120 

IX.  He  compares  the  Platonist    teaching   concerning    the 
Word,  with  the  Christian  doctrine,  which  latter  he 
finds  by  far  more  excellent     .  .  .  .121 

X.   In  the  inmost  recesses  of  his  heart,  things  divine  begin 

to  grow  more  clear     .  .  .  .  .123 

XI.  That  creatures  are  subject  to  change  ;  and  God  alone 

unchangeable  .  .  .  .  .124 

XII.   Whatsoever  things  the  most  good  God  hath  made,  are 

truly  good       .  .  .  .  .  .124 

XIII.  Whatsoever  is  in  heaven  and  earth,  being  made  good, 

ought  to  praise  God  .  .  .  .  .125 

XIV.  They  only  invent  the  figment  of  two  primary  substances, 

whom  some  creature  displeaseth        .  .  .126 

XV.  Whatsoever  things  exist  owe  their  being  to  God  .        127 

^XVI.  Evil  originates,   not  from   some   substance,   but  from 

perverseness  of  will  .....  127 
XVII.  Above  the  changing  mind,   he  finds  the  unchanging 

Author  of  Truth  .  .  .  .  .128 

XVIII.  Jesus  Christ,    the  Mediator,   is   the  one  only  way  of 


salvation 


129 


Contents.  xvii 

CH\P.  ,.AG 

XIX.   He  did  not  yet  clearly  understand  that  passage  of  S. 

John,  "The  Word  was  made  Flesh  "  .  .       130 

XX.   He  is  glad  that  his  journeying  has  been  from  Platonisni 

to  the   Holy   Scriptures,  instead   of  in  the  reverse 

direction         .  .  .  .  .  .131 

XXI.   He   finds   in   Holy  Scripture   many  consolations   and 

helps  not  found  in  the  writings  of  the  Platonists        .       132 


AT  LAST  HE  REACHES  THE  RECORD  OF  HIS  THIRTY-SECOND 
YEAR,  BY  FAR  THE  MOST  MEMORABLE  OF  HIS  WHOLE 
LIFE,  IN  WHICH  HAVING  BEEN  INSTRUCTED  BY  SIMPLI- 
CIANUS,  WITH  REFERENCE  TO  THE  CONVERSION  OF 
OTHERS,  AND  ON  THE  REASON  FOR  SUCH  A  COURSE 
OF  ACTION,  AFTER  A  VIOLENT  MENTAL  STRUGGLE  HIS 
WHOLE  SPIRIT  IS  RENEWED,  AND  HE  IS  CONVERTED  TO 
GOD. 

I.  In  the  struggle  between  his  devotion  to  Divine  things, 
and  his  captivity  to  his  passions,  he  consults  Simpli- 
cianus  concerning  spiritual  Renewal .  .  .134 

II.  That  holy  veteran,  Simplicianus,  is  glad  that  he  has 
read  Plato  and  the  Scriptures  ;  and  tells  him  how 
Victorinus  the  Rhetorician  read  the  Sacred  Books, 
and  was  converted  to  the  faith  .  .  .136 

III.  That  God  and  the  angels  rejoice  more  over  one  sinner 

that  repenteth,  than  over  many  just  persons  .  .        138 

IV.  He  shows  by  the  example  of  Victorinus  that  there  is 

more  joy  in  the  conversion  of  nobles  .  .       140 

V.  The  conflict  of  will,  which  hindered  his  return  to  God        141 
VI.  Pontitianus  relates  how  two  of  his  companions  were 
converted  by  reading  the  life   and  miracles  of  S. 
Anthony         .  .  .  .  .  .143 

VII.  The  words  of  Pontitianus  pierce  his  soul,  which  sullenly 

clings  to  its  old  habits  ....        J46 

VIII.   He  retires  into  the  garden,   and   is  greatly  agitated. 

Alypius  accompanies  him       .  .  .  .147 

IX.  Whence  it  happens  that  the  body  obeys  the  mind,  but 

the  mind  obeys  not  itself        .  .  .  .149 

X.  He  refutes  the  Manichsean  doctrine  that  the  conflict  of 
wills  implies  two  conflicting  natures  and  principles, 
one  Good,  the  other  Evil       ....        I49 

XI.   He  describes  the  violence  of  his  inward  struggle  as  he 

sought  to  resolve  to  renounce  his  old  habits  .  .152 

XII.   The  voice  which  came  to  him  in  the  garden,  and  de- 
cided his  conversion  .  .  .  '153 


xviii  Contents. 


AUGUSTINE  DETERMINES  TO  ABANDON  THE  PROFESSION  OF 
RHETORIC,  AND  RETIRES  TO  CASSIACUM  TO  PREPARE  FOR 
HOLY  BAPTISM,  WHICH  HE  RECEIVES  AFTER  THE  VINTAGE 
VACATION  WITH  ALYPIUS  AND  ADEODATUS.  HE  DETER- 
MINES WITH  HIS  FRIENDS  TO  RETURN  TO  AFRICA  ;  AND 
JOURNEYS  AS  FAR  AS  TO  OSTIA  WITH  THEM  AND  WITH 
HIS  MOTHER  MONICA.  HE  DESCRIBES  HER  EARLY  LIFE 
AND  CHARACTER  ;  HER  INFLUENCE  OVER  HER  HUSBAND  ; 
HER  JOY  IN  HIS  CONVERSION  ;  HER  DEATH  AND  BURIAL 
AT  OSTIA,  IN  AUGUSTINE'S  THIRTY-THIRD  YEAR. 

CHAP.  I'AGE 

I.   He  praises  God  for  this  goodness  in  effecting  his  con- 
version .  .  .  ,  .  .  .156 
II.   He  resolves  to  abandon  his  Rhetoric  Professorship  after 

the  Vintage  Vacation,  which  was  at  hand  .  .157 

III.  Verecundus,  though  not  yet  a  Christian,  offers  his  country 

house  for  a  time,  though  sorry  that  the  conversion 
of  Augustine  and  Alypius  will  deprive  him  of  their 
companionship  ;  Nebridius  is  glad  to  hear  of  it,  though 
himself  not  yet  converted  .  .  .  .159 

IV.  At  Cassiacum  after  resigning  his  professorship  he  finds 

great  comfort  in  the  Psalms.     He  dwells  much  upon 
Psalm   iv.       He  experiences  great  pain,   from   which 
God's  mercy  set  him  free  ....        160 

V.   S.    Ambrose    advises   him    to   study  the   prophecies   of 

Isaiah,  which,  as  yet,  were  too  hard  for  him     .  .164 

VI.   His  baptism  with  Alypius  and  Adeodatus.    The  character 

of  Adeodatus      ......        165 

VII.   The  rise  of  chanting  at  Milan.     The  Arian  persecution 
under  Justina  stayed  upon  the  discovery  of  the  bodies 
of  SS,  Gervasius  and  Protasius  .  .  .        166 

VIII.   He  relates  the  incidents  of  his  mother's  early  life  and 

education  .  .  .  .  .  .167 

IX.   The  married  life  of  Monica  ;  her  discretion  and  wifely 

duty       ......  169 

X.  A  conversation  upon  the  happiness  of  the   Saints  with 

Monica  at  Ostia  .  .  .  .  .171 

XI.   His  mother's  death  .  .  .  .  .174 

XII.  His  deep  sorrow,  and  how  he  restrained  it.    His  mother's 

burial,  and  the  offering  for  her  of  the  Holy  Sacrifice    .        176 

XIII.  He  prays  for  his  mother,  and  requests  for  her  the  prayers 

of  such  as  shall  read  "his  Confessions  "  .  .       178 


Contents.  xix 


HE  DESCRIBES  WHAT  HE  HAD  BECOME  SINCE  HIS  CONVERSION: 
PROFESSING  HIS  LOVE  TO  GOD  ;  AND  SEEKS  AMONG  THE 
FACULTIES  OF  HIS  SOUL  THE  MEANS  BY  WHICH  WE  KNOW 
GOD.  ESPECIALLY  HE  DISCUSSES  THE  NATURE  OF  THE 
MEMORY  WHEREIN  GOD  DWELLETH.  HE  EXAMINES 
HIMSELF  WITH  REGARD  TO  THE  TRIPLE  LUST,  OF  THE 
FLESH,  OF  THE  EYES,  AND  OF  THE  PRIDE  OF  LIFE,  AND 
CONFESSES  THAT  HIS  WHOLE  TRUST  LIES  IN  CHRIST 
JESUS,  THE  MEDIATOR  BETWEEN  GOD  AND  MAN. 


I.   He  desireth  to  know  God  .  .  '  .  .181 

II.  Though  God  knoweth  the  depths  of  our  nature,   it  is 

good  to  make  confession  unto  Him   .  .  .181 

III.  With  what  intent  he  maketh  confession  before  men  of 

his  present  condition      .         .  .  .  .182 

IV.  He  declares  what  results  he  hopeth  for  from  his  "  Con- 

fessions "        .  .  .  .  .  .        183 

V.  Our   confessions   cannot  but  be    imperfect  :    for   man 

knoweth  not  himself  as  God  knoweth  .  .        185 

VI.    He  searcheth  throughout  the  material  creation,  wherein 

he  findeth  not  God  ;  though  it  speaketh  of  Him       .        186 
VII.   Neither  doth  he  find  God  in  any  vital  or  sentient  faculty 

within  himself  .  .  .  .  .  .188 

VIII.   He  seeketh  Him  in  his  memory  ;  and   describeth  its 

wonders         .  .  .  .  .  .188 

IX.   In  what  way  the  liberal  sciences  may  be  said  to  be 

in  the  memory  .....        191 

X.  Of  the  channels  through  which  literature  has  access  to 

the  memory   .  .  .  .  .  -19^ 

XI.   How  things  are  learnt  by  the  memory  .  .  .       192 

XII.  Of  the  memory  of  numbers         ....       193 

XIII.  Of  the  memory  of  remembrances ;  and  of  the  memory 

of  the  emotions  of  the  mind  ....       I94 

XIV.  That  the  recollection  of    certain  emotions    doth  not 

awaken  similar  emotions        .  .  .  .194 

XV.   That  images  of  things  present,  as  well  as  absent,  are 

retained  in  the  memory  .  .  .  .196 

XVI.  Of  the  memory  of  forgetfulness  .  .  .  •       196 

XVII.  Though  the  power  of  memory  be  vast  and  wonderful, 

he  passeth  beyond  it  in  his  search  after  God  .  .198 

XVIII.   How  what  is  lost  must  still  remain  in  the  memory,  that 

it  may  be  found  again   .         .  .  .  «199 

XIX.  That   forgotten    things   are    not    wholly   lost   by    the 

memory  ;  or  if  wholly  lost  cannot  be  recovered     _     .       200 
XX.  With  what  manner  of  desire  men  seek  the  Blessed  Life  : 

and  what  knowledge  they  have  of  it .  .  .       200 


XX 


Contents. 


CHAP.  PAGE 

XXI.   Whence  do  we  derive  our  memory  of  the   Blessed 

Life?         ......       202 

XXII.   The  true  joy  of  the  Blessed  Life       .  .  .       203 

XXIII.  That  all  desire  joy  in  the  truth         .  .  .       203 

XXIV.  He  delighteth  that  he  hath  found  God  abiding  in 

his  memory  .....  205 

XXV.  Where  and  how  God  dwelleth  in  .his  memory  .  205 

XXVI.  That  God  is  not  in  any  place  ;  and  who  is  His  best 

servant      ......  206 

XXVII.  Absent  from  God,  he  is  attracted  by  His  beauty      .  206 

XXVIII.  That  the  life  on  earth  is  full  of  trials  .  .  207 

XXIX.   He  putteth  his  hope  in  the  mercy  of  God    .  .  208 

XXX.  Concerning  fleshly  desire,  and  the  extent  to  which 

it  still  can  influence  him  .  .  .  208 

XXXI.   Concerning  greed  and  drunkenness  .  .  209 

XXXII.   Concerning  the  attractions  of  pleasant  odours  .  212 

XXXIII.  Concerning  temptations  arising  from  love  of  sweet 

music        .  .  .  .  .  .213 

XXXIV.  Concerning  pleasures  of  the  eyes      .  .  .214 
XXXV.  Concerning  the  temptation  of  curiosity        .             .       216 

XXXVI.  Concerning  the  love  of  praise,  and  fear  of  blame     .       219 
XXXVII.   He  confesseth   that  he  loveth  praise  ;  but  suggests 

that  there  may  be  a  right  use  of  it  .  .       220 

XXXVIII.  That    vain-glory    sometimes    hideth     beneath    an 

appearance  of  contempt  of  itself  .  .       222 

XXXIX.   Of  self-complacency     .....       223 

XL.    He  summeth  up  his  former  description  of  his  search 
after  God,  and  declares  the  sweetness  of  complete 
communion  with  God,  sometimes  vouchsafed  to 
him  ......       223 

XLI.   He  summeth  up  his  confession  with  regard  to  the 

triple  lust  .....       224 

XLII.   Of  the  deceits  of  the  Devil,  which  overtake  them 

who  seek  for  Angelic  mediation  .  .  .       225 

XLIII.  The  Man  Christ  Jesus,  the  only  Mediator  between 

God  and  Man.     In  Him  his  soul  is  satisfied        .       226 


THE 


CONFESSIONS  OF  S.  AUGUSTINE. 


BISHOP  OF  HIPPO. 


Boo\i  3. 

After  an  Invocation  of  God,  Augustine  declares  the  be- 
ginnings OF  HIS  life  ;   HIS  infancy  AND  BOYHOOD   UP   TO    HIS 

fifteenth  year.  He  confesses  that  at  this  age  he  was 
more  fond  of  childish  amusements  and  follies  than  of 
learning, 

CHAPTER  I. 


Jle  declares  the  greatness  of  God :  and  by  Him  aroused  desires  to  seek  and 

call  upon  Him. 

GREAT  art  Thou,  O  Lord,  and  greatly  to  be  praised  " 
(Ps.  cxlv.  3)  ;  "  great  is  Thy  power,  and  Thy  wis- 
dom is  infinite"  (Ps.  cxlvii.  5).  And  Thee  would  man 
praise,  though  but  a  fragment  of  Thy  creation  ;  man,  that 
bears  about  him  his  mortality,  that  bears  about  him  the 
witness  of  his  sin,  even  the  witness,  that  "  Thou  resistest 
the  proud"  (i  S.  Pet.  v.  5) ;  yet  would  man  praise  Thee 
though  but  a  fragment  of  Thy  creation.  Thou  dost  arouse 
us  to  delight  in  praising  Thee  ;*for  Thou  hast  made  us  for 
Thyself,  and  our  heart  is  restless,  until  it  find  rest  in  Thee.' 
Grant  me.  Lord,  to  know  and  understand  whether  to  call  on 
Thee  be  the  first  thing,  or  to  praise  lliee?  and  again,  whether 
to  know  Thee  or  to  call  on  Thee  ?  for  who  can  call  on 
Thee,  that  knoweth  not  Thee  ?    for  he  that   knoweth  not 


2  TJie  Confessions  of  S.  Aitgustine. 

I'hee  may  call  on  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  whom  they  have  not 
believed  ?  or  how  shall  they  believe  without  a  preacher  ?  " 
(Rom.  X.  14);  and  "they  shall  praise  the  Lord  that  seek 
Him  "  (Ps.  xxii  26) ;  for  "they  that  seek  shall  find  Him"  (S. 
Matt.  vii.  7) ;  and  they  that  find  shall  praise  Him.  Calling 
upon  Thee,  Lord,  will  I  seek  Thee ;  and  believing  in  Thee 
will  I  call  upon  Thee ;  for  to  us  hast  Thou  been  preached. 
My  faith.  Lord,  calls  on  Thee,  which  Thou  hast  given  me, 
wherewith  Thou  hast  inspired  me,  through  the  Incarnation 
of  Thy  Son,  through  the  ministry  of  the  Preacher  [/.  f.,  S. 
Ambrose,  Bp.  of  Milan. — Ed.]. 


CHAPTER  II. 

That  God,  2tpon  whot/i  xve  call,  is  in  us,  and  we  in  Him. 

AND  how  shall  I  call  upon  God,  my  God  and  Lord  ? 
For  when  I  shall  call  for  Him,  I  shall  be  caUing  Him 
to  myself  !  and  what  room  is  there  within  me,  whither  my 
God  may  come  to  me  ?  whither  may  God  come  to  me,  God 
who  made  heaven  and  earth  ?  is  there,  indeed,  O  Lord  my 
God,  aught  in  me  that  can  contain  Thee  ?  do  even  heaven 
and  earth,  which  Thou  hast  made,  and  wherein  Thou  hast 
made  me,  contain  Thee  ?  or,  since  without  Thee,  not  any- 
thing that  is,  could  be,  does  it  follow  that  anything  that  is 
doth  contain  Thee?  Since,  then,  I  too  am  of  such  a 
nature,  why  do  I  crave  that  Thou  shouldest  come  to  me, 
who  were  not,  wert  Thou  not  in  me  ?  For  not  yet  am  I 
gone  down  to  hell,  and  yet  Thou  art  there  also.  For  "  if  I 
go  down  into  hell.  Thou  art  there  also"  (Ps.  cxxxix.  7).  I 
could  not  then  be,  O  my  God,  [  could  not  be  at  all,  wert 
Thou  not  in  me  ;  or  is  it  not  rather  that  I  could  not  be 
unless  I  were  in  Thee,  "  of  whom  are  all  things,  by  whom 
are  all  things,  in  whom  are  all  things  "  ?  (Rom.  xi.  36.) 
Even  so.  Lord,  even  so.  Whither  do  I  call  Thee,  since 
I  am  in  Thee  ?  or  whence  canst  Thou  come  to  me  ?  for 
whither  can  I  go  away  beyond  heaven  and  earth,  that 
thence  my  God  should  come  to  me,  who  hath  said,  ''  I  fill 
heaven  and  earth"  (Jer.  xxiii.  24). 


The  Confessions  of  S.  A  iigustine. 


CHAPTER  III. 

God  wholly  filleth  all  things :  but  Hivi^  nor  Heaven^  nor  Earth 

containeth. 

DO  heaven  and  earth  then  contain  Thee,  since  Thou 
fillest  them  ?  or  dost  Thou  fill  them  and  yet  more 
of  Thee  remaineth,  since  they  do  not  contain  Thee?  or 
whether  pourest  Thou  forth  what  remaineth  of  Thyself  when 
the  heaven  and  the  earth  are  full  ?  or  hast  Thou  no  need 
that  Thou  by  aught  shouldest  be  contained,  since  Thou 
containest  all  things,  for  what  Thou  dost  fill  by  containing 
Thou  dost  fill  ?  for  the  vessels  which  are  full  of  Thee  up- 
hold Thee  not,  since,  though  they  were  broken.  Thou  wert 
not  poured  out.  And  when  Thou  art  "  poured  out  upon  us  " 
(Joel  ii.  28),  Thou  art  not  Thyself  cast  down,  but  Thou 
upliftest  us  ;  neither  art  Thou  scattered,  but  Thou  gatherest 
us.  But  Thou  who  fillest  all  things,  fillest  Thou  them  with 
Thy  whole  self?  or,  since  all  things  cannot  contain  Thee 
wholly,  do  they  contain  a  part  of  Thee  ?  and  all  at  once 
the  same  part?  or  does  each  contain  its  own  part,  the 
greater  more,  the  smaller  less  ?  And  is,  then,  one  part  of 
Thee  greater,  another  less  ?  01  art  Thou  wholly  everywhere, 
though  naught  contains  Thee  wholly  ? 


CHAPTER  IV. 

The  Majesty  of  God  is  supreme :  and  His  perfections  cannot  be  expressed. 

WHAT  art  Thou  then,  my  God ?  what,  I  ask,  but  the 
Lord  God  ?  "  For  who  is  Lord  but  the  Lord  ?  or 
who  is  God  except  our  God  ?  "  (Ps.  xviii.  31,  Vulg.).  O  Thou 
Most  highest,  most  good,  most  potent,  most  omnipotent ; 
most  merciful,  yet  most  just ;  most  hidden,  yet  most 
present;  fairest,  yet  most  strong;  firm  fixed,  yet  incom- 
prehensible ;  who  changest  not,  yet  changest  all  things  ; 
never  new,  never  old ;  yet  who  makest  all  things  new, 
and  "  bringest  age  upon  the  proud,  and  they  know  it  not ; " 
ever  working,  ever  at  rest ;  that  gatherest,  yet  lackest 
nothing;  that  bearest,  and  fillest,  and  coverest;  that 
Greatest,  and  nourishest,  and  makest  perfect ;  that  seekest, 
and  yet  possessest  all  things.      Thou    dost  love  without 


4  TJie  Confessions  of  S.  Angnstine. 

passion  ;  Thou  art  jealous,  without  anxiety  ;  Thou  repentest 
without  grief;  Thou  art  angry  without  disquiet;  Thou 
changest  Thy  works,  without  changing  Thy  purpose  ;  Thou 
receivest  again  what  Thou  dost  find,  yet  didst  never  lose ; 
never  in  need,  yet  Thou  rejoicest  in  gains  ;  never  covetous, 
yet  Thou  demandest  usury.  Thou  receivest  over  and  above, 
that  Thou  mayest  owe  ;  and  who  hath  aught  that  is  not 
Thine?  Thou  payest  debts,  that  owest  none;  Thou  for- 
givest  debts,  yet  losest  nothing.  And  what  have  I  yet  said, 
my  God,  my  life,  my  holy  joy?  or  what  saith  any  when  he 
speaks  of  Thee  ?  Yet  woe  to  them  that  speak  not  of 
Thee,  since  they  that  speak  most  are  even  as  the  dumb. 


CHAPTER  V. 

He  seeketh  r^est  in  God,  and  forgiveness  of  his  sins. 

OH!  that  I  might  find  rest  in  Thee!  Oh  !  that  Thou 
wouldest  enter  into  my  heart,  and  saturate  it,  that  I 
may  forget  my  own  ills,  and  embrace  Thee,  my  only  good  ! 
What  art  Thou  to  me  ?  In  Thy  pity,  teach  me  to  utter  it. 
Or  what  am  I  to  Thee  that  Thou  demandest  love  from  me, 
and,  if  I  comply  not,  art  wroth  with  me,  and  dost  menace 
me  with  grievous  woes  ?  Is  it  then  but  a  slight  woe  to  love 
Thee  not  ?  Ah  me  !  by  Thy  compassions  tell  me,  O  Tord 
my  God,  what  Thou  art  to  me.  "  Say  unto  my  soul,  I  am 
thy  salvation  "  (Ps.  xxxv.  3).  So  say  it,  that  I  may  hear. 
Behold,  Lord,  the  ears  of  my  heart  are  before  Thee ;  open 
Thou  them  and  "  say  unto  my  soul,  I  am  thy  salvation." 
After  this  word  let  me  hasten  and  lay  hold  on  Thee.  Hide 
not  Thy  face  from  me.  Let  me  die  (that  I  die  not)  that  I 
may  see  Thy  face. 

Narrow  is  the  dwelling-place  within  my  soul;  enlarge 
Thou  it,  that  Thou  mayest  enter  in.  It  is  ruinous ;  do 
Thou  repair  it.  It  has  that  within  which  must  offend  Thine 
eyes;  1  confess  and  know  it.  But  who  shall  cleanse  it? 
or  to  whom  should  I  cry,  save  Thee?  "Lord,  cleanse  me 
from  my  secret  faults  ;  keep  Thy  servant  also  from  pre- 
sumptuous sins"  (Ps.  xix.  12,  13),  "I  believe,  and  there- 
fore do  I  speak"  (Ps.  cxvi.  10).  Lord,  Thou  knowest. 
"  Have   I   not  confessed  my  sins  unto   the  Lord :  and  so 


The  Confessions  of  S.  Augustine.  5 

Thou  hast  forgiven  the  wickedness  of  my  sin  "  (Ps.  xxxii. 
6).  "I  contend  not  in  judgment  with  Thee"  (Job  ix.  2), 
who  art  the  truth;  I  seek  not  to  deceive  myself;  "lest 
mine  iniquity  lie  unto  itself"  (Ps.  xxvi.  12,  Vulg.).  There- 
fore I  contend  not  in  judgment  with  Thee  ;  "for  if  Thou, 
Lord,  art  extreme  to  mark  what  is  done  amiss,  O  Lord,  who 
may  abide  it"  (Ps.  cxxx.  3). 


CHAPTER  VI. 

He  describes  his  infancy  ;  and  extols  the  protecting  care  and  eternal 
providence  of  God. 

YET  let  me  speak  unto  Thy  mercy,  me,  ''  dust  and  ashes." 
Yea,  let  me  speak,  since  to  Thy  mercy  I  speak,  and 
not  to  scornful  man.  Thou  too,  perhaps,  despisest  me,  yet 
wilt  Thou  "  return  and  have  compassion  "  (Jer.  xii.  15) 
upon  me.  For  what  would  I  say,  O  Lord  my  God,  but 
that  I  know  not  whence  I  came  hither ;  into  this  dying  life 
(shall  I  call  it  ?)  or  living  death.  Then  immediately  did  the 
consolations  of  Thy  mercies  take  me  up  as  I  have  heard  from 
the  parents  of  my  flesh,  out  of  whose  substance  Thou  didst 
sometime  fashion  me ;  for  in  truth  I  remember  it  not. 
Thus  there  awaited  me  the  comforts  of  woman's  milk. 
For  neither  my  mother  nor  my  nurses  stored  their  own 
breasts ;  but  Thou  didst  bestow  on  me  the  food  of  infancy 
through  them,  according  to  Thine  ordinance,  and  to  the 
riches  distributed  even  through  the  first  springs  of  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  affection  ordained  by  Thee 
wiUingly  gave  me,  what  they  abounded  with  from  Thee. 
For  good  for  them  was  my  good  from  them,  which,  indeed, 
was  not  from  them  but  through  them  ;  for  from  Thee,  O 
God,  are  all  good  things,  and  "  from  my  God  is  all  my  salva- 
tion" (2  Sam.  xxiii.  5).  For  this  I  since  have  learned,  that 
Thou  dost  call  to  me  by  these  gifts,  which  within  me  and 
without  me  Thou  dost  give.  For  then  I  knew  but  to  suck ; 
to  rest  in  the  delights,  but  to  weep  at  the  vexations  of  my 
flesh ;  nothing  more. 

Afterwards  I  began  to  smile ;  first  in  sleep,  then  waking : 
for  so  it  was  told  me  of  myself,  and  I  believed  it ;  for  we 


6  TJie  Confessions  of  S.  A  ugnstine. 

see  the  like  in  other  infants,  though  of  myself  I  remember 
it  not.  Thus,  little  by  little,  I  became  conscious  where  I 
was  ;  and  to  have  a  wish  to  express  my  desires  to  those 
who  could  gratify  them,  and  I  could  not ;  for  the  desires 
were  within  me,  but  they  without ;  nor  could  they  by  any 
sense  of  theirs  enter  within  my  mind.  So  I  used  to  fling 
about  my  Hmbs  and  voice,  making  the  few  signs  I  could, 
and  such  as  I  could,  to  express  my  desires  ;  though  they 
expressed  them  poorly  enough.  And  when  they  were  not 
complied  with,  whether  because  they  were  not  understood, 
or  were  injurious,  then  I  grew  indignant  with  my  elders  for 
not  submitting  to  me,  with  them  free  as  they  were  because 
they  were  not  my  slaves,  and  took  my  vengeance  on  them 
with  tears.  Such  have  I  learned  infants  to  be  from  observ- 
ing them ;  and,  that  I  was  myself  such,  they  who  knew  it 
not,  have  shown  me  better  than  my  nurses  who  knew  it. 

And,  lo  !  my  infancy  is  dead  long  since,  and  I  live.  But 
Thou,  Lord,  who  for  ever  livest,  and  in  whom  nothing  dies  : 
for  before  the  beginnings  of  the  ages,  and  before  all  that 
can  be  called  "  before,"  Thou  art,  and  art  God  and  Lord  of 
all  which  Thou  hast  created ;  and  with  Thee  abide,  the 
first  causes  of  all  things  unabiding  ;  and  of  all  changeful 
things,  the  changeless  springs  abide  with  Thee  :  and  in  Thee 
live  the  eternal  reasons  of  all  things  unreasoning  and 
temporal.  Say,  to  me.  Thy  suppliant,  O  God ;  Thou  all 
merciful  to  me  all  miserable,  say  to  me ;  did  my  infancy 
succeed  another  age  of  mine  already  dead?  was  it  that 
which  I  passed  within  my  mother's  womb?  for  of  that  I 
have  heard  somewhat,  and  have  myself  seen  woman  with 
child?  and  what,  O  God  my  joy,  was  I  before  that?  Was 
I  any  where  or  any  body  ?  For  have  I  none  to  tell  me 
this,  neither  father  nor  mother,  nor  experience  of  others, 
nor  mine  own  memory.  Dost  Thou  mock  me  for  asking 
this,  and  bid  me  praise  Thee  and  confess  Thee,  for  that 
which  I  do  know  ? 

1  acknowledge  Thee,  Lord  of  heaven  and  earth,  and 
praise  Thee  for  my  first  beginnings  of  life,  and  for  my 
infancy,  whereof  I  remember  nothing ;  for  Thou  hast 
appointed  that  man  should  form  conjectures  as  to  himself 
from  the  things  of  oi^^hers ;  and  even  believe  much  on  the 
a.uthority  of  mere  women.  Even  then  I  had  being  and 
hfe,  and  towards  the'  close  of  my  infancy  I  began  to  seek 


The  Confessions  of  S,  Augustine.  7 

for  signs,  whereby  to  make  known  my  feelings  to  others. 
Whence  could  such  a  living  thing  be,  save  from  Thee,  Lord  ? 
Shall  any  be  artificer  to  fashion  himself?  or  can  there 
elsewhere  be  derived  any  vein,  through  which  being  and 
life  may  flow  into  us,  except  that  "  Thou  makest  us,"  O 
Lord ;  and  "  to  be "  and  "  to  live  "  are  all  one  to  Thee  : 
since  Thou  Thyself  art  supremely  Being,  and  supremely 
Life.  "For  Thou  art  most  high,  and  Thou  changest  not" 
(Mai.  iii.  6),  neither  in  Thee  doth  to-day  come  to  a  close ; 
yet  in  Thee  doth  it  come  to  a  close ;  because  all  such 
things  also  are  in  Thee.  For  they  had  no  way  to  pass 
away,  unless  Thou  didst  sustain  them.  And  since  "Thy 
years  fail  not"  (Ps.  cii.  27),  Thy  years  are  one  to-day. 
How  many  of  ours  and  our  fathers'  days  have  passed  away 
through  Thy  "  to-day,"  and  from  it  received  the  measures 
and  the  manner  of  their  existence ;  and  others  still  shall 
pass  away,  and  so  receive  the  degree  of  their  being.  But 
"Thou  art  the  same"  (Ps.  cii.  27),  and  all  things  of  to- 
morrow, and  beyond  it,  and  all  of  yesterday,  and  before  it, 
to-day  shalt  Thou  do,  to-day  hast  Thou  done.  What  is  it 
to  me,  though  any  comprehend  not  this?  Let  him  too 
rejoice  and  say,  "What  thing  is  this"  (Ex.  xvi.  15).  Let 
him  too  rejoice  thus  ;  that  he  may  choose  rather  by  not 
finding  them  to  find  Thee,  than  by  finding  them  not  to 
find  Thee. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

He  proves  that  even  Infancy  is  prone  to  sin. 

HEAR,  O  God.  Alas,  for  man's  sins  !  So  saith  man, 
and  Thou  hast  pity  on  him ;  since  Thou  hast  made 
him,  but  madest  not  the  sin  in  him.  Who  remindeth 
me  of  the  sin  of  my  infancy?  for  in  Thy  sight  none  is 
"  clean  from  sin,"  not  even  the  infant  whose  life  on  earth  is 
but  a  day.  Who  remindeth  me  ?  doth  not  each  little  infant, 
in  whom  I  see  what  I  remember  not  about  myself?  But  in 
what  did  I  then  sin  ?  was  it  that  wailing  I  longed  for  the 
breast  ?  for  should  I  now  so  long,  not  for  the  breast,  but  for 
food  convenient  for  my  age,  most  justly  should  I  be  laughed 
at  and  blamed.     What  I  then  did  was  deserving  of  blame ; 


The  Coufessioiis  of  S.  A  ngustine. 

but  since  I  could  not  understand  any  who  might  blame, 
neither  custom  nor  reason  allowed  me  to  be  blamed.  For 
with  our  growth  we  uproot  and  cast  away  such  habits.  Now 
no  man  when  he  prunes  knowingly  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  free,  and 
its  own  elders,  yea  even  its  parents,  served  it  not?  that 
many  besides,  wiser  than  it,  obeyed  not  the  nod  of  its  plea- 
sure ?  to  strive  to  strike  and  hurt  with  all  its  might,  because 
its  biddings  were  not  obeyed,  which  had  been  obeyed  to  its 
peril  ?  In  the  weakness  then  of  baby  limbs,  not  in  its  will, 
lies  its  innocence.  Myself  have  seen  and  known  jealousy 
even  in  a  babe ;  it  could  not  yet  speak,  but  pale,  and  with 
bitter  expression  it  would  eye  its  foster-brother.  Who 
knows  not  this?  Mothers  and  nurses  tell  you,  that  they 
abate  these  things  by  I  know  not  what  remedies.  Perhaps 
that  too  is  innocence,  when  the  fountain  of  milk  is  flowing 
in  generous  abundance,  not  to  endure  any  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  by  lapse  of  time. 
For  though  you  now  excuse  them,  the  very  same  tempers 
are  utterly  intolerable  when  found  in  persons  of  maturer 
age. 

Thou,  then,  O  Lord  my  God,  who  gavest  life  to  this  my 
infancy,  and  a  body,  which  thus  as  we  see  Thou  hast  fur- 
nished with  senses,  compacted  with  limbs,  made  shapely  in 
form,  and,  for  its  general  good  and  safety,  hast  implanted  in 
it  all  the  powers  of  life.  Thou  commandest  me  to  praise 
Thee  in  these  things,  to  confess  unto  Thee,  and  "  to  sing 
praises  to  Thy  name,  O  most  Highest"  (Ps.  xcii.  i).  For 
Thou  art  God,  Almighty  and  Good,  even  hadst  Thou  done 
only  this,  which  none  could  do  but  Thou  alone,  from  Whom 
is  the  mode  of  being  of  all  things  ;  who  out  of  Thy  own 
fairness  makest  all  things  fair ;  and  orderest  all  things  by 
Thy  law.  This  age  then,  Lord,  whereof  I  have  no  remem- 
brance, which  I  take  on  others'  word,  and  guess  from  other 
infants  that  I  have  passed,  true  though  that  guess  be,  I  am 
yet  loth  to  count  in  this  life  of  mine  which  I  live  in  this 
world.  For  in  that  it  reaches  back  to  the  shadows  of  for- 
getfulness,  it  is  like  to  that  which  I  spent  in  my  mother's 
womb.     But  if  "  I  was  shapen  in  wickedness,  and  in  sin  did 


The  Confessions  of  S.  A  ugnstine.  9 

my  mother  conceive  me  "  (Ps.  li.  7),  where,  I  beseech  Thee, 
O  my  God,  where,  Lord,  or  when,  was  I  Thy  servant  guilt- 
less ?  But,  lo  !  that  period  I  pass  by ;  and  what  have  I  now 
to  do  with  that,  of  which  I  can  recal  no  vestiges  ? 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

That  a  child  learneth  not  to  speak  by  rules,  but  froui  the  gesture  and 
■words  of  his  parents. 

PASSING  hence  from  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  speechless  infant,  but  a  speaking  boy. 
This  I  remember ;  and  have  since  observed  how  I  learned 
to  speak.  For  my  elders  did  not  teach  me  words  (as,  soon 
after,  other  learning)  by  any  set  method  ;  but  I,  longing  by 
cries  and  broken  accents  and  various  motions  of  my  limbs 
to  express  my  thoughts,  that  so  my  will  might  be  obeyed, 
and  yet  unable  to  express  all  I  willed,  or  to  whom  1  willed, 
did  myself,  by  the  understanding  which  Thou,  my  God, 
gavest  me,  go  through  the  sounds  in  my  memory.  When 
they  named  anything,  and  to  suit  the  word  turned  towards 
it,  I  saw  and  remembered  that  they  called  what  they  desired 
to  point  out  by  the  name  they  uttered.  And  that  they 
meant  this  thing  and  no  other,  was  plain  from  the  motion 
of  their  body,  the  natural  language,  as  it  were,  of  all  people, 
expressed  by  the  countenance,  the  glance  of  the  eyes,  the 
movement  of  the  limbs,  and  the  tone  of  the  voice,  indicat- 
ing the  affections  of  the  mind,  as  it  pursues,  possesses, 
rejects,  or  shuns.  And  thus  by  frequently  hearing  words, 
as  they  occurred  in  various  sentences,  I  collected  gradually 
for  what  they  were  the  symbols  ;  and  having  broken  in  my 
mouth  to  these  symbols,  I  thereby  gave  utterance  to  my 
will.  Thus  I  exchanged  with  those  about  me  these  symbols 
of  our  wills  in  utterance,  and  so  launched  deeper  into  the 
stormy  fellowship  of  human  life,  yet  depending  on  parental 
authority  and  the  beck  of  elders. 


lO  llie  Confessions  of  S.  Augustine. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

Concerning  the  hatred  of  lessons,  the  love  of  play,  and  the  fear  of  being 
whipped,  noticeable  in  boys ;  and  concerning  the  inconsistencies  of 
their  elders  and  masters. 

OGOD  my  God,  what  miseries  and  derision  did  I  now 
experience,  when  obedience  to  my  teachers  was  im- 
posed upon  me,  as  proper  in  a  boy,  in  order  that  in  this 
world  I  might  get  on  and  excel  in  oratorical  arts,  which 
should  serve  to  the  "  praise  of  men,"  and  to  deceitful  riches. 
Next  I  was  put  to  school  to  learn  lessons,  in  which  I  (poor 
wretch)  knew  not  what  use  there  was ;  and  yet,  if  idle  in 
learning,  I  was  flogged.  For  this  method  was  commended 
by  our  forefathers ;  and  many,  passing  the  same  course 
before  us,  framed  for  us  weary  paths,  through  which  we 
were  compelled  to  pass  ;  multiplying  toil  and  grief  upon  the 
sons  of  Adam.  But,  Lord,  we  found  men  that  called  upon 
Thee,  and  we  learnt  from  them  to  think  of  Thee  as  well  as 
we  could,  as  of  some  great  One,  who,  though  hidden  from 
our  senses,  couldst  hear  and  help  us.  For,  as  a  boy,  I 
began  to  pray  to  Thee,  my  aid  and  refuge;  and  broke  the 
fetters  of  my  tongue  to  call  on  Thee,  and  I  used  to  ask 
Thee,  though  small,  yet  with  no  small  earnestness,  that  I 
might  not  be  flogged  at  school.  And  when  "Thou  didst 
not  hear  me,  though  not  to  my  folly  "  (Ps.  xxii.  2,  Vulg.), 
my  elders,  yea,  my  very  parents,  who  yet  wished  me  no 
ill,  laughed  at  my  stripes,  my  then  great  and  grievous  ill. 

Is  there,  Lord,  any  of  courage  so  great,  and  cleaving  to 
Thee  with  so  intense  affection  (for  a  sort  of  doggedness  will 
in  a  way  do  it) ;  is  there  any  one,  I  ask,  who,  from  cleaving 
devoutly  to  Thee,  is  endued  with  so  great  a  courage,  that 
he  can  think  as  lightly  of  the  racks  and  hooks  and  other 
tortures  (to  be  delivered  from  which,  throughout  all  lands, 
men  call  on  Thee  with  extreme  dread),  laughing  at  those 
by  whom  they  are  feared  most  bitterly,  as  our  parents  used 
to  laugh  at  the  tortures  which  we  suffered  as  boys  from  our 
masters  ?  For  we  feared  them  no  less  ;  nor  prayed  we  less 
to  Thee  to  escape  them.  And  yet  we  used  to  sin  by  not 
writing  or  reading  or  minding  our  lessons  as  was  demanded 
of  us.  For  we  wanted  not,  O  Lord,  for  memory  or  capa- 
city, whereof  Thy  will  gave  enough  for  our  age;  but  our 


TJie  Confessions  of  S.  A  ngustine.  i  r 

sole  delight  was  play;  and  for  this  we  were  punished  by 
those  who  yet  themselves  were  doing  the  like.  But  the 
trifling  occupations  of  older  people  are  called  "business;" 
but  those  of  boys,  being  really  the  same,  are  punished  by 
those  elders ;  and  none  commiserates  either  boys  or  men. 
For  will  any  of  sound  judgment  approve  of  my  being  beaten 
as  a  boy,  because,  by  playing  at  ball,  I  made  less  progress 
in  studies,  Avhich  I  was  to  learn,  only  that,  as  a  man,  I  might 
play  more  odiously?  and  what  else  did  he,  who  flogged  me? 
who,  if  worsted  in  some  trifling  discussion  with  his  fellow- 
tutor,  was  more  embittered  and  jealous  than  I,  when  beaten 
at  ball  by  a  play-fellow  ? 


CHAPTER  X. 

From  love  of  sports  and  shozvs  he  neglects  his  studies,  and  the  precepts  of 

his  parents. 

AND  yet,  I  sinned  herein,  O  Lord  God,  the  Creator 
and  Disposer  of  all  things  in  nature,  of  sin  the  Dis- 
poser only,  O  Lord  my  God,  I  sinned  in  acting  contrary  to 
the  commands  of  my  parents  and  of  those  masters.  For 
what  they,  with  whatever  motive,  would  have  me  learn,  I 
might  afterward  have  put  to  good  use:  For  I  disobeyed, 
not  from  the  choice  of  better  things,  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  curiosity  shone  in  my  eyes  more  and  more,  at  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  willingly  allow  them  to  be  whipped, 
if  by  those  very  games  they  are  hindered  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. 


1 2  TJie  Confessions  of  S.  A  itgiistiue. 


CHAPTER  XI. 

He  is  taken  ill^  and  desires  to  be  baptized ;  but  his  mother  defers  it  upon 
his  recovery^  as  his  father  is  not  yet  a  Christian. 

AS  a  boy,  then,  I  had  already  heard  of  an  eternal  life, 
promised  us  through  the  humility  of  the  Lord  our  God 
stooping  to  our  pride  ;  and  even  from  my  mother's  womb, 
whose  hope  was  in  Thee,  I  was  signed  with  the  sign  of  His 
cross  and  salted  with  His  salt.  Thou  sawest,  Lord,  how 
while  yet  a  boy,  I  was  one  day  suddenly  seized  with  oppres- 
sion of  the  stomach,  and  like  to  die  ;  Thou  sawest,  my 
God  (for  Thou  wert  my  keeper),  with  what  emotion  and 
what  faith  I  entreated,  from  the  affection  of  my  mother  and 
TJiyL- Church,  the^  mother  of  us__aljj  the  baptism  of  Thy 
Christ  my  God  and~Xordr  Whereupon  the  mother  of  my 
flesh,  being  much  disturbed  (since  with  a  heart  pure  in  Thy 
faith,  she  even  more  lovingly  "  travailed  in  birth  "  of  my 
salvation),  would  with  all  speed  have  provided  for  my  con- 
secration and  cleansing  by  the  health-giving  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  de- 
ferred, because  after  that  washing  the  guilt,  in  gross  sins, 
would  be  greater  and  more  perilous.  ^  \_  th£n_already  be- 
lieved :  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  I  should  believe  in  Christ  the 
less,  because  he  did  not  yet  believe.  For  it  was  her  sted- 
fast  aim,  that  Thou  my  God,  rather  than  he,  shouldest  be  my 
father ;  and  in  this  Thou  didst  aid  her  to  prevail  over  her 
husband,  whom  she  the  better  obeyed  ;  and  even  thus  she 
obeyed  Thee  who  hast  so  commanded. 

I  beseech  Thee,  my  God,  I  would  fain  know,  if  so  Thou 
wiliest,  for  what  purpose  was  I  hindered  from  being  then 
baptised  ?  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  ?  " 
And  yet  as  to  bodily  health,  we  do  not  say,  "  Let  him  be 
worse  wounded,  for  he  is  not  yet  healed."  How  much 
better  then,  had  I  been  at  once  healed ;  and  that  then  it 


The  Confessions  of  S.  A  ngustine.  1 3 

had  been  brought  about  by  my  friends'  diligence  and  my 
own^  that  my  soul's  recovered  health  had  been  kept  safe  in 
Thy  safe  keeping,  who  hadst  given  it.  Better  truly.  But 
how  many  and  great  waves  of  temptation  seemed  to  hang 
over  me  after  my  boyhood  !  These  my  mother  foresaw ; 
and  preferred  to  hazard  on  them  the  clay  whence  I  might 
afterwards  be  moulded,  than  the  very  image,  when  made. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

He  was  co7npelled  to  labour  at  his  studies  ;  and  cojifesses  in  this  that 

God  is  good. 

IN  boyhood  itself,  however  (so  much  less  dreaded  for  me 
than  youth),  I  loved  not  lessons,  and  hated  to  be 
forced  to  them.  Yet  1  was  forced  ;  and  this  was  well  done 
towards  me,  but  I  did  not  well ;  for,  unless  compelled,  I 
would  not  have  learnt.  But  no  one  doth  well  what  he  doth 
unwillingly,  even  though  what  he  doth,  be  well.  Yet 
neither  did  they  well  who  forced  me,  but  what  was  well  was 
done  of  Thee,  my  God.  For  they  did  not  care  to  what  use 
I  might  put  what  they  compelled  me  to  learn,  except  to 
satiate  the  insatiate  desires  of  a  want  that  hath  abundance, 
and  a  glory  that  is  full  of  shame.  (See  Rev.  iii.  1 7,  and 
Phil.  iii.  19.)  But  Thou,  "by  whom  the  very  hairs  of  our 
head  are  all  numbered  "  (S.  Matt.  x.  30),  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  punishment  of  which  I  was  not  undeserving,  being  so 
small  a  boy,  yet  so  great  a  sinner.  So  by  those  who  did 
not  well,  Thou  didst  well  for  me  ;  and  by  my  own  sin  Thou 
didst  justly  requite  me.  For  Thou  hast  commanded,  and 
so  it  is,  that  every  inordinate  affection  should  be  its  own 
punishment. 

CHAPTER  XIII. 

He  nsed  to  hate  the  Greek  grammar  and  language  ;  but  delighted  in  his 
Latin,  and  the  empty  tales  of  the  poets. 

BUT   why  did  I  so  much   hate  the   Greek,  which  as  a 
litde  boy  I  used  to  study  ?  not  even  yet  is  it  quite 
clear  to  me.     For  the   Latin  I   loved ;  not   what  my  first 


14  The  Confessions  of  S.  Augustine. 

masters,  but  what  the  so-called  grammarians  taught  me. 
For  those  first  lessons,  reading,  writing,  and  arithmetic,  I 
used  to  find  no  less  burdensome  and  tasklike  than  all  my 
Greek.  And  yet  whence  was  this  too,  but  from  the  sin 
and  vanity  of  this  life,  because  "  I  was  but  flesh,  and  a  wind 
that  passeth  away  and  cometh  not  again"?  (Ps.  Ixxviii.  39). 
For  those  first  lessons  were  in  fact  better,  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  compelled  to  learn  the  wander- 
ings of  some  yEneas  or  other,  forgetful  of  my  own  and  to 
weep  for  dead  Dido,  because  she  killed  herself  for  love  j  the 
while,  with  dry  eyes,  I,  most  miserable,  endured  myself 
dying  among  these  things,  far  from  Thee,  O  God  my  life. 

For  what  could  be  more  miserable  than  a  miserable 
being,  who  commiserates  not  himself,  weeping  the  death  of 
Dido  which  came  of  her  love  to  ^^neas,  but  weeping  not 
his  own  death  which  came  of  want  of  love  to  Thee,  O  God, 
Thou  light  of  my  heart.  Thou  bread  of  my  inmost  soul, 
Thou  Power  who  makest  fertile  my  mind,  and  the  thought 
of  my  bosom  ?  I  loved  Thee  not,  I  committed  fornication 
against  Thee,  and  all  around  me  thus  fornicating  there 
echoed  "  Well  done  !  well  done ! "  "  for  the  friendship  of 
this  world  is  fornication  against  Thee  "  (S.  James  iv.  4),  and 
"Well  done  !  well  done  !"  is  repeated  till  one  is  ashamed 
not  to  be  thus  a  man.  And  all  this  I  wept  not,  but  I  wept 
for  Dido  slain,  and  "  seeking  by  the  sword  a  wound  ex- 
treme," myself  seeking  the  while  the  extremest  and  lowest 
of  Thy  creatures,  having  forsaken  Thee,  earth  passing  into 
the  earth ;  and  if  forbid  to  read  all  this,  I  would  grieve  that 
I  might  not  read  what  grieved  me.  Madness  like  this  is 
reckoned  a  more  honourable  and  a  richer  learning  than 
that  by  which  I  learned  to  read  and  write. 

But  now,  my  God,  cry  Thou  aloud  in  my  soul ;  and  let 
Thy  truth  tell  me,  "Not  so,  not  so.  Far  better  was  that 
earlier  lore."  For,  lo,  I  would  far  more  readily  forget  the 
wanderings  of  ^neas  and  all  the  rest  than  how  to  read  and 
write.  But  over  the  thresliolds  of  the  Grammar  Schools 
veils  are  hung ;  but  these  indicate  not  so  much  the  dignity 
of  secrecy  as  the  cloak  of  errors.  Let  not  those,  whom 
I  no  longer  fear,  cry  out  against  me,  while  I  confess  to 
Thee,  my  God,  whatever  my  soul  will,  and  acquiesce  in  the 


The  Confessions  of  S.  A  ngustine.  1 5 

condemnation  of  my  evil  ways,  that  I  may  love  Thy  good 
ways.  Let  not  either  buyers  or  sellers  of  grammar  cry  out 
against  me.  For  if  I  put  the  question  to  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  if  I  were  to  ask 
with  what  letters  the  name  "^neas"  is  written,  all  who 
have  learnt  this  will  answer  me  aright,  according  to  the  use 
and  wont,  by  which  men  have  estabhshed  those  signs  among 
themselves.  If,  again,  I  should  ask,  which  might  be  for- 
gotten with  least  detriment  to  the  concerns  of  life,  reading 
and  writing  or  these  poetic  fictions,  who  does  not  foresee, 
what  all  must  answer  who  have  not  wholly  forgotten  them- 
selves ?  I  sinned,  then,  when  as  a  boy  I  preferred  those 
empty  to  those  more  profitable  studies,  or  rather  hated  the 
one  and  loved  the  other.  "  One  and  one,  two ; "  "  two 
and  two,  four ; "  this  was  to  me  a  hateful  singsong  :  "  the 
wooden  horse  filled  with  armed  men,"  and  "  the  burning  of 
Troy,"  and  "  Creusa's  shade  "  were  the  vain  spectacle  most 
charming  to  me. 

CHAPTER  XIV. 

Why  he  disliked  Greek,  and  easily  learned  Latin. 

WHY  then  did  I  hate  the  Greek  language  in  Avhich  like 
songs  are  sung.  For  Homer  also  was  skilful  in 
weaving  the  like  fables,  and  is  most  sweetly- vain,  yet  was  he 
bitter  to  my  boyish  taste.  And  so  I  suppose  would  Virgil 
be  to  Grecian  children,  when  forced  to  learn  him  as  I  was 
the  other.  Difficulty,  in  truth,  the  difficulty  of  learning  a 
foreign  tongue,  sprinkled,  as  it  were,  with  gall  all  the  sweet- 
ness of  Grecian  fables.  For  I  knew  none  of  the  words,  and 
to  make  me  know  them,  I  was  urged  vehemently  with  cruel 
threats  and  punishments.  Time  was  also  (as  an  infant)  I 
knew  no  Latin  ;  but  this  I  learned  without  fear  or  torture, 
by  mere  observation,  amid  the  caresses  of  my  nurses,  the 
jests  of  smiling  friends,  and  the  delights  of  those  that  played 
with  me.  This  I  learned  without  any  burden  of  punish- 
ment to  urge  me  on,  for  my  heart  urged  me  to  give  birth  to 
its  conceptions,  which  I  could  only  do  by  learning  words 
not  of  teachers,  but  of  talkers  j  in  whose  ears  also  I  gave  birth 


1 6  The  Confessions  of  S.  A  ngustine. 

to  the  thoughts,  whatever  I  conceived.  It  is  quite  clear 
then,  that  a  free  curiosity  has  more  power  to  make  us  learn 
these  things  than  a  terrifying  obligation.  Only  this  obliga- 
tion restrains  the  waverings  of  that  freedom  by  Thy  laws,  O 
my  God,  Thy  laws,  from  the  master's  rod  to  the  martyr's 
trials,  for  Thy  laws  have  the  effect  of  mingling  for  us  certain 
wholesome  bitters,  which  recall  us  to  Thee  away  from  that 
pernicious  blithesomeness,  by  means  of  which  we  depart 
from  Thee. 


CHAPTER  XV. 

He  prays  that  he  may  use  in  GocVs  service  ivhat  he  learned  as  a,  hoy. 

HEAR,  Lord,  my  prayer ;  let  not  my  soul  faint  under 
Thy  discipline,  nor  let  me  faint  in  confessing  unto 
Thee  Thy  mercies,  whereby  Thou  hast  drawn  me  out  of  all 
my  most  evil  ways  ;  that  Thou  mightest  become  sweeter  to 
me  than  all  the  allurements  which  I  once  pursued  ;  that  I 
may  most  entirely  love  Thee,  and  clasp  Thy  hand  with  all 
the  affections  of  my  heart,  and  Thou  mayest  yet  draw  me 
away  from  every  temptation,  even  unto  the  end.  For,  lo, 
do  Thou,  O  Lord,  my  King  and  my  God,  make  serviceable 
to  Thyself  whatever  useful  thing  I  learned  in  boyhood  ; 
for  Thy  service  be  it,  that  I  speak,  and  write,  and  read,  and 
reckon.  For  Thou  didst  grant  me  Thy  discipline,  while  I 
was  learning  vanities  ;  and  the  sin  of  taking  delight  in  those 
vanities  Thou  hast  forgiven.  In  them,  indeed,  I  learned 
many  useful  words,  but  these  may  as  well  be  learned  in 
things  not  vain ;  and  that  is  the  safe  path,  in  which  the 
young  should  walk. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

He  blames  the  method  in  which  theyciingare  taught ;  and  shojvs  why  the 
poets  attribute  vices  to  the  gods. 

BUT  woe  to  thee,  thou  torrent  of  human  custom  !  Who 
shall  stand  against  thee  ?  how  long  shalt  thou  not 
be  dried  up  ?  how  long  roll  the  sons  of  Eve  into  that  huge 
and   dreadful  sea,  which  even  they  scarcely  overpass  who 


The  Confessions  of  S.  Augustine.  I/ 

embark  upon  the  wood  ?  *  Did  not  I  read  in  thee  of  Jove 
the  thunderer  and  the  adulterer  ?  both,  certainly,  he  could 
not  be ;  but  so  was  it  devised,  that  the  sham  thunder  might 
authorise  and  pander  to  real  adultery.  And  now  which  of 
our  gowned  masters,  lends  a  sober  ear  to  one  of  the  same 
clay  as  themselves,  who  cries  out,  "  These  things  Homer 
feigned,  and  transferred  things  human  to  the  gods ;  would 
he  had  brought  down  things  divine  to  us  ! "  (Cic.  Tusc.  i. 
26.)  Yet  more  truly  had  he  said,  "  These  are  indeed  but 
fictions  j  but  by  attributing  a  divine  nature  to  wicked  men, 
crimes  were  no  longer  deemed  crimes,  so  that  those  who 
commit  them  might  seem  to  imitate  not  abandoned  men, 
but  the  celestial  gods." 

And  yet,  thou  hellish  torrent,  into  thee  are  cast  the  sons 
of  men  with  rich  payments  for  such  learning ;  and  a  great 
business  is  made  of  it,  when  this  is  being  publicly  done  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  is 
acquired  ;  most  necessary  to  gain  your  ends,  or  set  forth 
your  opinions."  As  if  we  should  have  never  known  such 
words  as  "  golden  shower,"  "  lap,"  "  deceit,"  "  temples  of 
the  heavens,"  or  others  in  that  passage,  unless  Terence  had 
brought  a  lewd  youth  upon  the  stage,  setting  up  Jupiter  as 
his  example  of  debauchery,  while  he  views  a  "  certain  pic- 
ture painted  on  the  wall,  where  this  was  shown,  how  Jove, 
they  say,  once  dropped  in  Danae's  lap  a  golden  shower, 
and  on  the  woman  passed  deceit."  And  then  mark  how  he 
excites  himself  to  lust  as  by  celestial  authority  ;  "  But  what 
God  ?  saith  he.  Why,  he  that  shakes  the  topmost  temples 
of  the  heavens  with  his  thunder.  And  may  not  I,  weak 
man,  the  same  thing  do  ?  Eh,  but  that  I  did,  and  merrily." 
(Terence,  Eun.  Act  iii.  sc.  5.)  Not  one  whit  more  easily 
are  the  words  learnt  for  all  this  vileness  ;  but  by  their 
means  the  vileness  is  committed  the  more  boldly.  Not 
that  I  blame  the  words,  being,  as  it  were,  vessels  elect  and 

*  The  wood  of  the  cross  is  probably  what  S.  Augustine  here  intends. 
Compare  Wisdom  xiv.  5,  "  Therefore  do  men  commit  their  hves  to  a 
small  piece  of  wood,  and  passing  the  rough  sea  in  a  weak  vessel  are 
saved."  Of  this  passage  S.  Rabanus  Maurus  writes,  "  What  sea,  save 
the  tempestuous  ocean  of  this  naughty  world  ?  what  vessel,  save  the 
the  hoUer  ark,  the  Cross  of  the  Lord  Jesus  ?  "—Editor. 


1 8  TJie  CoJifessiojis  of  S.  Augustine. 

precious  ;  but  that  wine  of  error  which  is  in  them,  was  given 
to  us  to  drink  by  teachers  intoxicated  with  it ;  and  if  we,  too, 
drank  not,  we  were  beaten,  nor  could  we  appeal  to  any 
sober  judge.  Yet,  O  my  God  (in  whose  presence  my 
remembrance  of  this  is  now  harmless),  all  this  unhappily 
I  learnt  willingly  and  took  delight  in  it,  and  for  this  was 
pronounced  a  hopeful  boy. 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

He  continues  the  subject  of  the  last  chapter. 

SUFFER  me,  my  God,  to  say  somewhat  of  my  talents, 
Thy  gift,  and  on  what  absurdities  I  wasted  them. 
For  a  task  was  set  me,  troublesome  enough  to  my  soul,  upon 
terms  of  praise  or  shame,  and  fear  of  stripes,  to  speak  the 
words  of  Juno,  as  she  raged  and  mourned  that  she  could 
not  turn  the  Trojan  king  from  Italy.  Which  words  I  had 
heard  that  Juno  never  uttered  ;  but  we  were  forced  to  err 
and  stray  in  the  footsteps  of  these  poetic  fictions,  and  to 
say  in  prose  much  that  the  poet  had  expressed  in  verse. 
And  he  would  speak  with  the  more  applause,  who  best 
maintained  the  dignity  of  the  character  he  personated,  and 
simulated  the  passion  of  rage  and  grief,  and  meetly  clothed 
the  thoughts  in  words.  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  ?  is  not  all  this  smoke  and 
wind  ?  and  was  there  nothing  else  whereon  to  exercise  my 
talents  and  my  tongue  ?  l^hy  praises.  Lord,  Thy  praises 
throughout  Thy  Scriptures,  might  have  lent  support  to  the 
vine  of  my  heart ;  so  had  it  not  trailed  away  amid  these 
trifling  vanities,  a  vile  prey  for  the  fowls  of  the  air.  For  in 
more  ways  than  one  do  men  sacrifice  to  the  rebel  angels. 

CHAPTER  XVin. 

Men  keep  with  care  the  rules  of  grammar  ;  but  neglect  the  eternal  laius 

of  lasting  salvation. 

T3UT  \yhat  marvel  that  I  was  thus  carried  away  to 
-L'  vanities,  and  went  out  from  Thy  presence,  O  my 
God,  when  men  were  set  before  me  for  imitation,  who,  if  in 


TJie  Confessions  of  S.  Aligns  tine.  ig 

relating  some  action  of  theirs,  in  itself  not  ill,  expressed 
themselves  with  some  barbarism  or  solecism,  being  censured, 
were  abashed  ;  but  if  they  related  their  own  immoralities  in 
words  well  chosen  and  aptly  put  together,  with  fluency  and 
eloquence,  being  praised,  they  gloried  ?  These  things  Thou 
seest.  Lord,  and  boldest  Thy  peace ;  "  long-suffering,  and 
plenteous  in  mercy  and  truth"  (Ps.  Ixxxvi.  15).  Wilt  Thou 
for  ever  hold  Thy  peace  ?  and  even  now  thou  dost  pluck  out 
of  this  most  frightful  gulf  the  soul  that  seeketh  Thee,  that 
thirsteth  for  Thy  pleasures,  "  whose  heart  saith  unto  Thee, 
I  have  sought  Thy  face ;  Thy  face.  Lord,  will  I  seek  "  (Ps. 
xxvii.  8).  For  in  "  darkened  affections  I  was  far  off  from 
Thee"  (See  Rom.  i.  21).  For  it  is  not  by  our  feet,  or  by 
local  distances,  that  men  leave  Thee,  or  return  unto  Thee. 
Or  did  that  Thy  younger  son  look  out  for  horses  or  chariots, 
or  ships,  fly  with  visible  wings,  or  with  knees  bent  to  walk, 
take  his  journey,  that  he  might  in  a  far  country  waste  in 
riotous  living  all  Thou  gavest  at  his  faring  forth  ?  a  loving 
Father,  when  Thou  gavest,  and  more  loving  unto  him  when 
he  returned  empty.  So  then  lustful  affections  are  in  truth 
darkened ;  and  they  are  the  "  country  "  far  from  Thy  face. 

Behold,  O  Lord  God,  yea,  behold  patiently  as  Thou  art 
wont,  how  carefully  the  sons  of  men  observe  the  conven- 
tional rules  of  letters  and  syllables  received  from  former 
speakers,  neglecting  the  eternal  covenant  of  everlasting 
salvation  received  from  Thee ;  insomuch,  that  any  who 
should  hold  to,  or  teach,  the  obsolete  opinions  of  pronun- 
ciation and  contrary  to  grammatical  rule,  should  fail  to 
aspirate  the  "h"  in  "  uman  being,^'  would  give  more 
offence  to  human  beings,  than  if  he,  a  human  being,  were  to 
hold  human  beings  in  hatred,  contrary  to  Thy  precepts. 
As  if,  forsooth,  one  could  receive  more  hurt  from  any 
human  enemy,  than  the  hatred's  self  with  which  he  is  in- 
censed against  him ;  or  could  wound  more  deeply  him 
whom  he  persecutes,  than  he  wounds  his  own  soul  by  his 
enmity.  Assuredly  no  science  of  letters  is  so  implanted  in 
us,  as  the  law  of  conscience,  "  Do  not  to  another  as  you 
would  not  be  done  by.".  How  Thou  dost  hide  Thyself,  O 
God,  Thou  only  great,  "that  dwellest  on  high"  (Isaiah 
xxxiii.  5)  in  silence,  and  by  an  unwearied  law  dost  for  pun- 
ishment send  bhndness  upon  lawless  desires.  In  quest  of 
the  fame  of  eloquence,  a  man  standing  before  a  human 


20  TJie  Confessions  of  S.  A  iignstme. 

judge,  surrounded  by  a  human  crowd,  inveighing  against 
his  enemy  with  fiercest  hatred,  will  take  heed  most  watch- 
fully, lest,  by  a  slip  of  the  tongue,  he  should  say  "  amun' 
men ; "  "^  but  will  take  no  heed,  lest,  through  the  fury  of  his 
spirit,  he  should  take  away  his  life  from  among  men. 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

He  proves  that  infants  are  not  without  faults  ;  and  details  the  guile  and 

faults  of  boyhood. 

SUCH  were  the  moral  surroundings  among  which  I  lay, 
unhappy,  in  boyhood ;  such  the  school  of  my  contest, 
in  which  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  1 
had  praise  from  them,  in  whose  pleasure  I  then  thought 
honourable  life  to  consist.     For  I  saw  not  the  abyss  of  vile- 
ness,  wherein  "  I  was  cast  away  from  Thine  eyes  "  (Ps.  xxxi. 
22).     For  in  them  what  could  be  more  foul  than  I  already 
was,  since  I  was  offensive  even  to  such  as  myself?  with 
innumerable    lies    deceiving    my   tutor,    my   masters,    my 
parents,  from  love  of  play,  eagerness  to  see  vain  shows  and 
restlessness  to  imitate  stage  plays?     Thefts  also    I   com- 
mitted from  my  parents'  cellar  and  table,  either  because 
tempted  by  gluttony,  or  that  I  might  have  to  give  to  boys, 
who  sold  me  their  play,  which  all  the  while  they  delighted 
in  as  much  as  I  did.     In  this  play,  too,  I  often  sought  to 
win  by  cheating ;  won  over  myself  meanwhile  by  coveting 
to  excel.     And  what  could  I  so  ill  put  up  with,  or,  when  I 
found  it  out,  did  I  denounce  so  fiercely,  as  that  very  thing 
which  I  was  doing  to  others,  and  for  which,  found  out,  I 
was  denounced,  but  yet  chose  rather  to  quarrel  than  to  yield. 
And  is  this  the  innocence  of  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 

*  There  is  a  constant  word  play  throughout  this  chapter,  most  diffi- 
cult to  reproduce.  In  this  sentence  the  fault,  which  S.  Augustine  says 
a  man  would  eagerly  avoid,  is  that  of  saying  "  inter  hominibus  "  instead 
of  "  inter  homines."     I  have  tried  to  save  the  sense.— Editor. 


The  Co7tfessions  of  S.  Augiisthie.  21 

magistrates  and  kings,  to  gold  and  manors  and  slaves,  just 
as  severer  punishments  displace  the  cane.  It  was  the 
stature  then  of  childhood,  which  Thou  our  King  didst 
commend  as  an  emblem  of  humility,  when  Thou  saidst, 
"  Of  such  is  the  kingdom  of  heaven  "  (S.  Matt.  xix.  14). 


CHAPTER  XX. 
He  thanks  God  for  benefits  conferred  on  him  in  boyhood. 

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  willed  that  boyhood 
only  should  be  mine.  For  even  then  I  was,  I  lived,  and 
felt ;  and  had  my  preservation  ;  a  trace  of  that  most  hidden 
Unity,  from  which  I  had  my  being;  I  guarded  by  the 
inward  sense  the  entireness  of  my  senses,  and  in  these  little 
things,  and  in  my  thoughts  about  little  things,  I  began  to 
take  delight  in  truth.  I  hated  to  be  deceived,  had  a  vigor- 
ous memory,  was  well  furnished  with  language,  was  com- 
forted by  friendship,  avoided  pain,  shame,  and  ignorance. 
In  so  small  a  creature,  what  was  not  wonderful,  not  admir- 
able ?  But  all  are  gifts  of  my  God  :  it  was  not  I,  who  gave 
them  to  myself ;  and  good  these  are,  and  these  together  are 
myself.  Good,  then,  is  He  that  made  me,  and  He  is  my 
good ;  and  before  Him  do  I  exult  for  every  good  which 
even  as  a  boy  I  had.  For  herein  was  my  sin,  that  not  in 
Him,  but  in  His  creatures — myself  and  others — I  sought  for 
pleasures,  grandeurs,  realities,  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  preserve  them  to  me. 
For  so  wilt  Thou  preserve  me,  and  those  things  shall  be  in- 
creased and  perfected,  which  Thou  hast  given  me,  and  I 
myself  shall  be  with  Thee,  since  even  that  I  am  is  of  Thy 
gift  to  me. 


IfiSooft  5?. 


He  passes  on  to  his  youth  ;  beginning  from  his  sixteenth 
year  ;  when  having  laid  aside  his  studies,  he  indulged 
his  appetites,  and  with  his  companions  committed  theft. 


CHAPTER  I. 

He  deplores  the  sins  of  liis  youth. 

I  DESIRE  now  to  call  to  mind  my  past  foulness,  and  the 
carnal  corruptions  of  my  soul ;  not  because  I  love  them, 
but  that  I  may  love  Thee,  O  my  God.  For  love  of  Thy 
love  I  do  it ;  recalling  my  most  wicked  ways  in  the  bitter- 
ness of  my  remembrance,  that  Thou  mayest  grow  sweet  unto 
me ;  (Thou  sweetness  never  failing,  Thou  blessed  and  tran- 
quil sweetness)  \  and  gathering  me  again  out  of  that  my 
dissipation,  wherein  I  was  torn  piecemeal,  while  turned 
away  from  Thy  Unity,  I  lost  myself  among  many  things. 
For  I  even  burnt  in  iny  youth  heretofore,  to  be  satiated  in 
things  below ;  and  I  dared  to  grow  wild  with  various  and 
shadowy  loves  :  "  my  beauty  consumed  away,"  and  I  was 
loathly  in  Thine  eyes  ;  pleasing  myself,  and  desirous  to  please 
the  eyes  of  men. 


CHAPTER  H. 

///  the  deepest  grief  he  recalls  the  sensual  indulgences  of  his  sixteenth 

year. 

AND  what  was  it  that  I  delighted  in,  but  to  love,  and  be 
beloved  ?  but  the  measure  of  mind  to  mind,  such  as 
is  the  shining  boundary  of  friendship,  was  not  kept ;  but  out 
of  the  muddy  desire  of  the  flesh,  and  the  overflow  of  youth, 
mists  were  given  off  which  clouded  and  overcast  my  heart, 
so  that  the  clear  brightness  of  love  could  not  be  distin- 


The  Confessions  of  S.  Align stine.  23 

guished  from  the  fog  of  just.  Both  did  confusedly  boil  in 
rae,  and  hurried  my  youthful  weakness  over  the  precipice  of 
desire,  and  sunk  me  in  an  abyss  of  shame.  Thy  wrath  had 
lowered  over  me,  and  I  knew  it  not.  I  was  grown  deaf  by 
the  clanking  of  the  chain  of  my  mortality,  the  punishment 
of  the  pride  of  my  soul;  and  I  strayed  further  from  Thee, 
and  Thou  didst  let  me  alone,  and  I  was  tossed  about,  and 
poured  out,  and  dissipated,  and  I  boiled  over  in  my  forni- 
cations, and  Thou  didst  hold  Thy  peace,  O  Thou  my  tardy 
joy !  Thou  then  didst  hold  Thy  peace,  and  I  wandered 
further  and  further  from  Thee,  into  more  and  more  barren 
occasions  of  sorrows,  with  a  proud  dejectedness,  and  a  rest- 
less weariness. 

Oh  !  that  some  one  had  then  restrained  my  distress,  and 
turned  to  account  the  fleeting  beauties  of  these  newest 
powers,  had  put  a  bound  to  their  pleasureableness,  that  so 
the  tides  of  my  youth  might  have  cast  themselves  upon  the 
shore  of  marriage  if  the  duty  of  paternity  had  not  sufficed 
to  calm  them,  as  Thy  law  prescribes,  O  Lord  :  who  this 
way  formest  the  offspring  of  our  mortal  race,  being  able 
with  a  gentle  hand  to  blunt  the  thorns,  which  were  shut 
out  from  Thy  paradise  !  For  Thy  omnipotence  is  not  far 
from  us,  even  though  we  are  far  from  Thee.  Else  ought 
I  more  AvatchfuUy  to  have  heeded  the  solemn  voice  from 
Thy  clouds;  ''Nevertheless  such  shall  have  trouble  in  the 
flesh,  but  I  spare  you."  And  "  it  is  good  for  a  man  not  to 
touch  a  woman."  And  "  he  that  is  unmarried  thinketh  of 
the  things  of  the  Lord,  how  he  may  please  the  Lord ;  but 
he  that  is  married  careth  for  the  things  of  this  world,  how 
he  may  please  his  wife"  (i  Cor.  vii.). 

To  these  words  I  should  have  listened  more  attentively, 
and  being  continent  "  for  the  kingdom  of  heaven's  sake  " 
(S.  Matt.  xix.  12),  I  should  the  more  happily  have  awaited 
Thy  embraces ;  but  I,  poor  wretch,  as  though  I  had  been 
a  boiling  sea,  followed  the  tide  of  my  impulses,  and  forsook 
Thee,  I  exceeded  all  the  bounds  of  Thy  laws,  yet  I  escaped 
not  Thy  scourges.  For  what  mortal  can  ?  For  Thou  wert 
ever  with  me  angry  in  mercy,  and  besprinkling  with  most 
bitter  vexations  all  my  unlawful  pleasures  :  that  I  might 
seek  pleasures  free  from  offence.  But  where  to  find  such, 
I  could  not  discover,  save  in  Thee,  O  Lord,  who  "  shapest 
our   trouble   for   a   precept"    (Ps.    xciv.    20,    Vulg.),    and 


24  The  Confessio7is  of  S.  A  ngusti7ie. 

woundest  us,  that  Thou  mayest  heal ;  and  killest  us,  lest 
we  die  from  Thee.  Where  was  I,  and  how  far  was  I  exiled 
from  the  deHghts  of  Thy  house,  in  that  sixteenth  year  of 
the  age  of  my  flesh,  when  the  madness  of  lust  which  hath 
license  through  men's  viciousness,  though  forbidden  by  Thy 
laws,  took  the  rule  over  me,  and  I  resigned  myself  wholly 
to  it  ?  My  friends  meanwhile  took  no  care  by  marriage  to 
save  me  from  ruin ;  their  only  care  was  that  I  should 
learn  to  make  a  good  speech,  and  be  a  persuasive  orator. 


CHAPTER  III. 

Couceniing  his  father,  a  freedtnan  of  Thagaste,  the  helper  of  his  soft's 
studies  ;  and  his  mother'' s  cotinsels  to  chastity, 

POR  that  year  were  my  studies  intermitted  :  whilst  after 
-^        my  return  from  Madaura,  a  neighbouring  city,  whither 
I  had  begun  to  travel  to  study  grammar  and  rhetoric,  the 
expenses  for  a  further  journey  to  Carthage  were  being  found 
for  me  rather  by  the  resolution  than  the  means  of  my  father, 
who  was  but  a  poor  freedman  of  Thagaste.    To  whom  tell  I 
this  ?  not  to  Thee,  my  God ;  but  before  Thee  to  mine  own 
kind,  even  to  the  small  portion  of  mankind,  that  may  light 
upon  these  writings  of  mine.     And  to  what  purpose  ?  that 
I  myself  and  whosoever  reads  this,  may  reflect  "out  of 
what  deep  we  are  to  cry  unto  Thee"  (Ps.  cxxx.   i).     For 
what  is  nearer  to  Thine  ears  than  a  heart  that  makes  con- 
fession, and  a  life  of  faith?     Who  did  not  then  sing  my 
father's  praises,  for  that  beyond  the  ability  of  fortune,  he 
would  furnish  his  son  with  all  necessaries  for  a  long  journey 
for  the  sake  of  his  studies?     For  many  citizens  far  more 
wealthy  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 ;  so  that  I  were  but  a  cultured  speaker, 
however  barren  I  were  to  Thy  culture,  O  God,  who  art  the 
only  true  and  good  Lord  of  Thy  field,  my  heart. 

But  while  in  that  my  sixteenth  year  I  began  to  be  at 
home,  and  to  keep  enforced  holiday  from  all  study,  through 
the  narrowness  of  my  parents'  fortunes,  the  briars  of  unclean 
desn-es  grew  up  above  my  head,  and  there  was  no  hand  to 
root  them  out.     When  that  my  father  saw  me  at  the  baths, 


The  Confessions  of  S.  AugustiJie.  25 

now  growing  toward  manhood,  and  endued  with  the  rest- 
lessness of  youth,  he,  as  though  already  exulting  in  his 
grandchildren,  gladly  told  it  to  my  mother;  intoxicated 
with  that  joy  wherein  the  world  forgetteth  Thee  its  Creator, 
and  loveth  Thy  creature  instead  of  Thyself,  through  that 
invisible  wine  of  self-will,  which  is  perverse,  and  inclined  to 
base  things.  But  in  my  mother's  breast  Thou  hadst 
already  begun  Thy  temple,  and  the  foundation  of  Thy  holy 
habitation,  whereas  my  father  was  as  yet  a  catechumen,  and 
that  but  recently.  She  then  was  startled  with  an  holy  fear 
and  trembling;  and  though  I  was  not  as  yet  one  of  the 
faithful,  she  feared  for  me  those  crooked  ways,  in  which 
they  walk,  who  "  turn  their  back  unto  Thee  and  not  their 
face"  (Jer.  ii.  27). 

Woe  is  me  !  and  dare  I  say  that  Thou  didst  hold  Thy 
peace,  O  my  God,  while  I  was  straying  further  from  Thee  ? 
Didst  Thou  then  indeed  hold  Thy  peace  to  me?  And 
whose  but  Thine  were  these  words  which  by  my  mother, 
Thy  faithful  one.  Thou  didst  chant  in  my  ears  ?  Nothing 
whereof  sunk  into  my  heart,  so  as  to  do  it.  For  she  wished, 
and  I  remember  in  private  with  great  earnestness  warned 
me,  "  to  flee  fornication,  and  especially  never  to  sin  with 
another's  wife."  These  seemed  to  me  womanish  advices, 
which  I  should  blush  to  obey.  But  they  were  Thine,  and 
I  knew  it  not ;  and  I  thought  Thou  didst  hold  Thy  peace, 
and  that  it  was  she  who  spake ;  by  whom  Thou  didst  not 
hold  Thy  peace ;  and  in  her  wast  despised  by  me,  her  son, 
"the  son  of  Thy  handmaid  and  Thy  servant"  (Ps.  cxvi.  16). 
But  I  knew  it  not ;  and  ran  headlong  with  such  blindness, 
that  amongst  my  equals  I  was  ashamed  of  being  less 
vicious,  when  I  heard  them  boast  of  their  vices,  yea,  boast- 
ing the  more  the  baser  they  were  ;  and  I  took  pleasure,  not 
only  in  a  vicious  act,  but  in  the  praise  of  it.  What  is 
worthy  of  blame  but  Vice  ?  But  I  made  myself  out  more 
vicious  than  I  was  to  avoid  being  blamed  ;  and  when  there 
was  nothing  which  I  could  plead  guilty  of,  to  be  like  the 
most  abandoned,  I  would  pretend  that  I  had  done  what  I 
had  not  done,  that  I  might  not  seem  more  contemptible 
because  I  was  more  innocent;  or  be  held  the  cheaper 
because  more  chaste. 

Behold  with  what   companions   I  walked  the  streets   of 
Babylon,  and  wallowed  in  the  mire  thereof,  as  if  in  a  bed 


26  TJic  Confessions  of  S.  Augustine. 

of  spices,  and  precious  ointments.  And  that  I  might  cleave 
the  faster  in  the  midst  of  it,  the  invisible  enemy  trod  me 
down,  and  seduced  me,  for  that  I  was  easy  to  be  seduced. 
Neither  did  the  mother  of  my  flesh  (who  had  now  "  fled 
out  of  the  midst  of  Babylon  "  [Jer.  li.  6],  yet  went  more 
slowly  in  the  skirts  thereof),  as  she  advised  me  to  chastity, 
so  heed  what  she  had  heard  of  me  from  her  husband,  as 
to  restrain  within  the  bounds  of  married  love  (if  it  could 
not  be  pared  away  to  the  quick),  what  she  felt  to  be  pestilent 
at  present,  and  for  the  future  dangerous.  She  heeded  not 
this,  for  she  feared,  lest  my  prospects  might  be  embarrassed 
by  the  clog  of  a  wife.  Not  that  prospect  of  the  world  to 
come,  which  my  mother  reposed  in  Thee  ;  but  the  prospect 
of  learning,  which  both  my  parents  were  too  desirous  I 
should  attain ;  my  father,  because  of  Thee  he  thought  little 
or  nothing,  and  of  me  but  vain  conceits ;  but  my  mother, 
because  she  accounted  that  those  usual  courses  of  learning 
would  not  only  be  no  hindrance,  but  even  some  help  to- 
wards attaining  Thee  in  time  to  come.  For  thus  I  conjec- 
ture, recalling,  as  well  as  I  may,  the  dispositions  of  my 
parents.  The  reins,  meantime,  were  slackened  to  me, 
beyond  the  due  measure  of  severity,  so  that  I  might  sport, 
yea,  even  unto  dissoluteness,  in  all  sorts  of  passions.  And 
in  all  was  a  mist  shutting  out  from  me,  O  my  God,  the 
brightness  of  Thy  truth  ;  and  mine  iniquity  "  stood,  out  as 
with  fatness^'  (Ps.  Ixxiii.  7). 


CHAPTER  IV. 

He  joins  his  companions  in  an  act  of  theft  ;  tempted  not  by  7mnt, 
hit  by  a  certain  loathing  of  righteousness. 

THEFT  is  punished  by  Thy  law,  O  Lord,  and  the  law 
written  in  the  hearts  of  men,  which  iniquity  itself 
does  not  blot  out.  For  what  thief  will  abide  a  thief?  not 
even  a  rich  thief,  one  driven  to  steal  by  want.  Yet  I  wanted 
to  thieve,  and  did  it,  though  compelled  by  no  want  nor 
poverty,  but  through  a  loathing  of  rigliteousness  and  a  surfeit 
of  iniquity.  For  I  stole  that,  of  which  I  had  plenty,  and 
much  better.  Nor  did  I  want  to  enjoy  what  I  sought  by  my 
theft,  but  the  theft  and  sin  itself.      A  pear  tree  there  was 


TJie  Confessions  of  S.  A  iignstine.  27 

near  our  vineyard,  laden  with  fruit,  tempting  neither  in  form 
nor  flavour.  To  shake  and  rob  this,  some  base  young 
fellows  of  us  went,  late  one  night,  after  having,  according 
to  our  abominable  habit,  kept  up  our  fun  in  the  streets 
till  then ;  and  took  huge  loads,  not  for  a  feast  for  ourselves, 
but  to  fling  to  the  very  hogs,  having  only  tasted  them.  And 
this  was  done  by  us  only  for  the  pleasure  of  doing  what  we 
ought  not.  Behold  my  heart,  O  God,  behold  my  heart, 
which  Thou  hadst  pity  upon  in  the  bottom  of  the  abyss. 
Now,  behold,  let  my  heart  tell  Thee,  what  it  sought  there, 
that  I  should  be  gratuitously  wicked,  having  no  temptation 
to  that  evil  deed,  but  the  evil  deed  itself.  It  was  foul,  and 
I  loved  it ;  I  loved  to  perish,  I  loved  mine  own  fault,  not 
that  for  the  sake  of  which  I  committed  the  fault,  but  my 
fault  itself  I  loved.  Foul  soul,  falling  from  Thy  firmament 
to  expulsion  from  thy  presence  ;  not  '^eking  aught  through 
the  shame,  but  the  shame  itself ! 

CHAPTER  V. 

That  the  viotive  to  sin  lies  not  in  mere  love  of  evil,  hut  in  the  desire  to 

acqtiire  something. 

FOR  there  is  a  beauty  in  fair  bodies,  in  gold  and  silver, 
and  all  things  ;  and  in  bodily  touch,  sympathy  counts 
for  much,  and  of  the  other  senses  each  hath  his  correspond- 
ing measure  of  enjoyment.  Worldly  honour  hath  also  its 
attractiveness,  and  the  power  of  command  and  of  conquest ; 
whence  springs  also  the  longing  for  revenge.  But  yet,  to 
obtain  all  these,  we  may  not  depart  from  Thee,  O  Lord,  nor 
wander  from  Thy  law.  The  life  also  which  here  we  live 
hath  its  own  enchantment,  through  a  certain  measure  of 
dignity,  and  a  correspondence  with  all  things  beautiful  here 
below.  Human  friendship  also  is  pleasant  with  its  tie  of 
affection,  by  reason  of  the  unity  formed  of  many  souls. 
Upon  occasion  of  all  these,  and  the  like,  is  sin  committed, 
while  through  an  immoderate  inclination  towards  these  goods 
of  the  lowest  order,  the  better  and  higher  are  forsaken, — 
Thou,  our  Lord  God,  Thy  truth,  and  Thy  law.  For  these 
lower  things  have  their  delights,  but  not  like  my  God,  who 
made  all  things ;  for  "  in  Him  doth  the  righteous  delight, 
and  He  is  the  joy  of  the  true  of  heart  "  (Ps.  Ixiv.  10). 


28  The  Confessions  of  S.  Augustine. 

When,  then,  we  ask  why  a  crime  was  done,  we  believe  it 
not,  unless  it  appear  that  there  might  have  been  some  desire 
of  obtaining  some  of  those  which  we  called  lower  goods, 
or  a  fear  of  losing  them.  For  they  are  beautiful  and  comely  ; 
although  in  comparison  with  those  higher  and  more  blessed 
goods,  they  be  abject  and  low,  A  man  hath  done  murder. 
Why  ?  he  loved  his  victim's  wife  or  his  estate ;  or  would  rob 
for  his  own  livelihood  ;  or  feared  to  lose  some  such  things  by 
him  ;  or,  wronged,  burned  to  revenge  himself.  Would  any 
commit  murder  upon  no  cause,  delighted  in  murder  itself? 
who  would  believe  it  ?  for  as  for  that  mad  and  savage  man, 
of  whom  it  is  said  that  he  was  "  gratuitously  evil  and  cruel," 
yet  is  the  cause  assigned  ;  "  lest "  (saith  he)  "  through  idle- 
ness hand  or  mind  should  grow  inactive"  (Sallust.  Catil. 
1 6).  And  to  what  end  ?  that  through  that  practice  of  crimes, 
he  might,  having  taken  the  city,  attain  to  honours,  empire, 
riches,  and  be  freed  from  fear  of  the  laws,  and  the  embar- 
rassment of  his  affairs,  through  narrow  means  and  conscious- 
ness of  villanies.  So  then,  not  even  Catiline  himself  loved 
his  own  villanies,  but  rather  that  for  the  sake  of  which  he 
did  them. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

IVhaf  it  2vas  that  he  loved  in  his  theft ;  since  all  things  that  prompt  to 
sin  by  an  appearance  of  goodness  can  be  only  true  and  perfect  in 
God  alone. 

'\  7[  7HAT  then  did  wretched  I  so  love  in  thee,  thou  theft 
^  ^  of  mine,  thou  deed  of  night,  in  that  sixteenth  year  of 
my  age  ?  Fair  thou  wert  not,  for  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  pears,  but  not 
them  did  my  wretched  soul  desire ;  for  I  had  store  of  better, 
and  those  I  plucked  only  that  I  might  steal.  For,  when 
plucked,  I  flung  them  away,  and  feasted  only  on  my  sin, 
which  I  was  pleased  to  enjoy.  For  if  aught  of  those  pears 
came  within  my  mouth,  the  sin  was  the  seasoning.  And 
now,  O  Lord  my  God,  I  ask  what  in  that  theft  delighted 
me;  and  behold  it  hath   no  beauty;    I    mean    not   such 


The  Confessions  of  S.  Augustine.  29 

beauty  as  is  in  justice  and  wisdom ;  nor  even  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  belongeth  to  deceiving  vices. 

For  pride  doth  ape  highness;  whereas  I'hou  only  art 
God,  Most  High  above  all.  Ambition,  what  seeks  it,  but 
honours  and  glory?  whereas  Thou  alone  art  to  be  honoured 
above  all,  and  glorious  for  evermore.  The  cruelty  of  the 
powers  that  be,  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  charms  of  the  wanton  would  fain  be  loved ; 
but  there  is  nothing  that  hath  more  charm  than  Thy  charity ; 
nor  is  aught  loved  more  healthfully  than  that  Thy  truth 
which  is  beautiful  and  luminous  above  all.  Curiosity  seems 
to  affect  a  desire  of  knowledge ;  whereas  Thou  supremely 
knowest  all.  Yea,  ignorance  and  very  folly  is  cloaked  under 
the  name  of  simplicity  and  harmlessness ;  because  nothing 
is  found  more  simple  than  Thyself.  And  what  is  more 
harmless  than  Thou  art?  Truly  his  own  deeds  are  the 
sinner's  foes.  Sloth  again  is  a  certain  seeking  after  rest; 
but  what  sure  rest  is  there  besides  the  Lord?  Luxury 
would  prefer  to  be  called  sufficiency  and  abundance ;  but 
Thou  art  the  fulness  and  never-failing  plenteousness  of 
sweetness  incorruptible.  Prodigality  presents  a  shadow  of 
liberality  :  but  Thou  art  the  most  plenteous  Giver  of  all 
good  things.  Covetousness  would  possess  many  things ; 
and  Thou  possessest  all  things.  Envy  quarrels  about  ex- 
cellency :  what  more  excellent  than  Thou  ?  Anger  seeks 
vengeance ;  who  avengeth  more  justly  than  Thou  ?  Fear 
trembles  at  unwonted  and  sudden  adversities  which  en- 
danger things  beloved,  and  takes  precautions  for  their 
safety;  but  to  Thee  what  unwonted  or  sudden,  or  who 
separateth  from  Thee  what  Thou  lovest?  (Rom.  viii.  9.) 
Or  where  but  with  Thee  is  unshaken  safety  ?  Grief  pines 
away  for  things  now  lost,  in  which  covetousness  used  to 
take  delight ;  because  it  would  have  nothing  taken  from  it, 
as  nothing  can  be  taken  from  Thee. 

Thus  doth  the  soul  commit  fornication,  when  she  turns 
from  Thee,   seeking  without  Thee,  what  she  findeth  not 


30  TJie  Confessions  of  S.  Augustine. 

pure  and  untainted,  till  she  returns  to  Thee.  Thus  all 
perversely  imitate  Thee,  who  put  Thee  far  from  them,  and 
lift  themselves  up  against  Thee.  But  even  by  thus  imitating 
Thee,  they  imply  Thee  to  be  the  Creator  of  all  nature; 
whence  there  is  no  place  whither  altogether  to  retire  from 
Thee.  What  then  did  I  love  in  that  theft?  and  wherein 
did  I  even  wickedly  and  perversely  imitate  my  Lord  ?  Did 
it  please  me  to  do  contrary  to  Thy  law,  at  any  rate  by 
artifice,  if  I  could  not  by  power,  so  that  though  a  prisoner, 
I  might  mimic  a  maimed  liberty  by  doing  with  impunity 
things  unpermitted  me,  a  shadowy  likeness  of  Thy  Omnipo- 
tency?  Behold,  Thy  servant,  fleeing  from  his  Lord,  and 
obtaining  a  shadow.  O  rottenness,  O  monstrousness  of 
life,  and  depth  and  death  !  could  I  like  what  I  might  not, 
for  nothing  else  than  that  I  might  not  ? 


CHAPTER  VII. 

He  renders  thanks  to  God  for  the  forgiveness  of  his  sins  ;  and  tvat  ns 
against  pride  any  tuhovi  God  has  kept  front  stick  grave  offences. 

WHAT  shall  I  render  unto  the  Lord"  (Ps.  cxvi.  12), 
that,  whilst  my  memory  recalls  these  things,  my 
soul  is  not  affrighted  at  them  ?  "  I  will  love  Thee,  O  Lord, 
and  give  thanks  unto  Thee,  and  confess  unto  Thy  name ; " 
because  Thou  hast  forgiven  me  these  so  great  and  wicked 
deeds  of  mine.  To  Thy  grace  I  impute  it,  and  to  Thy 
mercy,  that  Thou  hast  melted  away  my  sins  as  it  were  ice. 
To  Thy  grace  I  impute  also  that  some  evil  I  have  left  un- 
done ;  for  what  might  I  not  have  done,  who  even  loved  a  sin 
for  its  own  sake  ?  And  I  confess  that  all  have  been  forgiven 
me ;  both  those  sins  which,  of  my  own  will,  I  did,  and 
those  which,  of  Thy  guidance,  I  left  undone.  What  man 
is  there  who,  conscious  of  his  own  infirmity,  dares  to  ascribe 
his  chastity  and  innocency  to  his  own  strength ;  that  so  he 
should  love  Thee  the  less,  as  though  Thy  mercy  had  been 
the  less  necessary  for  him ;  the  mercy  whereby  Thou  re- 
mittest  sins  to  those  that  turn  to  Thee?  For  whosoever, 
called  by  Thee,  followed  Thy  voice,  and  shunned  those 
things  which  he  reads  me  recording  and  confessing  of 
myself,  let  him  not  scorn  me,  who  being  sick,  was  cured  by 


The  Confessions  of  S.  Augiistine.  31 

that  Physician,  through  whose  aid  it  was  that  he  was  not 
sick,  or  rather  was  less  sick  :  and  for  this  let  him  love  Thee 
as  much,  yea  and  more;  since  by  whom  he  sees  me  to  have 
been  freed  from  the  weary  exhaustion  of  my  sins,  by  Him 
he  sees  that  he  was  saved  from  entanglement  in  the  like 
exhaustion. 

CHAPTER  VIII. 

That  in  the  thefts  it  tvas  the  covipanioftihip  of  his  fellow-sinners 
that  he  liked. 

"AAJHAT  fruit  had  I  then,  '' wretched  man,"  in  those 
^  ^  things,  of  the  remembrance  whereof  I  am  now 
ashamed  ?  "  (Rom.  vi.  21).  Especially,  in  that  theft  wherein 
I  loved  theft  itself?  there  was  nothing  else  to  love  in  it; 
and  since  itself  was  nothing,  was  not  I  more  wretched  even 
than  the  theft  ?  Yet  alone  I  had  not  done  it :  for  I  re- 
member that  my  mind  even  then  discerned  that  of  myself 
I  had  never  done  it.  I  loved  then  in  it  also  the  companion- 
ship of  the  accomplices,  with  whom  I  did  it  ?  Did  I  then 
love  nothing  else  but  the  theft  ?  yea  rather  I  did  love  no- 
thing else,  for  that  companionship  was  also  nothing.  What 
is,  in  truth  ?  who  can  teach  me,  save  He  that  enlighteneth 
my  heart,  and  discovereth  its  shadows  ?  What  is  it  which 
hath  come  into  my  mind  to  enquire,  and  discuss,  and  con- 
sider ?  For  had  I  then  loved  the  pears  I  stole,  and  wished 
to  enjoy  them,  I  might  have  done  it  alone,  if  the  com- 
mitting of  that  wickedness  had  sufficed  to  attain  my 
pleasure ;  nor  needed  I  have  inflamed  the  itching  of  my 
covetousness,  by  the  flattery  of  accomplices.  But  since  my 
pleasure  was  not  in  those  pears,  it  was  in  the  offence  itself, 
which  the  association  with  fellow-sinners  occasioned. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

There  is  pleasure  in  laughter,  and  in  the  deceiving  of  others. 

WHAT  then  was  that  inclination  of  the  mind  ?  For  of 
a  truth  it  was  too  foul :  and  woe  was  me,  who  had 
it.  But  yet  what  was  it?  "Who  can  understand  his 
errors"  (Ps.  xix.  12).     It  was   the   sport,  which  as  it  were, 


32  The  Confessions  of  S,  Augnstine. 

tickled  our  hearts,  that  we  were  deceiving  those  who  had  no 
idea  of  what  we  were  about,  and  vehemently  misliked  it. 
Why  then  was  my  delight  of  such  sort,  that  I  did  it  not 
alone  ?  Was  it  because  none  doth  readily  laugh  alone  ? 
indeed  no  one  doth  so  readily ;  yet  laughter  sometimes 
masters  men  alone  and  by  themselves,  when  no  one  else  is 
with  them,  if  any  thing  very  ridiculous  presents  itself  to 
their  senses  or  mind.  Yet  I  had  not  done  this  alone ; 
alone  I  had  never  done  it.  Behold  my  God,  before  Thee 
is  the  vivid  remembrance  of  my  soul ;  alone  I  had  never 
committed  that  theft  wherein  the  thing  stolen  gave  me  no 
pleasure,  but  only  the  stealing;  nor  would  the  stealing  have 
given  me  pleasure  by  myself,  nor  would  I  have  done  it.  O 
friendship  too  unfriendly  !  thou  incomprehensible  deception 
of  the  mind,  thou  greediness  to  do  mischief  out  of  sport 
and  mirth,  thou  thirst  of  another's  loss,  without  lust  of  my 
own  gain  or  revenge  :  but  when  it  is  said,  "  Let's  go,  let's 
do  it,"  we  are  ashamed  not  to  be  shameless. 


CHAPTER  X. 

With  God  is  true  rest,  and  life  undisturbed. 

A'\ /'HO  can  unloose  that  most  twisted  and  tangled  knot? 
y  ^  Foul  is  it  :  I  hate  the  thought  of  it ;  I  hate  the 
sight  of  it.  But  Thee  I  long  for,  O  Righteousness  and 
Innocency,  fair  and  comely  to  pure  eyes,  and  of  a  satis- 
faction unsating.  With  Thee  is  true  rest  and  life  un- 
troubled. Whoso  enters  into  Thee,  "enters  into  the  joy  of 
his  Lord  "  (S.  Matt.  xxv.  21) :  and  shall  not  fear,  and  shall 
find  'all  good,  in  Thee,  Most  Good.  I  sank  away  from 
Thee,  and  I  wandered,  O  my  God,  too  much  astray  from 
Thee  my  stay,  in  my  youth,  and  I  became  to  myself  a 
barren  land. 


mook  555. 

Treats  of   his   seventeenth,  eighteenth,    and   nineteenth 

YEARS  spent  AT  CaRTHAGE,  WHERE,  IN  ADDITIONTO  HIS  STUDIES, 
HE  WAS  TAKEN  IN  THE  SNARE  OF  LAWLESS  LOVE,  AND  PLUNGED 
INTO  MaNICH^AN  ERRORS. 


CHAPTER  I. 


Captive  to  a  lawless  passion,  a  man  base  and  disJiononrahle  would  fain 
be  fine  and  courtly. 

I  CAME  to  Carthage,  where  there  seethed  all  around 
me  a  cauldron  of  lawless  loves.  I  loved  not  yet,  yet 
I  loved  to  love,  and  out  of  a  deep-seated  want,  I  hated 
myself  for  wanting  not.  I  sought  what  I  might  love,  in 
love  with  loving,  and  I  hated  safety,  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  suste- 
nance, not  because  filled  therewith,  but  the  more  empty, 
the  more  I  loathed  it.  For  this  cause  my  soul  was  un- 
healthy ;  and  being  ulcerous,  miserably  cast  itself  forth, 
seeking  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  obtained  to  enjoy  the  person  I  loved.  I 
defiled,  therefore,  the  spring  of  friendship  with  the  filth  of 
concupiscence,  and  I  beclouded  its  brightness  with  the 
hell  of  lustfulness ;  and  thus  foul  and  unseemly,  I  would 
fain,  through  excess  of  vanity,  be  fine  and  courtly.  I  fell 
headlong  then  into  the  love,  with  which  I  longed  to  be 
taken  captive.  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 


34  -The  Cofifessiofis  of  S.  Augustine. 

arrived  at  the  bond  of  enjoying ;  and  rejoiced  to  be  bound 
in  sorrowful  bonds,  that  I  might  be  scourged  with  the  red- 
hot  iron  rods  of  jealousy,  and  suspicions,  and  fears,  and 
angers,  and  quarrels. 

CHAPTER  II. 

He  arouses  empty  feelings  of  pity  in  himself  by  stage  plays. 

STAGE  plays  also  carried  me  away,  full  of  images  of  my 
miseries,  and  of  tinder  for  my  flame.  Why  is  it  that 
man  desires  to  be  there  made  sad,  beholding  grievous  and 
tragical  things,  which  yet  himself  would  by  no  means  suffer? 
yet  he  desires  as  a  spectator  to  feel  grief  at  them,  and  this 
very  grief  is  his  pleasure.  What  is  this  but  a  miserable 
madness  ?  for  a  man  is  the  more  affected  with  these  actions, 
the  less  free  he  is  from  such  affections.  Howsoever,  when 
he  suffers  in  his  own  person,  it  uses  to  be  styled  misery ; 
when  from  sympathy  with  others,  then  it  is  pity.  But  what 
sort  of  pity  is  this  for  the  shams  and  shadows  of  the  stage  ? 
for  the  auditor  is  not  moved  to  succour,  but  only  asked  to 
grieve ;  and  he  applauds  the  actor  of  these  fictions  the 
more,  the  more  he  grieves.  And  if  those  human  misfor- 
tunes, whether  they  be  histories  of  olden  times,  or  mere 
fictions,  be  so  acted,  that  the  spectator  is  not  moved  to 
grief,  he  goes  away  disdainful  and  censorious ;  but  if  he  be 
moved  to  grief,  he  stays  intent,  and  enjoys  the  tears  he 
sheds. 

Are  griefs  then  too  loved?  Verily  all  desire  joy.  Or 
since  no  man  likes  to  be  miserable,  yet  we  like  to  be  piti- 
ful ;  and  as  this  cannot  be  without  some  grief,  is  this  the 
sole  reason  why  griefs  are  loved  ?  This  also  arises  from 
that  spring  of  friendship.  But  whither  goes  that  spring? 
whither  does  it  flow  ?  wherefore  runs  it  into  that  torrent  of 
pitch  bubbling  forth  those  monstrous  tides  of  foul  lusts,  into 
which  it  is  changed  and  transformed  of  its  own  motion, 
being  t\visted  aside  and  cut  off  from  its  heavenly  clearness  ? 
Shall  pity  then  be  renounced  ?  by  no  means.  Let  griefs 
then  sometimes  be  loved.  But  beware  of  uncleanness,  O 
my  soul,  under  the  guardianship  of  my  God,  the  "  God  of 
our  fathers,  who  is  to  be  praised  and  exalted  above  all  for 
ever"  (Dan.  iii.  52,  Vulg.) ;  beware  of  uncleanness.     For  I 


The  Confessions  of  S.  Augustine.  35 

have  not  even  now  ceased  to  pity  ;  but  then  in  the  theatres 
I  rejoiced  with  lovers,  when  they  wickedly  enjoyed  one 
another,  although  this  was  imaginary  only  in  the  play.  And 
when  they  lost  one  another,  as  if  very  pitiful,  I  sorrowed 
with  them,  yet  had  my  delight  in  both  the  while.  But  now 
I  much  more  pity  him  that  rejoiceth  in  his  wickedness, 
than  him  that  suffers  seeming  hardships  through  lack  of  some 
pernicious  pleasure,  and  the  loss  of  some  miserable  felicity. 
This  certainly  is  the  truer  pity,  but  in  it  grief  is  without 
delight.  For  though  he  that  grieves  for  the  miserable  be 
commended  for  his  office  of  charity,  yet  he  who  is  genuinely 
pitiful  would  much  prefer  that  there  were  nothing  for  him  to 
grieve  for.  For  if  good  will  be  ill  willed,  which  cannot  be, 
then  may  he,  who  truly  and  sincerely  pities,  wish  there 
might  be  some  miserable  that  he  might  pity  them.  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  more  incorruptibly  pity  on  them,  yet  art 
wounded  with  no  sorrowfulness.  "And  who  is  sufficient  for 
these  things"?  (2  Cor.  ii.  16). 

But  I,  miserable,  then  loved  to  grieve,  and  sought  out 
what  to  grieve  at,  when  in  the  misery  of  another,  who  only 
feigned  and  postured,  that  acting  of  a  player  best  pleased 
me,  and  attracted  me  the  most  vehemently,  which  drew 
tears  from  me.  What  marvel  that  an  unhappy  sheep,  erring 
from  Thy  flock,  and  impatient  of  Thy  keeping,  I  became 
infected  with  a  foul  disease  '^  And  hence  came  the  love  of 
griefs,  though  not  of  such  as  should  too  deeply  affect  me. 
For  I  loved  not  to  endure  what  I  loved  to  look  on ;  but 
such  that  when  I  heard  their  fictions,  I  should,  as  it  were, 
be  tickled  on  the  surface  ;  upon  which,  as  on  nail  scratches, 
followed  inflamed  swelling,  corruption,  and  a  horrid  sore. 
Such  was  my  life.     But  was  it  life,  O  my  God  ? 


CHAPTER  III. 

Not  even  in  Church  does  he  govern  his  desires  ;  in  the  rhetoric  school  he 
abhors  the  doings  of  the  ^^  Subverters.''^ 

AND  Thy  faithful  mercy  hovered  over  me  from  afar.     In 
what  grievous  iniquities   did   I   consume  away,  and 
followed  after  a  sacrilegious  curiosity,  that  when  forsaking 


36  TJic  Confessions  of  S,  Augustine. 

Thee  it  might  bring  me  to  the  treacherous  abyss,  and  the 
deceitful  rites  of  devils,  to  whom  I  sacrificed  my  evil 
doings ;  and  in  all  these  things  Thou  didst  scourge  me  !  I 
dared  even,  during  the  celebration  of  Thy  solemnities, 
within  the  walls  of  Thy  church,  to  desire,  and  to  compass  a 
business,  deserving  death  for  its  fruits,  for  which  Thou 
scourgedst  me  with  grievous  punishments,  though  nothing 
to  my  fault,  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  fleeting 
liberty. 

Those  studies  also,  which  were  .accounted  honourable, 
had  their  purpose  fixed  upon  the  Law  Courts,  that  I  might 
excel  in  them,  being  considered  more  praiseworthy,  the 
more  crafty  in  deception.  Such  is  men's  blindness,  glory- 
ing even  in  their  blindness.  And  now  I  was  chief  in  the 
rhetoric  school,  whereat  I  joyed  proudly,  and  I  swelled  with 
arrogancy,  though  (Lord,  Thou  knowest)  far  quieter  and 
altogether  removed  from  the  subvertings  of  those  "Sub- 
verters  "  (for  this  perverse  and  devilish  name  was  a  sort  of 
mark  of  the  "  man  about  town  ")  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,  though  I  ever  held  aloof  from  their  doings,  i.e., 
their  "  subvertings,"  wherewith  they  wantonly  railed  at  the 
modesty  of  strangers,  which  they  disturbed  by  a  gratuitous 
jeering,  feeding  thereon  their  malicious  mirth.  Nothing 
can  be  more  like  the  actions  of  devils.  What  then  could 
they  be  more  truly  called  than  "  subverters "  ?  themselves 
subverted  and  altogether  perverted  first,  the  deceiving  spirits 
secretly  deriding  and  seducing  them  in  the  very  thing 
wherein  themselves  delight  to  jeer  at,  and  deceive  others. 

CHAPTER  IV. 

In  his  nmeteenth  year,  two  years  after  his  father'' s  death,  the  ^^Hor- 
tensius"  of  Cicero  recalls  his  viind  to  philosophy,  to  God,  and  to 
a  better  mood  of  thought. 

AMONG  such  as  these,  in  that  inconstant  age  of  mine, 
I  kept  learning  books  of  eloquence,  wherein  I  desired 
to  be  eminent,  for  a  damnable  and  windy  end,  the  gratifica- 


The  Confessions  of  S.  Augustine.  37 

tion  of  human  vanity.  '  In  the  then  usual  course  of  study, 
I  fell  upon  a  certain  book  of  Cicero,  whose  language  almost 
all  admire,  not  so  his  heart.  This  book  of  his  contains 
an  exhortation  to  philosophy,  and  is  called  Hortensius.  But 
this  book  altered  my  disposition,  and  turned  my  prayers  to 
Thyself,  O  Lord  ;  and  changed  my  purposes  and  desires. 
Every  vain  hope  at  once  became  worthless  to  me ;  and  I 
began  to  yearn  with  an  incredible  fervour  of  heart  for  the 
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  income,  in 
that  my  nineteenth  year,  my  father  being  dead  two  years 
before),  not  to  sharpen  my  tongue  did  I  pore  over  that 
book ;  and  it  convinced  me,  not  by  the  manner,  but  the 
matter  of  its  eloquence. 

How  did  I  burn  then,  my  God,  how  did  I  burn  to  soar 
again  from  earthly  things  to  Thee ;  and  I  knew  not  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,  under  a  great,  and  alluring,  and  honour- 
able name  colouring  and  disguising  their  own  errors  :  and 
almost  all  who  in  that  and  former  ages  were  such,  are  in 
that  book  censured  and  set  forth  :  there  also  is  illustrated 
that  wholesome  advice  of  Thy  spirit,  by  Thy  good  and 
devout  servant ;  "  Beware  lest  any  man  spoil  you  through 
philosophy  and  vain  deceit,  after  the  tradition  of  men,  after 
the  rudiments  of  the  world,  and  not  after  Christ.  For  in 
Him  dwelleth  all  the  fulness  of  the  Godhead  bodily  "  (Col. 
ii.  8,  9).  And  at  that  time  (Thou,  O  light  of  my  heart, 
knowest  that  this  passage  of  the  Apostle  was  not  as  yet 
known  to  me),  I  was  delighted  with  this  only,  to  wit,  the 
exhortation  that  I  should  love,  and  seek,  and  follow  after, 
and  hold,  and  embrace,  not  this  school  or  the  other,  but 
wisdom's  self,  wherever  she  might  be  :  with  that  exhortation 
I  was  greatly  stirred  up,  and  enkindled,  and  inflamed  j  and 
in  my  great  ardour  this  only  gave  me  pause,  that  the  name 
of  Christ  was  not  in  it.  For  this  name,  according  to  Thy 
mercy,  O  Lord,  this  name  of  my  Saviour  Thy  Son,  had  my 
tender  heart,  even  with  my  mother's  milk,  drunk  in,  and 
deeply  treasured  \  and  whatsoever  was  without  that  name, 
though  never  so  learned,  polished,  or  truthful,  took  not 
entire  hold  of  me. 


38  TJie  Confessions  of  S.  Angus  tine. 


CHAPTER  V. 

He  throivs  aside  Holy  Scripitire  as  being  too  simple,  and  by  no  means 
comparable  with  Cicero  for  dignity. 

T  BEGAN  then  to  turn  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, 
in  mien  lowly,  in  issue  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  seemed  to  me  undig- 
nified, in  comparison  with  Ciceronian  dignity  ;  for  my  swell- 
ing pride  shrunk  from  their  humble  method,  nor  could  my 
sharp  wit  penetrate  their  depths.  Yet  were  they  such  as 
would  grow  up  in  a  little  one.  But  I  disdained  to  be  a 
little  one  \  and,  swoln  with  arrogance,  took  myself  to  be  a 
great  one. 

CHAPTER  VI. 

By  his  oivji  fault  he  fell  into  the  errors  of  the  Manichccans,  ivho  boast  of 
a  true  perception  of  God,  and  thorough  investigation  of  all  things. 

THEREFORE  I  fell  among  men  raving  with  pride,  very 
carnal  and  wordy,  in  whose  mouths  were  the  snares  of 
the  Devil,  and  a  bird  hme  made  up  of  a  mixture  of  the 
syllables  of  Thy  name,  and  of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  and  of 
the  Holy  Ghost,  the  Paraclete,  our  Comforter.  These 
names  departed  not  from  their  lips,  though  they  were  but 
a  sound  and  a  rattling  of  the  tongue :  for  the  heart  was  void 
of  truth.  Yet  they  said  :  "  the  Truth,  the  Truth,"  and  spake 
much  thereof  to  me,  yet  "  it  was  not  in  them"  (i  S.  John  ii. 
4),  but  they  spake  falsehoods,  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  inwardly  did  even  then  the 
marrow  of  my  soul  pant  after  Thee,  when  they  often  and 
diversely,  and  in  many  and  huge  books,  clamoured  to  me  of 
Thee  in  empty  words  !     And  these  were  the  dishes  wherein 


The '  Confessions  of  S.  A  ugustine.  39 

to  me,  an  hungered  for  Thee,  were  served  up,  instead  of 
Thee,  the  Sun  and  Moon,  Thy  fair  works ;  but  yet   Thy 
works,  not   Thyself,  no    nor   Thy   first   works.     For   Thy 
spiritual  works  are  before  these  corporeal  works,  though 
they  be  bright  and  poised  in  the  sky.     But  I  hungered  and 
thirsted  not  even  after  those  first  works  of  Thine,  but  after 
Thee  Thyself,   the  Truth,   "  in  whom  is  no   variableness, 
neither  shadow  of  turning"  (S.  James  i.  17),  yet  they  still 
set  before  me  in  those  dishes,  glittering  phantasms,  than 
which  better  were  it  to  love  this  very  sun  (which  is  real  to 
our  sight  at  least),  than  those  illusions  which  by  our  eyes 
deceive  our  mind.     Yet  because  I  thought  them  to  be  Thee, 
I  fed  thereon;  not  greedily,  for  Thou  didst  not  in  them 
savour  to  me  as  Thou  art ;  for  Thou  wast  not  these  empty 
figments,  nor   was   I   nourished   by  them,  but   rather  ex- 
hausted.    Food  in  dreams   shews   very  like   the   food    of 
waking  men  ;  yet  are  not  those  asleep  nourished  by  it,  for 
they  are  asleep.     But  those  were  not  even  any  way  like  to 
Thee,  as  Thou  hast  now  spoken  to  me ;  for  those  were  cor- 
poreal phantasms,  false  bodies,  than  which  these  true  bodies, 
which  we  see  with  our  bodily  sight,  whether  terrestrial  or 
celestial,  are  far  more  certain  :  we  share  the  sight  of  these 
with  beasts  and  birds  ;  and  they  are  more  certain  than  when 
we  imagine  them.     And  again,  we  do  imagine  them  with 
more  certainty  than  surmise  from  them  other  vaster  and  in- 
finite bodies  which  have  no  sort  of  being.     Upon  such 
empty  husks  was  I  then  fed  :  and  yet  was  not  fed.     But 
Thou,  my  Love,  for  whom  I  faint,  that  I  may  become  strong, 
art  neither  these  bodies  which  we  see,  though  in  heaven  ; 
nor  art  Thou  those  which  we  see  not  there ;  for  Thou  hast 
created  them,  nor  dost  Thou   account  them   among   the 
chiefest  of  Thy  works.     How  far  then  art  Thou  from  those 
phantasms  of  mine,  phantasms   of  bodies  which  have  no 
existence   whatever;    than    which   fancy   images    of  those 
bodies,  which  exist,  are  far  more  certain ;  and  more  certain 
still  the  bodies  themselves,  which  yet  Thou  art  not ;  no,  nor 
yet  the  soul,  which  is  the  hfe  of  the  bodies.     So  then,  better 
and  more  certain  is  the  life  of  the  bodies,  than  the  bodies. 
But  Thou  art  the  life  of  souls,  the  Hfe  of  lives,  having  Hfe  in 
Thyself :  and  changest  not.  Thou  life  of  my  soul. 

Where  then  wert  Thou  then  to  me,  and  how  far  from  me  ? 
Far  verily  was  I  straying  from  Thee,  shut  out  from  the  very 


40  The  Confessions  of  S.  Angnshne. 

husks  of  the  swine,  which  with  husks  I  fed.  For  how 
much  better  are  the  trivial  fables  of  grammarians  and  poets, 
than  these  deceits  ?  For  verse,  and  song,  and  "  Medea 
flying,"  are  more  profitable  truly,  tlian  these  men's  iive 
elements,  variously  disguised,  answering  to  five  dens  of 
darkness,  which  have  no  being,  yet  slay  him  that  believes 
in  them.  For  verse  and  song  I  can  turn  to  true  food,  and 
even  though  I  did  sing  of  "  Medea  flying,"  I  affirmed  it 
not ;  though  I  heard  it  sung,  I  believed  not :  but  those 
things  I  did  believe.  Woe,  woe,  by  what  steps  was  I  brought 
down  to  ''the  depths  of  hell  !"  (Prov.  ix.  i8),  toiling  and 
tempest  tost  for  want  of  Truth,  since  I  sought  after  Thee, 
my  God  (to  Thee  I  confess  it,  who  hadst  mercy  on  me, 
though  not  as  yet  confessing  it),  not  according  to  the  un- 
derstanding of  the  mind,  wherein  Thou  willedst  that  I 
should  excel  the  beasts,  but  according  to  the  sense  of  the 
flesh.  But  Thou  wert  more  inward  to  me,  than  my  most 
inward  part ;  and  higher  than  my  highest.  I  fell  in  with 
that  bold  woman,  "  simple  and  knoweth  nothing,"  accord- 
ing to  Solomon's  parable,  "  sitting  at  the  door,  and  saying, 
Eat  ye  with  pleasure  of  bread  in  secret,  and  drink  ye  stolen 
waters  which  are  sweet"  (Prov.  ix.  13,  17).  She  seduced 
me,  because  she  found  me  dwelling  abroad  in  the  eye  of 
my  flesh,  and  ruminating  on  such  food,  as  through  it  I  had 
devoured. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

He  combats  the  ManicJucan  doctrine  of  Evil,  of  God,  and  concerning  the 
Tighteonsticss  of  the  Patriarchs. 

TIj^OR  I  knew  not  anything  truly,  as  it  really  is  ;  and  was, 
J-  as  it  were,  persuaded  by  their  subtilty  to  cast  in  my 
lot  with  foolish  deceivers,  when  they  asked  me,  "whence 
comes  evil  ?  "  and  whether  "  God  is  contained  within  the 
bounds  of  bodily  form,  and  hath  hairs  and  nails  "  ?  and 
whether  "  they  are  to  be  esteemed  righteous,  who  had  many 
wives  at  once,  and  did  slay  men,  and  offered  animals  in 
sacrifice "  ?  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  prij/atioa  of^ood,  up  to  the  point  at 


TJic  Confessions  of  S.  Augustine.  41 

which  a  thing  ceases  altogether  to  be.  And  how  should  I 
see  it,  since  with  my  eyes  I  could  see  body  only  ;  and  with 
my  mind  a  phantasm  ?  And  I  knew  not  that  "  God  is  a 
Spirit"  (S.  John  iv.  24) ;  not  such  a  being  as  hath  members 
having  length  and  breadth ;  nor  such  as  hath  bulk ;  for 
"  bulk"  is  less  in  apart  than  in  its  whole;  and  if  it  be  infinite, 
it  is  less  in  such  part  as  is  contained  within  a  definite  space 
than  in  its  infinitude ;  and  so  is  not  wholly  every  where,  as 
Spirit,  as  God.  And  what  that  could  be  in  us,  according  to 
which  we  could  be  "  like  unto  God,"  and  might  be  rightly 
said  in  the  Scriptures,  to  be  "after  the  image  of  God" 
(Gen.  i.  27)  I  was  altogether  ignorant. 

Nor  knew  I  that  true  inward  righteousness,  which 
judgeth  not  according  to  custom,  but  out  of  the  most  right- 
eous law  of  God  Almighty,  whereby  the  moral  habits  of 
countries  and  periods  were  fashioned  meetly  for  those  coun- 
tries and  periods ;  itself  being  always  and  everywhere  the 
same,  not  here  of  one  kind,  and  there  of  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  unlearned 
men,  "judging  of  man's  day"  (i  Cor.  iv.  3),  and  measuring 
the  collective  moral  habits  of  the  human  race  by  the  partial 
standard  of  their  own  custom  :  as  if  in  an  armoury,  one 
ignorant  what  were  adapted  to  each  Hmb  should  seek  to 
cover  his  head  with  greaves,  or  to  be  shod  with  a  helmet, 
and  then  should  complain  that  they  fitted  amiss ;  or  as  if 
on  a  day,  when  a  public  holiday  has  been  appointed  to  be 
kept  in  the  afternoon,  one  were  angered  at  not  being  al- 
lowed to  keep  open  shop,  because  he  had  been  in  the 
morning ;  or  when  in  one  house  he  observeth  some  thing  to 
be  managed  by  some  servant,  which  the  butler  is  not 
suffered  to  meddle  with ;  or  something  done  in  the  stable 
yard,  which  is  forbidden  in  the  dining-room ;  and  should  be 
angry,  since  the  house  is  one,  and  the  family  one,  that  the 
same  thing  is  not  allowed  everywhere,  and  to  all.^  Even 
such  are  they,  who  are  angered  to  hear  that  something  was 
permitted  to  the  righteous  in  the  olden  time  which  now  is 
forbidden ;  or  that  God,  for  reasons  arising  from  the  times, 
gave  to  some  one  precept,  to  others  another,  though  both 
were  obedient  to  the  same  righteousness  :  whereas  they  see, 
in  one  man,  and  one  day,  and  one  house,  different  things  to 


42  TJic  Co/ifessions  of  S.  Augustine. 

be  fit  for  different  members,  and  a  thing  for  a  time  lawful, 
after  a  certain  time  forbidden ;  in  one  corner  permitted  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,  because  they  are 
times.  But  men  whose  "days  are  few  upon  the  earth," 
because  by  their  reason  they  cannot  conform  the  causes  of 
things  in  former  ages  and  other  nations,  of  which  they  have 
had  no  experience  with  these  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 ;  take  exceptions  to  the  former,  but  comply 
with  the  latter. 

These  things  I  then  knew  not,  nor  observed ;  they  struck 
upon  my  eyes  on  all  sides,  and  I  saw  them  not.  I  made 
verses,  in  which  I  might  not  place  every  kind  of  foot  every- 
where, but  differently  in  different  metres ;  nor  even  in  any 
one  verse  the  self-same  foot  in  all  places.  Yet  the  art  itself 
of  verse-making  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  part  varied ; 
although  in  varying  times  it  prescribed  not  every  thing  at 
once,  but  apportioned  and  enjoined  what  was  fit  for  each. 
And  I,  in  my  blindness,  censured  the  holy  patriarchs,  not 
only  wherein  they  made  use  of  things  present  as  God  com- 
manded and  inspired  them,  but  also  wherein  they  were  fore- 
telling things  to  come,  as  God  was  revealing  in  them. 

CHAPTER  VIII. 

He  toiiiiiiiics  his  argument  against  the  Manichaans,  concerning  the 
nature  of  vices. 

CAN  it  at  any  time  or  place  be  unjust  "  to  love  God  with 
all  the  heart,  with  all  the  soul,  and  with  all  the  mind  ; 
and  our  neighbour  as  ourself"?  (S.  Matt.  xxii.  37).  There- 
fore are  those  foul  offences  which  be  against  nature,  to  be 
everywhere  and  at  all  times  detested  and  punished ;  such  as 
were  those  of  the  men  of  Sodom  :  which  should  all  nations 
commit,  they  should  all  stand  guilty  of  the  same  crime,  by 


TJie  Confessions  of  S,  Augustine.  43 

the  law  of  God,  which  hath  not  so  made  men,  that  they 
should  so  abuse  one  another.  For  even  that  fellowship 
which  should  be  between  God  and  us  is  violated,  when  that 
same  nature,  of  which  He  is  Author,  is  polluted  by  per- 
versity of  lust.  But  those  offences  which  are  contrary  to 
men's  customs,  are  to  be  avoided  accordingly  as  customs 
vary  with  times  ;  so  that  a  compact  ratified  by  custom  or 
law  of  any  state  or  nation,  neither  native  or  foreigner  may 
violate  at  will.  For  any  part  which  accords  not  with  its 
whole,  is  unseemly.  But  when  God  commands  a  thing  to 
be  done,  against  the  custom  or  compact  of  any  people, 
though  it  were  never  by  them  done  heretofore,  it  is  to  be 
done ;  and  if  intermitted,  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  that, 
which  no  one  before  him,  nor  he  himself  heretofore,  had 
commanded,  and  to  obey  him  would  not  be  against  the 
common  weal ;  but  rather  it  would  be  against  the  common 
weal  not  to  obey  him  (for  to  obey  princes  is  a  general  com- 
pact of  human  society)  ;  how  much  more  ought  we  to  obey 
God,  the  Ruler  of  the  created  universe,  without  hesitation, 
in  all  that  He  commands !  For  among  the  powers  of 
human  society  the  greater  authority  is  obeyed  in  preference 
to  the  lesser,  so  must  God  be  chosen  before  all. 

So  in  criminal  actions,  where  there  is  a  wish  to  hurt, 
whether  by  insult  or  injury  ;  and  these  either  for  the  sake 
of  revenge,  as  one  enemy  against  another;  or  to  obtain 
some  advantage  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  that  has  thriven  in  anything,  to  him  whose  rivalry 
he  fears,  or  laments  his  success  in  it ;  or  for  the  mere 
pleasure  at  another's  pain,  as  spectators  of  gladiators,  or 
deriders  and  mockers  of  others.  These  be  the  heads  of 
iniquity,  which  spring  from  the  lust  of  power,  and  "of  the 
eye,  and  of  the  flesh  "  (i  S.  John  ii.  16),  or  from  any  one,  or 
two,  or  all  of  them  together ;  and  so  do  men  live  ill  against 
the  three,  and  seven,i  u  ^^g  instrument  of  ten  strings  "  (Ps. 

1  S.  Augustine  adopts  the  division  of  the  Commandments  into  tables 
three  and  seven,  instead  of  the  more  familiar  division  amongst  our- 
selves into  "  four,"  having  reference  to  God,  and  "six  "  to  our  neigh- 
bour. The  division  referred  to  in  the  text  lends  itself  more  readily  to 
the  mystical  system  of  interpreting  numbers  in  Scripture. 


44  The  Confessions  of  S.  Augustine. 

cxliv.  9),  Thy  decalogue,  O  God,  most  high,  and  most 
sweet.  But  what  foul  offences  can  there  be  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  themselves,  seeing  also  when  they  sin 
against  Thee,  they  do  wickedly  against  their  own  souls,  and 
"iniquity  gives  itself  the  lie"  (Ps.  xxvii.  12,  Vulg.),  whether 
by  corrupting  and  perverting  their  nature,  which  Thou  hast 
created  and  ordained,  or  by  an  immoderate  use  of  things 
allowed,  or  in  "  burning  "  in  things  not  allowed,  after  "  that 
use  which  is  against  nature"  (Rom.  i.  26);  or  are  found 
guilty,  raging  in  thought  and  words  against  Thee,  and 
"  kicking  against  the  pricks  "  (Acts  ix.  5) ;  or  when,  bursting 
the  pale  of  human  society,  they  boldly  delight  in  private 
unions  and  separations,  according  as  anything  may  have 
given  them  pleasure  or  offence.  And  these  things  are  done 
when  Thou  art  forsaken,  O  Fountain  of  Life,  who  art  the 
only  and  true  Creator  and  Governor  of  the  Universe,  and 
by  a  self-willed  pride,  any  one  false  thing  is  selected  there- 
from and  loved.  So  then  by  a  humble  devoutness  we 
return  to  Thee  ;  and  Thou  cleansest  us  from  our  evil  habits, 
and  art  merciful  to  their  sins  who  confess,  and  "  hearest  the 
groaning  of  the  prisoner"  (Ps.  cii.  20),  and  loosest  us  from 
the  chains  which  we  made  for  ourselves,  if  we  lift  not  up 
against  Thee  the  horns  of  a  sham  liberty,  for  the  greed  of 
having  more,  risking  the  loss  of  all,  by  loving  our  own 
private  good  more  than  Thee,  the  Good  of  all. 


CHAPTER    IX. 

God  ami  men  judge  of  h  11  man  crimes  by  a  different  standard. 

A  MIDST  these  offences  of  foulness  and  violence,  and 
-^^  so  many  iniquities,  are  sins  of  men,  who  are  making 
progress ;  which  by  those  that  judge  rightly,  according  to 
the  law  of  perfection,  are  condemned,  yet  the  persons  com- 
mended, in  hope  of  future  fruit,  as  the  green  blade  has 
promise  of  corn.  And  there  are  some  things  resembling 
offences  of  foulness  or  violence,  which  yet  are  no  sins; 
because  they  offend  neither  Thee,  our  Lord  God,  nor 
human   society;  when,  namely,  things   fitting  for  a  given 


TJie  Confessions  of  S.  Augustine.  45 

period  are  obtained  for  the  use  of  life,  and  it  is  doubt- 
ful whether  from  a  lust  of  having;  or  when  things  are 
punished,  for  the  sake  of  correction,  by  constituted  authority, 
and  it  is  doubtful  if  from  a  lust  of  inflicting  injury.  Many 
an  action  then  which  in  men's  sight  is  disapproved,  is  by 
Thy  testimony  approved ;  and  many,  by  men  praised,  are 
(Thou  being  witness)  condemned :  because  the  outward 
appearance  of  the  action,  and  the  motive  of  the  doer,  and 
the  secret  urgency  of  the  occasion,  are  often  different.  But 
when  Thou  on  a  sudden  commandest  an  unwonted  and 
unthought  of  thing,  yea,  although  Thou  hast  sometime  for- 
bidden it,  and  still  for  the  time  hidest  the  reason  of  Thy 
command,  and  it  be  against  the  compact  of  some  society 
of  men,  who  doubts  but  it  is  to  be  done,  seeing  that  society 
of  men  is  righteous  which  obeys  Thee?  But  blessed  are 
they  who  know  that  Thou  hast  commanded  !  For  all 
things  were  done  by  Thy  servants  ;  either  to  show  forth 
something  needful  for  the  present,  or  to  foreshow  things  to 
come. 

CHAPTER  X, 

He  rebukes  the  follies  of  the  Manichaans,  concerning  the  fruits  of 

the  earth. 

IN  my  ignorance  of  these  things  I  used  to  scoff  at  those 
Thy  holy  servants  and  prophets.  And  what  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 
beheve  that  a  fig  wept  when  it  was  plucked,  and  the  tree, 
its  mother,  shed  milky  tears?  And  if  some  saint  should 
eat  the  fig,  plucked  though  it  had  been  by  another's  guilt, 
and  not  his  own,  and  should  inwardly  digest  it,  he  would 
breathe  out  angels  from  it,  and  in  very  truth,  in  the  groan- 
ing of  his  prayer  and  heartburn,  particles  of  Diety :  which 
particles  of  the  most  high  and  true  God  would  have  re- 
mained bound  in  that  fig,  unless  they  had  been  set  at 
liberty  by  the  tooth  or  stomach  of  an  "  Elect "  saint !  And 
I,  miserable,  believed  that  more  mercy  was  to  be  shown  to 
the  fruits  of  the  earth,  than  men,  for  whom  they  were 
brought  forth.  For  if  any  one  an  hungered,  not  a  Mani- 
chccan,  should  ask  for  any,  a  morsel,  if  given  to  him,  would 
seem  to  be  sentenced  to  a  sort  of  capital  punishment. 


4.6  TJie  Confessions  of  S.  Attgnstine. 


CHAPTER  XL 

He  relates  the  tears  of  his  mother,  and  a  dream  she  had  of  heavenly 
comfort  concerning  her  son. 

AND  Thou  "  sentest  Thine  hand  from  above "  (Ps. 
cxliv.  7),  and  didst  deliver  my  soul  out  of  that  pro- 
found darkness,  when  my  mother,  thy  faithful  one,  wept 
for  me  to  Thee,  more  than  mothers  weep  for  the  death  of 
children's  bodies.  For  she,  by  that  faith  and  spirit  which 
she  had  from  Thee,  discerned  the  death  wherein  I  lay,  and 
Thou  heardest  her,  O  Lord ;  Thou  heardest  her,  and  de- 
spisedst  not  her  tears,  when  streaming  forth,  they  watered 
the  earth  beneath  her  eyes  in  every  place  of  her  prayer ;  and 
Thou  heardst  her.  For  whence  was  that  dream  whereby 
Thou  didst  comfort  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  forbid,  shunning  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  upon  her,  the  while  she  grieved, 
and  was  consumed  with  grief :  and  when  he  had  enquired 
of  her  the  causes  of  her  grief  and  daily  tears  (for  the  sake 
as  is  their  wont  of  teaching,  not  of  learning),  and  she  had 
made  answer  that  she  was  bewailing  my  perdition,  he  bade 
her  be  at  ease,  and  advised  her  to  look  and  observe,  "That 
where  she  was,  there  was  I  also."  And  when  she  looked 
there,  she  saw  me  standing  by  her  on  the  same  rule. 
Whence  was  this,  but  that  Thine  ears  were  towards  her 
heart?  *QJl'hou  Oood  Almighty,  who  so  carest  for  every 
one  of  us,  as  if  Thou  caredst  for  him  only ;  and  so  for  all, 
as  if  they  were  but  one  !  ' 

Whence  was  this  also,  that  when  she  had  told  me  this 
vision,  and  I  w^ould  fain  turn  it  so  ;  "  That  she  rather  should 
not  despair  of  being  one  day  what  I  was ; "  forthwith, 
without  any  hesitation,  she  rejoins,  "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  oft  spoken  of  this),  I 
was  far  more  impressed  even  then  by  that  Thine  answer, 
through  my  waking  mother,  that  she  was  not  disturbed  by 
the  specious  similarity  of  my  interpretation,  and  so  quickly 


TJie  Co7ifessions  of  S.  A  vgustine.  47 

saw  what  was  to  be  seen,  and  what  I  certainly  had  not  per- 
ceived, before  she  spake,  than  by  that  dream  itself,  by  which 
a  joy  to  the  holy  woman,  to  be  fulfilled  so  long  after,  was, 
for  the  consolation  of  her  present  anguish,  so  long  before 
predicted.  For  almost  nine  years  passed,  in  which  I  wal- 
lowed in  the  mire  of  that  deep  pit,  and  the  darkness  of 
falsehood,  often  assaying  to  rise,  but  dashed  down  the  more 
grievously;  the  while,  however,  that  chaste  widow,  devout 
and  sober  (such  as  Thou  lovest),  though  something  brighter 
for  the  hope,  yet  no  whit  relaxing  in  her  weeping  and 
mourning,  ceased  not  at  all  hours  of  her  devotions  to  lay 
before  Thee  her  sorrow  on  my  behalf  And  her  "  prayers 
entered  into  Thy  presence"  (Ps.  Ixxxviii.  2);  and  yet  Thou 
didst  suffer  me  to  be  more  and  more  enveloped  in  that 
darkness. 

CHAPTER  XII. 

The  wise  answer  of  a  Bishop  to  his  mother' s  entreaty  that  he  zuoiild 

convert  her  son. 

THOU  gavest  also,  meanwhile,  another  answer,  which  I 
call  to  mind.  And  many  things  beside  I  pass  over,  for 
I  hasten  to  those  things  which  most  press  me  to  confess 
unto  Thee,  and  many  things  I  do  not  remember.  Thou 
gavest  her  then  another  answer,  by  a  Priest  of  Thine,  a  cer- 
tain Bishop  brought  up  in  Thy  Church,  and  well  learned  in 
Thy  books.  For  when  this  woman  had  entreated  him  to 
vouchsafe  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  puffed  up  with  the  novelty 
of  that  heresy,  and  had  already  perplexed  divers  unlearned 
persons  with  trifling  questions,  as  she  had  told  him  ;  "  but 
let  him  alone  a  while  "  (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  misguided  mother 
been  given  over  to  the  Manichaeans,  and  had  not  only  read, 
but  frequently  copied  out  almost  all,  their  books,  and  had 
convinced  himself,  without  anyone  having  argued  or  per- 


8 


TJic  Confessions  of  S.  A  iigustine. 


suaded  him,  how  much  that  sect  was  to  be  avoided ;  and 
had  avoided  it.  When  he  had  said  this,  and  she  would  not 
be  satisfied,  but  urged  him  more,  with  entreaties  and  many 
tears,  that  he  would  see  me,  and  discourse  with  me ;  he, 
a  little  displeased  at  her  importunity,  saith,  "  Go  thy  ways, 
and  God  be  with  ye ;  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  been  a 
voice  from  heaven. 


He  describes  the  nine  years  which  followed  his  nineteenth 
year.  how  he  lost  his  friend,  and  wrote  a  treatise  on 
the  "fair  and  fitting."  how  he  gave  some  attention 
to  the  liberal  arts,  and  to  the  aristotelian  categories. 


CHAPTER  T. 

Of  the  most  unhappy  time,  in  which,  misled  himself  ,  he  misled  others  : 
and  of  those  who  scoff  at  his  confession. 

FOR  this  space  of  nine  years  then  (from  my  nineteenth 
year,  to  my  eight  and  twentieth)  we  were  misled,  and 
did  mislead,  deceived  and  deceiving,  in  divers  lusts ;  openly, 
by  sciences  which  they  call  liberal ;  secretly,  with  a  false- 
named  religion  ;  here  proud,  there  superstitious,  everywhere 
vain  !  By  the  former  hunting  after  the  emptiness  of  popu- 
lar praise,  even  the  applause  of  theatres,  prizes  for  verse 
competitions,  the  contest  for  garlands  of  hay,  and  the  follies 
of  shows,  and  the  intemperance  of  lusts.  By  the  latter,  de- 
siring to  be  cleansed  from  these  defilements,  by  carrying 
food  to  those  who  were  called  "elect"  and  "saints,"  out  of 
which,  in  the  workshop  of  their  stomachs,  they  should  forge 
for  us  angels  and  gods,  by  whom  we  might  be  delivered. 
These  things  did  I  hunt  after,  and  practise  with  my  friends, 
deceived  by  me,  and  with  me.  Let  the  arrogant  mock  me, 
and  such  as  have  not  been  wholesomely  stricken  and 
smitten  down,  by  Thee,  O  my  God ;  but  let  me  still  confess 
to  Thee  my  shame  in  Thy  praise.  Suffer  me,  I  pray,  and 
grant  me  to  go  over  in  my  present  remembrance  the  bye- 
gone  strayings  of  my  wandering  feet,  and  to  "  offer  unto  Thee 
the  sacrifice  of  thanksgiving  "  (Ps.  cxvi.  17).  For  what  am 
I  to  myself  without  Thee,  but  a  guide  to  mine  own  down- 
fall? or  what  am  I  when  it  is  weH  with  me,  but  an  infant 

D 


50  The  Confessions  of  S.  Augustine. 

sucking  the  milk  Thou  givest,  and  enjoying  Thee,  "the 
food  that  perisheth  not"?  (S,  John  vi.).  But  what  sort  of 
man  is  any  man,  seeing  he  is  but  a  man?  Let  now  the 
strong  and  the  mighty  scoff  at  us,  but  let  us  ''poor  and 
needy  confess  unto  Thee"  (Ps.  Ixxiv.  21). 


CHAPTER  II. 

Horv  he  taught  rhetoric  ;  was  true  to  one  love  ;  and  spurned  the  magician 
who  promised  success  by  his  means. 

IN  those  years  I  taught  the  art  of  rhetoric,  and  vanquished 
by  cupidity,  used  lo  sell  the  craft  of  conquering  fluency. 
Yet  I  preferred  (Lord,  Thou  knowest)  honest  scholars  (as 
they  are  accounted),  and  these  I,  without  artifice,  taught 
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  didst  see  me,  slipping  in  that  mire,  and 
amid  much  smoke  sending  out  some  sparks  of  faith,  which 
I  showed  in  my  office  of  teacher  toward  "  such  as  loved 
vanity,  and  sought  after  leasing"  (Ps.  iv.  2),  myself  being 
their  companion.  In  those  years  1  lived  with  one,  to  whom 
I  was  not  joined  in  that  which  is  called  law^ful  wedlock,  but 
whom  my  wayward  passion,  void  of  understanding,  had 
found  out ;  yet  with  but  one,  and  was  faithful  to  her  bed ; 
in  whom  I  in  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  lustful  love,  w^here 
children  are  born  against  their  parents'  will,  although,  once 
born,  they  constrain  love. 

I  remember  also,  that  when  I  had  determined  to  compete 
for  a  prize  for  theatrical  verse,  some  wizard  asked  me  what 
I  would  give  him  to  win :  but  I,  detesting  and  abhorring 
those  foul  rites,  answered,  "Though  the  garland  were  of 
imperishable  gold,  I  would  not  suffer  a  fly  to  be  killed  to 
gain  me  it."  For  he  would  have  killed  some  living  creatures 
in  his  sacrifices,  and  would  pretend  by  such  honours  to 
canvass  for  the  suffrages  of  devils  on  my  behalf.  But  this  ill 
also  I  rejected,  not  out  of  a  pure  love  for  Thee,  O  God  of 
my  heart ;  for  I  knew  not  how  to  love  Thee,  who  knew  not 
how  to  conceive  aught  beyond  a  material  brightness.  And 
doth  m^i^  a  soul,  sighing  after  such  fictions,  commit  fornica- 


The  Confessions  of  5.  A  ugustine.  5 1 

tion  against  Thee,  trust  in  false  gods,  and  "  feed  the  winds  " 
(Hosea  xii.  i).  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  "  toTeed  the  wind," 
but  to  feed  them,  that  is,  by  going  astray  to  become  their 
pleasure  and  their  sport  ? 


CHAPTER  III. 

Not  even  the  most  learned  men  could  persuade  him  to  abandon  the  folly 
of  astrology  to  xvhich  he  was  devoted. 

THOSE  impostors  then,  whom  they  style  Mathematicians, 
I  did  not  hesitate  to  consult ;  because  they  seemed  to 
use  no  sacrifice,  nor  to  pray  to  any  spirit  for  their  divina- 
tions ;  which  thing,  however.  Christian  and  true  piety  meetly 
rejects  and  condemns.  For  "it  is  a  good  thing  to  confess 
unto  Thee,  O  Lord,"  and  to  say,  "Have  mercy  upon  me, 
heal  my  soul,  for  I  have  sinned  against  Thee  "  (Ps.  xli.  5), 
and  not  to  abuse  Thy  mercy  for  a  license  to  sin,  but  to  re- 
member the  Lord's  words,  "  Behold,  thou  art  made  whole, 
sin  no  more,  lest  a  worst  thing  come  unto  thee  "  (S.  John 
V.  14).  All  which  wholesome  advice  they  labour  to  destroy, 
saying,  "  The  inevitable  cause  of  thy  sin  is  in  the  sky,"  and 
"  This  did  Venus,  or  Saturn,  or  Mars  ; "  that  man,  forsooth, 
flesh  and  blood,  and  proud  corruption,  might  be  blameless ; 
while  the  Creator  and  Ruler  of  sky  and  stars  is  to  bear  the 
blame.  And  who  is  He  but  our  God?  the  very  sweetness 
and  fountain  of  righteousness  ;  Thou  "  who  renderest  to 
every  man  according  to  his  works  "  (Rom.  ii.  6)  ;  and  "a 
broken  and  contrite  heart  wilt  Thou  not  despise"  (Ps. 
li.  17).  . 

There  was  in  those  days  a  wise  man,"^  very  skilful  in 
physic,  and  renowned  therein,  who  as  proconsul,  had  with 
his  own  hand  placed  that  garland  of  victory  upon  my  dis- 
tempered head,  but  not  as  a  physician.  For  Thou  art  the 
only  healer  of  such  distemper ;  "  who  resistest  the  proud, 
and  givest  grace  to  the  humble"  (i  St  Peter  v.  5).  But 
didst  Thou  fail  me  even  by  that  old  man,  or  forbear  to  heal 
my  soul  ?     For  having  become  better  acquainted  with  him, 

*  Vindicianuij.     See  Book  vii.,  chap.  6. 


52  The  Confessions  of  S.  Augustine. 

I  hung  assiduously  and  fixedly  on  his  speech,  for  though  in 
style  it  was  unpolished,  yet  in  matter  it  was  lively,  gay,  and 
weighty.  When  he  had  gathered  by  my  discourse,  that  I 
was  given  to  the  books  of  the  seers  that  calculate  nativities, 
he  kindly  and  fatherly  advised  me  to  cast  them  away,  and 
not  fruitlessly  to  expend  a  care  and  labour,  necessary  for  use- 
ful things,  upon  that  vain  folly ;  saying  that  he  had  studied 
that  art,  as  in  his  early  years  he  had  wished  to  adopt  it  as  a 
profession,  and  as  a  means  of  livelihood ;  and  that  if  he 
could  understand  Hippocrates,  he  could  certainly  have 
understood  such  a  study  as  this  ;  and  yet  he  had  abandoned 
it,  and  taken  to  medicine,  for  no  other  reason  but  that  he 
found  it  utterly  false  ;  and  he,  a  grave  man,  could  not  bring 
himself  to  get  his  living  by  deluding  people.  "  But  thou," 
saith  he,  "  hast  rhetoric  whereby  to  maintain  tlryself,  so  that 
thou  followest  this  deceptive  art  of  free  choice,  not  of  neces- 
sity :  the  more  then  oughtest  thou  to  give  me  credit  herein, 
who  laboured  to  master  it  so  perfectly,  as  by  it  alone  I  hoped 
to  get  my  living."  Of  whom  when  I  had  demanded,  "  What 
cause  then  brings  it  about,  that  many  things  afterwards 
proving  true,  have  been  foretold  by  it  ?  "  he  made  answer, 
as  he  well  might,  that  "The  force  of  chance  diffused 
throughout  the  whole  order  of  things,  hath  brought  this 
about.  For  if  from  the  pages  of  some  poet,  who  sang  and 
thought  of  something  wholly  different,  when  anyone  has  re- 
ferred to  them  at  random,  a  verse  hath  oftentimes  fallen  out, 
marvellously  apt  to  the  business  in  hand  :  it  cannot  be  won- 
dered at,  if  out  of  the  soul  of  man,  unconscious  what  takes 
place  in  it,  by  some  higher  instinct  an  answer  should  be 
given,  by  hazard,  not  by  art,  which  might  harmonise  with 
the  affairs  and  actions  of  the  enquirer. 

And  thus  much,  either  from  or  through  him.  Thou  didst 
possess  me  with,  and  didst  grave  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  guarded,  who  laughed  at  the  whole  system  of 
divining,  could  persuade  me  to  cast  it  aside,  for  the  autho- 
rity of  the  authors  swayed  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  chance  or  coincidence, 
not  of  the  art  of  the  observers  of  the  stars. 


The  Confessions  of  S.  Atigiistine.  53 


CHAPTER  IV. 

Being  deeply  sorrow-stricken  upon  the  death  of  his  friend^  he  fotmd  no 
consolation  but  in  tears, 

IN  those  years  when  I  first  began  to  give  lessons  in  my 
native  town,  I  had  made  a  friend,  especially  dear  to 
me,  from  a  community  of  studies,  who  was  of  my  own  age, 
and,  like  myself,  in  the  first  opening  flower  of  youth.  He 
had  grown  up  in  boyhood  with  me,  and  we  had  been  both 
school-fellows,  and  play-fellows.  But  he  was  not  yet  my 
friend  as  afterwards,  nor  even  then,  as  true  friendship  is  ; 
for  true  friendship  cannot  be,  unless  Thou  dost  cement  it  in 
those  who  cleave  to  Thee  by  that  "  love  which  is  shed 
abroad  in  our  hearts  by  the  Holy  Ghost  which  is  given 
unto  us  "  (Rom.  v.  5).  Yet  was  it  but  too  sweet,  welded  by 
our  ardour  for  kindred  studies.  For,  from  the  true  faith 
(which  as  a  youth  he  did  not  fully  and  thoroughly  hold)  I 
had  turned  him  aside  to  those  superstitious  and  pernicious 
fables,  which  gave  my  mother  such  grief  for  me.  With  me 
he  now  erred  in  mind,  nor  could  my  soul  be  without  him. 
But  behold  Thou,  following  hard  upon  Thy  fugitives,  at 
once  ''God  of  vengeance"  (Ps.  xciv.  i),  and  Fountain  of 
mercies,  who  dost  convert  us  to  Thyself  by  wonderful 
means, — behold  Thou  didst  take  that  man  out  of  this  life, 
when  he  had  scarce  filled  up  one  whole  year  of  my  friend- 
ship, sweet  to  me  above  all  sweetness  of  that  my  life. 

"  Who  can  shew  forth  all  Thy  praises "  (Ps.  cvi.  2), 
which  he  hath  experienced  in  himself  alone  ?  What  diddest 
thou  then,  my  God,  and  how  unsearchable  is  the  "  abyss  of 
Thy  judgments"  (Ps.  xxxvi.  6).  For  long,  sore  sick  of  a 
fever,  he  lay  insensible  in  a  death-sweat,  and  being  quite 
given  up,  he  was  baptised,  unknowing,  myself  meanwhile 
little  regarding,  and  feeling  confident  that  his  soul  would 
retain  rather  what  it  had  received  of  me,  not  what  was 
wrought  on  his  unconscious  body.  But  it  fell  out  quite 
otherwise :  for  he  was  restored  and  saved.*  Forthwith,  as 
soon  as  I  could  speak  with  him  (and  I  could,  so  soon  as  he 

*  "Recreatus  est,  et  salvus  factus."  It  is  difficult  to  suppose  that 
S.  Augustine  did  not  mean  these  words  spiritually,  as  well  as 
physically. 


54  TJie  Confessions  of  S.  Augustine. 

was  able,  for  I  never  left  him,  and  we  were  but  too  de- 
pendent upon  each  other),  I  essayed  to  jest  with  him,  as 
though  he  would  be  sure  to  jest  with  me  at  that  baptism 
which  he  had  received,  when  utterly  absent  in  mind  and 
feeling,  but  had  by  this  time  been  told  that  he  had  received. 
But  he  so  shrunk  from  me,  as  from  an  enemy ;  and  with  a 
wonderful  and  sudden  freedom  bade  me,  if  I  still  desired  to 
be  his  friend,  to  cease  to  say  such  things  to  him.  I,  all 
astonished  and  amazed,  suppressed  all  my  emotions  till  he 
should  recover,  and  so  regain  his  strength  that  I  might  deal 
with  him,  as  I  would.  But  he  was  rent  away  from  my 
madness,  that  with  Thee  he  might  be  preserved  for  my 
consolation ;  a  few  days  after,  in  my  absence,  he  was 
attacked  again  by  the  fever,  and  died. 

At  this  grief  my  heart  was  utterly  darkened ;  and  what- 
ever I  beheld  was  death.  My  native  country  was  a  torment 
to  me,  and  my  father's  house  a  strange  unhappiness ;  and 
whatever  I  had  shared  with  him,  for  lack  of  him  became  a 
ghastly  torture.  Mine  eyes  sought  him  every  where,  but  he 
was  not  granted  them  ;  and  I  hated  all  things,  since  they 
held  him  not ;  nor  could  they  now  tell  me,  "  he  is  coming," 
as  when  he  was  alive  and  absent.  I  became  a  great 
problem  to  myself,  and  I  asked  my  soul,  "  why  she  was  so 
heavy,  and  why  she  disquieted  me  sorely"  (Ps.  xliii.  5); 
but  she  had  no  word  to  answer  me.  And  if  I  said,  "  Trust 
in  God,"  she  very  rightly  obeyed  me  not ;  because  that 
most  dear  friend,  whom  she  had  lost,  was,  though  but 
human,  both  truer  and  better,  than  that  phantasm  in  which 
she  was  bidden  to  trust.  Only  tears  were  sweet  to  me,  and 
took  my  friend's  place  in  my  heart's  affections. 


CHAPTER  V. 

Ofzveeping:  wJiy  it  is  pleasant  to  the  zvretched. 

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  pleasant 
to  the  wretched?  Hast  Thou,  although  present  every- 
where, cast  away  our  misery  far  from  Thee  ?     And  Thou 


The  Confessions  of  S.  A  ugnstinc.  5  5 

abidest  in  Thyself,  but  we  are  tossed  about  in  divers  trials. 
And  yet  unless  we  mourned  in  Thine  ears,  nothing  of  our 
hope  would  remain  to  us.  Whence  then  is  sweet  fruit 
gathered  from  the  bitterness  of  life,  from  groaning,  weeping, 
sighing,  and  complaining  ?  Doth  this  sweeten  it,  that  we 
hope  Thou  hearest?  This  is  true  of  our  prayers,  for  in 
them  we  yearn  to  approach  unto  Thee.  But  is  it  also  in 
grief  for  a  thing  lost,  and  the  mourning  wherewith  I  was 
then  overwhelmed  ?  For  I  neither  hoped  he  should  return 
to  life,  nor  did  I  desire  this  with  my  tears  ;  but  I  only  sor- 
rowed and  wept.  For  I  was  miserable,  and  had  lost  my 
joy.  Or  is  weeping  indeed  a  bitter  thing,  and  for  very 
loathing  of  the  things,  which  we  before  enjoyed,  does  it  then, 
when  we  shrink  in  disgust  from  them,  please  us  ? 


CHAPTER  VI. 

//^  holds  that  of  his  friend,  though  dead,  in  himself  the  half 
remains  alive. 

UT  why  speak  I  of  these  things  ?  for  now  is  no  time  of 
research,  but  to  confess  unto  Thee.  Wretched  I  was ; 
and  wretched  is  every  soul  bound  by  the  friendship  of 
perishable  things  ;  he  is  torn  asunder  when  he  loses  them, 
and  then  he  perceives  the  wretchedness,  which  he  had, 
even  before  he  lost  them.  So  was  I  then ;  I  wept  most 
bitterly,  and  found  my  rest  in  bitterness.  Thus  was  I 
wretched,  and  even  that  wretched  life  I  held  dearer  than 
my  friend.  For  though  I  would  willingly  have  changed  it, 
yet  was  I  more  unwilling  to  lose  it,  than  him.  Yea,  I  know 
not  whether  I  would  have  parted  with  it  even  for  him,  as  is 
related  (though  perhaps  it  is  fiction)  of  Pylades  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  feeling,  for  which  I  cannot 
account,  very  opposite  to  this ;  for  the  direst  weariness  of 
life  possessed  me,  and  at  the  same  time  a  fear  of  death.  I 
believe  that  the  more  I  loved  him,  the  more  did  I  hate,  and 
fear  (as  a  most  cruel  enemy)  that  death,  which  had  taken  hmi 
from  me  :  and  I  imagined  it  would  suddenly  devour  all 
men,  because  it  had  power  over  him.     Thus  was  it  with 


B 


56  TJie  Confessio7is  of  S.  Aligns  tine. 

me,  I  remember.  Behold  my  heart,  O  my  God,  behold 
and  see  into  me  ;  for  I  remember  it,  O  my  Hope,  who 
cleansest  me  from  the  impurity  of  such  feelings,  directing 
"  mine  eyes  towards  Thee,  and  plucking  my  feet  out  of  the 
snare"  (Ps.  XXV.  15).  For  I  marvelled  that  other  mortal 
men  should  be  alive,  since  he  whom  I  had  loved,  as  if  he 
should  never  die,  was  dead ;  and  I  marvelled  the  more  that 
I,  since  I  was  but  his  other  self,  should  be  alive  when  he 
was  dead.  Well  hath  one  said  of  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  loathed  that  only  half  of  me  should  be  alive  :  and 
hence  perchance  I  feared  to  die,  lest  he  should  wholly  die, 
whom  I  had  loved  much. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

He  is  so  greatly  harassed  by  restlessness  and  sorrozv  that  he  leaves  his 
birthplace,  and  returiis  to  Carthage. 

O  MADNESS,  which  knowest  not  how  to  love  men,  like 
men  !  O  foolish  man  that  I  then  was,  fretting  with- 
out measure  against  the  lot  of  man  !  So  I  raged,  I  sighed, 
I  wept,  I  was  distraught :  without  rest,  without  counsel. 
For  I  bore  about  a  torn  and  bleeding  soul,  impatient  of 
being  borne  by  me,  yet  where  to  repose  it,  I  found  not.  Not 
in  pleasant  groves,  not  in  sports  and  songs,  not  in  fragrant 
spots,  not  in  splendid  banquets,  not  in  the  pleasure  of  the 
bed  and  the  couch ;  not  (finally)  in  books  or  poesy,  did  it 
find  rest.  All  things  looked  ghastly,  yea,  the  very  light ; 
whatsoever  was  not  what  he  was,  was  revolting  and  hateful, 
except  groaning  and  tears.  For  in  those  alone  found  I 
some  little  relief.  But  when  my  soul  was  withdrawn  from 
them  a  huge  burden  of  misery  weighed  me  down.     To  Thee, 

0  Lord,  it  ought  to  have  been  lifted  up,  for  Thee  to  lighten  ; 

1  knew  it ;  but  neither  would  nor  could ;  the  more,  since, 
when  I  thought  of  Thee,  Thou  wert  not  to  me  anything 
real  or  substantial.  For  Thee,  I  had  not,  but  an  empty 
phantasm,  and  my  error  was  my  God.  If  I  tried  to  cast 
my  burden  there,  that  it  might  rest,  it  glided  through  the 
void,  and  fell  down  again  on  me  ;  and  I  had  remained  to 
myself  a  hapless  spot,  where  I  could  neither  be,  nor  thence 


The  Confessions  of  S.  A2igiistine.  57 

depart.  For  whither  should  my  heart  flee  from  my  heart  ? 
Whither  should  I  flee  from  myself?  Whither  not  follow 
myself  ?  And  yet  I  fled  from  my  own  country,  for  mine  eyes 
would  be  less  apt  to  look  for  him,  where  they  were  not  wont 
to  see  him.     And  thus  from  Thagaste,  I  came  to  Carthage. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

Hoiv  his  grief  yielded  to  time,  and  to  the  consolations  of  friends. 

TIME  does  not  stand  still;  neither  does  it  roll  without 
effect  through  our  senses ;  but  work's  wondrous 
changes  in  the  mind.  For  lo,  it  came  and  went  from  day 
to  day,  and  by  coming  and  going,  introduced  into  my  mind 
other  imaginations,  and  other  remembrances  ;  and  little 
by  little  patched  me  up  again  with  my  old  kind  of  interests, 
before  which  my  sorrow  slowly  yielded  ;  and  yet  there 
succeeded,  not  indeed  other  griefs,  yet  the  causes  of  other 
griefs.  For  whence  had  that  former  grief  so  easily  and  so 
deeply  pierced  me,  but  that  I  had  poured  out  my  soul 
upon  the  sand,  in  loving  one  that  must  die,  as  if  he  would 
never  die  ?  But  what  chiefly  restored  and  refreshed  me, 
were  the  consolations  of  other  friends,  with  whom  I  did 
love,  what  instead  of  Thee  I  loved ;  and  this  was  a  great 
fable,  and  protracted  lie,  by  whose  adulterous  stimulus,  our 
soul,  which  lay  itching  in  our  ears,  was  being  defiled.  But 
that  fable  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  converse  together,  and  to  jest  together, 
to  do  each  other  kindnesses,  to  read  together  agreeable 
books,  to  trifle  together,  or  to  be  earnest  together ;  to  differ 
together  at  times  without  heat,  as  a  man  might  with  his 
own  self;  and  by  the  extreme  rarity  of  our  differences,  to 
season  our  most  usual  unanimity;  sometimes  to  teach,  and 
sometimes  learn ;  long  for  the  absent  with  impatience  ;  and 
welcome  the  coming  with  joy.  These  and  the  Hke  expres- 
sions, proceeding  out  of  the  hearts  of  those  that  loved  and 
were  loved  again,  by  the  countenance,  the  tongue,  the  eyes, 
and  a  thousand  pleasing  gestures,  were  so  much  fuel  to 
melt  our  souls  together,  and  out  of  many  make  but  one. 


58  The  Confessions  of  S.  Atigustijie. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

Til  at  human  friendship,  which  consists  in  interchange  of  love,  perishes  ^ 
and  that  he  alone  who  loves  his  frie7id  in  God,  loseth  hitn  never, 

THIS  is  it  that  is  loved  in  friends;  and  so  loved,  that  a 
man's  conscience  condemns  itself,  if  he  love  not  him 
that  loves  him  again,  or  love  not  again  him  that  loves  him, 
looking  for  nothing  from  his  person,  but  tokens  of  good  will. 
Hence  that  mourning,  if  one  die,  and  the  dark  clouds  of 
sorrows,  that  steeping  of  the  heart  in  tears,  all  sweetness 
turned  to  bitterness ;  and  from  the  lost  life  of  them  that  die, 
the  death  of  them  that  live.  Blessed  is  he  that  loveth  Thee, 
and  his  friend  in  Thee,  and  his  enemy  for  Thee.  For^  he 
alone  loses  no  dear  one  to'Vhom  all  are  dear  in  Him  who 
isjievcLiost.  And  who  is  this  but  our  God,  the  "  God  that 
made  heaven  and  earth,  and  filleth  them,"  because  by  filling 
them  He  created  them  ?  Thee  none  loseth,  save  he  that 
forsaketh.  And  whoso  forsaketh  Thee,  whither  goeth  or 
whither  fleeth  he,  but  from  Thee  smiling  to  Thee  frowning  ? 
For  where  doth  he  not  find  Thy  law  in  his  own  punish- 
ment ?  "  And  Thy  law  is  truth  "  (Ps.  cxix.  42),  and  "  Thou 
art  Truth  "  (S.  John  xiv.  6). 


CHAPTER  X. 

That  all  things  that  begin  to  be  hasten  to  their  end;  and  that  we  are 
not  saved  unless  God  have  11s  in  His  keeping. 

"  nrURN  Thou  us,  O  God  of  Hosts,  shew  us  Thy  coun- 
-■-  tenance,  and  we  shall  be  saved"  (Ps.  Ixxx.  19). 
For  whithersoever  the  soul  of  man  turns  itself,  unless  towards 
Thee,  it  cleavetli  to  sorrows,  yea  even  though  it  cleaveth  to 
things  beauteous,  apart  from  Thee,  and  apart  from  itself. 
For  these  things  can  have  no  being  unless  they  have  their 
being  from  Thee ;  these  things  which  rise  and  set,  and  at 
their  rising,  begin,  as  it  were,  to  be,  and  grow  that  they  may 
reach  their  perfection,  and  when  perfected  wax  old  and 
perish.  And  all  things  grow  not  old;  but  all  perish.  In 
truth  when  they  are  arising,  and  beginning  to  be ;  the  more 
they  speed  to  grow  into  being,  the  more  they  speed  towards 


The  Confessions  of  S.  Augustine,  59 

ceasing  to  be.  This  is  the  law  of  them.  Thus  much  hast 
Thou  appointed  them,  because  they  are  portions  of  things, 
which  exist  not  all  at  once,  but  by  their  departures  and  suc- 
cessions they  together  complete  that  universe,  whereof  they 
are  portions.  And  even  thus  is  our  speech  completed  by 
means  of  symbols  of  sound.  For  our  speech  will  not  be 
completed  unless  one  word  pass  away  when  it  hath  uttered 
its  syllables,  that  another  may  succeed.  Out  of  all  these 
things  let  my  soul  praise  Thee,  O  God,  Creator  of  all ;  yet 
let  it  not  cleave  to  them  with  the  bond  of  love,  throughthe 
senses  of  the  body.  For  they  go  whither  they  were  going, 
towards  ceasing  to  be ;  and  they  rend  her  with  pestilent 
regrets;  because  she  desires  that  they  may  continue  to  be,  and 
loves  toTepose  in  what  she  loves.  But  there  is  not  in  these 
things  where  she  may  rest ;  for  they  abide  not,  they  flee  ; 
and  who  can  follow  them  with  his  bodily  sense  ?  yea,  who 
can  grasp  them,  even  when  they  are  close  at  hand  ?  For 
the  sense  of  the  flesh  is  slow,  because  it  is  the  sense  of  the 
flesh  ;  and  itself  is  its  limit.  It  sufficeth  to  that  for  which  it 
was  made;  but  it  sufliceth  not  to  hold  back  things  that 
hasten  on  their  course  from  their  appointed  beginning 
to  their  appointed  end.  For  in  Thy  Word,  by  which  they 
are  created,  they  hear  their  decree,  "  from  hence  and 
hitherto." 

CHAPTER  XL 

That  parts  of  the  universe  art  not  to  be  loved;  but  the  changeless  God^ 
that  fashioneth  them,  and  His  eternal  Word. 

BE  not  vain,  O  my  soul,  nor  become  deaf  in  the  ear  of 
thine  heart  with  the  tumult  of  thy  vanity.  Hearken 
thou  too.  The  Word  itself  calleth  thee  to  return:  and 
there  is  the  place  of  thy  rest  undisturbed,  where  love  is  not 
forsaken,  if  itself  forsaketh  not.  Behold,  some  things  pass 
away,  that  others  may  replace  them,  and  so  this  lower  uni- 
verse be  completed  in  all  his  parts.  But  do  I  depart  any 
whither?  saith  the  Word  of  God.  There  fix  thy  dwelling, 
there  commit  whatsoever  thence  thou  hast,  O  my  soul,  at 
least  now  that  thou  art  wearied  with  deceits.  To  the  Truth 
commit  whatsoever  thou  hast  from  the  Truth,  and  thou 
shalt  lose  nothing ;  and  thy  decay  shall  bloom  again,  and 


6o  TJie  Confessions  of  S.  Augustiyie. 

"all  thy  diseases  be  healed"  (Ps.  ciii.  3),  and  thy  mortal 
parts  be  reformed  and  renewed,  and  re-knit  for  thee ;  nor 
shall  they  lay  thee  whither  themselves  descend  ;  but  they 
shall  stand  fast  with  thee,  and  abide  for  ever  before  God, 
"  who  abideth  and  standeth  fast  for  ever"  (i  Peter  i.  23). 

Why  then  art  thou  perverted  to  follow  thy  flesh  ?  Let  it 
be  converted  and  follow  thee.  Whatever  by  it  thou  per- 
ceivest,  is  in  part ;  and  the  whole,  whereof  these  are  parts, 
thou  knowest  not ;  and  yet  they  delight  thee.  But  if  the 
sense  of  thy  flesh  had  capacity  to  comprehend  the  whole, 
and  had  not  itself  for  thy  punishment  been  justly  limited  to 
a  part  of  the  whole,  thou  wouldest  desire  that  whatsoever 
existeth  in  the  present  should  pass  away,  that  so  the  whole 
might  please  thee  more.  For  what  we  speak  also,  by  that 
same  sense  of  the  flesh  thou  hearest ;  yet  wouldest  not  thou 
have  the  syllables  stand  still,  but  fly  away,  that  others  may 
come,  and  thou  may  est  hear  the  whole.  And  so  ever, 
when  any  one  thing  is  made  up  of  many  parts,  all  of  which 
do  not  exist  together,  if  it  could  be  perceived  as  a  whole, 
the  whole  would  more  delight  than  the  several  parts.  But 
far  better  than  these,  is  He  who  made  all ;  and  He  is  our 
God,  nor  doth  He  pass  away,  for  neither  doth  aught 
succeed  Him. 

CHAPTER  XII. 

Love  is  not  comieuined :  Imt  love  in  God  excelleth ;  in  tvhich   is  rest, 
through  Jesns  Christ. 

TF  bodies  please  thee,  praise  God  on  occasion  of  them, 
^  and  incline  again  thy  love  towards  their  Maker ;  lest 
in  these  things  which  please  thee,  thou  displease.  If  souls 
please  thee,  let  them  be  loved  in  God  :  for  they  too  are 
changeful,  but  in  Him  are  they  firmly  stablished ;  else 
would  they  pass,  and  pass  away.  In  Him  then  let  them  be 
loved  ;  and  transport  unto  Him  along  with  thee  what  souls 
thou  canst,  and  say  to  them,  "  Him  let  us  love,  Him  let  us 
love :  He  made  these,  nor  is  He  far  off.  For  He  did  not 
make  them,  and  so  depart,  but  they  are  of  Him,  and  in 
Him.  Look  now,  where  is  He?  where  is  truth  relished? 
He  is  within  the  very  heart,  yet  hath  the  heart  strayed  from 
Him.     '  Return  again  to  your  heart,  ye  transgressors  '  (Is. 


TJie  Confessions  of  S.  Align stine.  6i 

xlvi.  8),  and  cleave  fast  to  Him  that  made  you.  Stand 
with  Him,  and  ye  shall  stand.  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  so  much  as  is 
referred  to  him  is  good  and  pleasant.  But  bitter  shall  it 
righteously  become,  for  unrighteously  is  aught  from  Him 
loved,  if  He  be  forsaken.  Wherefore  then  do  ye  still  and 
still  tread  these  difficult  and  toilsome  ways  ?  There  is  no 
rest,  where  ye  seek  it.  Seek  what  ye  seek ;  but  it  is  not 
there  where  ye  seek  it.  Ye  seek  a  blessed  life  in  the  realm 
of  death ;  it  is  not  there.  For  how  should  there  be  a  blessed 
life,  where  even  life  is  not  ?  " 

And  hither  did  our  Life  Himself  come  down,  and  bare 
our  death,  and  slew  him,  out  of  the  abundance  of  His  own 
life  :  and  He  thundered,  calling  aloud  to  us  to  return  hence 
to  Him  into  that  secret  place,  whence  He  came  forth  to  us, 
first  into  the  Virgin's  womb,  wherein  He  espoused  to  Him- 
self our  creaturely  humanity,  our  mortal  flesh,  that  it  might 
not  be  for  ever  mortal,  and  thence  "like  a  bridegroom 
coming  out  of  his  chamber.  He  rejoiced  as  a  giant  to  run 
His  course"  (Ps.  xix.  5).  For  He  tarried  not,  but  ran, 
crying  aloud  by  words,  by.  deeds,  by  death,  by  life,  by 
descent,  by  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  de- 
parted, and  lo.  He  is  here.  He  would  not  be  long  with  us, 
yet  left  us  not ;  for  He  departed  thither,  whence  He  never 
parted,  "because  the  world  was  made  by  Him."  And 
"  He  was  in  the  world,"  and  "  He  came  into  this  world  to 
save  sinners"  (S.  John  i.  10  j  i  Tim.  i.  15),  unto  whom  my 
soul  confesseth,  "and  He  healeth  it,  for  it  hath  sinned 
against  Him  "  (Ps.  xli.  4).  "  O  ye  sons  of  men,  how  long 
so  slow  of  heart?"  (Ps.  iv.  3,  Vulg.)  Nay,  but  since  Life 
hath  come  down,  will  ye  not  ascend  and  live  ?  But  whither 
ascend  ye,  when  ye  are  on  high,  and  "  set  your  mouth 
against  the  heavens"?  (Ps.  Ixxiii.  9).  Descend,  that  ye 
may  ascend,  and  ascend  to  God.  For  ye  have  fallen,  by 
ascending  against  Him.  Tell  them  this,^  that  they  may 
weep  "in  the  vale  of  misery"  (Ps.  Ixxxiv.  6),  and  thus 
transport  them  with  Thee  unto  God  :  for  by  His  Spirit  dost 
thou  tell  them  these  things,  if  thou  tell  them  burning  with 
the  fire  of  charity. 


62  TJic  Confessions  of  S.  Augustine. 

CHAPTER  XIII. 

Love  hath  its  origin  in  the  attraction  exercised  by  grace  and  beauty. 

THESE  things  I  then  knew  not,  and  I  used  to  love 
lower  forms  of  beauty,  and  I  was  sinking  to  the  very- 
depths,  and  to  my  friends  I  used  to  say,  "  Do  we  love  any- 
thing but  the  fair  ?  What  then  is  the  fair  ?  and  what  is  the 
being  fair?  What  is  it  that  attracts  and  wins  us  to  the 
things  we  love  ?  for  unless  there  were  in  them  a  grace  and 
beauty,  they  could  by  no  means  draw  us  unto  them/'  And 
I  marked  and  perceived  that  in  bodies  themselves  one 
thing  was  a  sort  of  completeness,  from  whence  came  fair- 
ness ;  and  another  source  of  beauty  was  in  their  being  fitly 
adjusted  to  each  other,  as  a  part  of  the  body  is  to  the  whole, 
or  a  shoe  to  the  foot,  and  the  like.  And  this  consideration 
streamed  upon  my  mind,  out  of  my  inmost  heart,  and  I 
wrote  ''on  the  fair  and  fit,"  I  think,  two  or  three  books. 
Thou  knowest,  O  Lord,  for  it  is  gone  from  me ;  for  I  have 
them  not,  but  they  have  gone  from  me,  I  know  not  how. 

CHAPTER  XIV. 

Of  the  books  he  wrote  upon  "  The  Fair  and  Fit,^'  xvhich  luere  dedicated 
to  Hieritts,  the  Roman. 

OUT  what  moved  me,  O  Lord  my  God,  to  dedicate 
^  these  books  unto  Hierius,  an  orator  of  the  city  of 
Rome,  whom  I  knew  not  by  face,  but  loved  for  the  fame  of 
his  teacliing,  which  was  renowned?  And  I  had  heard 
certain  words  of  his,  which  pleased  me,  but  more  did  he  please 
me,  for  that  he  pleased  others,  who  highly  extolled  him, 
amazed  that  out  of  a  Syrian,  first  trained  in  Greek  elo- 
quence, should  afterwards  be  formed  a  remarkable  speaker 
in  Latin,  and  that  he  should  be  profoundly  skilled  in  things 
pertaining  unto  philosophy.  One  is  praised,  and  though 
absent,  is  loved.  Doth  this  love  enter  the  heart  of  the 
hearer  from  the  mouth  of  him  that  praises  ?  Not  so.  But 
one  is  kindled  by  another's  love.  For  hence  he  is  loved, 
who  is  bepraised,  when  he  is  believed  to  be  commended 
out  of  an  unfeigned  heart ;  that  is,  when  one  that  loves 
him,  praises  him. 


The  Confessions  of  S.  A  tignstine.  63 

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  why  should  I  not,  as  a  famous  charioteer  or  as  some 
beast  fighter  is  celebrated  by  the  popular  devotion,  but  far 
otherwise,  and  earnestly,  and  so  as  I  would  be  praised 
myself?  For  I  should  not  like  to  be  praised  or  loved,  as 
actors  are  (though  I  myself  did  commend  and  love  them), 
but  would  rather  be  unnoticed  than  so  known  ;  and  even 
hated,  than  so  loved.  Where  now  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, 
if  I  did  not  hate,  I  should  not  abhor  and  reject  for  myself? 
For  it  cannot  be  accounted  for  in  the  same  way,  as  in  the 
case  of  a  good  horse,  which  is  loved  by  one  who  would  not 
change  places  with  him  even  if  he  could,  in  the  case  of  an 
actor,  who  shares  our  own  nature.  Do  I  then  love  in  a  man 
what  I  should  hate  to  be,  though  I  am  a  man  myself? 
Man  himself  is  a  great  deep,  whose  very  "hairs  Thou 
numberest "  (S.  Matt.  x.  30),  O  Lord,  and  they  are  not  lost 
in  Thy  sight.  And  yet  are  the  hairs  of  his  head  easier  to 
be  numbered,  than  are  his  affections,  and  the  motions  of 
his  heart. 

But  that  orator  was  of  the  type  that  I  loved,  and  would 
myself  be  like  unto ;  and  I  erred  through  a  swelling  pride, 
and  "was  carried  about  with  every  wind"  (Eph.  iv.  14); 
but  yet  was  steered  by  Thee,  though  very  secretly.  And 
whence  do  I  know,  and  whence  do  I  confidently  confess 
unto  Thee,  that  I  had  loved  him  for  the  love  of  them  that 
praised  him,  rather  than  for  the  very  things  for  which  he 
was  praised?  Because,  had  he  been  unpraised,  and  these 
selfsame  men  had  blamed  him,  and  with  blame  and  scorn 
told  the  very  same  things  of  him,  I  had  never  been  so 
kindled  and  excited  to  love  him.  And  yet  the  things  would 
have  been  no  other,  nor  the  man  himself  other;  but  the 
only  difference  would  have  lain  in  the  affections  of  the 
narrators.  See  where  the  unstable  soul  lies  prostrate,  which 
is  not  yet  stayed  upon  the  firm  support  of  truth  !  As  the 
winds  of  talk  blow  from  the  breasts  of  speculation-mongers, 
so  is  it  borne  along,  and  turned  and  twisted,  and  twisted 
again,  and  its  light  is  beclouded,  and  the  truth  is  unseen. 
And  lo,  it  is  before  us.  And  it  was  to  me  a  great  matter, 
that  my  discourse  and  labours  should  attract  the  notice  of 


64  The  Confessions  of  S.  Augustine. 

that  man.  And  should  he  approve  them,  I  should  be  the 
more  ardent ;  but  if  he  disapproved,  my  empty  heart,  un- 
stayed by  thy  firm  support,  had  been  wounded.  And  yet 
the  "fair  and  fit,"  whereon  I  wrote  to  him,  I  turned  over 
in  my  mind,  contemplating  and  surveying  it,  and  admired 
it,  though  none  shared  my  admiration. 


CHAPTER   XV. 

In  this  treatise,  being  blinded  by  corporeal  images,  he  failed  to  discern 
the  spi7'itual  nature  of  God. 

BUT  I  saw  not  yet,  the  hinge  on  which  this  great  matter 
turned  in  Thy  skill,  O  Thou  Almighty,  "who  only 
doest  wonders "  (Ps.  cxxxvi.  4),  and  my  mind  wandered 
among  cori)oreal  forms ;  and  "  fair,"  I  defined  and  dis- 
tinguished as  that  which  is  so  in  itself,  and  "  fit,"  that  which 
is  beautiful  as  it  corresponds  to  some  other  thing :  and  I 
quoted  in  confirmation  corporeal  illustrations.  And  I 
turned  to  the  nature  of  the  mind,  but  the  false  notion 
which  I  had  of  spiritual  things,  prevented  my  discerning 
the  truth.  Yet  the  mere  might  of  truth  did  force  itself 
under  my  eyes ;  and  I  wrenched  away  my  panting  spirit 
from  the  incorporeal,  to  forms,  and  colours,  and  vasty  bulks. 
And  because  1  could  not  see  these  in  the  mind,  I  thought 
I  could  not  see  my  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  supreme  good  to  consist :  but  in 
this  division  I  miserably  imagined  that  there  was  some 
unknown  substance  of  irrational  life,  and  the  nature  of  the 
supreme  evil,  which  was  not  only  a  substance,  but  real  life 
also,  and  yet  not  derived  from  Thee,  O  my  God,  of  whom 
are  all  things.  And  moreover  that  first  I  called  a  Monad, 
as  being  a  mind  without  any  sex  ;  but  the  latter  a  Duad ; — 
anger,  exhibited  in  crimes  of  violence,  and  lust  in  vicious 
practices :  not  knowing  whereof  I  spake.  For  I  had  not 
known ^or  learned,  that  no  substance  was  evil,  and  that  our 
mind  was  not  the  supreme  and  unchangeable  good. 

For  as  deeds  of  violence  arise,  if  that  emotion  of  the 


The  Confessions  of  S.  Augustine.  65 

mind,  whence  vehement  action  springs,  be  corrupted,  and 
behave  itself  with  insolence  and  turbulence;  and  lusts, 
when  that  affection  of  the  soul  is  ungoverned,  whereby 
carnal  pleasures  are  drunk  in,  so  do  errors  and  false 
opinions  pollute  the  life,  if  the  reasonable  soul  itself  be 
corrupted  ;  as  it  was  then  in  me,  who  knew  not  that  it  must 
be  enlightened  by  another  light,  that  it  may  be  partaker  of 
truth,  seeing  itself  is  not  that  nature  of  truth.  ''  For  Thou 
shalt  light  my  candle,  O  Lord  my  God,  Thou  shalt  enlighten 
my  darkness  "  (Ps,  xviii.  28) :  "  and  of  Thy  fulness  have  we 
all  received,  for  Thou  art  the  true  light  that  lighteth  every 
man  that  cometh  into  the  world"  (S.  John  i.  16,  9) :  "for 
in  Thee  there  is  no  variableness,  neither  shadow  of  turning  " 
(S.  James  i.  17). 

But  I  kept  on  striving  towards  Thee,  and  was  thrust  from 
Thee,  that  I  might  taste  of  death  :  for  "  Thou  resistest  the 
proud"  (i  Pet.  v.  5).     But  what  prouder,  than  that  with  a 
marvellous  madness  I  should  assert  that  I  was  by  nature, 
that  which  Thou  art?    For  whereas  I  was  subject  to  change, 
and  this  was  manifest  to  me  in  my  very  desire  to  become 
wise,  being  the  wish  to  change  from  worse  to  better  ;  yet 
chose  I  rather  to  imagine  Thee  subject  to  change,  than 
that  I  was  not  that  which   Thou  art.      Therefore   I   was 
thrust  from  Thee,  and  Thou  didst  resist  my  windy  stiff- 
neckedness,  and  I  imagined  corporeal  forms,  and — myself 
flesh,  I  accused  flesh ;  and,  a  "  wind  that  passeth  away,  I 
returned  not "  (Ps.  Ixxviii.  39)  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,  as  a  garrulous  fool,  to  ask  them,  "  Why 
then  doth  the  soul  err  which  God  created  ?  "     But  I  would 
not  be  asked,  "  Why  then  doth  God  err  ?  "    And  I  preferred 
to  argue  that  Thy  unchangeable  substance  had  been  com- 
pelled to  err,  rather  than  confess  that  my  changeable  sub- 
stance had  chosen  of  its  own  will  to  turn  aside  from  the 
way,  and  now  for  a  punishment  lay  in  error. 

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. 


66  The  Co)ifessions  of  S.  A  vgustine. 

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  voice  "  (S.  John 
iii.  29),  but  I  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  "  make  me  to  hear  of  joy  and  gladness,  nor  did 
my  bones  rejoice  which  were  not  yet  humbled  "  (Ps.  li.  8). 

CHAPTER  XVI. 

He  understood  ivith  ease  the  liberal  arts,  and  Aristotle's  "  Categories,''^ 
but  did  72 ot  trtily  proft  by  them. 

AND  what  did  it  profit  me,  that  when  I  was  scarcely 
twenty  years  old,  a  certain  treatise  of  Aristotle,  which 
they  call  the  Ten  Categories,  fell  into  my  hands  (on 
the  name  of  which  I  hung,  agape,  as  upon  something  great 
and  divine,  when  the  Carthaginian  orator,  my  master,  made 
mention  of  it,  with  cheeks  cracking  with  pride,  and  others 
also,  who  were  accounted  learned),  and  I  read  and  under- 
stood it,  without  help.  And  when  I  conferred  with  others 
who  said  they  had  scarcely  understood  it  with  the  help  of 
most  able  masters,  who  not  only  lectured  upon  it,  but  even 
drew  many  diagrams,  upon  the  sand,  they  could  tell  me 
no  more  of  it  than  I  had  learned  by  reading  it  by  myself. 
And  the  book  appeared  to  me  to  speak  very  clearly  of 
substances,  such  as  "  man,"  and  of  their  distinctive  features  : 
thus  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  classes,  of  which  I  have  given 
something  in  illustration,  or  under  the  class  of  "  substance  " 
itself. 

_  What  did  all  this  profit  me,  nay  rather  it  injured  me, 
since,  imagining  whatever  was,  was  comprehended  under 
those  ten  Predicaments,  I  essayed  in  such  wise  to  under- 
stand, O  my  God,  Thy  wonderful  and  unchangeable  Unity 
also,  as  if  Thou  also  hadst  been  subjected  to  Thine  own 
greatness   or  beauty;  so   tliat   (as   in  bodies)  they  should 


The  Confessions  of  S.  Augustine.  6y 

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  false- 
hood which  of  Thee  I  conceived,  not  truth ;  fictions  of  my 
misery,  not  the  realities  of  Thy  Blessedness.  For  Thou 
hadst  commanded,  and  so  it  came  to  pass  in  me,  that  the 
"earth  should  bring  forth  briars  and  thorns  to  me,"  and 
that  "with  labour  should  I  come  by  my  bread"  (Gen.  iii. 
i8,  19). 

And  what  did  it  profit  me,  that  I,  the  vilest  slave  of  evil 
passions,  read  by  myself  all  the  books  of  so-called  "  liberal " 
arts ;  and  understood  whatever  I  could  read  ?  And  I 
delighted  in  them,  but  knew  not  whence  came  whatsoever 
therein  was  true  or  certain.  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  enlightened.  Whatever  was  written,  either  on  the 
art  of  oratory  or  debate,  on  geometry,  music,  and  arithmetic, 
widiout  much  difficulty,  or  any  instructor,  I  understood, 
Thou  knowest,  O  Lord  my  God  ;  because  both  quickness 
of  understanding,  and  acuteness  in  discerning,  is  Thy  gift : 
yet  did  I  not  thence  sacrifice  to  Thee.  So  then  it  served 
not  to  my  use,  but  rather  to  my  perdition,  since  I  went 
about  to  get  so  good  a  "  portion  of  my  substance  "  into  my 
own  keeping ;  and  I  "  kept  not  my  strength  for  Thee,"  but 
wandered  from  Thee  "  into  a  far  country,  to  squander  it 
upon  harlot  desires  "  (con.  S.  Luke  xv.  passim).  For  what 
did  a  good  thing  profit  me,  who  did  not  use  it  well  ?  For 
I  did  not  perceive  that  those  arts  were  attained  with  great 
difiiculty,  even  by  the  studious  and  talented,  until  I  at- 
tempted to  explain  them  to  such ;  when  he  most  excelled 
in  them,  who  was  not  quite  so  slow  as  the  rest  in  following 
my  exposition. 

But  what  did  this  profit  me,  while  I  imagined  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  towards  me,"  and  to  call  upon  Thee,  who 
blushed  not  then  to  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,  un- 


68  Tlie  Confessions  of  S.  Augustine. 

ravelled  by  me,  with  no  support  from  human  teaching ; 
seeing  I  erred  so  foully,  and  with  such  sacrilegious  shame- 
fulness,  in  the  doctrine  of  piety?  Or  what  injury  was  a  far 
slower  wit  to  Thy  little  ones,  since  they  departed  not  far 
from  Thee,  that  safe  in  the  nest  of  Thy  Church  they  might 
grow  their  fledgling  feathers,  and  nourish  the  wings  of 
charity,  with  the  food  of  a  sound  faith.  O  Lord  our  God, 
"  under  the  shadow  of  Thy  wings  let  us  put  our  trust  "  (Ps. 
Ixiii.  8) ;  protect  us,  and  carry  us.  Thou  wilt  carry  us  both 
when  little,  and  "  even  to  hoar  hairs  wilt  Thou  carry  us  " 
(Is.  xlvi.  4).  For  when  Thou  art  our  strength,  it  is  strength 
indeed ;  but  when  it  is  our  own,  it  is  infirmity.  Our  good 
ever  lives  with  Thee ;  but  when  we  turn  away  from  thence 
we  are  perverted.  Let  us  now,  O  Lord,  return,  that  we 
may  not  be  overturned,  because  with  Thee  our  good  lives 
without  any  decay,  which  good  art  Thou  alone  ;  nor  need 
we  fear,  lest  there  be  no  place  whither  to  return,  because  we 
fell  from  it :  for  through  our  absence,  our  mansion  fell  not 
— Thy  eternity. 


He  describes  his  twenty-ninth  year.  How  he  discovered  the 

FALLACIES  OF  THE  MaNICH^ANS,  AND  BECAME  A  PROFESSOR  OF 

Rhetoric  in  Rome  and  Milan.    How  he  heard  S.  Ambrose, 

AND  began  to  return  TO  HIS  RIGHT  MIND. 


CHAPTER  I. 

T/uU  it  becomes  llie  soul  to  praise  God,  and  to  confess  to  Him. 

ACCEPT  the  sacrifice  of  my  confessions  offered  by  my 
tongue,  which  thou  hast  formed  and  stirred  up  to 
confess  unto  Thy  name.  "  Heal  Thou  all  my  bones,  and  let 
them  say,  O  Lord,  who  is  like  unto  Thee?"  (Ps.  xxxv.  lo), 
for  he  that  confesses  to  Thee,  doth  not  inform  Thee  of 
what  is  wrought  within  him ;  seeing  a  closed  heart  cannot 
shut  out  Thine  eye,  nor  can  man's  hardheartedness  thrust 
back  Thy  hand  :  for  Thou  dost  melt  it,  when  Thou  wiliest, 
either  in  pity  or  in  vengeance,  "and  there  is  none  hid  from 
Thy  heat"  (Ps,  xix.  6).  But  let  my  soul  praise  Thee,  that 
it  may  love  Thee  ;  and  let  it  confess  to  Thee  Thy  mercies, 
that  it  may  praise  Thee.  Thy  whole  creation  ceaseth  not 
Thy  praises,  and  is  silent  never  :  neither  the  spirit  of  every 
man,  by  his  voice  directed  towards  Thee,  nor  creatures 
animate  or  inanimate,  by  the  voice  of  those  who  meditate 
thereon :  that  so  our  souls  may  from  their  weariness  arise 
towards  Thee,  leaning  on  those  things  which  Thou  hast 
created,  and  passing  on  to  Thyself,  who  madest  them 
wonderfully  ;  and  there  is  refreshment  and  true  strength. 

CHAPTER  n. 

Of  the  vanity  of  them  that  ivoiild  escape  from  God,  seeing  He  is 
everywhere  present. 

LET  the  restless  and  the  unrighteous  depart  and  flee 
from  Thee;  yet  thou  seest  them,  and    dividest  the 
darkness;    and  behold,  all  things  with  them  are  fair,  but 


yo  The  Confessions  of  S.  Augustine. 

themselves  are  foul.  And  how  have  they  injured  Thee  ?  or 
how  have  they  dishonoured  thy  government,  which,  from  the 
heavens  to  this  lowest  earth  is  just  and  perfect  ?  For 
whither  fled  they,  when  they  fled  from  Thy  presence  ?  or 
where  dost  not  Thou  find  them  ?  But  they  fled,  that  they 
might  not  see  Thee,  who  seest  them,  and,  blinded,  might 
stumble  against  Thee;  because  "Thou  forsakest  nothing 
Thou  hast  made  "  (Wisd.  xi.  25),  that  the  unjust  might  stumble 
against  Thee,  and  justly  be  hurt;  withdrawing  themselves 
from  Thy  gentleness,  and  stumbling  at  Thy  righteousness, 
and  falling  upon  their  own  ruggedness.  Indeed,  they  know 
not  that  thou  art  everywhere,  and  that  no  place  encloseth 
Thee  ;  and  Thou  alone  art  near,  even  to  those  that  are  far 
off  from  Thee.  Let  them  then  be  converted  and  seek 
Thee  ;  because  not  as  they  have  forsaken  their  Creator,  hast 
Thou  forsaken  Thy  creature.  Let  them  be  converted  and 
seek  Thee ;  and  behold,  Thou  art  there  in  their  heart,  in 
the  heart  of  those  that  confess  to  Thee,  and  cast  themselves 
upon  Thee,  and  weep  in  Thy  bosom,  after  all  their  rugged 
ways.  Then  dost  Thou  graciously  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,  dost  renew  them  and  console 
them.  But  where  was  I,  when  I  was  seeking  Thee  ?  And 
Thou  wert  before  me,  but  I  had  departed  even  from  my- 
self; nor  did  I  find  myself,  how  much  less  Thee  ! 


CHAPTER  III. 

Having  heard  Fausitis,  the  most  learned  bishop  amongst  the  Manichceans, 
he  undcrstaudeih  that  God,  the  Creator  of  things  animate  and 
inanimate,  hath  especial  care  for  the  lowly. 

T  WILL  now  declare,  in  the  presence  of  God,  the  twenty- 
•^  ninth  year  of  my  age.  There  had  at  that  time  come 
to  Carthage,  a  certain  Bishop  of  the  Manicha^ans,  Faustus  by 
name,  a  great  snare  of  the  Devil,  and  many  were  entangled 
by  him  through  the  charm  of  his  fluent  speech  :  but  though 
I  praised  it,  I  was  able  to  distinguish  it  from  the  truth  of 
the  things  which  I  hungered  to  learn  :  nor  did  I  care  so 
much  how  that  Faustus,  so  renowned  among  them,  dished 
u^Jik-discQurse^  as  what  kind  of  food  of  knowledge  he  set 


TJie  Confessions  of  S.  A  ugustinc.  7 1 

before  me.  Fame  had  before  bespoken  him  most  knowing 
in  all  honourable  learning,  and  especially  well  equipped 
in  the  liberal  sciences.  And  since  I  had  read  many 
treatises  of  philosophers,  and  kept  in  my  mind  their 
maxims,  I  compared  some  things  of  theirs  with  those 
long  fables  of  the  Manichaeans,  and  the  former  struck  me 
as  more  probable,  which  they  taught  who  "  were  able 
only  to  know  so  much  as  to  judge  this  present  world, 
though  by  no  means  could  they  find  out  the  Lord  thereof" 
(Wisdom  xiii.  9).  "  For  thou  art  great,  O  Lord,  and  hast 
respect  unto  the  lowly,  but  the  proud  Thou  beholdest  afar 
off"  (Ps.  cxxxviii.  6).  Nor  dost  thou  "draw  near,"  but  to 
"the  contrite  in  heart"  (Ps.  xxxiv.  18);  nor  art  found  by 
the  proud  ;  not  even  if  by  curious  skill  they  could  number 
the  stars  and  the  sand,  and  measure  the  starry  regions,  and 
track  the  paths  of  constellations. 

For  with  their  understanding  and  wit,  which  Thou  be- 
stowedst  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,  at  what  day  and  hour 
they  would  be,  and  whether  partial  or  total ;  nor  did  their  cal- 
culation fail ;  and  it  came  to  pass  as  they  foretold  ;  and  they 
wrote  down  the  laws  they  had  discovered,  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  as  it  is  predicted,  so  will  it 
happen.  At  these  things  men,  that  know  not  this  art, 
marvel,  and  are  astonished,  and  they  that  know  it,  exult, 
and  are  puffed  up ;  and  through  their  ungodly  pride  with- 
draw themselves  from  Thy  Light,  and  are  in  eclipse,  and 
though  so  long  before  they  can  foresee  a  coming  eclipse  of 
the  sun,  their  own  present  ecHpse  they  see  not.  For  they 
search  not  religiously  whence  they  have  the  wit,  wherewith 
they  search  out  this.  And  finding  that  Thou  madest  them, 
they  give  not  themselves  up  to  Thee,  that  Thou  mayest 
keep  what  Thou  hast  made ;  nor  do  they  sacrifice  them- 
selves to  Thee,  being  such  as  they  have  made  themselves  ; 
nor  slay  their  own  soaring  imaginations,  as  "fowls  of  the 
air,"  nor  their  own  curious  enquiries,  wherewith,  like  the 
"  fishes  of  the  sea,"  they  walk  through  the  secret  paths  of 
the  deep  {cf.  Ps.  viii.  8)  ;   nor   their   own  wantonness,  as 


Ti 


T/ic  Confessions  of  S.  Angus  tine. 


"  beasts  of  the  field,"  that  "  Thou,  Lord,  a  consuming  fire  " 
(Deut.  iv.  24),  mayest  burn  up  those  dead  cares  of  theirs, 
and  renew  them  to  immortaUty. 

But  they  knew  not  the  Way,  Thy  Word,  by  Whom  Thou 
madest  these  tilings  which  they  number,  and  themselves 
who  number,  and  the  sense  whereby  they  perceive  what 
they  number,  and  the  understanding,  by  which  they  number  ; 
or  that  "of  Thy  wisdom  there  is  no  number"  (Ps.  cxlvii.  5). 
But  the  Only  Begotten  is  Himself  "  made  unto  us  wisdom, 
and  righteousness,  and  sanctification "  (i  Cor.  i.  30),  and 
was  numbered  among  us,  and  "  paid  tribute  unto  Caesar " 
(S.  Matt.  xvii.  27).  They  knew  not  this  Way  whereby  to 
descend  to  Him  Jfrom  themselves,  and  by  Him  ascend  unto 
Him.  They  knew  not  this  Way,  and  deemed  themselves 
exalted  amongst  the  stars  and  shining  ;  and  behold,  they 
fell  to  the  earth  "  and  their  foolish  heart  was  darkened  " 
(Rom.  i.  21).  They  discourse  many  things  truly  concerning 
the  creature ;  but  Truth,  Artificer  of  the  creature,  they  seek 
not  piously,  and  therefore  find  him  not ;  or  if  they  find 
Him,  "  knowing  Him  to  be  God,  they  glorify  Him  not  as 
God,  neither  are  thankful,  but  become  vain  in  their  imagi- 
nations,, and  profess  themselves  to  be  wise"  (Rom.  i.  21,  22), 
attributing  to  themselves  what  is  Thine ;  and  thereby  with 
most  perverse  blindness,  seek  to  attribute  to  Thee  what  is 
their  own,  ^peaking  lies  against  Thee  who  art  the  Truth, 
and  "  changing  the  glory  of  the  uncorruptible  God,  into  an 
image  made  like  to  corruptible  man,  and  to  birds,  and  four- 
footed  beasts,  and  creeping  things,  changing  Thy  truth  into 
a  lie,  and  worshipping  and  serving  the  creature  more  than 
the  Creator"  (Rom.  i.  23-25). 

Yet  I  remembered  many  truths  concerning  the  creature 
declared  by  these  men ;  and  their  reasoning  was  confirmed 
to  me  by  their  calculations,  and  the  succession  of  times, 
and  the  visible  testimony  of  the  stars;  and  I  compared 
them  with  the  sayings  of  Manichasus,  who  in  his  crazy  folly 
has  written  much  and  copiously  upon  these  subjects ;  but 
none  of  his  reasoning  of  the  solstices,  nor  equinoxes,  nor 
eclipses,  nor  whatever  of  this  kind  I  had  learned  in  books 
of  secular  i)hilosophy,  was  satisfactory  to  me.  But  I  was 
commanded  to  believe ;  and  yet  it  corresponded  not  with 
the  reasonings  obtained  by  calculations,  and  by  my  own 
observations,  but  was  quite  contrary. 


TJie  Confessions  of  S.  Augustine.  73 


CHAPTER   IV. 

Thai  HO  scientific  acquaintance  with  things  terrestrial  or  celestial  can 
give  happiness,  but  only  the  knozuledge  of  God. 

DOTH  then,  O  Lord  God  of  truth,  whoso  knoweth  these 
things,  therefore  please  Thee?  Nay,  but  unhappy 
is  the  man  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  more 
blessed  for  knowing  them,  but  for  Thee  alone  is  blessed,  if, 
"  knowing  Thee,  he  glorifies  Thee  as  God,  and  is  thankful, 
and  becomes  not  vain  in  his  imaginations"  (Rom.  i.  21). 
For  as  he  is  better  off,  who  knows  how  to  possess  a  tree, 
and  returns  thanks  to  Thee  for  the  use  thereof,  although  he 
know  not  how  many  cubits  high  it  is,  or  how  wide  it  spreads, 
than  he  that  can  measure  it,  and  count  all  its  boughs,  and 
neither  possesses  it,  nor  knows  or  loves  its  Creator :  so  a 
faithful  man,  to  whom  all  the  world  of  wealth  belongs,  and 
''who  having  nothing,  yet  possesseth  all  things"  (2  Cor. 
vi.  10),  by  cleaving  unto  Thee,  whom  all  things  serve,  though 
he  know  not  even  the  circles  of  the  Great  Bear,  yet  is  it 
folly  to  doubt  but  he  is  in  a  better  state  than  one  who  can 
measure  the  heavens,  and  number  the  stars,  and  weigh  the 
elements,  yet  neglecteth  Thee  "Who  hast  made  all  things 
in  number,  weight,  and  measure  "  (Wisd.  xi.  20). 


CHAPTER  V. 

Concerning  Manicha;us  ;  his  pertinacity  in  teaching  falsehood,  and 
his  pride  in  claiming  to  be  the  Holy  Spirit. 

BUT  yet  who  bade  that  Manichaeus  write  on  these  things 
also,  since  piety  could  be  learnt  without  any  skill  in 
such  matters  ?  "  For  Thou  hast  said  to  man,  Behold,  piety 
is  wisdom"  (Job  xxviii.  28);  of  the  one  he  might  be 
ignorant,  though  he  had  a  perfect  knowledge  of  these 
things;  but  inasmuch  as  he  most  impudently  dared  to 
teach  these  things,  though  he  knew  nothing  about  them,  he 
plainly  could  have  no  knowledge  of  piety.  For  it  is  vanity 
to   make   profession  of  these   worldly   things    even   when 


74  TJ^^  Confessions  of  S.  A  ngustine. 

known ;  piety  is  to  make  confession  to  Thee.  Wherefore 
this  man,,  wandering  from  the  way,  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  otlier  things  more  abstruse.  For  he  would  not 
have  himself  slightly  valued,  but  attempted  to  persuade 
men,  "That  the  Holy  Ghost,  the  Comforter  and  Enricher 
of  Thy  faithful  ones,  was  in  Person  within  him,  with  plenary 
autliority."  When  then  he  was  found  out  to  have  taught 
falsehoods  of  the  heaven  and  stars,  and  of  the  motions  of 
the  sun  and  moon  (although  these  things  pertain  not  to  the 
doctrine  of  religion),  yet  it  was  plain  enough  that  his  preten- 
sions were  sacrilegious,  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. 

For  when  I  hear  any  brother  Christian,  ignorant  of  this 
or  that,  and  mistaking  one  thing  for  another,  I  can  patiently 
bear  with  his  fancy ;  nor  do  I  see  that  any  harm  can  come 
to  him,  so  long  as  he  does  not  believe  anything  unworthy 
of  Thee,  O  Lord,  the  Creator  of  all,  even  if  he  happens 
to  be  ignorant  about  the  "  situation  "  and  "  possession  "  *  of 
the  material  creation.  But  it  doth  injure  him,  if  he  imagine 
it  to  pertain  to  the  form  of  the  doctrine  of  piety,  and  will 
dare  to  assert  over  confidently  that  of  which  he  is  ignorant. 
And  yet  is  even  such  an  infirmity,  in  the  cradle  time  of 
faith,  borne  by  our  mother  Charity,  till  the  new  man  may 
''grow  up  unto  a  perfect  man,"  so'  as  "not  to  be  carried 
about  with  every  wind  of  doctrine  "  (Eph.  iv.  13,  14).  But 
in  him,  who  in  such  wise  presumed  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  so 
great  madness  would  be  at  once  detested,  and  utterly 
rejected,  so  soon  as  he  should  be  convicted  of  having 
spoken  falsehood  ?  But  I  had  not  as  yet  clearly  ascertained 
whether  the  variations  of  the  longer  and  shorter  days  and 
nights,  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  consistently  with  his 

*  Sec  ante.  Book  iv.  Chap.  xvi.     "  Situs  "  and  "  Habitus,"  situation 
and  possession,  are  two  of  the  ten  categories. 


TJie  Confessions  of  S.  Augustine.  75 

sayings ;  so  that,  if  they  by  any  means  might,  it  should  still 
remain  a  question  to  me,  whether  it  were  so  or  no ;  but  I 
might,  on  account  of  his  reputed  sanctity,  have  rested  my 
belief  upon  his  authority. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

Fatisttis  xoas  an  eloquent  disputant  but  ignorant  of  the  Liberal  Sciences. 

AND  for  almost  all  those  nine  years,  wherein  with  un- 
settled mind  I  had  been  a  hearer  of  their  teaching,  I 
had  longed  but  too  intensely  for  the  coming  of  this  Faustus. 
For  others  of  them,  whom  by  chance  I  had  lighted  upon, 
when  unable  to  answer  my  objections  about  these  things, 
used  to  promise  me  that  he  would  come ;  and  that,  in  con- 
ference with  me,  upon  his  coming  these  difficulties  and  even 
any  greater,  if  I  desired  it,  would  be  resolved  for  me  in  the 
clearest  way.  When  then  he  came,  I  found  him  agreeable, 
and  pleasant  of  address,  and  fluent  to  express,  though  in  a 
much  more  pleasant  manner,  all  those  things  which  they 
were  wont  to  say.  But  what  availed  the  most  courteous 
butler  to  assuage  my  thirst  for  a  rarer  vintage  ?  Mine  ears 
were  already  wearied  of  such  things,  nor  did  they  seem  to 
me  therefore  better,  because  better  said ;  nor  therefore 
true,  because  eloquent ;  nor  the  soul  therefore  wise,  because 
the  face  was  comely,  and  the  expressions  eloquent.  But 
they  who  had  made  me  promises  about  him  were  no  good 
judges  of  things  ;  and  therefore  to  them  he  appeared  a  man 
of  wisdom  and  understanding,  because  his  speech  delighted 
them.  I  felt  however  that  another  sort  of  people  were 
suspicious  even  of  truth,  and  refused  to  assent  to  it,  if  de- 
livered in  an  ornate  and  florid  discourse.  But  Thou,  O  my 
God,  hadst  already  taught  me  by  wonderful  and  secret 
ways  ]  and  for  this  reason  I  believe  that  Thou  didst  teach 
me,  because  it  is  truth,  nor  is  there  besides  Thee  any  teacher 
of  truth,  wherever  or  whencesoever  it  shines  forth  upon  us. 
Of  Thyself  therefore  had  I  already  learned,  that  a  thing 
ought  not  to  be  held  to  be  truly  spoken,  because  eloquently 
spoken;  nor  therefore  falsely,  because  the  syllables  are 
not  carefully  arranged;  and  again  not  therefore  true, 
because  rudely  delivered  ;  nor  therefore  false,  because  the 


/6  TJie  Confessions  of  S.  Angus  tine. 

language  is  brilliant ;  but  that  wisdom  and  folly  are  much 
the  same  as  wholesome  and  unwholesome  food ;  but  that 
whether  in  words  ornate  or  inornate,  just  as  either  in  choice 
dishes  or  in  delf,  either  kind  of  food  can  be  served. 

That  hunger  then  wherewith  I  had  of  so  long  time  looked 
forward  to  the  coming  of  that  man,  was  delighted  indeed  with 
his  action  and  passion  when  disputing,  and  his  choice  and 
ready  fluency  of  words  aptly  fitted  to  clothe  his  ideas.  For 
I  was  delighted,  and  shared  with  many,  and  even  outpassed 
many  in  praising  and  extolling  him.  But  I  misliked  that 
in  the  assembly  of  his  auditors  I  was  not  permitted  to  press 
upon  him  and  confer  with  him  upon  the  anxieties  of  my 
difficulties,  in  familiar  converse,  and  in  the  give  and  take  of 
controversy.  And  when  I  had  an  opportunity,  and  took 
occasion  to  engage  his  attention,  together  with  my  asso- 
ciates, at  a  time  when  it  was  becoming  to  enter  upon  discus- 
sion, and  submitted  to  him  certain  matters  which  had  per- 
plexed me,  I  found  him  first  utterly  ignorant  of  liberal 
sciences,  save  grammar,  and  that  but  in  an  ordinary  way. 
But  because  he  had  read  some  of  Tully's  Orations,  a  very 
few  books  of  Seneca,  some  things  of  the  poets,  and  such 
few  volumes  of  his  own  sect,  as  were  written  in  Latin  and 
in  logical  order,  and  was  daily  practised  in  speaking,  he 
acquired  a  certain  eloquence,  which  proved  the  more  pleas- 
ing and  seductive,  because  under  the  control  of  his  good 
sense,  and  with  a  certain  natural  grace.  Is  it  not  thus,  as  I 
recall  it,  O  Lord  my  God,  Thou  Judge  of  my  conscience  ? 
before  Thee  is  my  heart,  and  my  remembrance,  Who  didst 
at  that  time  direct  me  by  the  hidden  mystery  of  Thy  pro- 
vidence, and  didst  "  set  those  shameful  errors  of  mine  be- 
fore my  face"  (conf  Ps.  1.  21),  that  I  might  see  and  hate 
them. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

By  God's  i;racc  he  departs  from  i  he  falsehoods  of  the  Manichcvans,  noiv 

clearly  perceived. 

"pOR  after  it  became  clear  to  me,  that  he  was  ignorant  of 
-■-  those  arts  in  which  I  had  thought  he  excelled,  I  began 
to  despair  of  his  opening  and  solving  the  difficulties  which 


The  Confessions  of  S.  Augustine.  y/ 

perplexed  me ;  of  which  indeed  however  ignorant,  he 
might  have  held  the  truths  of  piety,  had  he  not  been  a 
Manichsean.  For  their  books  are  full  of  lengthy  fables,  of 
the  heaven,  and  stars,  sun,  and  moon ;  and  I  now  no  longer 
thought  him  able  with  any  subtlety  to  explain,  what  I 
especially  desired,  whether  in  comparison  with  the  calcula- 
tions I  had  elsewhere  read,  the  account  of  these  matters 
given  in  the  books  of  Manichseus  were  more  truthful,  or 
indeed  whether  an  equally  satisfactory  explanation  could  be 
got  from  them.  But  when  I  brought  forward  these  things 
for  consideration  and  discussion,  he,  so  far  modestly,  shrunk 
from  the  burthen.  For  he  knew  that  he  did  not  know  these 
things,  and  was  not  ashamed  to  confess  it.  For  he  was  not 
one  of  those  loquacious  people,  like  many  that  I  had 
suffered  from,  who  attempted  to  teach  me  these  things,  and 
said  nothing.  But  this  man  had  a  heart,  though  not  right 
towards  Thee,  yet  not  wholly  careless  towards  himself.  For 
he  was  not  altogether  ignorant  of  his  own  ignorance,  and 
did  not  choose  to  be  caught  in  a  dispute  upon  these  matters, 
where  there  was  no  outlet,  and  no  easy  means  of  retreat. 
Even  for  this  1  liked  him  the  better.  For  the  modesty  of  a 
candid  mind  is  even  more  attractive  than  the  knowledge  of 
those  things  which  I  desired ;  and  such  I  found  him,  in  all 
the  more  difficult  and  subtile  questions. 

My  zeal  for  the  writings  of  Manichaeus  being  thus  shat- 
tered, and  despairing  yet  more  of  their  other  teachers,  see- 
ing that  in  divers  things  which  perplexed  me,  he,  though  so 
renowned  among  them,  had  so  turned  out ;  I  began  to 
engage  with  him  in  the  study  of  that  literature,  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  pur- 
posed to  gain  advantage  in  that  sect,  after  my  acquaintance 
with  that  man,  came  utterly  to  an  end  ;  not  that  I  entirely 
separated  myself  from  them,  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  some- 
thing more  eligible  should  dawn  upon  me.  Thus  that 
Faustus,  to  so  many  a  snare  of  death,  had  now,  though  he 
neither  wished  it,  nor  knew  that  it  was  so,  begun  to  loosen 
that  in  which  I  had  been  taken.     For  Thy  hands,  O  my 


78  The  Confessions  of  S.  Aiigustine. 

God,  in  the  secret  purpose  of  Thy  providence,  did  not  for- 
sake my  soul ;  and  out  of  my  mother's  heart's  blood,  by  her 
daily  and  nightly  tears,  was  a  sacrifice  offered  for  me  unto 
Thee;  and  Thou  didst  deal  with  me  by  wondrous  and 
secret  ways.  Thou  didst  it,  O  my  God  :  for  ''  the  steps  of 
a  man  are  ordered  by  the  Lord,  and  He  shall  dispose  his 
way  "  (Ps.  xxxvii.  23).  Or  what  shall  obtain  salvation  for 
us,  except  Thy  hand  renew  what  Thou  hast  made  ? 


CHAPTER  VIII. 
He  sets  o^tt  for  Rome,  tJioiigh  his  motlier  in  vain  dissuades  him. 

THOU  didst  deal  with  me,  that  I  should  be  persuaded 
to  go  to  Rome,  and  to  teach  there  rather,  what  I 
was  teaching  at  Carthage.  And  how  was  I  persuaded  to 
this  ?  I  will  not  omit  to  confess  to  Thee  ;  because  herein 
also  the  deepest  recesses  of  Thy  wisdom,  and  Thy  most 
present  mercy  to  us,  must  be  discerned  and  declared.  I 
did  not  wish  to  go  to  Rome,  because  of  the  higher  gains 
and  higher  dignities  which  my  friends,  who  persuaded  me 
to  this,  held  out  to  me,  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  quietly,  and  were  restrained  by  a  more 
regular  system  of  discipline  ;  so  that  they  did  not  wantonly 
and  at  random  rush  into  the  school  of  one,  whose  pupils 
they  were  not,  nor  were  even  admitted  without  his  per- 
mission. At  Carthage,  on  the  contrary,  the  license  among 
the  scholars  is  disgraceful  and  unruly.  They  break  in 
impudently,  and  with  a  well  nigh  frantic  expression  disturb 
the  order  which  any  one  has  established  for  the  good  of 
his  scholars.  They  commit  many  outrages  with  extra- 
ordinary effrontery,  which  could  be  punished  by  law,  did 
not  custom  afford  protection ;  a  custom  which  shows  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  the  punish- 
ments they  suffer  are  incomparably  worse  than  the  offences 
they  commit.     The  manners  then  which,  when  a  student,  I 


The  Confessions  of  S.  Augiisthie,  79 

would  not  make  my  own,  I  was  fain,  as  a  teacher,  to  endure 
in  others  :  and  so  I  preferred  to  go  where,  all  that  knew  it, 
assured  me  that  the  like  was  not  done.  But  Thou,  "my 
hope  and  my  portion  in  the  land  of  the  living  "  (Ps.  cxlii.  5), 
that  I  might  change  my  earthly  habitation  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  allurements, 
whereby  I  might  be  attracted  thither,  by  men  in  love  with 
a  dying  life,  the  former  by  their  frantic  doings,  the  latter  by 
their  empty  promises ;  and,  to  correct  my  steps,  didst 
secretly  make  use,  both  of  their  and  my  perversity.  For 
both  they  who  disturbed  my  quiet,  were  blinded  with  a 
disgraceful  frenzy,  and  they  who  invited  me  elsewhere, 
savoured  of  earth.  While  I,  who  here  detested  real  misery, 
was  there  seeking  an  unreal  happiness. 

But  why  I  should  depart  hence  and  go  thither.  Thou 
didst  know,  O  God,  yet  shewedst  it  neither  to  me,  nor  to 
my  mother,  who  grievously  bewailed  my  journey,  and  fol- 
lowed me  as  far  as  the  sea.  But  I  deceived  her,  as  she 
held  me  by  force,  that  either  she  might  keep  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  such  a  mother,  and  escaped  :  for  this  also  hast 
Thou  mercifully  forgiven  me,  preserving  me,  who  was  so 
vilely  stained  with  sins,  from  the  waters  of  the  sea,  for  the 
water  of  Thy  Grace ;  that  when  I  was  washed  in  this,  the 
rivers  from  my  mother's  eyes,  with  which  she  daily  used  to 
water  the  ground  beneath  her  face  on  my  behalf  before 
Thee,  might  be  dried  up.  And  yet  refusing  to  return 
without  me,  I  scarcely  persuaded  her  to  stay  that  night  in  a 
place  hard  by  our  ship,  where  was  a  memorial  chapel  in 
honour  of  S.  Cyprian.  That  night  I  stealthily  set  out ;  but 
she  remained  in  weeping  and  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  giving  ear  to  the  purport  of  her  desire,  didst 
not  effect  what  then  she  was  asking,  that  thou  mightest  do 
in  me  what  she  was  ever  asking.  The  wind  blew  and 
swelled  our  sails,  and  the  shore  sank  from  our  sight;  and 
she  on  the  morrow  was  there,  frantic  with  sorrow,  and  with 
complaints  and  groans  filled  Thine  ears,  who  didst  then 
disregard    them ;    whilst   through    my   desires,   Thou  wert 


8o  TJie  Confessio7is  of  S.  Augustine. 

hurrying  me  to  end  those  very  desires,  and  her  carnal  regret 
for  my  departure  was  chastened  by  the  allotted  scourge  of 
sorrows.  For  she  loved  my  being  with  her,  as  mothers  do, 
but  much  more  than  many ;  and  she  knew  not  how  great 
joy  Thou  wert  about  to  work  for  her  out  of  my  absence. 
She  knew  not ;  therefore  did  she  weep  and  wail,  and  by 
this  agony  there  was  manifested  in  her  the  heritage  of  Eve, 
with  sorrow  seeking,  what  in  sorrow  she  had  brought  forth. 
And  yet,  after  accusing  my  deceit  and  cruelty,  she  betook 
herself  again  to  intercede  to  Thee  for  me,  and  departed, 
she  to  her  wonted  habits,  I  to  Rome. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

He  lies  dangerously  ill  of  a  fever. 

AND  lo,  there  was  I  taken  with  the  scourge  of  bodily 
sickness,  and  I  was  going  down  to  hell,  bearing  all 
the  sins  which  I  had  committed  against  Thee,  and  myself, 
and  others,  many  and  grievous,  over  and  above  that  bond 
of  original  sin,  whereby  we  "in  Adam,  all  die"  (i  Cor. 
XV.  22).  For  Thou  hadst  not  forgiven  me  any  of  these 
things  in  Christ,  nor  had  He  "  abolished  by  His  cross  the 
enmity  "  (Eph.  ii.  14)  which  by  my  sins  I  had  incurred  with 
Thee.  For  how  should  He,  by  the  crucifixion  of  a  phantasm, 
which  I  believed  Him  to  be?  As  then  the  death  of  His 
Flesh  seemed  to  me  to  be  fictitious,  so  was  the  death  of  my 
soul  real :  and  as  the  Death  of  His  Flesh  was  real,  so  was 
the  life  of  my  soul,  which  disbelieved  it,  fictitious.  And 
now  the  fever  heightening,  I  was  parting  and  perishing. 
For  had  I  then  parted  hence,  whither  had  I  departed,  but 
into  fire  and  torments,  such  as  my  deeds  deserved  in  the 
truth  of  Thy  appointment  ?  And  this  she  knew  not,  yet  in 
absence'  prayed  for  me.  But  Thou,  everywhere  present, 
heardest  her  where  she  was,  and,  where  I  was,  hadst  com- 
passion upon  me ;  that  I  should  recover  the  health  of  my 
body,  though  frenzied  as  yet  in  my  impious  heart.  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  confessed.  But  I  had  grown  up  to 
my  own  shame,  and  I  in  my  madness  scorned  thy  healing 


TJie  Confessions  of  S.  A  ngnstijic.  8 1 

counsels,  who  wouldest  not  suffer  me,  though  I  was  such 
an  one,  to  die  the  second  death.  For  if  my  mother's  heart 
had  been  stricken  with  such  a  wound,  healed  had  it  been 
never.  For  I  cannot  express  the  affection  she  bare  to  me, 
and  with  how  much  more  vehement  anguish  she  was  now  in 
labour  of  me  in  the  spirit,  than  when  she  bare  me  in  the 
flesh. 

I  see  not  then  how  she  should  have  been  healed,  had  such 
a  death  of  mine  pierced  through  the  bowels  of  her  love.  And 
where  would  have  been  those  her  prayers,  so  fervent  and  so 
frequent,  without  cessation  ?  nowhere,  unless  with  Thee.  But 
wouldest  Thou,  God  of  mercies,  "despise  the  contrite  and 
humble  heart"  (Ps.  li.  17),  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  empty  fables,  and  old  wives' 
gossip  j  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  changeful  or 
fleeting  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,  in  that  order 
wherein  Thou  hadst  predestined  that  it  should  be  done. 
Far  be  it  that  Thou  shouldest  deceive  her  in  Thy  visions 
and  answers,  some  of  which  I  have  already  recorded,  others 
I  have  not,  which  she  kept  in  her  faithful  heart,  and  ever 
praying,  used  to  press  upon  Thee,  as  though  given  under 
Thine  own  hand.  For  Thou,  "  because  Thy  mercy  endureth 
for  ever"  (Ps.  cxviii.),  vouchsafest  to  those  to  whom  Thou 
"  forgivest  all  their  debts,"  to  become  also  a  debtor  by  Thy 
promises. 

CHAPTER  X. 

After  leaving  the  Manicha:ans  he  retained  lotv  opinions  concerning  GoJ, 
and  sin,  and  the  Incarnation. 

THOU  didst  restore  me  then  of  that  sickness,  and  didst 
save  the  son  of  Thy  handmaid,  as  regards  his  bodily 
health,  that  he  might  await  Thy  giving  of  a  better  and  more 


82  11  ic  Confessions  of  S.  Ang/isiine. 

sure  salvation.  And  even  then,  at  Rome,  I  joined  myself 
to  those  deceived  and  deceiving  "  saints  "  :  not  with  their 
"hearers"  only  (of  which  number  was  he,  in  whose  house 
I  had  fallen  sick  and  recovered),  but  even  with  those  whom 
they  call  "  The  Elect."  For  I  still  thought,  "  that  it  is  not 
we  ourselves  that  sin  ;  but  that  some  other  nature  {what,  I 
know  not)  sins  in  us  "  ;  and  it  delighted  my  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  sinned  against  Thee  "  (Ps.  xli.  4),  but  I  loved  to 
excuse  it,  and  to  accuse  I  know  not  what  other  thing,  which 
was  with  me,  but  which  was  not  I.  But  in  truth  it  was 
wholly  I,  and  mine  impiety  had  divided  me  against  myself; 
and  that  sin  was  the  more  incurable,  whereby  I  considered 
that  I  was  not  a  sinner ;  and  execrable  iniquity  it  was,  that 
I  should  prefer  that  Thou,  O  God  Almighty,  should  be 
overcome  in  me  to  my  destruction,  than  that  I  should  be 
overcome  by  Thee,  to  my  salvation.  Not  as  yet  then  hadst 
Thou  "set  a  watch  before  my  mouth,  and  a  door  of  self- 
restraint  around  my  lips,  that  my  heart  might  not  turn 
aside  to  evil  words,  to  make  excuses  of  sins,  with  men  that 
work  iniquity  :  and,  therefore,  was  I  still  united  with  their 
Elect "  (Ps.  cxli.  3,  4). 

But  now  jdespairing  of  getting  any  advantage  in  that 
false  doctrine,  even  those  things  (with  which  if  I  should 
fmd  no  better,  I  had  resolved  to  rest  contented)  I  now  held 
with  greater  laxity  and  negligence.  For  a  thought  sprang 
up  within  me,  that  those  philosophers,  whom  they  call 
Academics,  were  wiser  than  the  rest,  because  they  held  that 
men  ought  to  doubt  every  thing,  and  declared  that  no  truth 
can  be  comprehended  by  man.  For  so,  even  to  me,  they 
clearly  seemed  to  think,  as  is  the  common  opinion  of  them, 
for  I  did  not  yet  understand  their  meaning.  But  I  made 
no  secret  of  discouraging  that  host  of  mine  from  the  over- 
confidence  which  I  perceived  him  to  have  in  those  fables, 
of  which  the  books  of  ManichcTus  are  full.  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  (for 
Rome  gives  concealment  to  many  of  them)  made  me  slower 
to  seek  any  other  way :  especially  since  I  despaired  of 
Imding  the  truth,  from  which  they  had  turned  me  aside,  in 


The  Confessions  of  S.  Augustine.  ^^ 

Thy  Church,  O  Lord  of  heaven  and  earth,  Creator  of  all 
things  visible  and  invisible :  and  it  seemed  to  me  very- 
unseemly  to  believe  Thee  to  have  the  form  of  human  flesh, 
and  to  be  contained  within  the  bodily  limitations  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  any  thing), 
this  was  the  greatest,  and  almost  only  cause  of  my  in- 
evitable error. 

For  hence  I  believed  Evil  also  to  be  some  such  kind  of 
substance,  and  to  have  its  own  foul,  and  hideous  bulk; 
whether  gross,  which  they  called  earth,  or  thin  and  subtle 
(like  the  body  of  the  air),  which  they  imagine  to  be  some 
malignant  mind,  creeping  through  that  earth.  And  because 
some  sort  of  piety  constrained  me  to  believe,  that  the  good 
God  had  created  no  evil  nature,  I  conceived  two  masses, 
mutually  antagonistic,  both  infinite,  but  the  evil  narrower, 
the  good  greater.  And  from  this  pestilent  beginning,  the 
other  blasphemies  foUow^ed.  For  when  my  mind  sought  to 
revert  to  the  Catholic  faith,  I  was  repelled,  since  tha't  was 
not  the  Catholic  faith,  which  I  thought  to  be  so.  And  I 
thought  it  more  reverent  in  me,  my  God,  to  whom  Thy 
mercies  make  confession  by  my  means,  to  believe  Thee 
infinite  on  all  sides,  except  upon  that  one,  where  the  mass 
of  evil  opposed  itself  against  Thee,  and  I  was  bound  to 
confess  Thee  to  be  finite ;  than  if  I  should  imagine  Thee 
to  be  contained  on  every  side  within  the  limits  of  a  human 
bodily  form.  And  it  seemed  to  me  better  to  believe  Thee 
to  have  created  no  evil,  which  to  me  in  my  ignorance 
appeared  to  be  not  only  a  substance,  but  even  a  bodily  sub- 
stance, because  I  knew  not  how  to  conceive  of  mind,  unless 
it  were  some  subtle  body,  which  diffused  itself  throughout 
some  defined  area,  than  to  believe  that  the  nature  of  evil, 
according  to  my  notion  of  it,  came  from  Thee.  Yea,  and 
our  Saviour  Himself,  Thy  Only  Begotten,  I  believed  to  have 
been  reached  forth  (as  it  were)  for  our  salvation,  out  of  the 
mass  of  Thy  most  lucid  substance,  so  as  to  believe  nothing 
of  Him,  but  what  I  could  imagine  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  did  not  see.    I  feared  therefore  to  beheve 


84  The  Confessions  of  S.  A  ugustine. 

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. 


CHAPTER   XL 

Helpidiiis  well  argued  with  the  Manichcsans,  concerning  the  authenticity 
of  the  Neiv  Testament, 

FURTHERMORE,  what  the  Manichseans  had  criticised 
in  Thy  Scriptures,  I  thought  could  not  be  defended ; 
yet  at  times  I  strongly  desired  to  confer,  point  by  point,  with 
some  one,  learned  in  their  books,  and  to  discover  what  he 
might  think  about  them.  For  already  the  discourses  of  a 
certain  Helpidius,  who  spoke  openly,  and  disputed  against 
those  same  Manichseans,  had  begun  to  influence  me,  even 
at  Carthage,  for  he  brought  forth  from  the  Scriptures  certain 
things  which  could  not  easily  be  refuted,  and  their  response 
seemed  to  me  feeble.  And  even  this  answer  they  did  not 
readily  produce  in  public,  but  to  us  with  some  secrecy ;  to 
the  effect,  that  the  Scriptures  of  the  New  Testament  had 
been  falsified  by  I  know  not  whom,  who  wished  to  engrafF 
the  law  of  the  Jews  upon  the  Christian  faith  :  yet  themselves 
produced  not  any  uncorrupted  copies.  But  those  "  masses  " 
chiefly  held  me  down,  captive,  and  almost  suffocated,  for  I 
pondered  only  of  corporeal  things  :  and  beneath  their  weight 
I  gasped  for  the  pure  and  clear  air  of  Thy  truth,  and  could 
not  breathe. 


CHAPTER  Xn. 

He  practises  as  a  rhetorician  at  Rome,  and  experiences  the  fraudulence  of 

the  students. 

I  BEGAN  then  diligently  to  practise  that  for  which  I  came 
to  Rome,  namely,  to  teach  the  art  of  rhetoric ;  and 
first,  to  gather  some  to  my  house,  to  whom,  and  through 
whom,  I  was  beginning  to  be  known  j  when  lo,  I  found  out 
that  things  were  done  at  Rome  which  I  did  not  suffer  in 
Africa.     In  truth  it  was  made  clear  to  me  that  those  "  sub- 


The  Confessions  of  S.  Augustine.  85 

vertings  "  were  not  these  practised  by  profligate  youths  ;  but 
say  they,  "  suddenly  to  escape  paying  their  master,  many  of 
the  youths  conspire  together,  and  betake  themselves  to 
another,  breaking  their  faith,  and  counting  justice  cheap 
compared  with  love  of  money."  These  also  "  my  heart 
hated,"  though  not  ''with  a  perfect  hatred"  (Ps.  cxxxix.  22), 
for  perchance  I  hated  them  more  because  I  was  likely  to 
suffer  by  them,  than  because  they  used  to  act  unlawfully  to 
all  and  sundry.  Of  a  truth  such  are  base  persons,  and  they 
commit  fornication  against  Thee,  by  loving  these  fleeting 
mockeries  of  time,  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.  Even  now  I  hate 
such  depraved  and  crooked  persons,  though  I  love  them  to 
be  corrected,  so  as  to  prefer  to  money  the  learning,  which 
they  acquire,  and  to  learning,  Thee,  O  God,  the  truth  and 
plenteousness  of  sure  good,  and  the  most  pure  peace.  But 
at  that  time  it  was  rather  that  I  did  not  choose  to  endure 
them  in  their  badness,  for  my  own  sake,  than  that  I  wished 
them  to  be  made  good  for  Thine. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

He  is  sefit  to  Milan  to  teach  rhetoric,  and  becomes  acqttainted  ivith 

Ambrose. 

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  Manichaean  vanities,  to  be  freed  wherefrom 
I  was  going  thither,  though  neither  they  nor  I  knew  it) 
that  Symmachus,  then  prefect  of  the  city,  would  send  me, 
after  examining  me  upon  some  set  subject.  To  Milan  I 
came,  to  Ambrose  the  Bishop,  known  to  the  whole  world  as 
among  the  best  of  men.  Thy  devout  worshipper;  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  "  (Ps.  iv.  7,  civ.  15). 
To  him  was  I  unknowing  led  by  Thee,  that  by  him  I  might 


S6  TJie  Confessions  of  S.  A  ngtcstine. 

knowingly  be  led  to  Tliee.  That  man  of  God  received  me 
as  a  father,  and  shewed  me  an  Episcopal  kindness  on  my 
coming.  Thenceforth  I  began  to  love  him,  at  first  indeed 
not  as  a  teacher  of  the  truth,  of  which  in  Thy  Church  I 
wholly  despaired,  but  as  a  person  kind  towards  myself. 
And  I  listened  diligently  to  him  preaching  to  the  people, 
not  with  that  intent  I  ought,  but,  as  it  were,  trying  his 
eloquence,  whether  it  answered  the  fame  thereof,  or  flowed 
fuller  or  lower  than  was  reported ;  and  I  hung  on  his  words 
attentively ;  but  with  regard  to  the  matter  was  but  a  careless 
and  scornful  bystander  ;  and  I  was  delighted  with  the  sweet- 
ness of  his  discourse,  which,  as  far  as  concerns  manner, 
was  more  learned,  but  less  sparkling  and  flattering  than  that 
of  Faustus.  Of  the  matter,  however,  there  was  no  com- 
parison ;  for  the  one  was  wandering  amid  Manichaean  false- 
hoods, but  the  other  most  wholesomely  taught  salvation. 
But  "salvation  is  far  from  sinners"  (Ps.  cxix.  155),  such  as 
I  then  stood  before  him  ;  and  yet  was  I  drawing  nearer  by 
little  and  little,  and  unconsciously. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

After  hearing  the  Bishop,  he  realises  the  power  of  the  Catholic  Faith, 
nevertheless  he  is  sceptical  after  the  manner  of  the  later  Academics. 

"pOR  though  I  took  no  pains  to  learn  what  he  spake,  but 
-L  only  to  hear  how  he  spake  (for  since  I  now  despaired 
that  any  way  lay  open  for  man  to  approach  Thee,  that  empty 
care,  forsooth,  alone  remained),  yet  together  with  the  words 
which  I  was  enjoying,  came  also  into  my  mind  the  things 
which  I  was  rejecting.  For  I  could  not  keep  them  apart. 
And  while  I  opened  my  heart  to  admit  "  how  eloquently 
he  spake,"  there  also  entered  "  how  truly  he  spake ;"  though 
but  by  degrees.  For  now  for  the  first  time  these  things  had 
begun  to  appear  to  me  capable  of  defence ;  and  the  Cathohc 
faith,  in  defence  of  which  I  had  thought  nothing  could  be 
advanced  against  Manichasan  objectors,  I  now  began  to 
think  might  be  maintained  without  shamelessness  ;  espe- 
cially after  I  had  heard  one  or  two  places  of  the  Old  Testa- 
nient  resolved,  and  often  mystically, which  when  I  understood 
literally,  I  was  slain  {cf.  2  Cor.  iii.  6).     Very  many  passages 


The  Confessions  of  S.  Angus  tine.  87 

then  of  those  books  having  been  explained  spiritually, 
I  began  to  condemn  my  own  despair,  for  having  believed 
that  no  answer  at  all  could  be  given  to  such  as  hated  and 
scoffed  at  the  Law  and  the  Prophets.  I  did  not,  however, 
yet  perceive  that  the  Catholic  way  was  to  be  held,  because 
it  also  could  find  learned  defenders,  who  could  abun- 
dantly, and  by  no  means  foolishly,  answer  objections  ;  nor 
that  what  I  held  was  therefore  to  be  condemned,  because 
both  sides  were  equally  defensible.  For  so  the  Catholic 
side  seemed  not  yet  vanquished,  though  not  as  yet  mani- 
festly victorious. 

Hereupon  I  earnestly  bent  my  mind,  to  see  if  in  any  way 
I  could  by  any  certain  proof  convict  the  Manichaeans  of 
falsehood.  Could  I  once  have  conceived  a  spiritual  sub- 
stance, all  their  devices  would  be  cast  down  immediately,  and 
be  thrown  off  from  my  mind  ;  but  I  could  not.  Notwith- 
standing, concerning  the  frame  of  this  world,  and  the  whole 
of  nature,  which  the  senses  of  the  flesh  can  reach  to,  as  1 
more  and  more  considered  and  compared  things,  I  judged 
that  most  of  the  philosophers  had  held  opinions  far  more 
probable.  So  then,  after  the  manner  of  the  Academics  (as 
they  are  supposed)  sceptical  of  every  thing,  and  wavering 
between  all,  I  settled  so  far,  that  the  Manich^ans  must  be 
abandoned  ;  not  considering  that  even  in  that  time  of  doubt 
I  ought  to  continue  in  that  sect,  to  which  I  was  already 
beginning  to  prefer  some  of  the  philosophers  :  to  which 
philosophers  notwithstanding,  because  they  were  without 
the  saving  Name  of  Christ,  I  utterly  refused  to  commit  the 
cure  of  my  sick  soul.  I  determined  therefore  so  long  to  be 
a  Catechumen  in  the  Catholic  Church,  to  which  I  had  been 
commended  by  my  parents,  till  something  certain  should 
dawn  upon  me,  whither  I  might  direct  my  course. 


He  is  now  thirty  years  of  age,  and  under  the  teaching  of 
Ambrose,  perceived  more  and  more  clearly  the  Truth 
OF  Catholic  Doctrine,  and  determined  to  amend  his 
Life. 

CHAPTER  I. 

//t's  viother  foUotved  him  to  Milan^  and  prophesied  that  she  should  tiot 
depart  this  life,  tintil  her  son  should  have  etnbraced  the  Catholic 
Faith. 

'*  1\/TY  hope  from  my  youth,"  where  wert  Thou  to  me, 
•^Vi  and  whither  hadst  Thou  gone?  Hadst  not  Thou 
created  me,  and  separated  me  from  the  beasts  of  the  field, 
and  fowls  of  the  air  ?  Thou  hadst  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  despaired  of  ever  finding  truth.  My  mother  had  now 
come  to  me,  strong  in  her  piety,  following  me  over  sea  and 
land,  and  amid  all  perils  safe  by  Thy  protection.  For 
throughout  the  dangers  of  the  sea,  she  comforted  the  very 
mariners,  by  whom  passengers  unacquainted  with  the  deep, 
are  generally  comforted  when  troubled,  promising  them  a 
safe  arrival,  because  Thou  hadst  by  a  vision  promised  this 
to  her.  She  found  me  in  grievous  peril,  through  despair 
of  ever  finding  truth.  But  when  I  had  informed  her,  that 
I  was  now  no  longer  a  Manichaean,  though  not  yet  a 
Catholic  Christian,  she  was  not  overjoyed,  as  though  she 
had  heard  some  unlooked  for  tidings ;  although  she  was 
now  at  rest  concerning  that  part  of  my  misery,  for  which 
she  used  to  lament  over  me  as  one  dead,  though  to  be 
raised  up  again  by  Thee,  and  to  "  carry  "  me  forth  upon 
the  "bier"  of  her  thoughts,  that  Thou  mightest  say  to  the 
"  son  of  the  widow.  Young  man,  I  say  unto  thee,  Arise ; 
and   he   should   revive,    and    begin   to    speak,   and    thou 


TJie  Confessions  of  S.  Augustme.  89 

shouldest  deliver  him  to  his  mother"  (S.  Luke  vii.  14,  15). 
Her  heart  then  shook  with  no  tumultuous  exultation,  when 
she  heard  that  what  she  daily  with  tears  desired  of  Thee, 
was  already  in  so  great  part  accomplished  ;  in  that,  though 
I  had  not  yet  attained  unto  the  truth,  I  was  already  de- 
livered from  falsehood  ;  but  now  because  she  was  confident 
that  Thou,  who  hadst  promised  the  whole,  wouldest  give 
what  yet  remained,  most  calmly,  and  with  an  heart  full  of 
confidence,  she  replied  to  me,  "She  believed  in  Christ, 
that  before  she  departed  out  of  this  life,  she  should  see  me  a 
faithful  Catholic."  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  lighten  my 
darkness  ;  and  she  hastened  the  more  eagerly  to  the  Church, 
and  hung  upon  the  lips  of  Ambrose,  for  "  the  fountain  of 
that  water,  which  springeth  up  into  everlasting  life  "  (S.  John 
iv.  14).  But  that  man  she  loved  ''as  an  angel  of  God" 
(Gal.  iv.  14),  because  she  knew  that  by  him  I  had  been 
brought  for  a  while  to  that  present  state  of  wavering  doubt, 
through  which  she  anticipated  most  confidently  that  I  should 
pass  from  sickness  unto  health,  after  a  sharper  danger  had 
intervened,  as  by  that  increase  of  fever,  which  physicians 
call  "  the  crisis." 

CHAPTER  II. 

She  discontimies  her  habit  of  commemorating  jnartyrs,  on  account 
of  the  prohibition  of  Ambrose. 

WHEN  then  my  mother  had  once,  as  she  was  wont  in 
Africa,  brought  to  the  memorials  of  the  Saints, 
certain  cakes,  and  bread  and  wine,  and  was  forbidden  by 
the  door-keeper ;  so  soon  as  she  knew  that  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  dispute  his  prohibition.  For 
wine-bibbing  did  not  lay  siege  to  her  spirit,  nor  was  love  of 
wine,  in  her  case,  a  stimulant  to  hate  of  truth,  as  it  is  with 
too  many,  both  men  and  women,  who  loathe  the  praise  of 
sobriety,  as  drunken  men  do  a  watered  cup.  But  she,  when 
she  had  brought  her  basket  with  the  accustomed  festival- 
food;  to  be  but  tasted  by  herself,  and  then  given  away,  never 


90  TJie  Confessions  of  S.  A  ugustine. 

joined  therewith  more  than  one  small  cup  of  wine,  diluted 
according  to  her  own  abstemious  habits,  from  which  she 
would  partake  to  their  honour.  And  if  there  were  many- 
memorials  of  the  departed  that  were  to  be  honoured  in  that 
manner,  she  would  carry  round  that  same  one  cup,  to  be 
used  everywhere ;  and  this,  though  not  only  made  very 
watery,  but  unpleasantly  heated,  she  would  share  by  small 
sips,  with  those  about  her ;  for  she  sought  there  devotion, 
not  pleasure.  So  soon,  then,  as  she  found  that  it  was 
ordered  by  that  famous  preacher  and  pious  prelate  that  this 
should  not  be  done,  even  by  those  who  would  do  it  soberly, 
lest  any  occasion  of  excess  might  be  given  to  the  drunken  ; 
and  because  these  commemorations  were  very  similar  to  the 
superstitious  Gentile  rites  of  ancestor  worship,  she  most 
willingly  abstained  from  it,  and  learned  to  bear  to  the 
memorials  of  the  martyrs,  instead  of  a  basket  filled  with  the 
fruits  of  the  earth,  a  breast  filled  with  purer  offerings  :  and 
she  would  give  what  she  could  to  the  poor,  and  thus  would 
be  celebrated  the  Communion  of  the  Lord's  Body,  in  imita- 
tion of  whose  passion  the  martyrs  were  slain  and  crowned. 
But  yet  it  seems  to  me,  O  Lord,  my  God,  and  thus  thinks 
my  heart  of  it  in  Thy  sight,  that  possibly  my  mother  would 
not  have  yielded  so  readily  to  the  restriction  of  this  custom, 
had  it  been  forbidden  by  another,  whom  she  loved  not  as 
Ambrose,  whom,  for  my  salvation,  she  particularly  loved  ; 
and  he  her  again,  for  her  most  rehgious  conversation, 
whereby  in  good  works,  so  "  fervent  in  spirit,"  she  was 
constant  at  church ;  so  that,  when  he  saw  me,  he  often 
burst  forth  into  her  praises ;  congratulating  me,  that  I  had 
such  a  mother ;  not  knowing  what  a  son  she  had  in  me,  who 
doubted  of  all  these  things,  and  little  thought  that  the  way 
of  life  could  be  found  out. 


CHAPTER  III. 

0)1  account  of  the  pressure  of  Intsiness  and  stitdv  upon  A?nl>rosc, 
Augnstine  had  few  opportunities  of  consulting  him  conceriiini^- 
Holy  Scripture. 

'M'  OR  did  I  yet  groan  in  my  prayers,  that  Thou  wouldest 
^  ^  help  me  ;  but  my  mind  was  bent  on  enquiry^  and 
restless    for   controversy.      And    Ambrose    himself,  as  the 


The  Confessions  of  S.  Angitstine.  91 

world  counts  happy,  I  esteemed  a  happy  man,  for  so  many 
persons  of  position  held  him  in  honour  -,  only  his  celibacy 
seemed  to  me  burdensome.  But  what  the  hope  he  bore 
within,  what  the  conflict  against  the  temptations  which  beset 
his  very  excellence,  what  the  consolation  in  adversities,  and 
what  the  joys  he  tasted  with  that  hidden  mouth  of  the  heart, 
when  ruminating  upon  Thy  Bread,  I  could  know  neither  by 
conjecture  nor  by  experience :  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  hindered  by  the 
crowds  of  people  full  of  business,  to  whose  infirmities  he 
used  to  minister,  from  either  speech  or  hearing  from  him  ; 
and  when  he  was  not  surrounded  by  them,  which  was  but  a 
very  little  time,  he  was  either  refreshing  his  body  with  the 
sustenance  absolutely  necessary,  or  his  mind  with  reading. 
But  when  he  was  reading,  his  eyes  scanned  the  pages,  and 
his  heart  explored  the  sense,  but  his  voice  and  tongue  were 
at  rest.  Ofttimes  when  we  had  come  (for  no  one  was  for- 
bidden to  enter,  nor  was  it  the  custom  that  a  visitor  should 
be  announced  to  him),  we  saw  him  thus  reading  in  silence, 
and  never  otherwise ;  and  having  long  sat  silent  (for  who 
could  dare  be  troublesome  to  one  so  wrapt  ?)  we  used  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  was  afraid  lest  it  might  become  necessary  to 
explain  to  some  keen  and  attentive  listener  anything  ob- 
scurely expressed  by  the  author  he  was  reading  ;  or  to  enter 
upon  some  discussion  of  more  difficult  questions ;  and  if  so 
he  should  spend  his  time,  he  would  turn  over  fewer  volumes 
than  he  desired,  though  the  necessity  of  preserving  his  voice, 
which  was  very  easily  injured,  was  possibly  the  truer  reason 
for  his  reading  to  himself.  But  with  what  intent  soever  he 
did  it,  certainly  in  such  a  man  it  was  good. 

But  no  full  opportunity  of  consulting  that  holy  oracle  of 
Thine,  his  breast,  was  afforded  me,  unless  some  brief 
audience  might  suffice.  But  my  anxieties  required  that  he 
to  whom  they  should  be  outpoured  should  have  ample 
leisure,  and  never  found  it.  I  heard  him  indeed  every 
Lord's  day,  "  rightly  handling  the  Word  of  truth  "  (2  Tim. 
ii.  15),  among  the  people ;  and  I  was  more  and  more  con- 
vinced, that  all  the  knots  of  those  crafty  calumnies,  which 


92  TJic  Confessions  of  S.  Augtistine. 

those  our  deceivers  had  tangled  against  the  Divine  Books, 
could  be  unravelled.  But  when  I  understood  withal,  that 
''  man  created  by  Thee,  after  Thine  own  image  "  (Gen.  i.  27), 
was  not  so  understood  by  Thy  spiritual  sons,  whom  of  the 
Catholic  Mother  Thou  hast  regenerated  through  grace,  as 
though  they  believed  and  conceived  of  Thee  as  contained 
within  the  form  of  a  human  body ;  although  in  what  man- 
ner spiritual  substance  could  exist,  I  could  form  not  the 
slightest  or  most  shadowy  notion ;  even  in  my  joy  I  reddened 
with  the  shame  of  having  for  so  many  years  barked  against, 
not  the  Catholic  faith,  but  against  the  figments  of  my  own 
carnal  conceptions.  For  so  rash  and  impious  had  I  been, 
that  what  I  ought  to  have  said  in  the  way  of  enquiry,  I  had' 
said  in  the  way  of  condemnation.  For  Thou,  Most  High, 
and  most  near ;  most  secret,  and  most  present ;  Who  hast 
not  limbs  some  larger,  some  smaller,  but  art  wholly  every 
where,  and  art  nowhere  comprehended  in  space ;  Thou  art 
not  indeed  of  bodily  form,  yet  hast  Thou  made  man  after 
Thine  own  image ;  and  behold,  from  head  to  foot  he  is  con- 
tained in  space. 

CHAPTER  IV. 

He  discovered  the  falsehood  of  his  own  opinions^  and  connnitted  to 
me?nory  a  saying  of  Afnbrose. 

SINCE,  then,  I  knew  not  how  this  Thy  image  could  sub- 
sist, I  should  have  knocked  and  enquired  in  what 
manner  it  was  to  be  believed,  not  insultingly  opposed  it,  as 
if  it  were  believed  as  I  imagined  :  therefore  the  more  sharply 
the  doubt,  as  to  what  I  should  hold  for  certain,  gnawed  my 
heart,  the  more  ashamed  I  was,  that  so  long  deluded  and 
deceived  by  the  promise  of  certainties,  I  had  with  childish 
error  and  vehemence,  prated  of  so  many  uncertainties  as  if 
they  were  certainties.  For  that  they  were  falsehoods  be- 
came clear  to  me  later.  However  I  was  certain  that  they 
were  uncertain,  and  that  I  had  formerly  accounted  them 
certain,  when  with  a  blind  contentiousness,  I  condemned 
Thy  Catholic  Church,  which  I  had  by  this  time  discovered 
to_  teach,  if  not  the  truth,  at  any  rate  not  to  teach  those 
things  for  which  I  had  so  seriously  condemned  her.  So  I 
was  confounded  and  converted :  and  I  joyed,  O  my  God, 


TJie  Confessions  of  S.  Augustine.  93 

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  :  and  that  in  her 
sound  doctrine  she  did  not  hold  any  tenet  which  should 
confine  Thee,  the  Creator  of  all,  in  space,  however  great 
and  large,  yet  bounded  every  where  by  the  shape  of  human 
limbs. 

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  saints  for  thinking  what  indeed  they  never  thought ; 
and  with  joy  I  heard  Ambrose  in  his  sermons  to  the  people, 
oftentimes  most  diligently  recommend  as  a  rule,  this  saying, 
"  The  letter  killeth,  but  the  Spirit  giveth  Hfe  "  (2  Cor.  iii.  6)  ; 
when,  having  drawn  aside  the  mystic  veil,  he  would  open 
those  passages  spiritually,  which  according  to  the  letter 
seemed  to  teach  something  unsound ;  teaching  herein 
nothing  that  offended  me,  though  I  did  not  yet  know 
whether  what  he  taught  were  true.  For  I  withheld  my 
heart  from  all  assent,  dreading  a  downfall :  and  came  nearer 
being  killed  by  the  suspense.  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  comprehended ;  but  I  desired  to  have  other  things 
as  clear  as  thi§,  whether  things  corporeal,  which'^were  not 
present  to  my  senses,  or  spiritual,  whereof  I  knew  not  how 
to  conceive,  except  corporeally.  And  by  beHeving  might  I 
have  been  cured,  that  so  my  clearer  mental  vision  might  in 
some  way  be  directed  to  Thy  truth,  which  abideth  always, 
and  in  no  part  faileth.  But  as  it  happens  that  one,  who 
has  tried  a  bad  physician,  fears  to  trust  himself  to  a  good 
one,  so  was  it  with  the  health  of  my  soul,  which  could  not 
be  healed  but  by  believing,  and  for  fear  of  believing  false- 
hoods, refused  to  be  cured ;  resisting  Thy  hands,  who  hast 
prepared  the  medicines  of  faith,  and  hast  adapted  them  to 
the  diseases  of  the  whole  world,  and  imparted  to  them  so 
powerful  an  efficacy. 


94  The  Confessions  of  S.  Augustine. 


CHAPTER  V. 

Faith  is  the  foundation  of  luinian  life  ;  and  man  cannot  discover  the 
truth  ivhich  the  Sacred  Script wes  reveal. 

ON  this  ground  also,  I  now  began  to  give  the  preference 
to  the  Catholic  doctrine,  and  to  perceive  that  it  was 
more  modest  and  straightforward  in  her  to  require  belief  in 
that  which  was  not  proved  (whether  it  could  be  proved,  or 
could  perhaps  not  be  proved  to  certain  persons,  or  even  not 
at  all),  than  the  other  plan,  of  mocking  credulity  by  the 
rash  promise  of  knowledge  ;  and  afterwards  of  imposing  as 
articles  of  faith,  many  most  fabulous  and  absurd  things, 
because  they  could  not  be  proved.  Then  Thou,  O  Lord, 
little  by  little  with  most  tender  and  most  merciful  hand, 
touching  and  composing  my  heart,  didst  persuade  me,  by 
the  consideration  of  the  numberless  things  I  believed 
though  I  did  not  see,  and  which  were  done  while  I  was  not 
present ;  as  for  example  so  many  events  in  the  history  of 
peoples ;  so  many  accounts  of  places  and  of  cities,  which  I 
had  not  seen  ;  so  many  things  about  my  friends,  so  many 
concerning  physicians,  so  many  of  this  man  and  the  other, 
which  unless  we  should  believe,  we  should  do  nothing  at  all 
in  this  life ;  lastly,  with  how  unshaken  an  assurance  I 
believed,  of  what  parents  I  was  born,  which  I  could  not 
kriow,  unless  I  had  believed  what  I  heard,  considering  all 
this.  Thou  didst  persuade  me,  that  not  they  who  beHeved 
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  might  chance  to  say  to  me,  "  How  knowest 
thou  those  Scriptures  to  have  been  imparted  unto  mankind 
by  theSpirit  of  the  one  true  and  most  truth  saying  God?" 
For  this  very  thing  was  of  all  most  to  be  believed,  since  no 
contentiousness  of  quibble  and  artifice  throughout  the 
abundant  course  of  my  reading  amongst  mutually  contra- 
dictory philosophers  could  wring  from  me  even  an  occa- 
sional failure  to  believe  in  Thy  being,  though  of  what  Nature 
Thou  wert  I  knew  not,  or  that  the  administration  of  human 
affairs  belongs  to  Thee. 

This  I  believed,  sometimes  more  strongly,  more  weakly 
other-whiles  ;  yet  always  I  believed,  both  that  Thou  art,  and 


The  Confessions  of  S.  Augustine.  95 

that  Thou  dost  exercise  a  care  for  us  ;  though  I  was  ignorant, 
both  what  was  to  be  thought  of  Thy  substance,  and  what 
way  led  or  led  back  to  Thee.  Since  then  we  were  too  weak 
by  the  light  of  reason  to  find  out  truth  ;  and  for  this  very 
cause  needed  the  authority  of  Holy  Writ ;  I  had  now  begun 
to  beheve,  that  Thou  wouldest  never  have  given  such 
excellency  of  authority  to  that  Scripture  throughout  all  lands, 
hadst  Thou  not  willed  that  through  it  Thou  shouldest  be 
believed,  and  through  it  sought.  For  now  the  absurdity, 
which  used  to  offend  me  in  the  Scripture,  after  I  had  heard 
many  things  from  it  satisfactorily  expounded,  I  began  to 
attribute  to  the  depth  of  its  mysteries,  and  its  authority 
appeared  to  me  the  more  venerable,  and  more  worthy  of 
religious  credence,  for  the  very  reason  that  while  it  might 
easily  be  read  by  all,  it  reserved  the  majesty  of  its  mystery 
within  its  profounder  meaning,  offering  itself  to  all  by  the 
great  plainness  of  its  words,  and  the  very  humble  style  of  its 
expression,  yet  demanding  intense  application  of  such  as 
are  not  light  of  heart ;  that  so  it  might  receive  all  in  its 
broad  bosom,  and  through  narrow  passages  convey  some 
few  to  Thee,  yet  many  more  than  if  it  stood  not  aloft  on 
such  a  height  of  authority,  nor  drew  multitudes  within  the 
bosom  of  its  holy  humility.  These  things  I  thought  on, 
and  Thou  wert  with  me  ;  I  sighed  and  Thou  didst  hear 
me  ;  I  wavered,  and  Thou  didst  guide  me  ;  I  wandered 
through  the  broad  way  of  the  world,  and  Thou  didst  not 
forsake  me. 

CHAPTER  VI. 

Concerning  the  origin  and  measure  of  true  joy  which  he  is  brought  to 
diuell  on  by  the  sight  of  a  beggar'' s  gaiety. 

I  PANTED  after  honours,  gains,  marriage ;  and  Thou 
didst  laugh  me  to  scorn.  In  these  desires  I  under- 
went most  bitter  distresses.  Thou  being  the  more  gracious, 
the  less  Thou  didst  suffer  aught  to  grow  sweet  to  me,  which 
was  not  Thyself.  Behold  my  heart,  O  Lord,  who  wouldest 
that  I  should  remember  and  confess  this  to  Thee.  Let 
now  my  soul  cleave  unto  Thee,  for  Thou  hast  drawn  it 
forth  from  the  snares  of  death,  that  cling  so  close.  How 
wretched  was  it  !   and  Thou  didst  cause  the  wound  to  feel 


g6  The  Confessions  of  S.  A  ngustine. 

its  smart,  that  forsaking  all  else,  it  might  be  converted 
unto  Thee,  who  art  above  all,  and  without  whom  all  things 
would  be  nothing  ;  that  it  might  be  converted  and  made 
whole.  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  feverish- 
ness  of  consuming  thoughts.  For,  passing  through  one  of 
the  streets  of  Milan,  I  noticed  a  poor  beggar,  who  I  suppose 
had  just  had  a  good  meal,  joking  and  joyous  :  and  I  sighed, 
and  spoke  to  the  friends  around  me,  of  the  many  sorrows  of 
our  own  frenzies,  because  by  all  such  efforts  of  ours,  as  I 
was  then  toiling  at,  dragging  with  me  a  burden  of  wretched- 
ness beneath  the  goad  of  my  desires,  and  increasing  it  by 
dragging  it,  we  sought  for  nothing,  except  to  arrive  at  that 
unanxious  joy,  wherein  that  beggar  had  forestalled  us,  who 
should  never  perchance  attain  thereto.  For  what  he  had 
obtained  by  means  of  a  few  begged  pence,  for  that  same 
thing  I  was  scheming  by  many  weariful  turnings  and  twistings; 
for  the  joy  forsooth  of  temporal  happiness.  He  indeed  had 
not  the  true  joy  ;  but  yet  I  with  those  my  ambitious  designs 
was  seeking  one  far  less  true.  And  certainly  he  was  joyous, 
I  anxious ;  he  free  from  care,  I  full  of  fear.  But  should 
any  ask  me,  "  whether  I  would  prefer  to  be  merry  or  to  be 
fearful?"  I  would  answer  "to  be  merry."  Again,  if  he 
asked  had  I  rather  be  such  as  he  was,  or  what  I  then  was 
myself?  I  should  choose  to  be  myself,  though  worn  with 
cares  and  fears  ;  but  from  perversity  ;  for  could  it  be  so  of 
a  truth  ?  For  I  ought  not  to  prefer  myself  to  him,  because 
I  was  more  learned,  seeing  I  had  no  joy  therein,  but  was 
seeking  to  please  men  by  it ;  not  even  to  teach  them ;  but 
only  to  please  them.  Wherefore  also  Thou  didst  break  my 
bones  with  the  rod  of  Thy  discipline. 

Away  with  those  then  from  my  soul,  who  say  to  her, 
"  The  difference  lies  in  the  source  of  one's  joy.  The 
beggar's  joy  lay  in  winebibbing;  but  Thou  wouldest  derive 
Thine  from  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  upturned  my  mind  even  more. 
He  that  very  night  should  digest  his  drunkenness ;  but  I 


The  Confessions  of  S.  Augustine.  97 

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  there  "  does  lie  a  difference  in  the  source  of 
one's  joy."  I  know  it,  and  the  joy  of  a  faithful  hope  is 
immeasurably  distant  from  that  vanity,  but  of  us  two  he 
then  distanced  me.  For  in  very  truth  he  was  the  happier ; 
not  only  because  he  was  thoroughly  drenched  in  mirth, 
while  my  very  life  was  torn  out  of  me  with  anxieties :  but 
also  he,  by  well-wishing  folk  had  gotten  his  wine ;  whilst  I, 
by  lying,  was  seeking  to  feed  my  pride.  Much  to  this  effect 
said  I  then  to  my  friends  :  and  I  often  noticed  in  them  how 
it  fared  with  me;  and  I  found  it  went  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  befoje 
I  had  hold  of  it,  it  flew  away. 


CHAPTER   VII. 

He  reforms  Alypitis,  his  friend^  ivho  had  been  captivated  by  a  foolish- 
passion  for  the  shows  of  the  circus. 

THESE  things  we,  who  were  living  as  friends  together, 
bemoaned  together,  but  chiefly  and  most  familiarly  I 
used  to  discuss  them  with  Alypius  and  Nebridius,  of  whom 
Alypius  was  a  native  of  the  same  town  as  myself,  where  his 
parents  were  among  the  leading  townsmen ;  but  he  was 
younger  than  I.  For  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  him,  for  his  great  natural  inclination  to 
virtue,  which  was  eminent  enough  in  one  of  no  great  age. 
Yet  the  whirlpool  of  the  habits  of  the  Carthaginians,  who 
are  feverishly  addicted  to  trifling  shows,  had  sucked  him 
into  a  mad  passion  for  the  Circus.  But  while  he  was 
miserably  whirled  about  therein,  and  I,  as  a  professor  of 
rhetoric  there,  held  a  public  school,  he  did  not  as  yet 
frequent  my  lectures,  on  account  of  some  dissension,  which 
had  arisen  between  his  father  and  me  ;  and  I  had  discovered 
that  he  had  a  deadly  fondness  for  the  circus ;  and  I  was 
deeply  grieved  that  he  seemed  likely  to  waste  his  great 
promise,   or    even   had   already   done   so.     Yet  had    I   no 

G 


98  TJic  Confessions  of  S.  A  ugustine. 

means  of  advising  or  with  a  sort  of  constraint  reclaiming 
him,  either  by  the  kindness  of  a  friend,  or  the  authority  of 
a  master.  For  I  supposed  that  he  thought  of  me  as  did  his 
father ;  but  he  did  not.  Therefore  disregarding  his  father's 
wish  in  this  matter,  he  began  to  greet  me,  come  sometimes 
into  my  lecture-room,  hear  a  little,  and  be  gone. 

However  it  slipped  from  my  memory  to  warn  him  against 
destroying  so  excellent  a  natural  talent,  with  a  blind  and 
headlong  eagerness  for  vain  sports.  But  Thou,  O  Lord, 
who  dost  control  the  courses  of  all  whom  Thou  hast  created, 
wast  not  forgetful  that  he  should  one  day  be  amongst  Thy 
children  a  Priest  celebrant  of  Thy  sacrament :  and  that  his 
amendment  might  plainly  be  attributed  to  Thyself,  Thou 
didst  effect  it  through  me,  though  I  thought  not  of  it.  For 
as  one  day  I  sat  in  my  accustomed  place,  with  my  scholars 
before  me,  he  entered,  greeted  me,  sat  down,  and  applied 
his  mind  to  what  was  being  treated  of.  I  had  by  chance  a 
passage  in  hand,  and  while  I  was  commenting  on  it,  an  apt 
allusion  to  the  Circensian  games  occurred  to  me,  as  likely 
to  make  what  I  would  convey  pleasanter  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  entirely  on  his 
account.  And  what  another  might  have  taken  as  a  cause 
of  quarrel  with  me,  the  right-minded  lad  took  as  a  ground 
of  quarrel  with  himself,  and  liked  me  all  the  more  warmly. 
For  Thou  hadst  said  long  ago,  and  put  it  into  Thy  book, 
"  Rebuke  a  wise  man  and  he  will  love  thee"  (Prov.  ix.  8). 
But  I  had  not  rebuked  him,  but  Thou,  who  employest  all, 
whether  they  know  it  or  not,  according  to  the  design  Thou 
hast  known  (and  that  design  is  righteous),  didst  bring  forth 
coals  of  fire  from  my  heart  and  tongue,  that  Thou  mightest 
with  a  good  hope  kindle  his  languishing  mind  and  heal  it. 
Let  him  be  silent  in  Thy  praises,  who  considers  not  Thy 
mercies,  which  confess  unto  Thee  out  of  my  inmost  soul. 
For  he  upon  that  speech,  burst  out  of  that  pit  so  deep, 
wherein  he  was  wilfully  plunged,  and  was  blinded  with  its 
wretched  pastimes ;  and  he  shook  his  mind  with  a  strong 
self  command;  and  all  the  contaminations  of  the  circus  fell 
from  him,  nor  came  he  again  thither.  Upon  this,  he  pre- 
vailed with  his  unwilling  father,  that  he  might  be  my  scholar. 


The  Confessions  of  S.  A  ngnstine.  99 

He  yielded  and  consented.  And  Alypius,  beginning  to 
attend  my  lectures  again,  was  with  me  involved  in  supersti- 
tion, loving  in  the  Manichaeans  that  show  of  continency, 
which  he  supposed  true  and  genuine.  Whereas  it  was 
foolish  and  deceptive,  lying  in  wait  for  precious  souls,  as 
yet  unable  to  cHmb  the  steep  of  virtue,  and  easy  to  be 
beguiled  witli  the  appearance  of  virtue,  though  but  shadowy 
and  feigned. 

•CHAPTER  VIII. 

The  same  Alypius  is  dragged  by  companions  at  Rome  to  the  Cohssenin, 
and  is  delighted  with  the  gladiatorial  games. 

HE,  in  pursuit  of  the  secular  avocation,  which  had  been 
glowingly  depicted  to  him  by  his  parents,  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  at  a  time  when  he  loathed  and  detested 
such  things,  certain  of  his  friends  and  fellow-students,  whom 
he  chanced  to  meet  on  their  return  from  luncheon,  dragged 
him  with  playful  violence,  though  vehemently  resisting  and 
refusing,  into  the  Amphitheatre,  during  these  cruel  and 
deadly  shows.  ''  If,"  said  he,  "  you  drag  my  body  to  that 
place,  and  there  set  me,  can  you  force  me  also  to  fasten  my 
mind  or  my  eyes  upon  those  spectacles  ?  So  I  will  be  pre- 
sent though  absent,  and  thus  shall  overcome  both  you  and 
them."  They  hearing  this,  nevertheless  dragged  him  along 
with  them,  anxious  perhaps  to  find  out  whether  he  could  go 
through  with  it.  When  they  were  come  thither,  and  had 
taken  their  places  as  they  could,  the  whole  place  was  boil- 
ing with  the  most  savage  delight.  But  he,  closing  the  doors 
of  his  eyes,  forbade  his  mind  to  roam  amongst  such  evils, 
and  would  he  had  stopped  his  ears  also  !  For  at  a  certain 
accident  in  the  fight,  a  mighty  shout  from  the  whole  people 
struck  violently  upon  him,  and  vanquished  by  curiosity,  and 
fancying  himself  steeled  to  despise  and  overcome  anything  he 
might  see,  whatever  it  might  be,  he  opened  his  eyes,  and  was 
stricken  with  a  deeper  wound  in  his  soul,  than  the  other, 
whom  he  desired  to  behold,  was  in  his  body  j  and  he  fell 
more  miserably  than  he,  upon  whose  fall  that  mighty  shout 
was  raised,  which  entered  througli  his  ears,  and  unlocked  his 


I  oo  TJie  Confessions  of  S.  A  iigustine. 

eyes,  to  make  way  for  the  striking  and  beating  down  of 
a  soul  bold  rather  than  brave,  and  the  weaker,  in  that  it  had 
presumed  on  itself,  when  it  ought  to  have  relied  on  Thee. 
For  so  soon  as  he  saw  that  blood,  he  therewith  drank  down 
savageness ;  nor  turned  away,  but  fixed  his  gaze,  and  drank 
in  fury,  unawares,  and  delighted  in  the  wickedness  of  the 
conflict,  and  was  intoxicated  with  the  bloody  pastime.  Nor 
was  he  now  the  man  he  came,  but  one  of  the  crowd  to 
which  he  had  come,  and  a  very  mate  of  theirs  that  brought 
him  thither.  Why  say  more?  He  beheld,  shouted,  blazed 
with  excitement,  and  carried  thence  with  him  an  infatuation 
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  didst  teach  him  to  put 
his  trust  not  in  himself,  but  in  Thee.  But  this  was  long 
afterwards. 

CHAPTER  IX. 

Alypiiis,  though  imiocent,  loas  apprehended  as  a  thief,  but  set  free  by  the 
skill  of  a  certain  architect. 

BUT  this  was  already  being  laid  up  in  his  memory  to  be 
a  medicine  hereafter ;  and  another  thing  also,  which 
occurred  while  he  was  still  a  student,  attending  my  lectures 
at  Carthage.  For  when  he  was  conning  over  at  mid-day  in 
the  market-place,  as  is  customary  among  students,  what  he 
was  going  to  recite.  Thou  dtdst  suffer  him  to  be  appre- 
hended by  the  market-keepers  as  a  thief;  for  no  other 
reason,  I  suppose,  didst  Thou,  our  God,  suffer  it,  but  that 
he,  who  was  hereafter  to  prove  so  great  a  man,  should 
already  begin  to  learn,  that  in  judging  of  causes,  one  man 
ought  not  readily  to  condemn  another  from  a  headlong 
credulity.  For  as  he  was  walking  up  and  down  by  himself 
before  the  judgment  seat,  with  his  tablets  and  pen,  lo,  a 
young  man,  one  of  the  students,  the  real  thief,  privily  bring- 
ing a  hatchet,  got  in,  unperceived  by  Alypius,  as  far  as  the 
leaden  lattices,  which  project  over  the  silversmiths'  quarter, 
and  began  to  cut  away  the  lead.  But  the  noise  of  the 
hatchet  being  heard,  the  silversmiths  who  were  underneath 
muttered  together  about  it,  and  sent  to  apprehend  whom- 


The  Confessions  of  S.  Augustijie.  loi 

ever  they  should  find.  As  soon  as  he  heard  their  voices,  he 
dropped  his  hatchet  and  made  off,  fearful  of  being  caught 
with  it.  Alypius  now,  who  had  not  seen  him  enter,  per- 
ceived his  departure,  and  saw  too  how  hurriedly  he  went ; 
and  curious  to  ascertain  the  reason,  went  into  the  place,  and 
stood  there  wondering  and  looking  at  the  hatchet  he  found 
there;  when  behold,  those  that  had  been  sent,  find  him 
alone  with  the  hatchet  in  his  hand,  the  noise  of  which  had 
startled  and  brought  them  thither.  They  seize  him,  drag 
him  away,  and  a  crowd  of  market-place  tenants  having 
collected,  boast  of  having  captured  a  palpable  thief,  and  so 
he  was  being  led  away  to  be  taken  before  the  judge. 

But  so  far  was  his  instruction  to  go.  For  forthwith,  O 
Lord,  Thou  didst  come  to  the  rescue  of  his  innocence, 
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  of  the  public  buildings. 
They  were  especially  glad  to  meet  him,  for  they  were  apt  to 
fall  under  his  suspicion  of  stealing  goods  which  were  lost 
out  of  the  market-place,  and  now  at  length  he  might,  as  they 
thought,  make  certain  who  really  did  these  things.  But 
this  man  had  often  seen  Alypius  at  a  certain  Senator's 
house,  upon  whom  he  used  to  call,  and  recognising  him 
immediately,  took  him  aside  by  the  hand,  and  enquiring 
the  occasion  of  so  great  a  misfortune,  heard  what  had  hap- 
pened ;  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  suspecting  any  danger 
for  his  mastfer,  to  disclose  the  whole.  For  he  had  attended 
his  master  to  the  market-place.  Directly  Alypius  recog- 
nised him,  he  told  the  architect;  and  he,  shewing  the 
hatchet  to  the  boy,  asked  him  "Whose  that  was?" 
"  Ours,"  quoth  he  presently  :  and  upon  further  questioning, 
disclosed  everything.  So  the  charge  was  shifted  to  that 
household,  to  the  confusion  of  the  crowds,  which  had  already 
begun  to  exult  over  Alypius :  and  the  future  minister  of 
Thy  word,  and  examiner  of  many  causes  in  Thy  Church, 
went  away  the  wiser  and  more  experienced. 


102  TJie  Confessions  of  S.  Angus  tine. 


CHAPTER  X. 

The  extraordinary  integrity  of  Alypius  in  judicial  matters  ;  and  the 
firm  friendship  betxveen  Nebridius  and  Augustine. 

HIM  then  I  had  found  at  Rome,  and  he  clung  to  me  by 
a  most  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  thrice  sat  as  Assessor  with  an  in- 
tegrity which  surprised  others,  while  he  was  even  more  sur- 
prised at  those  who  could  prefer  gold  to  honesty.  His 
character  was  tried  besides,  not  only  with  the  bait  of  covet- 
ousness,  but  with  the  goad  of  fear.  At  Rome  he  was  As- 
sessor to  the  count  of  the  Italian  Treasury.  There  was  at 
that  time  a  very  powerful  senator,  to  whom  many  were 
attached  by  favours,  and  many  cringed  for  fear.  He,  by 
his  usual  manner  of  influence,  wanted  permission  for  some- 
thing which  by  the  laws  was  not  permitted.  Alypius 
resisted  it :  a  bribe  was  promised ;  with  all  his  heart  he 
scorned  it :  threats  were  held  out ;  he  trampled  upon  them 
to  everybody's  surprise  at  so  rare  a  display  of  spirit,  which 
neither  desired  the  friendship,  nor  feared  the  enmity  of  one 
so  great  and  of  such  general  notoriety  for  innumerable 
means  of  helping  or  hurting  another.  And  the  very  Judge, 
whose  councillor  Alypius  was,  although  himself  also  opposed 
to  it,  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  wouJd  have  dis- 
sented. By  his  devotion  to  literature  only,  he*  was  almost 
persuaded,  that  he  might  have  books  copied  for  him  at  Prae- 
torian prices;  but  consulting  justice,  he  altered  his  deli- 
beration for  the  better;  judging  that  the  equity,  by  which  he 
was  restrained,  was  more  advantageous  than  the  privilege,  by 
which  he  was  permitted.  This  is  a  little  matter,- "  but  he 
that  is  faithful  in  little,  is  faithful  also  in  much."  Nor  can 
that  anyhow  be  void,  which  proceeded  out  of  the  mouth  of 
Thy  Truth ;  "If  ye  have  not  been  faithful  in  the  unright- 
eous Mammon,  who  will  commit  to  your  trust  true  riches? 
And  if  ye  have  not  been  faithful  in  that  which  is  another 
man's,  who  shall  give  you  that  which  is  your  own  ?  "  (S.  Luke 
xvi.  10-12).     Such  then  was  he,  who  at  that  time  clung  to 


The  Co7ifessions  of  S.  Augiistine.  103 

me,  and  with  me  wavered  in  purpose,  what  manner  of  Hfe 
should  be  pursued. 

Nebridius  also,  who  having  left  his  native  place,  near 
Carthage,  and  Carthage  itself,  which  he  had  greatly  fre- 
quented, leaving  his  excellent  paternal  estate  and  house,  and 
his  mother  too,  who  would  not  follow  him,  had  come  to  Milan, 
for  n5  other  reason,  but  that  with  me  he  might  live  in  a 
most  ardent  search  after  truth  and  wisdom.  He  mingled 
with  ours'  his  sighs  and  perplexities,  an  ardent  seeker  after 
the  blessed  life,  and  a  most  acute  examiner  of  the  most 
difficult  questions.  Thus  were  there  the  mouths  of  three 
who  in  their  needs  were  sighing  forth  their  wants  one  to 
another,  and  "  waiting  upon  Thee  that  Thou  mightest  give 
them  their  meat  in  due  season  "  (Ps.  cxlv.  15).  And  in  all 
the  bitterness,  which  by  Thy  mercy  followed  our  worldly 
doings,  as  we  looked  towards  the  end,  why  we  should  suffer 
all  this,  darkness  met  us  ;  and  v>^e  turned  away  groaning, 
and  saying,  "How  long  shall  these  things  be?"  This  too 
we  often  said ;  and  so  saying  forsook  them  not,  for  as  yet 
there  dawned  nothing  certain,  which,  when  these  were  for- 
saken, we  might  grasp. 


CHAPTER  XI. 

Troubled  by  ?nost  se?'ioiis  perplexities,  Atts^isti7ie  deliberates  upon 
beginning  a  new  life. 

AND  I,  greatly  troubled  and  recalling  things,  most 
wondered  at  the  length  of  time  from  that  my  nine- 
teenth year,  wherein  I  had  begun  to  kindle  with  the  desire 
of  wisdom,  determining  when  I  had  found  her,  to  abandon 
all  the  empty  hopes  and  lying  fantasies  of  vain  desires. 
And  lo,  I  was  now  in  my  thirtieth  year,  sticking  in  the 
same  mire,  greedy  of  enjoying  things  present,  which  passed 
away  and  wasted  my  soul ;  while  I  said  to  myself,  "  To- 
morrow I  shall  find  it ;  it  will  appear  clearly,  and  I  will  lay 
hold  of  it ;  lo,  Faustus  will  come,  and  make  every  thing 
plain  !  O  you  great  men,  ye  Academicians,  is  it  true  then, 
that  no  thing  can  be  grasped  with  certainty  for  the  guidance 
of  our  life?  Nay,  let  us  search  the  more  diligently,  and 
let  us  not  despair.     For,  look  you,  the  things  are  no  longer 


I04  The  Confessio7is  of  S.  Augustine. 

absurd  in  the  church's  books,  which  used  to  seem  absurd, 
for  they  can  be  differently  understood,  and  with  honesty. 
I  will  plant  my  feet  in  the  very  steps,  in  which  in  my  boy- 
hood my  parents  set  me,  until  the  clear  truth  be  found  out 
But  where  shall  it  be  sought  or  when  ?  Ambrose  has  no 
leisure ;  we  have  no  leisure  to  read  ;  where  shall  we  find 
even  the  books  ?  Whence,  or  when  procure  them  ?  from 
whom  borrow  them  ?  Let  set  times  be  fixed,  let  certain 
hours  be  set  apart  for  the  health  of  our  soul.  Great  hope 
has  dawned ;  the  Catholic  Faith  teaches  not  what  we  used 
to  think,  and  in  our  vanity  allege  against  it :  her  instructed 
members  hold  it  profane,  to  believe  that  God  is  com- 
prehended within  the  form  of  a  human  body ;  and  do  we 
doubt  to  "  knock,"  that  the  rest  "  may  be  opened  "  ?  Our 
scholars  fill  the  hours  of  the  forenoon  ;  what  do  we  during 
the  rest  ?  Why  not  this  ?  But  when  then  can  we  pay  our 
respects  to  our  more  influential  friends,  of  whose  good 
offices  we  have  need  ?  When  prepare  what  our  students 
buy?  When  refresh  ourselves,  seeking  mental  relaxation 
from  the  strain  of  our  cares  ? 

"  Perish  every  thing,  let  us  dismiss  these  empty  vanities, 
and  devote  ourselves  wholly  to  the  seeking  after  truth  ! 
Life  is  wretched,  death  uncertain ;  if  it  steals  upon  us 
suddenly,  how  shall  we  depart  hence?  and  where  shall 
we  learn  what  here  we  have  neglected  ?  and  shall  we  not 
rather  pay  the  penalty  of  this  negligence  ?  What,  if  death 
itself  cut  off  and  end  all  care  and  feeling  ?  This  also  must 
be  inquired  into.  But  God  forbid  that  so  it  should  be  ! 
It  is  no  vain  and  empty  thing,  that  the  excellent  dignity  of 
the  authority  of  the  Christian  Faith  hath  so  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  should  be  destroyed.  Why  then  do  we  delay  to 
abandon  worldly  ambition,  and  to  give  ourselves  wholly  to 
seeking  after  God  and  the  blessed  life  ?  But  wait !  Even 
those  things  are  pleasant ;  they  have  a  not  small  sweetness 
of  their  own.  Our  pursuit  of  them  must  not  be  abandoned 
without  consideration,  for  it  were  base  to  return  to  them 
again.  See,  it  is  no  great  matter  now  to  obtain  some  station, 
and  then  what  should  we  more  wish  for  ?  We  have  store  of 
powerful  friends  ;  if  nothing  else  offer,  and  we  be  in  much 
haste,  at  least  a  presidentship  may  be  given  us  :  and  a  wife 


The  Confessions  of  S.  Augustine.  105 

with  some  money,  that  she  increase  not  our  charges  :  and 
this  shall  be  the  bound  of  desire.  Many  great  men,  and 
most  worthy  of  imitation,  have  given  themselves  to  the 
study  of  wisdom  in  the  state  of  marriage." 

While  I  went  over  these  things,  and  these  winds  shifted 
and  drove  my  heart  this  way  and  that,  time  passed  on,  but 
I  delayed  my  conversion  to  the  Lord ;  and  from  day  to  day 
deferred  to  live  in  Thee,  and  deferred  not  daily  to  die  in 
myself.  Loving  the  blessed  life,  I  feared  it  in  its  own 
abode,  and  sought  it,  by  fleeing  from  it.  I  thought  I  should 
be  too  miserable  if  deprived  of  a  woman's  embraces ;  and 
of  the  medicine  of  Thy  mercy  to  cure  that  infirmity  I 
thought  not,  not  having  tried  it ;  and  I  thought  that  con- 
tinency  was  attainable  by  our  own  strength,  and  was 
conscious  that  I  had  not  such  strength,  being  so  foolish  as 
not  to  know  what  is  written,  "  None  can  be  continent 
unless  Thou  give  it  "  (Wisd.  viii.  21).  And  certainly  Thou 
wouldest  have  given  it,  if  with  inward  groanings  I  had 
knocked  at  Thine  ears,  and  with  a  firm  faith  should  cast  my 
care  on  thee. 

CHAPTER  XII. 

A  discussion  with  Alypius  concerning  7narriage  and  celibacy. 

ALYPIUS  indeed  kept  me  from  marrying ;  arguing  that 
by  no  possibility  could  we  with  undisturbed  leisure 
continue  to  live  together  in  the  love  of  wisdom,  as  we  had 
long  desired,  if  I  were  to  do  so.  For  himself  was  even 
then  in  this  respect  most  chaste,  so  that  it  was  wonderful ; 
and  that  the  more,  since  in  the  outset  of  his  youth  he  had 
made  trial  of  such  pleasures,  but  had  not  clung  to  them, 
rather  had  lamented  and  despised  them  :  and  up  to  now 
was  living  in  absolute  continence.  But  I  opposed  him 
with  the  examples  of  those,  who  in  the  state  of  marriage 
had  cherished  wisdom,  and  had  pleased  God,  and  retained 
their  friends,  and  loved  them  faithfully.  Of  whose  great- 
ness of  spirit  I  truly  came  far  short  j  and  bound  with  the 
disease  of  the  flesh,  and  its  deadly  sweetness,  drew  along 
my  chain,  dreading  to  be  loosed,  and  rejecting  the  words  of 
him  that  counselled  well,  as  though  my  wound  were  galled, 
and  a  hand  sought  to  loose  my  chain.     Moreover,  by  me 


io6  The  Cojifessio7is  of  S.  Augustine. 

did  die  serpent  speak  unto  Alypius  himself,  and  by  my 
tongue  wove  and  scattered  in  his  path  snares  of  pleasure 
wherein  his  virtuous  and  unfettered  feet  might  be  entangled. 
For  when  he  would  wonder  that  I,  whom  he  esteemed 
not  slightly,  sliould  sdck  so  fast  in  the  birdlime  of  that 
pleasure,  as  to  protest  so  oft  as  we  discussed  it  together, 
that  I  could  by  no  means  lead  a  single  life ;  and  urged  in 
my  defence  when  I  saw  him  wonder,  that  there  was  great 
difference  between  his  momentary  and  stolen  experiences, 
which  now  he  could  hardly  even  remember,  and  could 
therefore  without  effort  easily  despise,  and  my  habitual 
pleasures,  whereto  if  but  the  honourable  name  of  marriage 
were  added,  he  ought  not  to  wonder  why  I  could  not  con- 
temn that  course ;  he  began  also  to  desire  to  be  married  ; 
not  that  he  was  overcome  by  the  lust  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  seem  to  me  not  life,  but  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  thraldom  whereat  he  wondered,  since  he  was  willing  to 
"make  a  covenant  with  death"  (Isaiah  xxviii.  15),  and  "he 
that  loves  danger,  shall  fall  into  it"  (Ecclus.  iii.  26).  For 
whatever  honour  there  be  in  the  duty  of  ordering  well  the 
married  life,  and  bringing  up  children,  influenced  neither  of 
us,  even  slighdy.  But  me  for  the  most  part  the  habit  of 
satisfying  an  insatiable  appetite  tormented,  while  it  held  me 
captive ;  him,  an  admiring  wonder  was  leading  into  captivity. 
So  were  we,  until  Thou,  O  Most  High,  not  forsaking  our 
clay,  moved  with  mercy  at  our  misery,  didst  come  to  our 
help,  in  wonderful  and  secret  ways. 


CHAPTER   XIII. 

He  is  advised  by  his  niothe}-  to  marry  ;  and  found  a  maiden  who 

pleased  him. 

A  ND  I  was  constantly  being  urged  to  marry.  Now  I 
■^^  went  a-wooing;  now  a  betrothal  was  made,  chiefly 
through  my  mother's  effort,  in  order  that  as  soon  as  I  was 


The  Confessions  of  S.  Augustine.  107 

married  the  saving  Baptism  might  cleanse  me,  for  which 
she  rejoiced  that  I  was  being  daily  fitted,  and  saw  that  her 
prayers  and  Thy  Promises  were  receiving  fulfilment  in  my 
faith.  But  when  both  at  my  request  and  her  own  longing, 
with  strong  cries  of  heart  she  daily  begged  of  Thee,  that 
Thou  wouldest  by  a  vision  discover  unto  her  something 
concerning  my  future  marriage ;  Thou  never  wouldest.  She 
saw  indeed  certain  vain  and  fantastic  things,  such  as  the 
working  of  the  human  spirit,  preoccupied  with  this  matter, 
would  compound  \  and  related  them  to  me,  not  with  that 
confidence  she  used  to  have  when  Thou  hadst  revealed 
anything  to  her,  but  slighting  them.  For  she  said  she  could 
discern,  by  a  certain  indescribable  savour,  which  she  could 
not  explain  in  words,  a  difference  between  Thy  revelation, 
and  her  soul's  own  dreams.  So  I  was  urged,  and  a  maiden 
wooed,  who  was  by  two  years  too  young  to  marry ;  and  since 
she  pleased  me,  I  was  to  wait  for  her. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

A  plan  of  living  in  commrmity  with  his  friends  soon  comes  to  naught. 

AND  many  of  us  friends  conferring  about,  and  detesting 
the  turbulent  cares  of  human  life,  had  debated  and 
now  almost  resolved  on  living  apart  from  bustle  and 
business  ;  and  this  leisure  we  were  to  compass  by  bringing 
into  a  common  fund  whatever  we  might  be  able  to  procure, 
and  by  establishing  one  household  out  of  all ;  so  that  through 
the  sincerity  of  our  friendship,  this  should  not  belong  to 
one,  that  to  another ;  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  whom  were  very  rich,  especially  Romanianus,  our 
fellow  townsman,  from  childhood  a  very  familiar  friend  of 
mine,  whom  the  grievous  perplexities  of  his  affairs  had  at 
that  time  brought  up  to  court.  He  was  most  urgent  for 
this  project,  and  had  great  weight  in  pressing  it,  because 
his  ample  fortune  far  exceeded  that  of  any  of  the  rest.  And 
we  had  arranged  that  two  of  us  annually,  as  a  kind  of 
offrcials,  should  provide  all  things  necessary,  the  rest  being 
undisturbed.     But  when  we  began  to  consider  whether  the 


io8  The  Confessions  of  S.  AiigustifK. 

wives,  which  some  of  us  already  had,  others  hoped  to  have, 
would  allow  this,  all  that  plan,  which  we  were  so  well  shap- 
ing, fell  to  pieces  in  our  hands,  was  utterly  dashed  and  cast 
aside.  Thence  we  betook  us  to  sighs,  and  groans,  and  our 
steps  to  follow  the  "  broad  and  beaten  ways  "  (S.  Matt.  vii. 
13)  of  the  world,  for  many  thoughts  were  in  our  heart. 
"But  Thy  counsel  standeth  for  ever"  (Ps.  xxxiii.  11). 
Out  of  which  counsel  Thou  didst  deride  ours,  and  didst 
prepare  Thine  own ;  purposing  to  "  give  us  meat  in  due 
season,  and  to  open  Thy  hand,  and  to  fill  our  souls  with 
benediction"  (Ps.  cxlv.  15,  16). 


CHAPTER  XV. 

He  dismisses  his  ?nistress,  hit  obtains  another. 

MEANWHILE  my  sins  were  being  multiplied,  and  my 
mistress  being  torn  from  my  side  as  a  hindrance  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  of  delay,  inasmuch  as  not  till  after 
two  years  was  I  to  obtain  her  I  wooed,  not  being  so  much 
a  lover  of  marriage,  as  a  slave  to  lust,  procured  another, 
though  no  wife,  that  so  by  the  convoy  of  a  continuous 
custom,  the  disease  of  my  soul  undiminished  or  even  in- 
creased, might  be  sustained  and  carried  on  into  the  realm 
of  matrimony.  Nor  was  that  my  wound  cured,  which  had 
been  made  by  the  cutting  away  of  the  former,  but  after 
inflammation  and  most  acute  pain,  it  mortified,  and  my 
pains  became  benumbed,  but  more  desperate. 

CHAPTER  XVI. 

The  fear  of  death  and  judgment  weighed  on  him,  ozving  to  his  belief 
in  the  immortality  of  the  soul. 

TO  Thee  be  praise,  to  Thee  glory,  Thou  fount  of  mercies, 
I  was  becoming  more  miserable,  and  Thou  nearer. 
Thy  right  hand  was  continually  ready  to  pluck  me  out  of 


The  Confessions  of  S.  A  ugiistine.  1 09 

the  mire,  and  to  ''wash  me  throughly,"  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  throughout  all  my  changes  of  opinion, 
never  entirely  departed  from  my  breast.  And  in  my 
disputes  with  my  friends  Alypius  and  Nebridius  of  the 
nature  of  good  and  evil,  I  used  to  hold  that  Epicurus  would, 
to  my  judgment,  have  won  the  palm,  had  I  not  believed, 
that  after  death  there  remained  a  life  of  the  soul,  and 
durations  of  requitals,  which  Epicurus  refused  to  believe. 
And  I  asked  "  were  we  immortal,  and  to  live  in  perpetual 
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  virtue 
and  beauty,  which  is  to  be  embraced  for  its  own  sake,  which 
the  eye  of  flesh  cannot  see,  and  is  seen  by  the  inner  man. 
Nor  did  I,  unhappy,  consider  from  what  source  it  sprung, 
that  even  on  these  things,  foul  as  they  were,  I  found  pleasure 
in  conferring  with  my  friends,  nor  could  I,  even  according 
to  the  notions  I  then  had  of  happiness,  be  happy  without 
friends,  in  whatever  abundance  of  carnal  indulgence.  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 ! 
Turned  it  hath,  and  turned  again,  upon  back,  sides,  and 
belly,  yet  all  was  hard.  For  Thou  alone  art  rest.  And 
behold.  Thou  art  at  hand,  and  deUverest  us  from  our 
wretched  wanderings,  and  dost  set  us  in  Thy  Life,  and  dost 
comfort  us,  and  say,  ''Run;  I  will  carry  you;  yea  I  will 
bring  you  to  the  end  ;  and  there  also  will  1  carry  you." 


Boo\{  ID3J- 


He  recalls  the  beginning  of  his  manhood,  to  wit  the  thirty- 
first  YEAR  OF  his  AGE  :  IN  WHICH  HAVING  ABANDONED  HIS 
MOST  SERIOUS  ERRORS  CONCERNING  THE  NATURE  OF  GOD,  AND 
THE  ORIGIN  OF  EVIL,  AND  HAVING  MADE  A  MORE  ACCURATE 
STUDY  OF  THE  SaCRED  SCRIPTURES,  HE  ATTAINS  AT  LAST  TO  A 
TRUE  KNOWLEDGE  OF  GOD,  THOUGH  NOT  YET  RIGHTLY  UNDER- 
STANDING THE  Incarnation  of  Jesus  Christ. 


CHAPTER  I. 

N/s  conception  of  God,  not  exactly  in  the  fonn  of  a  hiiiiian  body,  but  as 
a  corporeal  substance,  diffused  through  space. 

BY  this  time  my  evil  and  wicked  youth  was  dead  and 
gone  ;  and  I  was  entering  upon  manhood ;  growing 
baser  in  vanity,  as  older  in  years.  But  although  I  could 
not  imagine  any  substance,  but  such  as  is  wont  to  be  seen 
with  these  eyes,  I  thought  not  of  Thee,  O  God,  under  the 
form  of  a  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,  and  only  and  true  God;  and  I  did  in  my  inmost 
soul  believe  that  Thou  wert  incorruptible,  and  inviolable, 
and  unchangeable,  though  not  knowing  whence  or  how. 
For  I  saw  plainly  and  was  sure,  that  that  which  can  be  cor- 
rupted, must  be  inferior  to  that  which  cannot ;  that  which 
cannot  be  injured,  I  unhesitatingly  placed  above  that  which  is 
capable  of  injury  ;  and  that  which  suffers  no  change  is  better 
than  that  which  can  be  changed.  My  heart  passionately 
cried  out  against  all  my  phantasms,  and  with  this  one  blow 
I  sought  to  beat  aAvay  from  the  eye  of  my  mind  all  that 
unclean   troop    which    buzzed    around    it.     And    lo,    being 


The  Confessions  of  S.  A  iignstine.  1 1 1 

scarce  put  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  as  something 
corporeal,  throughout  space,  whether  infused  into  the  world, 
or  diffused  through  infinity  outside  the  world,  yea,  even  of 
that  incorruptible,  and  inviolable,  and  unchangeable  sub- 
stance, which  I  judged  better  than  anything  corruptible, 
violable,  or  changeable.  Because  whatever  I  severed  from 
the  idea  of  dimensions,  seemed  to  me  to  be  nothing  at  all ; 
but  absolutely  nothing,  not  even  an  empty  space,  as  if  some 
body  were  taken  away  from  it,  and  the  space  should  remain, 
emptied  of  every  substance,  both  earthly,  watery,  aerial, 
and  celestial,  but  yet  should  remain  an  empty  space,  as 
though  it  were  a  spacious  nothing. 

I  then  being  thus  crass  of  heart,  nor  clear  even  to  myself, 
whatsoever  was  not  extended  over  certain  spaces,  nor  dif- 
fused, nor  condensed,  nor  swelled  out,  or  did  not  or  could 
not  receive  some  of  these  dimensions,  I  thought  to  be 
absolutely  nothing.  For  my  heart  did  then  range  among 
such  images,  as  the  forms  among  which  my  eyes  are  still 
wont  to  range  ;  and  I  did  not  perceive  that  the  very  mental 
operation,  by  which  I  formed  these  images,  was  a  thing  of 
a  different  sort  from  the  images,  and  could  not  have  formed 
them,  had  not  itself  been  something  great.  So  also  did  I 
endeavour  to  conceive  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  un- 
measurable  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 
just  as  the  substance  of  this  air,  which  is  above  the  earth, 
offers  no  such  resistance  to  the  light  of  the  sun,  that  it  cannot 
pass  through  it,  penetrating  it,  not  by  rending  or  cutting  jt, 
but  by  filling  it  wholly :  so  I  thought  the  substance  not  of 
heaven,  air,  and  sea  only,  but  of  the  earth  too,  was  pervaded 
by  Thee,  so  that  in  all  its  parts,  the  greatest  as  the  smallest, 
it  was  penetrable  to  receive  Thy  presence,  ordering,  by  a 
secret  inspiration  within  and  without,  all  things  which  Thou 
hast  created.  Such  was  my  theory,  for  I  could  conceive  no 
other ;  but  it  was  false.  For  in  this  way  a  greater  part  of 
the  earth  would  contain  a  greater  portion  of  Thee,  and  a  less, 


1 1 2  TJie  Confessions  of  S.  A  ngiistine. 

a  lesser :  and  all  things  should  in  such  sort  be  full  of  Thee, 
that  the  body  of  an  elephant  should  contain  more  of  Thee 
than  that  of  a  sparrow,  in  proportion  to  its  greater  size, 
and  filling  a  larger  space ;  and  thus  shouldest  Thou  make 
the  several  portions  of  Thyself  present  unto  the  several  por- 
tions of  the  world,  piecemeal,  large  in  the  large,  little  in  the 
little.  But  such  art  not  Thou.  But  not  as  yet  hadst  Thou 
enlightened  my  darkness. 


CHAPTER  11. 

An  argziincnt  of  Nebridius  against  the  Manichceans,  upon  the  question, 
"  whether  God  be  or  be  not  corruptible.^^ 

IT  was  enough  for  me.  Lord,  to  allege  against  those  de- 
ceived deceivers,  and  dumb  praters,  since  not  from 
them  did  Thy  word  sound ;  it  was  surely  enough,  which 
long  ago,  while  we  were  yet  at  Carthage,  Nebridius  used  to 
propound,  at  which  all  we  that  heard  it,  were  staggered ; 
"That  indescribable  nation  of  darkness,  which  they  are 
wont  to  set  as  an  opposing  mass,  over  against  Thee,  what 
could  it  have  done  unto  Thee,  hadst  Thou  refused  to  fight 
with  it?  For,  if  it  should  be  answered,  'it  would  have 
done  Thee  some  hurt,'  then  Thou  wouldest  be  violable,  and 
corruptible ;  but  if  '  it  could  do  Thee  no  hurt,'  then  was  no 
cause  assigned  for  Thy  fighting  with  it;  and  fighting  in 
such  wise,  as  that  a  certain  portion  and  member  of  Thee, 
even  the  offspring  of  Thy  very  Substance,  should  be 
mingled  with  opposed  powers,  and  natures  not  created  by 
Thee,  and  be  by  them  so  far  corrupted  and  changed  for 
the  worse,  as  to  be  turned  from  blessedness  into  misery,  and 
to  need  help,  whereby  it  might  be  rescued  and  purified; 
and  that  this  was  the  soul,  which  Thy  Word  might  aid  ;  being 
free  might  aid  the  enslaved,  pure  the  defiled,  sound  the 
corrupted ;  that  Word  itself  being  still  corruptible,  because 
It  was  of  one  and  the  same  Substance.  So  then,  should 
they  say  that  Thou,  whatsoever  Thou  art,  that  is,  Thy 
Substance  whereby  Thou  art,  art  incorruptible,  then  were 
all  these  sayings  false  and  execrable;  but  if  corruptible, 
then  the  statement  itself  is  false,  and  at  the  very  first  utter- 
ance to  be  abhorred."     This  argument  then  of  Nebridius 


The  Confessions  of  S,  A  ngnstine,  1 1 3 

sufficed  against  those,  who  deserved  wholly  to  be  vomited 
out  of  the  overcharged  stomach ;  for  they  had  no  escape, 
without  horrible  blasphemy  of  heart  and  tongue,  thus  think- 
ing and  speaking  of  Thee. 


CHAPTER  III. 

That  the  freedom  of  the  ivill  is  the  cause  of  evil. 

BUT  I  also  as  yet,  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,  wert  unde- 
filable  and  unalterable,  and  in  no  degree  mutable ;  yet  I 
did  not  hold  that  the  cause  of  evil  was  explained,  and  dis- 
entangled. And  yet  whatever  it  were,  I  perceived  it  was 
in  such  wise  to  be  sought  out,  as  should  not  constrain  me 
to  believe  the  unchangeable  God  to  be  changeable,  lest  I 
should  become  that  evil  for  which  I  was  seeking.  I  sought 
it  out  then,  thus  far  free  from  anxiety,  certain  of  the  un- 
truth of  what  these  held,  from  whom  I  shrunk  with  my 
whole  heart :  for  I  saw,  that  through  enc^uiring  the  origin  of 
evil,  they  were  filled  with  evil,  in  that  they  preferred  to 
think  that  Thy  substance  did  suff"er  evil  rather  than  that 
their  own  did  commit  it. 

And  I  strained  to  perceive  what  I  now  heard,  that  free- 
will was  the  cause  of  our  doing  ill,  and  Thy  just  judgment 
of  our  suffering  ill ;  but  I  was  not  able  clearly  to  discern  it. 
So  then  endeavouring  to  draw  my  soul's  vision  out  of  that 
deep  pit,  I  was  again  plunged  therein,  and  endeavouring 
often,  I  was  plunged  back  again  and  again.  But  it  lifted 
me  a  little  towards  Thy  Light,  to  know  that  I  had  a  will,  as 
certainly  as  that  I  had  life.  So  then  when  I  did  or  did  not 
will  anything,  I  was  as  sure  as  possible  that  none  other  than 
myself  did  or  did  not  will  it,  and  I  came  to  the  point  of 
noticing  that  here  lay  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  speedily  confessed 
myself  to  be  not  unjustly  punished.  But  again  I  said.  Who 
made  me?     Did  not  my  God,  who  is  not  only  good,  but 

H 


1 1 4  The  Confessions  of  S.  A  2igustine. 

goodness  itself?  Whence  then  comes  it  that  I  choose  the 
evil  and  refuse  the  good,  that  so  a  reason  should  be  found 
for  my  just  punishment?  Who  set  this  in  me,  and  im- 
planted in  me  this  root  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,  since  his  whole  angelhood  was  made  good  by  the 
Most  Good  Creator?  By  these  thoughts  I  was  again  thrust 
down  and  suffocated ;  yet  not  so  brought  down  to  that  hell 
of  error,  where  no  man  confesseth  unto  Thee,  as  to  think 
rather  that  Thou  dost  suffer  ill,  than  that  man  doth  it. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

That  God  is  not  corruptible  :  or  He  luoitid  cease  to  be  God. 

FOR  I  was  in  such  wise  striving  to  find  out  the  rest,  as 
one  who  had  already  found,  that  the  incorruptible 
must  needs  be  better  than  the  corruptible :  and  Thee 
therefore,  whatsoever  Thou  wert,  I  confessed  to  be  incor- 
ruptible. For  never  soul  was,  nor  shall  be,  able  to  conceive 
of  any  thing  better  than  Thee,  who  art  the  sovereign  and 
the  chiefest  good.  But  since  most  triily  and  certainly,  the 
incorruptible  is  preferable  to  the  corruptible,  as  I  did  now 
prefer  it,  then,  unless  Thou  wert  incorruptible,  I  could  in 
thought  have  arrived  at  something  which  was  better  than 
my  God.  Where  then  I  saw  the  incorruptible  to  be  pre- 
ferable to  the  corruptible,  there  ought  I  to  seek  for  Thee, 
and  there  observe  ''whence  evil  was;"  that  is,  whence 
is  that  corruption,  by  which  Thy  substance  can  by  no 
means  be  injured.  For  in  absolutely  no  way  at  all  doth 
corruption  injure  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  cor- 
rupted is  not  good.  Nor  art  Thou  against  Thy  will  con- 
strained to  any  thing,  since  Thy  will  is  not  greater  than  Thy 
power.  For  it  could  only  be  greater,  if  Thou  Thyself  wert 
greater  than  Thyself;  for  the  will  and  power  of  God  is  God 
Himself.      And  what  can    be    unforeseen    to    Thee,    who 


TJie  Confessions  of  S.  Angustine.  1 1 5 

knowest  all  things  ?  and  there  is  no  nature,  except  because 
Thou  knowest  it.  And  what  should  we  more  say,  "  why 
that  substance  which  God  is,  should  not  be  corruptible," 
seeing  that  if  it  were  so,  it  should  cease  to  be  God  ? 


CHAPTER  V. 

Questions  concerniiig  the  relation  of  evil  to  God :  since  if  He  be  the 
sovereigjt  good,  He  cannot  be  the  cause  of  evil. 

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,  what- 
soever is  visible  in  it,  such  as  earth,  and  sea,  and  air,  and 
stars,  and  trees,  and  mortal  creatures ;  and  whatsoever  in  it 
is  invisible,  as  the  firmament  of  heaven,  and  besides  all  the 
angels  and  all  the  spiritual  things  thereof.     But  these  also, 
as  though  they  were  bodies,  did  my  imagination  arrange  in 
such  and  such  places ;  and  I  made  one  great  mass  of  Thy 
creation,  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  large  as  I  chose,  yet  bounded  on  every  side ; 
but  Thee,  O  Lord,  I  imagined  on  every  part  surrounding 
and  penetrating  it,  but  in   every   direction  infinite :  as  if 
there  were  a  sea,  every  where,  and  on  every  side,  through 
unmeasured  space,  one  only  infinite  sea,  and  it  contained 
within  it  some  sponge,  huge,  but  finite ;  that  sponge  must 
needs,  in  all  its  parts,  be  filled  from  that  unmeasured  sea : 
so  I  imagined  Thy  finite  creation  full  of  Thee,  the  Infinite ; 
and  I  said.  Behold  God,  and  behold  what  God  hath  created  ; 
and   God   is  good,  yea,  most  mightily  and  imcomparably 
better  than  all  these  :  but  yet  He,  the  Good,  created  them 
good ;    and    see   how   doth    He    surround   and  fill  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  do  we  fear  and  shun  what  hath  no  existence  ? 
Even  if  we  fear  it  idly,  yet  surely  that  very  fear  is   evil, 
whereby  the  soul  is  thus  idly  goaded  and  tormented ;  and 
so  much  a  greater  evil,  as  there  is  nothing  to  fear,  and  yet 
we  do  fear.     Therefore  there  is  either  evil,  which  we  fear,. 


1 1 6  Tlie  Confessions  of  S.  A  iigiistine. 

or  this  is  itself  the  evil,  namely,  that  we  fear.  Whence  is  it 
then  ?  seeing  God  hath  made  all  these  things,  and  He  being 
good  hath  made  them  good.  He  indeed,  the  greater  and 
chiefest  Good,  hath  created  these  lesser  goods ;  still  both 
Creator  and  created,  all  are  good.  Whence  is  evil  ?  Or, 
was  there  some  evil  matter  out  of  which  He  made  these 
things,  and  did  He  give  it  form  and  order,  and  yet  leave  in 
it  something  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  Almighty? 
Lastly,  why  would  He  make  any  thing  at  all  of  it,  and  not 
rather  by  the  same  Almighty  power  cause  it  entirely  to  cease 
to  exist  ?  Or,  could  it  really  exist  against  His  will  ?  Or  if 
it  were  from  eternity,  why  suffered  He  it  so  to  be  for  infinite 
spaces  of  times  past,  and  yet  chose  so  long  after  to  make 
something  out  of  it  ?  Or  if  He  now  suddenly  chose  to  do 
something,  an  Almighty  being  would  be  more  likely  to  do 
this ;  to  wit,  to  cause  this  evil  m.atter  to  cease  to  be,  and 
that  He  only  should  exist,  the  very  sovereign  and  Infinite 
Good  ;  or  if  it  was  not  good  that  He  who  was  good,  should 
not  also  frame  and  create  something  that  were  good,  then, 
that  evil  matter  being  taken  away  and  brought  to  nothing, 
He  might  establish  good  matter,  whereof  to  create  all 
things.  For  He  should  not  be  Almighty,  if  He  could  not 
create  something  good  except  by  the  assistance  of  that 
matter  which  Himself  had  not  created.  These  thoughts 
I  turned  over  in  my  miserable  heart,  weighed  down  with 
most  corrosive  anxieties,  and  a  dread  of  death,  ere  yet  I 
should  have  found  the  truth  ;  yet  was  the  faith  of  Thy 
Christ  our  Lord  and  Saviour,  professed  in  the  Church 
Catholic,  firmly  fixed  in  my  heart,  in  many  points,  indeed, 
as  yet  without  form,  and  vacillating  beyond  the  strict  limit 
of  doctrine  ;  yet  did  not  my  mind  utterly  leave  it,  but  rather 
daily  drank  in  more  and  more  of  it. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

He  7'ejects  astrological  dhnnations. 

BY  this  time  also   I   had  rejected  the  lying  divinations 
and   impious  ravings  of  the  astrologers.     Let  Thine 
.own  mercies,   out  of  my   very  inmost   soul,   confess   unto 


TJie  Confessions  of  S.  A  tigustine.  1 1  / 

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  knows  not  death,  and  the  Wisdom  which  need- 
ing no  light  enlightens  the  minds  that  need  it,  by  which 
the  universe  is  governed,  even  to  the  fluttering  leaves  of 
trees?).  Thou  didst  provide  for  my  obstinacy  wherewith  I 
contended  against  Vindicianus,  an  acute  old  man,  and 
Nebridius,  a  young  man  of  admirable  talents  ;  the  former 
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 
often  had  the  nature  of  an  oracle,  and  that  out  of  their 
many  forecasts,  a  good  part  would  come  to  pass,  though 
the  foretellers  knew  nothing  of  it,  but  had  only  stumbled 
upon  it  by  their  ready  tongue."  Thou  didst  provide  then  a 
friend  for  me,  no  negligent  consulter  of  the  astrologers ;  nor 
yet  well  skilled  in  those  arts,  but  (as  I  said)  a  diligent  con- 
sulter with  them  :  yet  he  knew  something,  which  he  said  he 
had  heard  from  his  father,  but  how  far  it  went  to  overthrow 
the  estimation  of  that  art,  he  knew  not.  This  man  then, 
Firminus  by  name,  having  had  a  liberal  education,  and  well 
taught  in  Rhetoric,  consulted  me,  being  an  intimate  friend 
of  his,  as  to  what,  according  to  his  so-called  constellations, 
I  thought  on  certain  affairs  of  his,  wherein  his  worldly  hopes 
had  risen,  and  I,  who  had  herein  now  begun  to  incline 
towards  Nebridius'  opinion,  did  not  altogether  refuse  to 
conjecture,  and  tell  him  what  came  into  my  unresolved 
mind  ;  but  added,  that  1  was  now  almost  persuaded,  that 
these  were  but  ridiculous  and  vain  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  affec- 
tions 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  relative  position 
of  the  heavens,  in  order  to  make  experiments  in  this  so- 
called  art.  He  said  then  that  he  had  heard  of  his  father, 
that  when  his  mother  was  about  to  give  birth  to  him.  Fir- 
minus,  a  woman-servant  of  that  friend  of  his  father's,  was  in 
the  same  condition,  which  could  not  escape  her  master's 
notice,  who  took  care  with  most  exact  diligence  to  know 
the  births  of  his  very  puppies.     And  so  it  fell  out  that  the 


Ii8  TJie  Confessions  of  S.  Angtistine. 

one  for  his  wife,  and  the  other  for  his  servant,  with  the  most 
careful  observation,  reckoning  days,  hours,  nay,  the  lesser  divi- 
sions of  the  hours,  both  were  delivered  at  the  same  instant ; 
so  that  they  were  constrained  to  cast  the  nativity,  the  one 
of  his  son,  the  other  of  his  servant,  fr&m  the  same  constella- 
tions even  to  the  minute.  For  so  soon  as  the  women 
began  to  be  in  labour,  they  each  gave  notice  to  the  other 
what  was  taking  place  in  their  houses,  and  had  messengers 
ready  to  send  to  one  another,  so  soon  as  the  actual  birth 
had  been  announced  to  each  of  them  ;  and  that  the  an- 
nouncement should  be  immediately  made,  they  had  easily 
made  provision,  each  in  his  own  domain.  Thus  then  the 
messengers  of  the  respective  parties  met,  he  averred,  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  his  parents'  house,  in  ample  circumstances,  entered  upon 
his  career  along  the  sunnier  paths  of  the  world,  increased 
in  wealth,  and  was  raised  to  honours ;  but  the  slave,  without 
any  relaxation  of  the  yoke  of  his  condition,  continued 
in  servitude  to  his  masters ;  as  he  testified  of  his  own 
knowledge. 

Now  when  I  heard  these  things,  and  believed  them  (the 
teller  being  such  as  he  was),  all  my  hesitancy  was  swept 
away  ;  and  first  I  endeavoured  to  reclaim  Firminus  himself 
from  that  curiosity,  by  telling  him,  that  upon  inspecting  his 
constellations,  I  ought,  if  I  were  to  predict  truly,  to  have 
seen  in  them,  parents  eminent  among  their  neighbours,  a 
noble  family  in  its  own  city,  honourable  birth,  gentle  breed- 
ing, and  liberal  education  :  but  if  that  servant  had  consulted 
me  upon  the  same  constellations,  since  they  v/ere  his  also, 
in  order  that  I  might  also  declare  what  was  true  for  him,  to 
read  in  them  the  meanest  lineage,  the  condition  of  slavery, 
and  all  else  most  different  and  remote  from  the  former  fore- 
casts ;  whence  then  it  must  happen,  that  on  inspecting  the 
same  stars  I  should  draw  opposite  conclusions,  if  I  would 
say  truths ;  but  if  I  drew  the  same,  I  should  utter  false 
predictions  :  thence  it  followed  most  certainly,  that  what- 
ever, upon  consideration  of  the  constellations,  was  predicted 
truly  was  predicted  not  by  skill,  but  by  hazard ;  but  that 
false  predictions  were  due  not  to  want  of  skilled  knowledge, 
but  to  the  misleading  nature  of  the  hazard. 


The  Confessions  of  S.  Angustine.  119 

An  opening  thus  made,  ruminating  with  myself  on  the 
like  things,  that  no  one  of  those  dotards  who  followed  such 
a  profession,  and  whom  I  longed  to  attack,  and  confute  with 
ridicule,  might  urge  against  me,  that  Firminus  had  informed 
me  falsely,  or  his  father  him  ;  I  gave  my  attention  to  the 
case  of  those  who  are  born  twins,  who  for  the  most  part 
come  forth  from  the  womb  so  near  one  to  other,  that  the 
small  interval,  whatever  force  they  may  argue  that  it  has  in 
the  nature  of  things,  cannot  be  noted  by  human  observation, 
or  be  at  all  expressed  in  those  figures  which  the  Astrologer 
must  inspect,  that  he  may  predict  the  truth.  Yet  they  can- 
not be  true  :  for  looking  into  the  same  figures,  he  must  have 
predicted  the  same  of  Esau  and  Jacob,  whereas  the  same 
things  did  not  befall  both.  Therefore  he  must  speak  falsely; 
or  if  truly,  then,  looking  into  the  same  figures,  he  must  not 
give  the  same  answer.  Not  by  skill  then,  but  by  hazard 
would  he  predict  the  truth.  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  con- 
sulter  should  hear  what  according  to  the  hidden  deservings 
of  souls,  he  ought  to  hear,  out  of  the  abyss  of  Thy  righteous 
judgment,  to  Whom  let  no  man  say,  What  is  this  ?  Why 
that  ?  Let  him  not,  oh  !  let  him  not  so  say  ;  for  he  is  but 
man. 

CHAPTER  VII. 

He  is  terribly  distressed  about  the  origin  of  evil. 

NOW  then,  O  my  Helper,  thou  hadst  loosed  me  from 
those  fetters :  and  I  sought  "  whence  is  evil,"  and 
found  no  outlet.  But  thou  sufferedst  me  not  by  any  waves 
of  thought  to  be  carried  away  from  the  Faith  whereby  I 
believed  that  Thou  art,  and  that  Thy  substance  is  unchange- 
able, and  that  Thou  dost  exercise  Providence  and  Judgment 
upon  men ;  and  that  in  Christ,  Thy  Son,  our  Lord,  and  in 
the  holy  Scriptures,  which  the  authority  of  Thy  Catholic 
Church  made  binding.  Thou  didst  appoint  a  way  of  human 
salvation  unto  that  life,  which  shall  be  after  this  death. 
These  things  being  safe  and  immoveably  fixed  in  my  mind, 
I  sought  anxiously  "whence  was  evil?"  What  were  the 
pangs  of  my  labouring  heart,  what  groans,  O  my  God  !  yet 


120  The  Confessions  of  S.  Augustine. 

even  there  were  Thine  ears  open,  and  I  knew  it  not :  and 
when  in  silence  I  gave  my  whole  strength  to  the  enquiry, 
those  unspoken  sorrows  of  my  soul  were  strong  cries  unto 
Thy  mercy.  Thou  knewest  what  I  suffered,  and  no  man. 
For,  what  was  there  of  it  which  I  could  convey  by  my 
tongue  into  the  ears  of  my  most  familiar  friends?  How 
could  the  whole  tumult  of  my  soul,  for  which  neither  time 
nor  utterance  sufficed,  reach  them  ?  Yet  the  whole  entered 
into  Thy  hearing,  "  which  I  roared  out  from  the  very  dis- 
quietness  of  my  heart  :  and  my  desire  was  before  Thee,  and 
the  light  of  mine  eyes  was  not  with  me"  (Ps.  xxxviii.  9,  10). 
For  that  was  within,  I  was  without.  That  was  not  in  space. 
But  I  was  intent  upon  things  which  are  contained  in  space, 
and  found  there  no  space  where  I  might  rest ;  nor  did  they 
so  receive  me,  that  I  could  say,  "  It  is  enough,"  "  it  is  well:" 
nor  did  they  yet  suffer  me  to  turn  back,  where  it  might  be 
well  enough  with  me.  For  I  was  higher  than  they,  but 
lower  than  Thou;  and  Thou  art  my  true  joy  when  subjected 
to  Thee,  and  Thou  hadst  subjected  to  me  what  Thou 
createdst  below  me.  And  this  was  the  true  temperament, 
and  the  mean  line  of  salvation  for  me,  to  remain  in  Thy 
Image,  and  by  serving  Thee,  keep  under  my  body.  But 
when  I  rose  proudly  against  Thee,  and  "ran  upon  the  Lord, 
even  upon  his  neck,  with  the  thick  bosses  of  my  buckler  " 
(Job  XV.  26),  even  these  inferior  things  were  set  above  me, 
and  pressed  me  down,  and  nowhere  was  there  respite  or 
space  of  breathing.  They  met  my  sight  on  all  sides  by 
heaps  and  troops,  and  the  images  of  bodies  presented  them- 
selves to  my  thoughts,  when  I  would  return  to  Thee,  as  if 
they  were  saying,  "  Whither  goest  thou,  unworthy  and 
defiled  ?  "  And  these  things  had  grown  out  of  my  wound  ; 
for  Thou  "  hast  humbled  the  haughty  as  one  that  is 
wounded  "  (Ps.  Ixxxix.  10),  and  by  my  pompous  pride  I  was 
separated  from  Thee  ;  and  my  face  so  puffed  up,  closed 
my  eyes. 

CHAPTER  VIII. 

■By  /he  help  of  God  he  little  by  little  draws  nigh  to  truth. 

"  T^UT  Thou,  O  Lord,  endurest  for  ever,  and  wilt  not  be 

^      angry  with   us   for  ever"  (Ps.   cii.    13;    Ixxxv.   5), 

because  Thou  pitiest  our  dust  and  ashes,  and  it  was  pleasing 


The  Confessions  of  S.  A  ugustine.  121 

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  touch  of  Thy  medicine,  was  my  swelling  abated,  and 
the  troubled  and  darkened  eyesight  of  my  mind,  by  the 
sharp  eyesalve  of  wholesome  sorrows,  day  by  day  was 
healed. 

CHAPTER   IX. 

He  compares  the  Plafoiiist  teaching  concernhig  the  Word,  with  the 
Christian  doctrine,  which  latter  he  finds  by  far  more  excellent. 

AND  Thou,  willing  first  to  shew  me,  how  Thou  "re- 
sistest  the  proud,  but  givest  grace  unto  the  humble  " 
(i  Peter  v.  5),  and  by  what  mercy  Thou  hadst  pointed  out 
to  men  the  way  of  humility,  in  that  Thy  Word  was  made 
flesh,  and  dwelt  among  men ;  Thou  didst  provide  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  these  words,  but  to  the  same 
purpose,  enforced  by  many  and  divers  reasons,  that  "  In 
the  beginning  was  the  Word,  and  the  Word  was  with  God, 
and  the  Word  was  God  :  the  Same  was  in  the  beginning 
with  God  :  all  things  were  made  by  Him,  and  without  Him 
was  nothing  made  :  that  which  was  made  by  Him  is  life, 
and  the  life  was  the  light  of  men,  and  the  Hght  shineth  in 
the  darkness,  and  the  darkness  comprehended  it  not."  And 
that  the  soul  of  man,  though  it  "  bears  witness  to  the  light," 
yet  itself  "is  not  that  light,"  but  God,  the  Word  of  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  into  His  own,  and  His  own  received 
him  not ;  but  as  many  as  received  Him,  to  them  gave  He 
power  to  become  the  sons  of  God,  even  to  them  that  believe 
on  His  Name ; "  this  I  read  not  there. 

Again  I  read  there,  that  "  God  the  Word  was  born  not  of 
flesh  nor  of  blood,  nor  of  the  will  of  man,  nor  of  the  will  of 
the  flesh,  but  of  God."  But  that  "  the  Word  was  made 
flesh,  and  dwelt  among  us,"  I  read  not  there  {cf.  S.  John 
i.  1-14).    For  I  traced  in  those  books,  said  difierently  and  in 


122  The  Confessions  of  S.  Augustine. 

many  ways,  that  "  the  Son  was  in  the  form  of  the  Father, 
and 'thought  it  not  robbery  to  be  equal  with  God,"  because 
naturally  He  was  the  Same  Substance.  But  that  "  He 
emptied  himself,  taking  the  form  of  a  servant,  being  made 
in  the  likeness  of  men,  and  found  in  fashion  as  a  man, 
humbled  himself,  and  became  obedient  unto  death,  even 
the  death  of  the  cross  :  wherefore  God  exalted  Him  "  from 
the  dead,  "and  gave  Him  a  name  which  is  above  every 
name,  that  at  the  name  of  Jesus  every  knee  should  bow,  of 
things  in  heaven,  and  things  in  earth,  and  things  under  the 
earth ;  and  that  every  tongue  should  confess  that  the  Lord 
Jesus  Christ  is  in  the  glory  of  God  the  Father"  (Phil. 
ii.  6  ss.) ;  those  books  do  not  contain.  For  that  before  all 
times  and  above  all  times  Thy  Only-Begotten  Son  remaineth 
unchangeably,  co-eternal  with  Thee,  and  that  "  of  His  ful- 
ness souls  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"  (Rom.  v.  6),  and  that  ''Thou  sparedst  not 
Thine  only  Son,  but  deliveredst  Him  for  us  all"  (Rom. 
viii.  32),  is  not  there.  "For  Thou  hast  hidden  these  things 
from  the  wise,  and  revealed  them  to  babes,"  that  they  "that 
labour  and  are  heavy  laden,  might  come  unto  Him,  and 
He  might  refresh  them,"  because  "  He  is  meek  and  lowly 
in  heart"  (S.  Matt,  xi.);  "and  the  meek  He  guideth  in 
judgment,  and  the  gentle  He  teacheth  His  ways"  (Ps.  xxv. 
9),  "  looking  upon  our  lowliness  and  trouble,  and  forgiving 
all  our  sins"  (Ps.  xxv.  18).  But  such  as  are  lifted  up  upon 
the  stilts,  as  it  were,  of  a  more  elevated  teaching,  hear  not 
Him,  who  saith  "  Learn  of  Me,  for  I  am  meek  and  lowly 
in  heart,  and  ye  shall  find  rest  to  your  souls  "  (S.  Matt.  ix. 
29).  "Although  they  knew  God,  yet  they  glorify  Him  not 
as  God,  nor  are  thankful,  but  become  vain  in  their  imagina- 
tions, and  their  foolish  heart  is  darkened  ;  professing  them- 
selves to  be  wise,  they  became  fools  "  (Rom.  i.  21,  22). 

And  therefore  did  I  read  there  also,  that  they  had 
"  changed  the  glory  of  Thy  incorruptible  nature  "  into  idols 
and  divers  images,  "into  an  image  made  like  unto  cor- 
ruptible man,  and  to  birds  and  four-footed  beasts,  and 
creeping  things"  (Rom.  i.  23) ;  namely  into  that  Egyptian 
food,  for  which  Esau  lost  his  birthright ;  since  Thy  first- 
born  people  worshipped   the  head   of  a  four-footed  beast 


The  Confessions  of  S.  A  ngtistine.  123 

instead  of  Thee  ;  turning  in  heart  back  towards  Egypt ;  and 
bowing  Thy  image,  their  own  soul,  before  the  image  of 
"a  calf  that  eateth  hay"  (Ps.  cvi.  20).  These  things  found 
I  here,  but  I  fed  not  on  them.  For  it  pleased  Thee,  O 
Lord,  to  take  away  the  reproach  of  inferiority  from  Jacob, 
"that  the  elder  should  serve  the  younger"  (Rom.  ix.  12) ; 
and  Thou  calledst  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  people 
to  take  from  Egypt,  since,  wheresoever  it  was,  it  was  Thine. 
And  to  the  Athenians  Thou  saidst  by  Thine  Apostle,  "  that 
in  Thee  we  live,  move,  and  have  our  being,  as  one  of  their 
own  poets  had  said"  (Acts  xvii.  28).  And  verily  these 
books  came  from  thence.  But  I  set  not  my  mind  on  the 
idols  of  the  Egyptains,  to  which  they  made  Thy  gold 
minister,  "  who  changed  the  truth  of  God  into  a  lie,  and 
worshipped  and  served  the  creature  more  than  the  Creator  " 
(Rom.  i.  25). 

CHAPTER  X. 

///  the  inmost  recess  of  his  heart,  things  divine  begin  to  grow  more  clear. 

AND  being  thence  admonished  to  return  to  myself,  I 
entered  with  Thy  guidance  into  my  inmost  self,  and 
I  was  enabled  to  do  so,  for  Thou  wert  my  Helper.  And  I 
entered  and  beheld  with  the  eye  of  my  soul  (such  as  it  was), 
above  the  same  eye  of  my  soul,  above  my  mind,  the  Light 
Unchangeable  :  not  this  common  light,  which  shines  for  all 
flesh ;  nor  as  it  were  a  greater  of  the  same  kind,  as  though 
the  brightness  of  this  should  shine  out  more  and  more 
brightly,  and  with  its  greatness  take  up  all  space.  Not  such 
was  this  light,  but  other,  yea,  far  other  from  all  these.  Nor 
was  it  above  my  soul,  as  oil  is  above  water,  nor  yet  as 
heaven  above  earth :  but  higher  than  I,  because  It  made 
me  ;  and  I  below  It,  because  I  was  made  by  It.  He  that 
knoweth  the  Truth,  knoweth  what  that  Light  is  ;  and  he 
that  knoweth  It,  knoweth  eternity.  Charity  knoweth  It. 
O  eternal  Truth,  and  true  Charity,  and  beloved  Eternity. 
Thou  art  my  God,  to  Thee  do  I  sigh  night  and  day.  And 
when  at  first  I  knew  Thee,  Thou  didst  lift  me  up,  that  I 
might  see  there  was  what  I  might  see,  and  that  I  was  not 


124  ^-^^^  Confessions  of  S.  Angustine. 

yet  such  as  could  see  it.  And  Thou  didst  beat  back  the 
weakness  of  my  sight,  streaming  forth  Thy  beams  of  light 
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  them  that  be  full  grown ;  grow, 
and  thou  shalt  feed  upon  Me ;  nor  shalt  thou  transmute 
Me  into  thee,  as  thou  dost  the  food  of  thy  flesh,  but  thou 
shalt  be  transmuted  into  Me."  And  I  learned,  that  "Thou 
for  iniquity  didst  chasten  man,  and  Thou  didst  make  my 
soul  to  consume  away  like  a  spider"  (Ps.  xxxix.  ii,  Vulg.). 
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  AM  " 
(Ex.  iii.  14).  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  things  which  are  made  "  (Rom.  i.  20). 

CHAPTER  XI. 

That  creatures  are  subject  to  change  ;  and  God  alone  unchangeable, 

A  ND  I  beheld  the  other  things  below  Thee,  and  I  per- 
-^~^  ceived,  that  they  are  neither  absolutely  existent,  nor 
absolutely  non-existent.  For  they  are,  since  they  are  from 
Thee,  but  are  not,  because  they  are  not,  what  Thou  art. 
For  that  truly  is,  which  remains  unchangeably.  "  It  is  good 
then  for  me  to  hold  me  fast  by  God"  (Ps.  Ixxiii.  28) ;  for  if 
I  remain  not  in  Him,  1  cannot  in  myself;  but  "  He  remain- 
ing in  Himself,  maketh  all  things  new"  (Wisd.  vii.  27). 
**And  Thou  art  the  Lord  my  God,  since  my  goods  are 
nothing  unto  Thee  "  (Ps.  xvi.  2). 


CHAPTER  Xn. 

Whatsoever  things  the  most  good  Cod  hath  made,  are  truly  good. 

A  ND  it  was  manifested  unto  me,  that  those  things  be 
-^^^  good,  which  yet  are  corrupted ;  which  neither  if  they 
were  supremely  good,  nor  unless  they  were  good,  could  be 


TJie  Confessions  of  S.  A  ugustme.  1 2  5 

corrupted  :  for  had  they  been  supremely  good,  ihey  would 
have  been  incorruptible,  but  if  they  were  not  good  at  all, 
there  would  be  nothing  in  them  which  could  be  corrupted. 
For  corruption  injures,  but  unless  it  diminished  goodness,  it 
could  not  injure.  Either  then  corruption  injures  not,  which 
cannot  be ;  or  which  is  most  certain,  all  which  is  corrupted 
is  deprived  of  good.  But  if  they  be  deprived  of  all  good, 
they  will  altogether  cease  to  be.  For  if  they  shall  continue 
to  be,  but  can  no  longer  suffer  corruption,  they  shall  be 
better  than  before,  because  they  shall  abide  incorruptibly. 
And  what  could  be  more  monstrous,  than  to  affirm  that 
things  become  better  by  the  loss  of  all  their  good  ?  There- 
fore, if  they  shall  be  deprived  of  all  good,  they  will  entirely 
cease  to  be.  So  long  therefore  as  they  are,  they  are  good  : 
therefore  whatsoever  is,  is  good.  That  evil  then  which  I 
sought,  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  corrupt- 
ible substance ;  which  unless  it  were  good,  could  not  be 
corrupted.  I  perceived  therefore,  and  it  was  manifested  to 
me,  that  Thou  madest  all  things  good,  nor  is  there  any  sub- 
stance at  all,  which  Thou  madest  not ;  and  for  that  Thou 
madest  not  all  things  equal,  therefore  are  all  things ;  because 
each  is  good,  and  altogether  very  good,  because  our  God 
"  made  all  things  very  good"  (Gen.  i.) 

CHAPTER  XIII. 

Whatsoever  is  in  heaven  and  earth,  being  made  good,  ought  to  praise 

God. 

ND  to  Thee  there  is  nothing  at  all  evil ;  and  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  to  it.  But  in  the 
parts  thereof  some  things,  because  they  harmonise  not  with 
some  others,  are  accounted  evil :  whereas  those  very  things 
harmonise  with  others,  and  are  good  ;  and  in  themselves  are 
good.  And  all  these  things  which  harmonise  not  together, 
yet  do  harmonise  with  the  inferior  part,  which  we  call 
Earth,  having  its  own  cloudy  and  windy  sky  harmonious 
with  itself.     Far  be  it  then  that  I  should  say,  "  These  things 


A 


1 26  TJie  Confessions  of  S.  A  ngustine, 

should  not  be  : "  for  should  I  see  nought  but  these,  I  should 
indeed  long  for  the  better ;  but  still  must  even  for  these 
alone  praise  Thee ;  for  these  do  show  that  "  Thou  art  to 
be  praised,  from  the  earth,  dragons,  and  all  deeps,  fire,  hail, 
snow,  ice,  and  stormy  wind,  which  fulfil  Thy  word ;  moun- 
tains, and  all  hills,  fruitful  trees,  and  all  cedars ;  beasts,  and 
all  cattle,  creeping  things,  and  feathered  fowls  ;  kings  of  the 
earth,  and  all  people,  princes,  and  all  judges  of  the  earth ; 
young  men  and  maidens,  old  men  and  children,  praise  Thy 
Name."  But  when,  from  heaven,  these  "  praise  Thee,  praise 
Thee,  our  God,  in  the  heights,  all  Thy  angels,  all  Thy  hosts, 
sun  and  moon,  all  the  stars  and  light,  the  Heaven  of 
heavens,  and  the  waters  that  be  above  the  heavens,  praise 
Thy  Name"  (Ps.  cxlviii.  1-12)  ;  I  did  not  now  long  for 
things  better,  because  I  conceived  of  all :  and  with  a  sounder 
judgment  I  apprehended  that  the  things  above  were  better 
than  these  below,  but  all  together  better  than  those  above 
alone. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

They  only  invent  the  figment  of  two  primary  substances,  whom  some 
creature  displeaseth. 

THERE  is  no  health  in  them,  whom  aught  of  Thy  crea- 
tion 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  deny  that 
aught  was  Thine  which  displeased  it.  Hence  it  had 
travelled  into  a  notion  of  two  substances,  and  found  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,  hateful  to  Thee. 
But  after  Thou  hadst  soothed  my  head,  unknown  to  me, 
and  closed  "mine  eyes  that  they  should  not  behold  vanity  " 
(Ps.  cxix.  37),  I  ceased  somewhat  of  my  former  self,  and 
my  madness  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. 


The  Confessions  of  S.  Augustine.  127 

CHAPTER  XV. 

Whatsoever  things  exist  oive  theii'  being  to  God. 

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 ;  not  as  being  in  space ; 
but  because  Thou  art  in  truth  He  that  holdeth  all  things  in 
the  hand ;  and  all  things  are  true  in  so  far  as  they  have 
being;  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  that  Thou,  who  only  art  Eternal,  didst  not  begin  to 
work  after  innumerable  spaces  of  times ;  for  that  all  spaces 
of  times,  both  which  have  passed,  and  which  shall  pass, 
neither  go  nor  come,  but  through  Thee,  working  and 
abiding. 

CHAPTER  XVI. 

Evil  originates  not  from  some  substance,  bnt  from  perverseness  of  will. 

AND  I  perceived  and  found  it  nothing  strange,  that 
bread  which  is  pleasant  to  the  healthy,  to  the  un- 
healthy palate  is  nauseous ;  and  to  eyes  diseased  the  light 
is  hateful,  which  to  pure  eyes  is  lovely.  And  Thy  righteous- 
ness displeaseth  the  wicked ;  much  more  the  viper  and  the 
worm,  which  Thou  hast  created  good,  correspond  with  the 
lower  orders  of  Thy  Creation,  to  which  also  correspond  the 
wicked  themselves ;  the  more  so  the  more  unlike  they  are 
to  Thee :  but  they  correspond  to  the  higher  orders  also,  in 
so  far  as  they  become  liker  Thee.  And  I  enquired  what 
iniquity  was,  and  found  it  to  be  no  substance,  but  the  per- 
version of  the  will,  turned  aside  from  Thee,  O  God,  the 
Supreme  Substance,  towards  the  lowest  things,  and  "cast- 
ing away  its  bowels"  (Ecclus.  x.  9),  and  outwardly  swollen. 


128  TJic  Confessions  of  S.  Augustine. 

CHAPTER  XVII. 

Above  the  changing  mind,  he  finds  the  unchanging  Author  of  Truth. 

AND  I  was  amazed  that  I  now  loved  Thee,  and  no 
phantasm  instead  of  Thee.  And  yet  did  I  not  persist 
to  enjoy  my  God ;  but  was  borne  up  to  Thee  by  Thy 
beauty,  and  soon  borne  down  from  Thee  by  mine  own  weight, 
and  fell  back,  with  groaning,  upon  those  lower  things  :  and 
this  weight  was  carnal  habit.  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  1  was  not  yet 
such  as  to  cleave  to  Thee  :  for  "  the  body  which  is  corrupted, 
presseth  down  the  soul,  and  the  earthly  tabernacle  weigheth 
down  the  mind  that  museth  upon  many  things  "  (Wisd.  ix. 
15).  And  most  certain  I  was  "that  Thy  invisible  things 
from  the  creation  of  the  world  are  clearly  seen,  being  under- 
stood by  the  things  that  are  made,  even  Thy  eternal  power 
and  Godhead"  (Rom.  i.  20).  For  examining,  what  caused 
me  to  admire  the  beauty  of  bodies  celestial  or  terrestial ; 
and  what  was  of  service  to  me  in  judging  soundly  on  things 
changeable,  and  pronouncing,  "  This  ought  to  be  thus,  this 
not ;  "  examining,  I  say,  what  was  the  cause  of  my  so 
judging,  seeing  I  did  so  judge,  I  had  found  the  unchange- 
able and  true  Eternity  of  Truth,  above  my  changeable 
mind.  And  thus  by  degrees,  I  passed  from  bodies  to  the 
soul,  which  perceives  through  the  senses  of  the  body ;  and 
thence  to  its  inward  faculty,  to  which  the  bodily  senses 
communicate  external  things ;  and  so  far  even  beasts 
possess  it ;  and  thence  further  to  the  reasoning  faculty,  to 
which  is  referred  for  the  exercise  of  judgment  upon  it,  what- 
soever is  received  from  the  bodily  senses.  And  when  this 
found  itself  in  me  also  to  be  a  changeable  thing,  it  raised 
itself  up  to  its  own  understanding,  and  diverted  my  thought 
from  habit,  withdrawing  itself  from  those  troops  of  contra- 
dictory phantasms  ;  that  so  it  might  discover  what  that 
light  was,  by  which  it  was  bedewed,  when,  without  any 
doubtfulness,  it  cried  out,  "That  the  unchangeable  must 
be  preferred  to  the  changeable  ; "  whence  also  it  knew  the 
unchangeable  itself,  without  some  knowledge  of  which,  it 
could  not  with  certainty  have  preferred  it  to  the  changeable. 
And  thus  with  the  flash  of  one  trembling  glance  it  arrived 


The  Confessions  of  S.  A  ugustine.  1 29 

at  That  Which  Is.  And  then  I  saw  Thy  "  invisible  things 
understood  by  the  things  which  are  made"  (Rom.  i.  20). 
But  I  lacked  strength  to  fix  my  gaze  thereon ;  and  my 
weakness  being  struck  back,  I  returned  to  my  accustomed 
ways,  bearing  with  me  naught  but  a  loving  remembrance, 
and  as  it  were  longing  for  that,  the  scent  of  which  I  had 
perceived,  but  was  as  yet  unable  to  feed  upon. 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

Jestis  Christ,  the  Mediator,  is  the  one  only  way  of  salvation. 

AND  I  continued  to  seek  for  a  way  of  gaining  strength, 
which  should  enable  me  to  enjoy  Thee ;  but  I  found 
it  not,  until  I  embraced  "  that  Mediator  betwixt  God  and 
men,  the  Man  Christ  Jesus,  who  is  over  all,  God  blessed 
for  ever"  (i  Tim.  ii.  5;  and  Rom.  ix.  5).  Who  calleth 
unto  me  and  saith,  "  I  am  the  way,  the  truth,  and  the  life  " 
(S,  John  xiv.  6),  and  mingleth  that  food  which  I  was  unable 
to  receive,  with  our  flesh.  "  For  the  word  was  made  flesh  " 
(S.  John  i.  14),  that  Thy  wisdom,  whereby  Thou  hast  created 
all  things,  might  provide  milk  for  our  infancy.  For  not 
yet  did  I  cling  to  Jesus,  My  Lord,  humbly  grasping  his 
humility ;  nor  did  I  yet  know  of  how  great  a  matter  his 
weakness  should  be  our  teacher.  For  Thy  Word,  the 
Eternal  Truth,  far  above  the  higher  parts  of  Thy  Creation, 
raiseth  unto  Himself  them  that  are  cast  down :  but  in  this 
lower  world  built  for  Himself  a  lowly  habitation  of  our  clay, 
whereby  to  abase  from  themselves  such  as  would  be  sub- 
dued, and  bring  them  over  to  Himself;  healing  their  svvell- 
ing  pride,  and  nourishing  their  love ;  to  the  end  they  might 
go  on  no  further  in  self-confidence,  but  rather  become  weak, 
seeing  before  their  feet  Godhead  made  weak  by  sharing 
with  us  our  "  coats  of  skins  ; "  and  when  wearied,  might 
throw  themselves  upon  It,  and  It  in  Its  rising,  might  uplift 
them. 


ijo  The  Coiiftssions  of  S.  Augustine. 

CHAPTER  XIX. 

lie  did  not  yet  dearly  understand  that  passage  of  S.  Johuy  "  The  Word 
u>as  made  FlesJu^^ 

BUT  I  thought  otherwise ;  conceiving  only  of  my  Lord 
Christ,  as  of  a  man  of  excellent  wisdom,  to  whom 
none  could  be  compared  :  especially  because  being  wonder- 
fully born  of  a  Virgin,  to  become  our  example  of  despising 
temporal    things   for   the   attainment   of  immortality.    He 
seemed    through   the  divine   care    on  our  behalf  to  have 
deserved  such  great  authority  as  our  master.      But  what 
mystery  there  lay  in  "  The  Avord  was  made  flesh  "  I  could 
not  even  imagine.     Only  I  had  learned  out  of  what  the 
Scriptures  delivered  to  us  concerning  him,  that  because  he 
ate,  and  drank,  slept,  walked,  rejoiced,  was  sorrow^ful,  dis- 
coursed ;  so  surely  flesh  did  not  join  itself  alone  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  affection,   now  not,  now  to   utter  by 
syllables  wuse  sayings,  now  to  keep  silence  ;  these  are  the 
properties  of  a  mind  and  soul  that  is  subject  to  change. 
And  should  these  things  be  falsely  written  of  Him,  all  the 
rest  also  would  be  endangered  by  the  lie,  nor  would  there 
remain  in  those  books  any  saving  faith  for  mankind.    Since 
then  they  were  written  truly,  I  acknowledged  in  Christ  an 
entire  humanity;  not  the  body  of  a  man  only,  nor,  wath  the 
body,  a  living  soul  without  a  reasoning  spirit,  but  very  man. 
And  1  thought  that  he  was  to  be  preferred  before  others,  not 
as  being  an  Incarnation  of  Truth,*  but  for  a  certain  excel- 
lence of  human  nature,  and  for  a  more  perfect  participation 
of  wisdom.     But  Alypius  imagined  the  Cathohcs  to  believe 
God  to  be  so  clothed  with  flesh,  that  besides  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  persuaded,  that  the  actions  recorded  of  Him,  could 
only  be  performed  by  a  vital  and  a  rational  creature,  he 
moved  the  more  slowly  towards  the  Christian  Faith.     But 
understanding   afterwards,   that  this  was  the  error  of  the 
*  rcrsona  vcrilalis.     This  seems  to  be  the  sense  of  this  difficuU  phrase. 


The  Confessions  of  S.  Augustine.  131 

Apollinarian  heretics,  he  rejoiced  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 
Photinus.  For  the  refutation  of  heretics  makes  more  boldly 
to  stand  out  what  Thy  Church  judges,  and  sound  doctrine 
holds.  '*  For  there  must  also  be  heresies,  that  they  which 
are  approved  may  be  made  manifest  among  the  weak  "  ( i 
Cor.  xi.  19). 

CHAPTER  XX. 

He  is  glad  that  his  journeying  has  been  from  Platonisni  to  the  Holy 
Scriptu7-es,  instead  of  in  the  reverse  direction. 

BUT  after  then  reading  the  books  of  the  Platonists, 
wherein  I  was  taught  to  seek  for  incorporeal  truth,  I 
beheld  Thy  "  invisible  things,  understood  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  contemplating,  being  assured,  "  That  Thou 
wert,  and  wert  infinite,  and  yet  not  diffused  throughout 
space,  finite  or  infinite  ;  and  that  Thou  truly  art  who  art  the 
same  ever,  in  no  part  and  by  no  motion  changing,  and  that 
all  other  things  are  from  Thee,  by  this  one  most  certain 
proof,  that  they  are  :  of  these  things  I  was  assured,  yet  too 
weak  to  enjoy  Thee.  I  prated  as  one  well  read ;  but  had 
I  not  sought  Thy  way  in  Christ  our  Saviour,  I  should  have 
been  not  well  read,  but  well  nigh  dead.  For  now  I  began 
to  wish  to  seem  wise,  being  filled  with  mine  own  punish- 
ment, yet  I  let  fall  no  tear,  but  rather  was  puffed  up  with 
knowledge  (i  Cor.  viii.  i.)  For  where  was  that  charity 
building  upon  the  "  foundation "  of  humility,  ''  which  is 
Christ  Jesus  "  ?  (i  Cor.  iii.  1 1).  Or  when  should  these  books  . 
teach  me  it  ?  Upon  these,  I  believe.  Thou  therefore  didst 
purpose  that  I  should  light,  before  I  studied  Thy  Scriptures, 
that  it  might  be  imprinted  on  my  memory,  how  I  was 
affected  by  them  \  and  that  afterwards  when  I  had  been 
tamed  by  Thy  books,  and  my  wounds  touched  by  Thy  heal- 
ing fingers,  I  might  distinguish  the  difference  between  pre- 
sumption and  confession  :  between  those  who  saw  whither 
they  were  to  go,  yet  saw  not  the  way,  and  the  way  that 


132  The  Confessions  of  S.  Augustine. 

leadeth  to  the  beatific  country,  which  is  not  only  to  be  gazed 
upon,  but  also  to  be  dwelt  in.  For  had  1  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  have  perhaps  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 
those  books  alone. 


CHAPTER  XXI. 

He  finds  in  Holy  Scripture  many  consolations  and  helps,  not  found  in 
the  writings  of  the  Flatonists. 

MOST  eagerly  then  did  I  seize  that  venerable  writing  of 
Thy  Spirit;  and  more  than  all,  the  Apostle  Paul. 
And  those  difficulties,  in  which  I  formerly  thought  he  con- 
tradicted himself,  and  that  the  text  of  his  discourse  agreed 
not  with  the  testimonies  of  the  Law  and  the  Prophets,  I 
utterly  disappeared.     And  now  the  aspect  of  that  pure  word 
appeared  but  one;  and  I  learned  to  "  rejoice  with  trembling  " 
(Ps.  ii.  ii).     So  I  began;  and  whatsoever  truth  I  had  read 
elsewhere,  I  found  here  together  with  the  added  excellence 
of  Thy  Grace ;  that  whoso  sees,  may  not  "  so  glory  as  if  he 
had  not  received"  (i  Cor.  iv.  7),  not  only  what  he  sees,  but 
also  that  he  is  able  to  see  ("  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  be  made 
whole,  to  retain  Thee.     And  that  "  he  who  cannot  see  afar 
off,"  may  yet  walk  on  the  way,  by  which  he  may  come,  and 
behold,  and  retain  ;  for,  though  a  man  "  delight  in  the  law 
of  God  after  the  inward  man,"  what  shall  he  do  with  that 
'*  other  law  in  his  members  warring  against  the  law  of  his 
mind,   and  bringing  him  into  captivity  to  the  law  of  sin 
which  is  in  his  members"  (Rom.  vii.  22,  22,).     For,  "Thou 
art  righteous,  O  Lord,  but  we  have  sinned  and  committed 
iniquity,   and   have  done  wickedly "  (Song  of  the  Three 
Children,  4,  6),  and  Thy  hand  is  grown  heavy  upon  us,  and 
"  we  are  justly  delivered  over"  unto  that  antient  sinner,  the 
king  of  death ;  because  he  prevailed  upon  our  will  to  be 
like  his  will,  whereby  "  he  abode  not  in  Thy  truth.     What 


The  Confessions  of  S.  Augustine.  133 

shall  wretched  man  do?  who  shall  deliver  him  from  the 
body  of  this   death,  but  only  Thy  Grace,  through  Jesus 
Christ  our  Lord"  (Rom.  vii   24,  25),  whom  Thou  hast  be- 
gotten coeternal,  and  "formedst  in  the  beginning  of  Thy 
ways"  (Prov.  viii.  22).     "In  whom  the  prince  of  this  world 
found  nothing  worthy  of  death  "  (S.  John  xiv.  30,  and  S. 
Luke  xxiii.  15),  yet  killed  he  Him;  and  'Hhe  handwriting, 
which  was  contrary  to  us,  was  blotted  out"  (Col.  ii.   14). 
This  those  writings  contain  not.     Those  pages  present  not 
the  image  of  this  piety,  the  tears  of  confession,  Thy  "  sacri- 
fice, a  troubled  spirit,  a  broken  and  a  contrite  heart "  (Ps. 
li.  19),  the  salvation  of  the  people,  the  "  Bride,"  the  "  City," 
"the  earnest  of  the  Holy  Ghost,"  "the  Cup  of  our  Re- 
demption."    No  man  sings  there,  ''  Shall  not  my  soul  be 
submitted  unto   God?    for  of  Him   cometh  my  salvation. 
For  He  is  my  God  and  my  salvation,  my  defence,  I  shall 
not  be  greatly  moved"  (Ps.  Ixii.  i,  2).     No  one  there  hears 
Him  call,  "Come  unto  Me  all  ye  that  labour"  (S.  Matt.  xi. 
28).     They  scorn  to  "learn  of  Him,  because  He  is  meek 
and  lowly  in  heart ;  "  "  for  these  things  hast  Thou  hid  from 
the  wise  and  prudent,  and  hast  revealed  them  unto  babes" 
(S.  Matt.  xi.  25,  29).     For  one  thing  is  it,  from  the  wooded 
hill-top  to  gaze  upon  the  land  of  Peace,  and  find  no  way  to 
it,  and  in  vain  to  strive  towards  it,  where  lies  no  path,  while 
all  around  deserting  fugitives   lay  siege  and  ambush,  with 
their  prince,  "the  lion  and  the  dragon"  (Ps.  xci.  13);  but 
another,  to  hold  the  way  that  leadeth  thither,  beneath  the 
strongholds  built  by  the  heavenly  commander,  where  lurk 
not  now  the  robbers,  who  have  deserted  the  heavenly  Host: 
for  they  shun  it  as  a  torment.     These  things  did  wonder- 
fully sink  into  my  bowels,  when  I  read  that  "  least  of  Thy 
Apostles  '^  (i  Cor.  xv.  9),  and  had  considered  Thy  works, 
and  trembled  exceedingly. 


At  last  he  reaches  the  record  of  his  thirty-second  year,  by 

FAR  THE  most  MEMORABLE  OF  HIS  WHOLE  LIFE,  IN  WHICH  HAV- 
ING BEEN  INSTRUCTED  BY  SiMPLICIANUS,  WITH  REFERENCE  TO 
THE  CONVERSION  OF  OTHERS,  AND  ON  THE  REASON  FOR  SUCH 
A  COURSE  OF  ACTION,  AFTER  A  VIOLENT  MENTAL  STRUGGLE,  HIS 
WHOLE  SPIRIT  IS  RENEWED,  AND  HE  IS  CONVERTED  TO  GOD. 


CHAPTER  I. 

///  //le  struggle  between  his  devotion  to  Divine  things^  and  his  captivity 
to  his  passions^  he  consults  Siniplicianits  concerning  Spiritual 
Renewal. 


OIMY  God,  let  me,  with  thanksgiving,  remember,  and 
confess  unto  Thee  Thy  mercies  upon  me.  "  Let  my 
bones"  be  bathed  in  Thy  love,  and  "say,  Lord,  who  is 
like  unto  Thee"  (Ps.  xxxv.  lo),  ''Thou  hast  broken  my 
bonds  in  sunder,  I  will  offer  unto  Thee  the  sacrifice  of 
thanksgiving"  (Ps.  cxvi.  i6).  And  how  Thou  hast  broken 
them,  I  will  declare ;  and  all  who  worship  Thee,  when  they 
hear  this,  shall  say,  "  Blessed  be  the  Lord,  in  heaven  and 
in  earth,  great  and  wonderful  is  His  name."  Thy  words 
had  stuck  fast  in  my  heart,  and  "  I  was  hedged  round  about 
on  every  side  by  Thee"  (Job  i.  lo).  Of  Thy  eternal  hfe  I 
was  now  certain,  though  I  saw  it  in  a  figure  and  as  "  through 
a  glass"  (i  Cor.  xiii.  12).  And  all  my  doubt  as  to  an  in- 
corruptible substance,  and  as  to  all  other  substance  having 
their  being  from  it,  was  removed ;  nor  did  I  now  desire  to 
be  more  certain  of  Thee,  but  more  stedfast  in  Thee.  But 
for  my  temporal  life,  all  was  wavering,  and  "  my  heart  had 
to  be  purged  from  the  old  leaven"  (i  Cor.  v.  7).  The 
Way,  the  Saviour  Himself,  well  pleased  me,  but  as  yet  I 
was  reluctant  to  journey  thereon,  by  reason  of  its  straitness.' 
And  Thou  didst  put  into  my  mind,  and  it  seemed  good  in 


The  Confessions  of  S.  Aiigiistine.  135 

my  sight,  to  go  to  Simplicianus,  who  appeared  to  be  a  good 
servant  of  Thine ;  and  Thy  grace  shone  in  him.  I  had 
heard  also,  that  from  his  youth  up,  he  had  most  devoutly 
lived  to  Thee.  At  that  time  he  had  grown  old,  and  from 
his  long  years  spent  in  so  zealously  following  Thy  ways,  he 
seemed  to  me  to  have  had  much  experience,  and  to  have 
learned  much  ;  and  truly  such  was  he.  I  wished  then  that 
he  would  tell  me,  after  learning  of  my  difficulties,  what 
means  would  be  suitable  for  one,  situated  as  I  was,  to  walk 
in  Thy  way. 

For,  I  saw  the  church  full ;  and  one  went  this  way,  and 
another  that  way.     But  I  did  not  like  to  lead  a  secular  life, 
and  now  that  my  desires  ceased  to  inflame  me,  as  they  had 
formerly  done,  with   ambition  of  honour  and  wealth,  the 
burden  of  such  a  slavery  was  too  great  for  me  to  bear.    For,  - 
in  comparison  of  Thy  sweetness,  "  and  the  beauty  of  Thy 
house  which  I  loved  "  (Ps.  xxvi.  8),  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,  and  especially  "would 
that  all  men  were  even  as  he  himself"  ([  Cor.  vii.  7).     But 
I  being  weak,  chose  the  softer  place ;  and  because  of  this 
alone,  was  distressed  and  wearied  in  all  beside,  and  languish- 
ing with  wasting  anxieties,  because  even  in  other  matters, 
which  I  was  unwilling  to  endure,  I  was  obliged  to  conform 
to  the  conjugal  life,  to  which,  as  I  had  given  myself,  I  was 
bound.     I  had  heard  from  the  mouth  of  the  Truth,  "  that 
there  were   some   eunuchs,  which    had   made   themselves 
eunuchs  for  the  kingdom  of  heaven's  sake :  but,"  saith  He, 
"he  that  is  able  to  receive  it,  let  him  receive  it"  (S.  Matt, 
xix.  12).     "Surely  vain  are  all  men  who  are  ignorant   of 
God,  and  could  not  out  of  the  good  things  that  are  seen, 
know  Him  that  is"  (Wisd.  xiii.  i).     But  I  was  no  longer  in 
that  vanity ;  I  had  surmounted  it ;  and,  by  the  consent  of 
Thy  whole  creation,  had  found  Thee  our  Creator,  and  Thy 
Word,  God  with  Thee,  and  together  with  Thee  and  the 
Holy  Spirit,  one    God,   by  whom  Thou  hast  created    all 
things.     There  is  yet  another  kind  of  ungodly,  "who  know- 
ing God,  glorified  Him  not  as  God,  neither  were  thankful  '-^ 
(Rom.  i.  21).     Into  this  also  had  I  fallen,  but  '^Thy  right 
hand  hath  holden  me  up"  (Ps.  xviii.  35),  and  Thou  didst 
take  me  thence,  and  place  me  where  1  might  recover.     For 


136  The  Confessio7is  of  S.  Augusti7ie. 

Thou  hast  said  unto  man,  *'  Behold,  the  fear  of  the  Lord 
is  wisdom  "  (Job  xxviii.  28),  and,  "  Be  not  wise  in  thine 
own  eyes"  (l^rov.  iii.  7),  because  "they  that  professed 
themselves  to  be  wise,  became  fools"  (Rom.  i.  22).  But  I 
had  now  **  found  the  goodly  pearl,  which,  selling  all  that  I 
had  "  (S.  Matt.  xiii.  46),  I  ought  to  have  "  bought,"  and  I 
hesitated. 


CHAPTER  II. 

T/iat  holy  veteran,  ShnpUcianus,  is  glad  that  he  has  read  Plato  and  the 
Scriptures;  and  tells  hiin  how  Vtctorimts  the  Rhetorician  read  the 
Sacred  Books  and  was  converted  to  the  Faith. 

STRAIGHTWAY  I  went  to  Simplicianus,  the  father  in 
receiving  Thy  grace  of  Ambrose,  who  was  then 
Bishop,  and  who  truly  loved  him  as  a  father.  To  him  I 
related  the  compass  of  my  errors.  But  when  I  mentioned  - 
that  I  had  read  certain  books  of  the  Platonists,  which 
Victorinus,  formerly  Rhetoric  Professor  of  Rome  (who  had 
died  a  Christian,  as  I  had  heard),  had  translated  into  Latin, 
he  rejoiced  with  me  that  I  had  not  fallen  in  with  the  writings 
of  other  philosophers,  full  of  fallacies,  "  and  deceits,  after  the 
rudiments  of  this  world  "  (Col.  ii.  8) ;  whereas,  in  those 
books,  God  and  His  Word  are,  by  every  means,  suggested. 
Then  to  exhort  me  to  the  humility  of  Christ,  ''  hidden  from 
the  wise,  and  revealed  to  babes  "  (S.  Matt.  xi.  25) ;  he  told 
me  of  Victorinus  himself  whom  while  at  Rome  he  had  most 
intimately  known :  and  what  he  related  of  him  I  will  not 
pass  by  in  silence.  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 
mstructor  of  so  many  noble  Senators,  who  also,  as  a 
monument  of  his  excellent  discharge  of  his  office,  had 
deserved  and  obtained  a  statue  in  the  Roman  Forum,  which 
citizens  of  this  world  consider  a  high  distinction ;  he  even 
to  that  age  a  worshipper  of  idols,  and  a  partaker  of  the 
sacrilegious  rites,  to  which  almost  all  the  nobility  of  Rome 
were  given  up,  and  had  inspired  the  people  with  the  love  of 
*'  monster  gods  of  every  kind,  and  barking  Anubis,  which 
once  had   taken   arms  against  Neptune  and  A^enus,   and 


The  Co?ifessions  of  S.  Augustine.  137 

Minerva "  (Virg.  ^n.  viii.  698),  which  Rome  once 
conquered,  now  adored,  all  which  the  aged  Victorinus  had 
with  loud  and  awsome  voice  for  so  many  years  defended  : 
he  now  blushed  not  to  become  the  child  of  thy  Christ,  and 
the  babe  of  Thy  Font ;  submitting  his  neck  to  the  yoke  of 
humility,  and  subduing  his  forehead  to  the  reproach  of  the 
Cross. 

O  Lord,  Lord,  "  which  bowed  the  heavens  and  came 
down,  touched  the  mountains  and  they  did  smoke"  (Ps. 
cxliv.  5),  by  what  means  didst  Thou  gHde  into  that  breast? 
He  used  to  read  (as  Simplicianus  said)  the  holy  Scripture, 
most  studiously  examined  and  searched  into  all  the  Chris- 
tian writings,  and  used  to  say  to  Simplicianus,  not  openly, 
but  privately  and  confidentially,  "  Understand  that  I  am 
already  a  Christian."  And  he  would  answer,  "  I  will  not 
believe  it,  nor  will  I  reckon  you  among  Christians,  unless  I 
see  you  in  the  Church  of  Christ."  The  other  would 
laughingly  rejoin,  "  Do  walls  then  make  Christians?  "  And 
this  he  often  said,  that  he  was  already  a  Christian  ;  and 
Simplicianus  often  made  the  same  answer,  and  the  jest  of 
the  "  walls  "  was  by  the  other  often  renewed.  For  he  feared 
to  offend  his  friends,  proud  demon-worshippers,  from  the 
height  of  whose  Babylonian  dignity,  as  from  "  cedars  of 
Libanus,"  which  "  the  Lord  "  had  not  "  yet  broken  "  (Ps. 
xxix.  5),  he  supposed  the  weight  of  enmity  would  rush  down 
upon  him.  But  after  that  by  reading  and  earnest  thought 
he  had  gathered  firmness,  and  feared  to  be  "  denied  by 
Christ  before  the  holy  angels,  should  he  now  be  afraid  to  con-" 
fess  Him  before  men  "  (S.  Luke  ix.  26),  and  appeared  to  him- 
self guilty  of  a  heavy  offence,  in  being  ashamed  of  the  Sacra 
ments  of  the  humility  of  Thy  Word,  and  not  being  ashamed 
of  the  sacrilegious  rites  of  those  proud  demons,  which  he 
had  participated  in,  and  had  imitated  their  pride,  he  grew 
ashamed  of  vanity,  and  was  shamed  by  Truth,  and  suddenly 
and  unexpectedly  said  to  Simplicianus  (as  himself  told  me), 
"  Let  us  go  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  rites  of  instruction, 
he  not  long  after  further  gave  in  his  name,  that  he  might  be 
regenerated  by  baptism,  Rome  wondering,  the  Church 
rejoicing.  The  proud  "  saw,  and  were  wroth  :  they  gnashed 
with  their  teeth,  and  melted  away"  (Ps.  cxii.  10).     But  the 


T» 


138  The  Confessions  of  S.  Angiistine. 

"  f  .ore!    God   was    the    hope "    of  Thy   servant,   and    "  he 
rei;arded  not  vanities  and  lying  madness  "  (Ps.  xl.  5). 

To  conclude,  when  the  hour  was  come  for  making  pro- 
fession of  his  faith,  which  at  Rome  they,  who  are  about  to 
approach  to  Thy  grace,  deliver,  from  an  elevated  place,  in 
the  sight  of  all  the  faithful,  in  a  set  form  of  words  committed 
to  memory,  the  presbyters,  he  said,  offered  Victorinus,  as 
was  customary  in  the  case  of  such  as  seemed  likely  through 
bashfulness  to  be  alarmed,  to  make  his  profession  more 
I)rivatcly  :  but  he  chose  rather  to  profess  his  salvation  in 
■the  presence  of  the  holy  multitude.  "  For  it  was  not 
salvation  that  he  taught  in  rhetoric,  and  yet  that  he  publicly 
professed  :  how  much  less  then  ought  he,  when  pronouncing 
Thy  word,  to  dread  Thy  meek  flock,  who,  when  delivering 
his  own  words,  had  not  feared  multitudes  of  madmen." 
When,  then,  he  went  up  to  make  his  profession,  all,  as  they 
knew  him,  uttered  his  name,  one  to  another,  with  a  cry  of 
congratulation.  And  who  there  knew  him  not?  and  a 
hushed  sound  ran  through  the  lips  of  the  rejoicing  assembly, 
Victorinus  !  Victorinus  !  Sudden  was  the  sound  of  exultation 
that  they  saw  him ;  sudden  also  the  silence  of  attention, 
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  of  them  that  drew  him  there. 


CHAPTER  III. 

That  God  and  the  angels  rejoice  more  over  one  sinner  that  repenteth, 
than  over  many  Just  persons. 

/^  GOOD  God,  whence  is  it  that  men  rejoice  more  over 
^^  the  salvation  of  a  soul  despaired  of,  and  freed  from 
greater  peril,  than  if  there  had  always  been  hope  of  him,  or 
the  peril  had  been  less?  For  so  Thou  also,  merciful 
Father,  "  dost  more  rejoice  over  one  that  repenteth,  than 
over  ninety  and  nine  just  persons  that  need  no  repentance." 
And  with  great  joy  do  we  listen,  when  we  hear  "  how  the 
angels  rejoice  when  the  sheep  which  had  strayed,  is  brought 
back  upon  the  shepherd's  shoulder,"  and  "  how  the  neigh- 
bours rejoice  with  the  woman,  who'  hath  found  the  piece 


The  Co7ifessions  of  S.  Atigiisfiiie.  139 

of  money,  and  it  is  restored  to  Thy  treasury ; "  and  the 
festival  joy  of  Thy  house  moveth  us  to  tears,  when  in  Thy 
house  the  story  is  read  of  the  "  younger  son,  how  he  was 
dead,  and  is  aHve  again  ;  was  lost,  and  is  found  "  (S.  Luke 
XV.)  For  Thou  "  rejoicest  "  in  us,  and  in  Thy  angels,  holy 
through  holy  charity.  For  Thou  art  ever  the  same  ;  for 
all  things  which  are  not  for  ever,  and  changeless,  Thou  for 
ever  knowest  in  the  same  way. 

What  then  takes  place  in  the  soul,  when  it  is  more  de- 
lighted at  finding  or  recovering  the  things  it  loves,  than  if 
it  had  ever  had  them  ?  yea,  and  other  things  witness  here- 
unto ;  and  all  things  are  full  of  witnesses,  crying  out,  "  So 
is  it."  The  victorious  general  hath  his  triumph,  yet  had 
gained  no  victory,  had  he  never  fought ;  and  the  greater 
the  peril  in  the  battle,  the  greater  is  the  joy  in  the  triumph. 
The  tempest  tosseth  the  mariners,  and  bodeth  shipwreck, 
and  all  grow  pallid  at  impending  death  ;  but  sky  and  sea 
grow  calm,  and  great  are  the  rejoicings,  for  great  have  been 
the  fears.  One  beloved  is  sick,  and  his  pulse  gives  presage 
of  evil ;  all,  who  desire  his  restoration,  are  sick  of  heart 
from  sympathy ;  there  is  a  turn  for  the  better,  though  as 
yet  he  walks  not  with  his  former  strength  ;  yet  there  is  such 
joy,  as  was  not,  when  before  he  walked  in  health  and 
strength.  And  men  pursue  even  the  very  pleasures  of 
human  life,  by  troubles,  not  unlooked  for,  and  falling  out 
against  our  will,  but  self  chosen,  and  voluntary.  Eating 
and  drinking  have  no  pleasure,  unless  preceded  by  the  pang 
of  hunger  and  thirst.  Men,  given  to  drink,  eat  something 
rather  salt,  to  excite  a  feverish  craving,  which  the  draught 
allays,  and  the  delight  ensues.  And  it  hath  been  contrived, 
that  brides  betrothed  should  not  forthwith  be  given  in 
marriage,  lest  the  husband  should  hold  her  cheap  when 
won,  for  whom  delay  had  not  aroused  the  bridegroom's 
sighs. 

This  law  holds  in  foul  and  accursed  joy  ;  this  in  permitted 
and  lawful  joy;  this  in  the  very  purest  perfection  of  friend- 
ship ;  this  in  him  "  who  was  dead,  and  was  alive  again ; 
had  been  lost  and  was  found."  Every  where  a  greater  joy 
succeeds  a  greater  pain.  What  means  this,  O  Lord  my 
God,  whereas  Thou  art  to  Thyself  eternal  joy,  and  some 
things  around  Thee  evermore  rejoice  in  Thee?  What 
means  this,  that  this  portion  of  things  alternates  betwixt  ebb 


I40  The  Confessions  of  S.  Aiigtistine. 

and  flow,  betwixt  offences  and  reconciliations.  Is  this  their 
portion,  and  didst  Thou  appoint  this  only  for  them,  when 
from  the  heights  of  heaven  to  the  depths  of  earth,  from  the 
beginning  to  the  end  of  the  ages,  from  the  angel  to  the 
worm,  from  the  first  motion  to  the  last.  Thou  wert  setting, 
each  in  his  own  place,  and  ordering,  each  in  its  own  season, 
all  kinds  of  good,  and  all  Thy  righteous  works  ?  Woe  is 
me  !  how  high  art  Thou  in  the  highest,  and  how  deep  in 
the  deepest !  and  Thou  never  departest,  and  we  scarcely 
return  to  Thee, 

CHAPTER  IV. 

He  shows  by  the  example  of  Victorinns  that  there  is  more  joy  in  the 
conversion  of  nobles. 

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  power  from  Thee  to  become  Thy  sons  "  ? 
(S.  John  i.  9,  12).    But  if  they  be  less  known  to  the  people, 
even  they  that  know  them,  joy  less  for  them.     For  when 
many  share  the  joy,  each  individual  has  a  richer  measure  of 
joy,  because  they  kindle  themselves  and  mutually  inflame 
each  other.    Again,  because  those  known  to  many,  influence 
many  towards   salvation,   and  lead  the  way  for  many  to 
follow.     And  therefore  do  they  also  who  preceded  them, 
much  rejoice   in  them,  because  they  rejoice  not  in  them 
alone,     I^or  far  be  it,  that  in  Thy  tabernacle  the  persons  of 
the  rich  should  be  preferred  before  the  poor,  or  the  noble 
before  the  ignoble;  seeing  rather  "Thou  hast  chosen  the 
weak  things  of  the  world,  to  confound  the  strong ;  and  the 
base  things  of  this  world,  and  the  things  despised  hast  Thou 
chosen,  and  those  things  which  are  not,  that  Thou  mightest 
bring  to  nought  things  that  are"  (i  Cor.  i.  27-28).     And 
yet  even  that  least  of  Thy  apostles,  by  whose  tongue  Thou 
soundedst  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  instead  of  as  formerly, 


TJie  Confessions  of  S.  Augustine.  141 

Saul,  was  pleased  to  be  called  Paul,  for  a  memorial  of  so 
great  a  victory.  For  the  enemy  is  more  overcome  in  one, 
of  whom  he  hath  more  hold ;  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. 
Inasmuch  then  as  the  heart  of  Victorinus  was  deemed  more 
welcome,  since  the  devil  had  possessed  it,  as  though  an 
irreducible  stronghold,  and  the  tongue  of  Victorinus,  with 
which  mighty  and  keen  weapon  he  had  slain  many ;  so 
much  the  more  abundantly  ought  Thy  sons  to  rejoice,  for 
that  our  King  "hath  bound  the  strong  man"  (S.  Matt, 
xii,  29),  and  they  saw  his  "vessels  taken  from  him  and 
cleansed,"  and  "  made  meet  for  Thy  honour ; "  and  become 
"  serviceable  for  the  Lord,  unto  every  good  work  "  (2  Tim. 
ii.  21). 


CHAPTER  V. 
The  conflict  ofiuill,  which  hindered  his  return  to  God. 

BUT  when  that  man  of  Thine,  Simplicianus,  related  to 
me  this  of  Victorinus,  I  burned  to  imitate  him.  And 
for  this  end  had  he  related  it.  But  when  he  went  on  to  tell 
how  in  the  days  of  the  Emperor  Julian,  a  law  was  made 
whereby  Christians  were  forbidden  to  teach  grammar  and 
oratory ;  and  how  he,  in  deference  to  this  law,  chose  rather 
to  forsake  the  wordy  school,  than  Thy  Word,  by  which  Thou 
"  makest  the  tongues  of  them  that  cannot  speak  eloquent " 
(Wisd.  X.  21);  he  seemed  to  me  no  more  brave  than  happy, 
in  having  thus  found  opportunity  to  forsake  all  for  Thee. 
Which  thing  I  was  sighing  for,  bound  as  I  was,  not  with 
another's  chain,  but  by  my  own  enchaining  will.  My  will 
the  enemy  held,  and  thence  had  made  a  chain  for  me,  and 
bound  me.  For  of  a  froward  will,  was  a  lust  made  ;  and  a» 
lust  served,  a  habit  was  formed ;  and  habit  not  resisted,  be- 
came necessity.  By  these  links,  as  it  were,  woven  together 
(whence  I  call  it  a  chain),  a  hard  slavery  held  me  bound. 
But  that  new  will  which  had  begun  to  be  in  me,  freely  to  ♦ 
worship  Thee,  and  to  wish  to  enjoy  Thee,  O  God,  Thou  one 
sure  joy,  was  not  yet  able  to  overcome  that  earlier  will, 
strengthened  by  age.     Thus  did  my  two  wills,  one  old,  and 


1 42  The  Confessions  of  S.  A  ugustine. 

the  other  new,  one  carnal,  the  other  spiritual,  warred  against 
each  other  ;  and  by  their  discord,  squandered  my  soul. 

Thus  I  understood,  by  my  own  experience,  what  I  had 
read,  how  "  the  flesh  lusteth  against  the  spirit,  and  the  spirit 
against  the  flesh"  (Gal.  v.    17).     It  was  I  myself  in  both; 
yet  more  myself,  in  that  which  I  approved  in  myself,  than 
in  that  which  in  myself  I  disapproved.     For  in  the  latter,  it 
was  now  more  the  "not  myself,"  because  in  much  I  rather 
unwillingly  endured,  than  willingly  did.     But  yet  habit  had 
become  a  more  powerful  adversary  by  my  own  action,  since 
by  my  will  I  had  come  where  I  would  not  be.     And  who» 
can  justly  complain,  when  just  punishment  overtakes  the 
sinner  ?     No  longer  had  I  now  the  excuse,  with  which  I 
had  formerly  been  content,  that  on  this  ground  I  did  not 
yet  despise  the  world,  and  serve  Thee,  namely  because  I 
did  not  certainly  perceive  the  Truth ;  for  now  it  was  cer- 
tain.    But  I  still,  bound  to  the  earth,  refused  to  fight  under 
Thy  banner,  and  feared  as  much  to  be  freed  from  all  hin- 
drances, as  I  ought  to  have  feared  to  be  hindered  by  them.. 
Thus  with  the  baggage  of  this  present  world  was  I  held' 
down  pleasantly,  as  in  sleep :  and  the  thoughts  wherein  I 
meditated  on  Thee,  were  like  the  efforts  of  such  as  desire  to' 
awake,  and  yet  overcome,  are  sunk  again  in  depths  of  slumber. 
And  as  no  one  would  sleep  for  ever,  and  in  all  men's  sober 
judgment,  waking  is  better  (though  often  enough  a  man  defers 
to  shake  off  slumber,  when  he  feels  a  drowsy  heaviness  in  his 
limbs,  and,  though  half  displeased,  yet,  even  after  it  is  time 
to  rise,  too  willingly  yields  to  it) ;  so  I  felt  convinced  that  it 
was  better  for  me  to  devote  myself  to  Thy  charity  than  to 
give  way  to  my  own  lust.     But  the  former  satisfied  and  con- 
vinced me  ;  the  latter  pleased  and  fettered  me.     Nor  had  I 
any  thing  to  answer  Thee  calling  to  me,  "  Awake,  thou  that 
sleepest,  and  arise  from  the  dead,  and  Christ  shall  give  thee 
light"  (Kph.   V.   14).     And  when  Thou  didst  on  all  sides 
shew  me,  that  what  Thou  saidst  was  true,  I,  convicted  by 
the  truth,  had  no  answer  at  all  to  give  but  the  sluggish  and 
sluggardly  words,   "  Presently,  oh,  presently,  let  me  be  a 
little  while."     But  my  "presently,  presently,"  had  no  pre- 
sent; and  "let  me  be  a  little  while"  went  on  for  a  long 
while.     In  vain  did  "  I  delight  in  Thy  law  after  the  inward 
man,  while  another  law  in  my  members  was  warring  against 
the  law  of  my  mind,  and  bringing  me  into  captivity  to  the- 


The  Confessions  of  S.  Aligns  tine.  143 

law  of  sin,  which  was  in  my  members  "  (Rom.  vii.  23).  For 
the  law  of  sin  is  the  violence  of  habit,  by  which  an  unwill- 
ing mind  is  drawn  and  holden,  but  only  as  it  deserves, 
since  it  falleth  into  it  wiUingly.  "Wretched  man  that  I  was, 
who  should  deliver  me  from  the  body  of  this  death,  but  Thy 
grace  only,  through  Jesus  Christ  our  Lord"  (Rom.  vii.  25). 

CHAPTER  VI. 

Poniitianus  relates  how  two  of  his  coinpaiiions  were  converted  by  reading 
the  life  and  miracles  of  S.  Anthony. 

AND  howThou  didst  release  me  from  the  bondage  of  carnal 
desire,  in  which  I  was  most  straitly  holden,  and  from 
the  slavery  of  worldly  business,  I  will  now  declare,  and  con- 
fess unto  Thy  name,  "  O  Lord,  my  helper  and  my  redeemer  " 
(Ps.  xix.  14).  With  growing  anxiety,  I  was  keeping  up  my 
usual  pursuits,  and  daily  sighing  unto  Thee.  I  attended 
Thy  Church,  whenever  free  from  the  business  beneath  the 
weight  of  which  I  groaned.  Alypius  was  with  me,  now  after 
the  third  sitting  released  from  his  law  business,  and  awaiting 
clients  to  whom  to  sell  his  counsel,  as  I  sold  the  skill  of 
speaking,  if  indeed  teaching  can  impart  it.  Nebridius  had 
now,  in  consideration  of  our  friendship,  consented  to  teach 
under  Verecundus,  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  advantage  (for  he  might 
have  made  much  more  of  his  learning  had  he  so  willed), 
but  as  a  most  pleasant  and  gentle  friend,  he  would  not 
slight  our  request  for  an  office  of  kindness.  But  he  acted 
herein  very  discreetly,  shunning  to  become  known  to  per- 
sonages great  according  to  this  world,  avoiding  the  distrac- 
tion of  mind  thence  ensuing,  and  desiring  to  have  it  free 
and  at  leisure,  as  many  hours  as  might  be,  to  seek,  or  read, 
or  hear  something  concerning  wisdom. 

Upon  a  day  then,  when  Nebridius  was  absent  (I  do  not 
remember  why),  lo,  there  came  to  see  me  and  Alypius,  one 
Pontitianus,  our  countryman  in  so  much  as  he  was  an 
African,  holding  a  high  command  in  the  Palace,  I  do  not 
know  what  his  business  with  us  was,  and  we  sat  down  to 


144  ^^^^  Confessions  of  S.  Angus  tine. 

converse,  and  it  happened  that  upon  a  table  for  some  game, 
before  us,  he  observed  a  book,  took,  opened  it,  and  greatly 
to   his  surprise,   found  it  the  Apostle   Paul;    for  he    had 
thought  it  some  of  those  books,  which  I  was  wearing  myself 
in  teaching.     Whereat  smiling,  and  looking  at  me,  he  ex- 
pressed his  joy  and  wonder,  that  he  had  on  a  sudden  found 
this  book,  and  this  only  before  my  eyes.     For  he  was  a 
Christian,  and  one  of  the  faithful,  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 
from  what  he  told  us  of  Antony  the  Egyptian  Monk  :  whose 
name  was  in  high  repute  among  Thy  servants,  though  to 
that  hour  unknown  to  us.     Which  when  he  discovered,  he 
dwelt  the  more  upon  that  subject,  informing  and  wondering 
at  our  ignorance  of  one  so  eminent.     But  we  were  amazed 
to  hear  of  Thy  miracles,  of  so  recent  a  record,  and  in  times 
so  near  our  own,  so  well  attested,  wrought  in  the  true  Faith 
and  Church  Catholic.     We  all  wondered ;    we,  that  they 
were  so  great,  and  he,  that  we  had  not  heard  of  them  before. 
Thence  his  discourse  turned  to  the  flocks  in  the  Monas- 
teries,  and   their  customs,   a  sweet  smelling  savour  unto 
Thee,  and  the  fruitful  deserts  of  the  wilderness,  whereof  we 
knew  nothing.     And  there  was  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,  when  the  Emperor 
was  taken  up  with  the  Circensian  games,   he  and  three 
others,  his  comrades,  went  out  to  walk  in  gardens  near  the 
walls,  and  there  as  they  happened  to  stroll  about  in  pairs, 
one  went  apart  with  him,  and  the  other  two  wandered  by 
themselves  ;  and  these,  in  their  wanderings,  lighted  upon  a 
certain  cottage,  where  dwelt  some  of  Thy  servants,  "poor 
in  spirit,  of  whom  is  the  kingdom  of  heaven  "   (S.    Matt. 
V.  3),  and   there  they  found  a  book,  containing  the  life  of 
Antony.     This  one  of  them  began  to  read,  and  wondered 
and  was  excited  at  it ;  and  as  he  read,  to  meditate  on  taking 
up  such  a  life,  and  relinquishing  his  secular  service  to  serve 
Thee.     And  these   two   were   of  those   whom  they   style 
agents  for  the  public  aff"airs.     Then  suddenly,  filled  with  an 
holy  love,  and  n  sober  shame,  in  anger  with  himself  he  cast 


The  Confessions  of  S.  Augustine.  145 

his  eyes  upon  his  friend,   saying,   "Tell  me,  I  pray  thee, 
what  are  we  so  pushing  to  come  at  by  all  these  labours  of 
ours  ?  what  are  we  seeking  ?    For  what  reason  do  we  render 
service?     Can  our  hopes  in  court  rise  higher  than  to  be 
the  favoured  friends  of  the  emperor?  and  in  this,  what  is 
there  not  frail  and  full  of  perils  ?  and  by  how  many  perils 
arrive  we  at  a  greater  peril  ?  and  when  arrive  we  thither  ? 
But  a  friend  of  God,  if  I  wish  it,  I  become  now  at  once." 
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  sawest,  and  his  mind  was 
stripped  of  the  world,  as  soon  appeared.     For  as  he  read, 
and  rolled  up  and  down  the  waves  of  his  heart,  he  groaned 
for   awhile,   then    discerned,   and    determined   on  a  better 
course  ;  and  now  being  Thine,  said  to  his  friend,  "  Now  have 
I  broken  loose  from  those  our  hopes,  and  am  resolved  to 
serve  God ;  and  this,  from  this  hour,  in  this  place,  I  begin 
upon.     If  thou  likest  not  to  imitate  me,  oppose  not."     The 
other  answered,  he   would    cleave  to   him,   to  partake   so 
glorious  a  reward,  so  glorious  a  service.     Thus  both  being 
now  Thine,  were  building  the  tower  at  the  proper  cost,  of 
"  forsaking  all  that  they  had,  and  following  Thee  "  (S.  Luke 
xiv.   26,  35).     Then   Fontitianus  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  declining.     But  they  relat- 
ing  their   resolution  and  purpose,   and  in   what  way  that 
determination  arose  and  was  confirmed  in  them,  besought 
them  not  to  trouble  them,  even  if  they  should  refuse  to  join 
them.     But  the  others,  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 
heart  on  heaven,  remained  in  the  cottage.     And  both  had 
afliianced  brides,  who  when  they  heard  hereof,  also  dedicated 
their  virginity  unto  God. 


K 


146  TJie  Confessions  of  S.  Augustine. 

CHAPTER  VII. 

The  -vords  of  Pontitiamts  pierce  his  soul,  which  sullenly  clings  to  its 

old  habits. 

SUCH  was  the  story  of  Pontitianus ;  but  Thou,  O  Lord, 
while  he  was  speaking,  didst  turn  me  round  towards 
myself,  taking  me  from  behind  my  back  where  I  had  placed 
me,  unwilling  to  observe  myself;  and  setting  me  before  my 
face,  that  I  might  see  how  foul  I  was,  how  crooked  and 
defiled,  bespotted  and  ulcerous.  And  I  beheld  and  stood 
aghast ;  and  whither  to  flee  from  myself  I  found  not.  And 
if  I  sought  to  turn  mine  eye  from  off  myself,  he  went  on 
with  his  relation,  and  Thou  again  didst  set  me  over  against 
myself,  and  didst  thrust  me  before  my  eyes,  that  "I  might 
find  out  mine  iniquity,  and  hate  it"  (Ps.  xxxvi.  2).  I  had 
known  it,  but  had  hidden  it  away,  crushed  it  down,  and 
forgotten  it. 

But  now,  the  more  ardently  I  loved  those,  whose  health- 
ful affections  I  heard  of,  that  they  had  resigned  themselves 
wholly  to  Thee  to  be  cured,  the  more  did  I  abhor  myself, 
when  compared  Avith  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  a  zealous  desire  of  wisdom ;  and  still  I  was  defer- 
ring to  abandon  with  contempt  earthly  happiness,  and  to 
devote  my  leisure  to  enquiring  after  that,  the  mere  search 
for  which,  and  not  even  the  discovery,  ought  to  be  prefer- 
able to  the  treasures  and  kingdoms  of  the  world  in  actual 
possession,  and  to  the  pleasures  of  the  flesh  though  abound- 
ing at  my  wish.  But  I  wretched,  most  wTctched,  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  disease  of  concupiscence,  which  I 
wished  to  have  satisfied,  rather  than  extinguished.  And  I 
had  wandered  through  crooked  ways  in  a  sacrilegious  super- 
stition, not  indeed  assured  thereof,  but  as  preferring  it  to 
the  others  which  1  did  not  seek  with  filial  devotion,  but 
opi)osed  with  hostile  malice. 

And  I  had  thought,  that  I  therefore  deferred  from  day  to 
day  lu  abandon  with  scorn  the  hopes  of  this  world,  and 


The  Confessions  of  S.  A  itgnstine.  1 47 

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  con- 
science was  to  upbraid  me.  "  Where  art  thou  now,  my 
tongue  ?  Thou  usedst  to  say  that  thou  wouldest  not  for  an 
uncertain  truth  cast  off  the  baggage  of  vanity.  Lo,  now  it- 
is  certain,  and  thee  that  burden  still  oppresseth,  while  with 
shoulders  eased  they  are  getting  them  wings,  who  have  not 
been  worn  out  in  the  enquiry,  like  thee,  nor  meditated 
thereon,  ten  years  and  more."  Thus  was  I  gnawed  within, 
and  exceedingly  confounded  with  an  horrible  shame,  while 
Pontititanus  was  so  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  stripes  of  condemnation  scourged  I  not  my  soul,  that 
it  might  follow  me,  in  my  striving  to  go  after  Thee  !  But  it 
still  withstood ;  refused,  though  not  excused  itself.  All  its 
arguments  had  been  exhausted,  and  overthrown;  a  sullen 
alarm  remained  :  and  she  dreaded,  as  though  it  were  death, 
to  be  restrained  from  the  flow  of  habit,  by  which  she  was 
being  wasted  to  death. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

Augustiiu  retires  into  the  garden,  and  is  greatly  agitated. 
Alypius  accompanies  him. 

THEN  in  this  powerful  struggle  of  my  inmost  dwelling- 
place,  which  I  had  strongly  aroused  together  with  my 
soul,  in  the  "  chamber  "  of  my  heart,  disturbed  in  counte- 
nance as  in  mind,  I  fell  upon  Alypius,  and  cried  out :  "What 
ails  us  ?  what  is  it  ?  what  heardest  thou  ?  The  unlearned 
start  up  and  *^take  heaven  by  force'  (S.  Matt.  xi.  12),  and 
we  with  our  learning,  and  without  heart,  lo,  where  we  wal- 
low in  flesh  and  blood  !  Are  we  ashamed  to  follow,  because 
others  are  gone  before,  and  not  ashamed  not  even  to  fol- 
low ?  "  Something  of  this  kind,  what  I  know  not,  I  said  ; 
and  my  passion  tore  me  from  him,  while  he  held  his  peace, 
gazing  at  me  in  astonishment.  For  the  sound  of  my  voice 
was  strange ;  and  face,  cheeks,  eyes,  colour,  intonation, 
spoke  out  my  mind  more  than   the  words   I   uttered.     A 


i.jS  TJie  Confessions  of  S.  Aligns  tine. 

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 
landlord,  was  not  living  there.  Thither  had  the  tumult  of 
my  breast  hurried  me,  where  no  man  might  hinder  the 
burning  strife  upon  which  I  had  engaged  with  myself,  until 
it  should  end  as  Thou  knewest,  but  not  I.  Only  that  I  was 
distraught  for  my  well-being,  and  dying  for  my  very  life, 
conscious  what  an  evil  thing  I  was,  unconscious  what  good 
thing  I  was  shortly  to  become.  I  rushed  out  then  into  the 
garden,  and  Alypius  hurried  after  me.  Neither  did  my 
seclusion  seeai  broken  by  his  presence ;  or  how  could 
he  forsake  me  so  disturbed  ?  We  sate  down  as  far  away  as 
we  could  from  the  house.  I  was  groaning  in  spirit,  indig- 
nant with  most  restless  indignation,  that  I  could  not  journey 
towards  Thy  Will  and  Covenant,  O  my  God,  towards  which 
"  all  my  bones  were  crying  out"  to  go,  and  were  praising  to 
the  skies;  but  thither jone  journeyeth  not  in  ships,  nor  in 
chariots,  nor  on  foot,  even  so  far  as  I  had  gone  from  the 
house  to  where  we  were  sitting.  For  not  only  to  journey 
thither,  but  even  to  arrive  there,  was  nothing  else  but  to  will 
to  go,  but  to  will  strongly  and  entirely  ;  not  to  turn  and  toss, 
this  way  and  that,  a  will  maimed  and  divided  against  itself, 
struggling,  one  part  rising  and  another  sinking. 

At  last  in  those  passionate  hesitations  I  made  many  such 
bodily  notions  as  men  sometimes  would  do,  but  are  unable 
either  from  want  of  limbs,  or  because  these  are  bound  with 
fetters,  or  weakened  by  fatigue,  or  some  other  way  hindered. 
Thus,  if  I  tore  my  hair,  beat  my  forehead,  if  locking  my 
fingers  I  clasped  my  knee,  because  I  willed,  I  did  it.  But 
I  might  have  willed,  and  not  done  it ;  if  the  motive  power 
of  my  limbs  had  not  rendered  obedience.  So  many  things 
then  I  did,  when  '•'  to  will "  was  not  quite  the  same  as  "  to 
be  able ; "  but  I  did  not  then  do  that  which  both  then  I 
with  an  incomparably  greater  longing  wished  to  do,  and 
soon,  when  I  willed,  should  also  be  able  to  do ;  because 
soon,  when  I  willed,  I  should  thoroughly  will.  For  in  these 
things  the  ability  was  one  with  the  will,  and  to  will  was  to 
do ;  and  yet  was  it  not  done  :  and  more  easily  did  my  body 
obey  the  weakest  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. 


TJie  Confessions  of  S.  Augustine.  149 


CHAPTER    IX. 

Whence  it  happens  that  the  body  obeys  the  mind,  but  the  mind  obeys 

not  itself. 

WHENCE  is  this  strange  anomaly?  and  to  what  end? 
Let  Thy  mercy  shine,  and  let  me  ask,  if  perchance 
the  secret  places  of  human  penalties,  and  the  darkest  griefs 
of  the  sons  of  Adam,  may  perhaps  answer  me.  Whence  is 
this  strange  anomaly?  and  to  what  end?  The  mind  com- 
mands the  body,  and  it  obeys  instantly;  the  mind  commands 
itself,  and  is  resisted.  The  mind  commands  the  hand  to 
be  moved  ;  and  such  readiness  is  there,  that  command  is 
scarce  distinct  from  obedience.  Yet  the  mind  is  mind,  the 
hand  is  body.  The  mind  commands  the  mind  to  will,  and 
though  itself  commands,  it  obeys  not.  Whence  this  strange 
anomaly  ?  and  to  what  end  ?  It  commands  itself,  I  say,  to 
will,  and  would  not  command,  unless  it  willed,  and  what  it 
commands  is  not  done.  But  it  willeth  not  entirely :  there- 
fore doth  it  not  command  entirely.  For  it  commandeth 
only  so  far  as  it  willeth ;  and  what  it  commandeth  is  not 
done  only  so  far  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  commandeth,  is 
not.  For  were  the  will  entire,  it  would  not  even  command 
it  to  be,  because  it  would  already  be.  It  is  therefore  no 
anomaly  partly  to  will,  and  partly  not  to  will,  but  a  disease 
of  the  mind,  that  it  doth  not  wholly  rise,  for  it  is  uplifted 
by  truth,  but  pressed  down  by  habit.  And  therefore  are 
there  two  wills,  because  one  of  them  is  not  entire  :  and  the 
one  hath,  what  the  other  lacketh. 


CHAPTER  X. 

He  refutes  the  Manichcean  doctrine  that  the  conflict  of  wills  implies 
two  conflicting  nattwes  and  principles,  one  Good,  the  other  Evil. 

"  T    ET  them  perish  from  Thy  presence"  (Ps.  Ixviii.  2), 

-L-/     O   God,   as   perish   ''vain    talkers   and    seducers" 

(Tit.  i.  10)  of  the  soul :  who  observing  that  in  deliberating 

there  were  two  wills,  affirm,  that  there  are  two  minds  in  us 


150  The  Confessions  of  S.  Angiistine. 

of  two  kinds,  one  good,  the  other  evil.  Themselves  are 
truly  evil,  when  they  hold  these  evil  things ;  and  themselves 
shall  become  good  if  they  shall  perceive  the  truth,  and 
assent  unto  the  truth,  that  Thy  Apostle  may  say  to  them, 
"  Ye  were  sometimes  darkness,  but  now  are  ye  light  in  the 
Lord"  (Eph.  v.  8).  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 ; 
for  through  a  fearful  arrogance  they  have  gone  back  farther 
from  Thee,  from  "  Thee,  the  true  light,  which  lighteth  every 
man  that  cometh  into  the  world"  (S.  John  i.  9).  Take 
heed  what  you  say,  and  blush  for  shame  :  ''draw  near  unto 
Him  and  be  lightened,  and  your  faces  shall  not  be  ashamed" 
(Ps.  xxxiv.  5).  Myself  when  I  was  deliberating  upon  serving 
the  Lord  my  God  now,  as  I  had  long  purposed,  it  was  I 
who  willed,  I  who  willed  not ;  I,  I  myself.  I  neither  entirely 
willed,  nor  entirely  willed  not.  Therefore  was  I  at  strife 
with  myself,  and  torn  in  twain  by  myself.  And  this  tearing 
in  twain  befel  me  against  my  will,  and  yet  showed,  not  the 
presence  of  another  mind,  but  the  punishment  of  my  own. 
"  Therefore  it  was  no  more  I  that  wrought  it,  but  sin  that 
dwelt  in  me"  (Rom.  vii.  17),*  in  punishment  of  a  sin  more 
truly  voluntary,  because  I  was  a  son  of  Adam. 
■  For  if  there  be  as  many  contrary  natures,  as  there  be  con- 
flicting wills  ;  there  shall  now  be  not  two  only,  but  many. 
If  a  man  hesitates  between  going  to  their  conventicle  or  to 
the  theatre,  these  folks  cry,  "  Behold  here  are  two  natures  : 
one  good,  draws  this  way  ;  another  bad,  draws  back  that 
way.  For  whence  else  is  this  hesitation  between  conflicting 
wills  ?  "  But  I  say,  that  both  are  bad  :  that  which  draws 
to  them,  as  well  as  that  which  draws  back  to  the  theatre. 
But  they  believe  not  that  will  to  be  other  than  good,  which 
draws  to  them.  What  then  if  one  of  us  should  deliberate, 
and  hesitate  between  his  two  opposing  wills  whether  he  should 
go  to  the  theatre  or  to  our  church  ?  would  not  they  also 
hesitate  what  answer  to  make  ?  For  either  they  must  con- 
fess, which  they  do  not  Hke  to  do,  that  it  is  by  his  good 
will  that  a  man  is  led  to  our  church,  as  much  as  they  who 

The  "original  sin"  which  dwelt  in  him,  as  a  penal  result  of 
Adam's  fall,  rendered  him  more  exposed  to  temptation,  and  less 
strong  to  resist.  Adam's  sin,  therefore,  was  more  "voluntary"  than 
Augustine's. 


The  Confessions  of  S.  Augustine.  1 5 1 

are  instructed  and  involved  in  their  mysteries,  are  by  their 
good  will  led  to  their  meeting ;  or  else  they  must  imagine 
that  two  evil  natures  and  two  evil  souls  are  in  conflict  in  one 
man :  and  then  their  wonted  saying,  that  there  is  one  good, 
and  another  bad,  will  not  be  true  ;  or  they  must  be  con- 
verted to  the  truth,  and  no  more  deny,  that  where  one 
deliberates,  one  soul  fluctuates  between  contrary  wills. 

Let  them  no  more  say  then,  when  they  perceive  two  con- 
flicting wills  in  one  man,  that  the  conflict  is  between  two 
contrary  souls,  of  two  contrary  substances,  from  two  con- 
trary principles,  one  good,  and  the  other  bad.  For  Thou, 
O  true  God,  dost  disprove,  check,  and  convict  them  ;  as 
when,  both  walls  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  another'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  (to 
add  a  third  step)  to  rob  another's  house,  if  the  opportunity 
offers,  or,  fourthly,  to  commit  adultery,  if  at  the  same  time 
the  means  of  doing  so  presents  itself;  if  all  these  objects 
should  present  themselves  at  the  same  moment,  and  all  be 
equally  desired,  and  yet  could  not  all  at  once  be  done  : 
for  they  rend  the  mind  amid  four  or  even  (amid  the  vast 
variety  of  things  desired)  more,  conflicting  wills,  nor  do 
they  yet  allege  that  there  are  so  many  divers  substances. 
Similarly  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  we  deliberate  which 
we  most  of  all  should  choose  ?  yet  are  they  all  good,  and 
are  in  conflict,  till  one  be  chosen,  whither  the  one  entire 
will  may  be  borne,  which  before  was  divided  between  many. 
So  also  when  eternity  dehghts  us  above,  and  the  pleasure 
of  temporal  good  holds  us  down  below,  it  is  the  same  soul 
which  willeth  not  this  or  that  with  an  entire  will ;  and  there- 
fore is  torn  in  twain  with  grievous  anxiety,  while  for  truth's 
sake  it  prefers  the  former,  but  for  custom's  sake  cannot  set 
aside  the  latter. 


I  52  TJie  Confessions  of  S.  Augustine. 


CHAPTER  XI. 

He  describes  the  violence  of  his  inward  struggle,  as  he  sought  to  resolve 
to  renounce  his  old  habits. 

THUS  soul-sick  was  I,  and  tormented,  accusing  myself 
much  more  severely  than  my  wont,  rolling  and  turning 
me  in  my  chain,  till  that  were  wholly  broken,  whereby  I  now 
was  but  slightly  held  ;  but  yet  I  was  held.  And  Thou,  O 
Lord,  pressedst  upon  me  in  my  inward  parts  by  a  severe 
mercy,  redoubling  the  lashes  of  fear  and  shame,  lest  I 
should  again  give  way,  and  should  fail  to  burst  that  slight 
and  slender  chain,  which  still  remained,  and  so,  it  should 
recover  strength,  and  bind  me  the  faster.  For  I  said  with- 
in myself,  "  Be  it  done  now,  be  it  done  now  " ;  and  as  I 
spake,  I  came  near  to  resolution ;  now  I  nearly  did  it,  yet 
did  it  not;  but  fell  not  back  into  my  old  place,  but  stood 
hard  by,  and  drew  my  breath.  Again  I  tried,  and  came  a 
little  nearer;  and  a  little  nearer,  again  and  yet  again,  to 
touching,  and  laying  hold  of  it :  yet  I  came  not  to  it,  nor 
touched,  nor  held  it,  hanging  still  back  from  dying  unto 
death,  and  living  unto  life ;  and  the  worse,  which  was  my 
wont,  had  more  power  over  me,  than  the  better,  which  was 
unfamiliar :  and  the  very  moment  wherein  I  was  to  become 
other  than  I  was,  the  nearer  it  approached  me,  the  greater 
horror  did  it  strike  into  me ;  yet  did  it  not  strike  me  back, 
nor  turn  me  away,  but  held  me  in  suspense. 

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  off?  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  what 
I  have  called  "this  or  that,"  what  did  they  suggest,  O  my 
God  ?  Let  Thy  mercy  turn  it  away  from  the  soul  of  Thy 
servant.  What  defilements  did  they  suggest !  What  shames  ! 
And  now  I  much  less  than  half  heard  them,  and  not  openly 
showing  themselves  and  contradicting  me,  but  muttering 
as  It  were  behind  my  back,  and  furtively  twitching  me,  as  I 
was  departing,  but  to  look  back  on  them.  Yet  they  did 
retard  me,  so  that  I  delayed  to  snatch  myself  away,  and 
shake  myself  free  from  them,  and  to  leap  over  whither   I 


TJie  Confessiojis  of  S.  Augustine.  153 

was  called ;  a  violent  habit  saying  to  me,  "  Tliinkest  thou, 
thou  canst  do  without  them  ?  " 

But  now  it  spake  very  faintly.  For  on  that  side  whither 
I  had  set  my  face,  and  whither  I  was  trembling  to  go,  there 
appeared  unto  me  the  chaste  dignity  of  Continency,  serene, 
and  cheerful,  though  not  wantonly  so,  modestly  enticing  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  boys  and  girls  ;  there  a 
youthful  multitude,  and  every  age,  and  sober  widows,  and 
aged  virgins  ;  and  Continence  herself  in  all,  not  barren,  but 
a  "fruitful  mother  of  children"  (Ps.  cxiii.  8),  of  joys,  by 
Thee,  her  Husband,  O  Lord.  And  she  smiled  on  me  with 
a  persuasive  mockery,  as  if  to  say,  "  Canst  not  thou  what 
these  youths,  what  these  maidens  can  ?  or  can  they  either 
in  themselves,  and  not  rather  in  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  that  He  will  withdraw  Himself  that  thou  shouldest  fall ; 
cast  thyself  fearlessly.  He  will  receive,  and  will  heal  thee." 
And  I  blushed  exceedingly,  for  still  kept  I  hearing  the 
mutterings  of  those  toys ;  and  still  kept  hanging  in  hesita- 
tion. And  she  again  seemed  to  say,  "  Stop  thine  ears 
against  'those'  thy  unclean  members  '  on  the  earth,'  that  they 
may  be  '  mortified '  "  "  They  tell  thee  of  delights,  but  not  as 
doth  the  law  of  the  Lord  thy  God"  (Ps.  cxix.  85,  Vulg.). 
This  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. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

The  voice  zuhich  came  to  him  in  the  garden,  and  decided  his  conversion. 

BUT  when  deep  reflection  had  from  the  secret  store  (of 
memory)  drawn  and  heaped  together  all  my  misery  in 
the  sight  of  my  heart ;  there  arose  a  mighty  tempest,  bring- 
ing a  heavy  downpour  of  tears.  And  that  I  might  pour  it 
all  out,  with  its  loud  lamentations,  I  rose  from  Alypius. 
Solitude  seemed  to  me  better  suited  to  the  business  of 
weeping ;  so  I  retired  so  far  that  even  his  presence  could 


T54  ^^^^  Confessions  of  S.  Angus  tine. 

not  be  a  restraint  upon  me.  Thus  was  it  then  with  me,  and 
he  perceived  it;  for  something  I  suppose  I  had  spoken, 
wherein  the  tones  of  my  voice  appeared  choked  with  weep- 
ing, and  so  had  risen  up.  He  then  remained  where  we 
were  sitting,  lost  in  amazement.  I  cast  myself  down  I  know 
not  how,  under  a  certain  fig-tree,  and  gave  rein  to  my  tears  ; 
and  the  floods  of  mine  eyes  broke  forth,  "  an  acceptable 
sacrifice  to  Thee"  (Ps.  li.  19).  And,  not  indeed  in  these 
words,  yet  to  this  purpose,  spake  I  much  unto  Thee :  "  and 
Thou,  O  Lord,  how  long?  how  long.  Lord,  wilt  Thou  be 
angry,  for  ever?  O  remember  not  against  us  former  iniqui- 
ties "  (Ps.  Ixxix.  5,  8),  for  I  felt  that  I  was  holden  by  them. 
I  kept  on  uttering  wretched  exclamations  :  How  long?  how 
long,  ''to-morrow,  and  to-morrow?"  Why  not  now?  why 
not  this  hour  make  an  end  of  my  uncleanness  ? 

Such  words  I  spake  the  while  I  wept  in  most  bitter  con- 
trition of  my  heart.  And  lo,  from  a  neighbouring  house  I 
heard  a  voice,  as  of  a  boy  or  girl,  I  know  not,  singing  and 
oft  repeating,  "Take,  read;  take,  read."  Instantly,  with  a 
changed  countenance,  I  began  to  think  most  intently, 
whether  boys  in  any  kind  of  game  used  to  sing  such  a 
phrase ;  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  Divine  command,  to  open  the 
book,  and  read  the  first  chapter  I  should  find.  For  I  had 
heard  of  Antony,  that  he  had  happened  to  come  in  during 
the  reading  of  the  Gospel,  and  had  taken  the  passage  read 
as  a  warning,  spoken  to  himself,  "Go,  sell  all  that  thou 
hast,  and  give  to  the  poor,  and  thou  shalt  have  treasure  in 
heaven,  and  come  and  follow  me"  (S.  Matt.  xix.  21);  and 
by  such  oracle  he  was  forthwith  converted  unto  Thee. 
With  such  an  inspiration  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  the  passage,  upon  which  my  eyes  first  fell : 
"  Not  in  rioting  and  drunkenness,  not  in  chambering  and 
wantonness,  not  in  strife  and  envying :  but  put  ye  on  the 
Lord  Jesus  Christ,  and  make  not  provision  for  the  flesh  to 
fulfil  the  lusts  thereof"  (Rom.  xiii.  13,  14).  No  further 
would  I  read ;  nor  was  there  need ;  for  instantly  at  the  end 
of  this' sentence,  as  though  my  heart  were  flooded  with  a 
light  of  peace,  all  the  shadows  of  doubt  melted  away. 


The  Confessions  of  S.  A  ngustine.  155 

Then  putting  my  finger  between,  or  some  other  mark,  I 
shut  the  volume,  and  with  a  calm  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  showed  him ;  and  he  looked  even  further  than 
I  had  read,  and  I  knew  not  what  followed.  This  followed, 
"him  that  is  weak  in  the  faith,  receive"  (Rom.  xiv.  i); 
which  he  applied  to  himself,  and  disclosed  to  me.  And  by 
this  admonition  was  he  strengthened ;  and  by  a  good  re- 
solution and  purpose,  quite  in  accordance  with  his  charac- 
ter, wherein  he  did  always  very  far  differ  from  me,  for  the 
better,  without  any  harassing  delay  he  joined  me.  Thence 
we  go  in  to  my  mother ;  we  tell  her ;  she  rejoiceth :  we 
relate  in  order  how  it  took  place ;  she  exulteth,  and 
triumpheth,  and  blessed  Thee,  "  Who  art  able  to  do  above 
that  which  we  ask  or  think  "  (Eph.  iii.  20) ;  for  she  per- 
ceived that  Thou  hadst  given  her  more  for  me,  than  she 
was  wont  to  ask,  in  her  sorrowful  and  tearful  groanings. 
For  Thou  didst  so  convert  me  unto  Thyself,  that  I  sought 
neither  wife,  nor  any  hope  of  this  world,  standing  in  that 
rule  of  faith,  where  Thou  hadst  in  a  vision  revealed  me  to 
her  so  many  years  before.  And  Thou  didst  "turn  her 
mourning  into  joy"  (Ps.  xxx.  11),  fuller  by  far  than  she  had 
desired,  and  by  far  more  dear  and  chaste,  than  that  of  see- 
ing my  body's  offspring,  which  she  was  wont  to  require. 


Augustine  DETERMINES  TO  ABANDON  THE  PROFESSION  OF  Rhetoric, 

AND  RETIRES    TO  CaSSIACUM    TO  PREPARE    FOR    HOLY  BAPTISM, 

avhich  he  receives  after  the  vintage  vacation  with 
Alypius  and  Adeodatus.  He  determines  with  his 
friends  to  return  to  africa  ;  and  journeys  as  far  as  to 

OsTIA  with  THEM  AND  WITH  HIS  MOTH  h  R  MONICA.  He  DE- 
SCRIBES HER  EARLY  LIFE  AND  CHARACTER  ;  HER  INFLUENCE 
OVER  HER  HUSBAND  ;  HER  JOY  IN  HIS  CONVERSION  ;  HER  DEATH 
AND  BURIAL  AT  OsTIA,  IN  AuGUSTINE's  THIRTY-THIRD  YEAR. 


CHAPTER  I. 


He  praises  God  for  His  goodness  in  effecting  his  conversion. 

"  C\  LORD,  I  am  Thy  servant ;  I  am  Thy  servant,  and 
^^  the  son  of  Thy  handmaid  :  Thou  hast  broken  my 
bonds  in  sunder.  I  will  offer  to  Thee  the  sacrifice  of 
praise"  (Ps.  cxvi.  17,  18).  Let  my  heart  and  my  tongue 
praise  Thee  ;  yea,  let  "  all  my  bones  say,  O  Lord,  who  is 
like  unto  Thee?"  (Ps.  xxxv.  10).  Let  them  say,  and 
answer  Thou  me,  and  "  say  unto  my  soul,  I  am  thy  salva- 
tion?" (Ps.  XXXV.  3).  Who  am  I,  and  what  am  I?  What 
of  evil  have  my  deeds  been  without,  or  if  not  my  deeds,  my 
words,  or  if  not  my  words,  my  will  ?  But  Thou,  O  Lord, 
art  good  and  merciful,  and  Thy  right  hand  had  respect 
unto  the  depth  of  my  death,  and  from  the  bottom  of  my 
heart  didst  draw  out  that  abyss  of  corruption.  And  this 
was  the  whole  matter;  that  I  should  refuse  what  I  did 
choose,  and  choose  what  Thou  didst  choose.  But  where 
throughout  that  year-long  time,  and  from  what  low  and 
deep  recess  was  my  free-will  called  forth  in  a  moment, 
whereby  to  submit  my  neck  to  Thy  "  easy  yoke,"  and  my 
shoulders  unto  Thy  "light  burden,"  "O  Christ  Jesus,  my 
Helper  and  my  Redeemer"?  (S.  Matt.  xi.  30;  Ps.  xix.  14). 


The  Confessions  of  S.  Augustine.  157 

How  sweet  did  it  at  once  become  to  me,  to  be  without 
sweetnesses  of  those  toys  !  and  what  I  feared  to  lose,  I  now 
rejoiced  to  throw  away.  For  Thou  didst  cast  them  forth 
from  me,  Thou  true  and  supreme  sweetness.  Thou  didst  cast 
them  forth,  and  Thyself  instead  didst  enter  in;  Who  art  sweeter 
than  all  pleasure,  though  not  to  flesh  and  blood ;  brighter 
than  all  light,  but  more  inward  than  any  secret  place ; 
higher  than  all  honour,  but  not  to  them  that  be  high  in 
their  own  conceits.  Now  was  my  soul  free  from  the  biting 
cares  of  compassing  and  getting,  of  wallowing  amid  and 
ministering  to  my  lustful  foulness ;  and  to  Thee  did  I  as  a 
child  babble,  my  Light,  my  Wealth,  and  my  Salvation. 


CHAPTER  II. 

He  resolves  to  abandon  his  Rhetoric  Professorship  after  the  vintage 
vacation,  which  7vas  at  hand. 

AND  I  resolved  in  Thy  sight,  not  tumultuously  to  tear, 
but  gently  to  withdraw,  the  service  of  my  tongue 
from  the  talk  market ;  that  boys  who  thought  not  on  Thy 
law,  nor  on  Thy  peace,  but  on  foolish  lies,  and  legal  con- 
flicts, should  buy  no  more  from  my  mouth  the  weapons  for 
their  raving.  And  by  good  hap,  but  very  few  days  remained 
before  the  vintage  vacation ;  I  resolved  to  endure  them,  so 
as  formally  to  resign,  and  after  having  been  bought  by  Thee, 
put  myself  up  for  sale  no  more.  Our  purpose  then  was 
known  to  Thee  ;  but  to  men,  other  than  our  own  friends, 
was  it  not  known.  For  we  had  agreed  among  ourselves  not 
to  let  it  out  abroad  to  any  :  although  to  us,  now  ascending 
from  the  "vale  of  misery,"  and  singing  that  "song  of  degrees" 
{i.e.,  Ps.  Ixxxiv.),  Thou  hadst  given  "sharp  arrows,"  and 
"  hot  burning  coals  "  against  the  "  deceitful  tongue,"  which 
under  pretence  of  giving  counsel,  gainsayeth  us,  and  under 
pretence  of  love  devoureth  us,  as  it  doth  its  meat.  Thou 
hadst  wounded  our  heart  with  the  arrow  of  Thy  Charity,  and 
we  bore  Thy  Words  as  though  they  transpierced  our  bowels  : 
and  the  examples  of  Thy  servants,  whom  from  being  black 
Thou  hadst  turned  to  shining  white,  and  from  dead  to 
living,  were  heaped  up  in  the  treasury  of  our  reflection,  and 
burnt  up  and  consumed  our  heavy  torpor,  that  we  might  not 


158  The  Confessions  of  S.  Aligns  fine. 

sink  into  the  deep  :  and  so  strongly  did  they  kindle  us  that 
every  blast  of  gainsaying  from  the  '' deceitful  tongue  "  could 
only  fan  into  more  fierce  brightness,  not  extinguish,  our 
flame.  Nevertheless,  because  for  "  Thy  Name's  sake  "  which 
Thou  hast  "  hallowed  "  throughout  the  earth,  this  our  vow 
and  purpose  might  also  find  some  to  commend  it,  it  seemed 
like  bragging  not  to  wait  for  the  vacation  now  so  near,  but 
to  quit  sooner  a  public  profession,  practised  in  sight  of  all, 
so  that  the  gaze  of  society  would  be  rivetted  upon  my  action, 
and  they,  observing  that  I  was  anxious  to  anticipate  the  day 
of  the  vacation,  so  near  at  hand,  would  make  a  great  talk 
about  it,  as  if  I  had  wanted  to  be  considered  some  great  one. 
And  what  would  it  have  profited  me  that  my  purpose  should 
be  the  subject  of  consideration  and  discussion,  and  that 
''our  good  should  be  evil  spoken  of"  (Rom.  xiv.  16). 

Moreover,  in  this  very  summer,  from  excessive  literary 
labour,  my  lungs  began  to  give  way,  to  draw  deep  breaths 
with  difticulty,  to  give  evidence  of  their  diseased  state  by 
pains  in  the  chest,  and  to  prove  unequal  to  the  effort  of 
clear  and  lengthy  speech  :  this  had  at  first  troubled  me,  for 
it  almost  constrained  me,  of  necessity,  to  lay  down  the  bur- 
den of  that  professorship,  or,  if  I  could  be  cured  and  recover, 
at  least  to  take  a  rest.  But  when  there  arose  and  was  con- 
firmed in  me  an  utter  determination  to  "  be  still,  and  see 
that  Thou  art  the  Lord"  (Ps.  xlvi.  10),  Thou  knowest,  O 
my  God,  how  I  even  began  to  rejoice  that  this  secondary, 
but  not  false  excuse  was  ready  to  my  hand,  might  temper 
the  annoyance  of  those  who  wished  for  the  sake  of  keeping 
me  as  their  son's  master,  to  prevent  my  becoming  my  own. 
Full  then  of  such  joy,  I  endured  till  that  interval  of  time 
were  run  out ;  it  may  have  been  some  twenty  days ;  but  yet 
some  courage  was  involved  in  the  endurance,  because  the 
covetousness  which  hitherto  shared  with  me  the  burden  of 
this  heavy  business,  had  gone,  and  I  should  have  remained 
to  my  overwhelming,  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  ser- 
vice, I  suffered  myself  to  sit  even  one  hour  in  the  chair 
of  falsehood.  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  water? 


TJie  Confessions  of  S.  Augustine.  159 


CHAPTER  III. 

Verecnndus,  though  not  yet  a  Christian,  offers  his  country  honse  for  a 
time,  thotigh  sorry  that  the  conversion  cyf  Attgnst'me  and  Alypius  tuill 
deprive  him  of  their  companionship  :  Nebridins  is  glad  to  hear  of  it, 
though  himself  not  yet  converted. 

VERECUNDUS  was  tormented  with  anxiety,  concerning 
this  our  blessed  state,  for  by  reason  of  the  bonds  in 
which  he  was  most  straitly  held,  he  saw  that  he  should  be 
deprived  of  our  companionship,  he  being  not  yet  a  Christian, 
though  his  wife  was  one  of  the  faithful :  yet  it  was  by  her, 
as  a  fetter  more  stringent  than  the  rest,  that  he  was  hindered 
from  the  journey  upon  which  we  had  set  out.  For  he  would 
not,  he  said,  be  a  Christian  on  any  other  terms  than  on  those 
he  could  not  be  admitted  on.  However,  he  offered  us  cour- 
teously to  remain  at  his  country-house,  so  long  as  we  should 
stay  there.  Thou,  O  Lord,  shalt  reward  him  in  "the  resurrec- 
tion of  the  just"  (S.  Luke  xiv.  14),  seeing  Thou  hast  already 
given  him  "the  lot"  of  the  righteous  (Ps.  cxxv.  3).  For  al- 
though, in  our  absence,  at  the  time  we  w^ere  at  Rome,  he  was 
seized  with  bodily  sickness,  and  having  been  made,  during  it, 
a  Christian,  and  one  of  the  faithful,  he  departed  this  life;  so 
"hadst  Thou  mercy  not  on  him  only,  but  on  us  also  "  (Phil, 
ii.  27),  lest  remembering  the  exceeding  kindness  of  our 
friend  towards  us,  yet  unable  to  number  him  among  Thy 
flock,  we  should  be  racked  with  intolerable  sorrow.  Thanks 
unto  Thee  our  God,  we  are  Thine  :  Thy  exhortations  and 
consolations  declare  Thee,  Thou  Faithful  Keeper  of  Pro- 
mises. Requite  unto  Verecundus,  for  his  country-house  at 
Cassiacum,  wdiere  we  found  rest  in  Thee  from  the  turmoil 
of  the  world,  the  delight  of  Thy  Paradise,  which  blossometh 
ever  (since  Thou  hast  forgiven  his  sins  upon  earth)  in  "  the 
mount  filled  with  curds.  Thy  mount,  the  mount  of  abund- 
ance "  (Ps.  Ixviii.  15,  an  old  rendering). 

He  then  had  at  that  time  sorrow,  but  Nebridius  joy.  For 
although  he  also,  not  being  yet  a  Christian,  had  fallen  into 
the  pit  of  that  most  pernicious  error,  believing  the  flesh  of 
Thy  Son  to  be  a  phantom  :  yet  coming  forth  from  that  error, 
he  was  then  in  the  same  state  of  belief  as  we  ;  not  as  yet 
endued  with  any  Sacraments  of  Thy  Church,  but  a  most 
ardent  seeker  after  truth.     And  not   long   after   our  con- 


1 60  The  Confessions  of  S.  A  ngustine. 

version  and  regeneration  by  Thy  Baptism,  being  then  him- 
self a  faithful  Catholic,  and  serving  Thee  in  perfect  chastity 
and  continence  amongst  his  people  in  Africa,  after  his  whole 
household  like  himself  had  become  Christian,  him  didst 
Thou  release  from  the  flesh ;  and  now  he  liveth  in  "  Abra- 
ham's bosom"  (S.  Luke  xvi.  22).  Whatever  that  be,  which 
is  signified  by  that  bosom,  there  liveth  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  used  much  to 
question  me,  a  poor  ignorant  creature.  Now  lays  he  not 
his  ear  to  my  mouth,  but  his  spiritual  mouth  unto  Thy 
fountain,  and  drinketh  in  wisdom,  as  much  as  he  can 
receive,  according  to  his  thirst,  infinitely  blessed.  Nor  do 
I  think  that  he  is  so  inebriated  therewith,  as  to  be  forgetful 
of  me ;  seeing  Thou,  Lord,  of  whom  he  drinketh,  dost  re- 
member us.  So  were  we  then,  comforting  Verecundus,  who 
sorrowed,  as  far  as  friendship  permitted,  that  our  conversion 
was  of  such  sort ;  and  exhorting  him  to  receive  the  Faith  in 
the  state  of  life  he  was  in,  namely  the  married  state ;  and 
awaiting  Nebridius  to  follow  us,  which,  being  so  near,  he 
could  do,  and  indeed  was  on  the  point  of  doing,  when  lo  ! 
at  last,  those  days  rolled  by ;  for  long  and  many  did  they 
seem,  by  reason  of  my  love  of  restful  freedom,  until  I  could 
sing  from  my  very  marrow,  "  My  heart  hath  said  unto  Thee, 
I  have  sought  Thy  face :  Thy  face.  Lord,  will  I  seek " 
(Ps.  xxvii.  8). 

CHAPTER  IV. 

At  CassiacN?n,  after  resigning  his  professorship,  he  finds  great  comfort 
in  the  Psalms.  He  dwells  much  upon  Psalm  iv.  He  experiences 
great  pain,  from  ivhich  God's  mercy  set  him  free. 

A  ND  the  day  came,  wherein  I  was  indeed  to  be  freed  of 
-^  my  Rhetoric  Professorship,  from  which  in  thought  I 
had  been  already  freed.  And  it  was  done.  Thou  didst 
rescue  my  tongue,  whence  Thou  hadst  before  rescued  my 
heart,  and  I  blessed  Thee,  rejoicing ;  and  went  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  books 


The  Confessions  of  S.  Atigi^stine.  i6i 

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 
time  suffice  to  record  all  Thy  great  benefits  towards  us  at 
that  time,  especially  when  hasting  on  to  yet  greater  mercies  ? 
For  my  remembrance  recalls  me,  and  pleasant  is  it  to  me, 

0  Lord,  to  confess  to  Thee,  by  what  inward  goads  Thou 
didst  completely  tame  me ;  and  how  Thou  didst  make  me 
plain,  "  bringing  low  the  mountains  and  hills  of  my  thoughts, 
and  making  my  crooked  places  straight,  my  rough  places 
smooth"  (Is.  xl.  4) ;  and  how  Thou  also  didst  subdue  Aly- 
pius,  the  brother  of  my  heart,  unto  the  Name  of  Thy  Only 
Begotten,  our  Lord  and  Saviour  Jesus  Christ,  which  he 
would  not  at  first  vouchsafe  to  have  inserted  in  our  writings. 
For  rather  would  he  have  them  redolent  of  the  "  cedars  "  of 
the  Schools,  which  now  "the  Lord  hath  broken"  (Ps.  xxix. 
5)  than  the  healthful  herbs  of  the  Church,  which  are  the 
serpents'  bane. 

With  what  accents  did  I  address  Thee,  O  my  God,  when 

1  read  the  Psalms  of  David,  those  faithful  songs,  and  sounds 
of  devotion,  which  admit  no  proud  spirit,  while  yet  a  Cate- 
chumen, and  a  novice  in  Thy  real  love,  resting  in  that  villa, 
with  Alypius  a  Catechumen,  my  mother  clinging  to  us,  she 
that  wore  a  woman's  habit  with  the  faith  of  a  man,  the  calm- 
ness of  age,  the  love  of  a  mother,  the  devotion  of  a  Christian. 
What  accents  did  I  utter  unto  Thee  in  those  Psalms,  and 
how  was  I  by  them  kindled  towards  Thee,  and  on  fire  to 
recite  them,  if  possible,  throughout  the  whole  circle  of  the 
earth,  to  subdue  the  pride  of  the  human  race.  And  yet  they 
are  sung  through  the  whole  world,  and  "  there  is  none  hid 
from  Thy  heat"  (Ps.  xix.  6).  With  what  vehement  and 
bitter  sorrow  was  I  indignant  against  the  Manichaeans  !  and 
yet  I  felt  pity  for  them,  for  they  knew  not  those  Sacraments, 
those  medicines,  and  were  mad  against  the  antidote,  by 
which  they  might  have  been  made  sane.  Would  that  they 
had  then  been  somewhere  near  me,  and  without  my  know- 
ing 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  how  that  Psalm  wrought  upon  me, 
"  When  I  called,  the  God  of  my  righteousness  heard  me ; 
Thou  didst  enlarge  me  when  I  was  in  distress.    Have  mercy 


1 62  The  Confessions  of  S.  Augustine. 

upon  me,  O  Lord,  and  hear  my  prayer."  •*  Would  they  could 
hear,  without  my  knowing  that  they  heard,  so  that  they 
might  not  think  that  I  was  speaking  for  their  sakes,  what  I 
uttered  on  these  words;  because  indeed  neither  should  I  say 
the  same  words,  nor  in  the  same  way,  if  I  were  conscious  of 
being  heard  and  seen  by  them,  nor  if  I  spake  them  would 
hey  so  receive  them,  as  when  I  spake  by  and  for  myself 
oefore  Thee,  out  of  the  natural  affection  of  my  spirit. 

I  trembled  for  fear,  and  again  was  on  fire  with  hope,  and 
with  rejoicing  in  Thy  mercy,  O  Father;  and  all  these 
emotions  poured  forth  through  mine  eyes,  and  my  voice, 
when  Thy  Good  Spirit  turned  towards  us,  and  saith,  "  O  ye 
sons  of  men,  how  long  slow  of  heart?  why  do  ye  love  vanity, 
and  seek  after  leasing?"  For  I  had  "loved  vanity,  and 
sought  after  leasing."  "  And  Thou,  0  Lord,"  hadst  already 
"  magnified  Thy  Holy  One  "  (V.  4),  raising  Him  from  the 
dead,  and  setting  Him  at  Thy  right  hand,  whence  from  on 
high  He  should  send  His  promise,  the  Comforter,  the  Spirit 
of  truth.  And  He  had  already  sent  Him,  but  I  knew  it 
not ;  He  had  sent  Him,  because  He  was  now  magnified, 
rising  again  from  the  dead,  and  ascending  into  heaven. 
For  till  then,  "  the  Spirit  was  not  yet  given,  because  Jesus 
was  not  yet  glorified  "  (S.  John  vii.  39),  and  the  prophecy 
cried,  "  How  long,  slow  of  heart  ?  why  do  ye  love  vanity, 
and  seek  after  leasing?  Know  this,  that  the  Lord  hath 
magnified  His  Holy  One."  It  cries  out,  "  How  long?"  It 
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  with  gravity  and  vigour,  in  the  bitterness 
of  my  remembrance.  Would  that  they  had  heard  them, 
who  yet  "  love  vanity  and  seek  after  leasing  ! "  They  would 
perchance  have  been  troubled,  and  have  vomited  it  up;  and 
"Thou  wouldest  hear  them  when  they  cried  unto  Thee;" 
for  by  a  true  death  of  the  flesh  He  died  for  us,  "  Who  also 
maketh  intercession  for  us"  unto  Thee  (Rom.  viii.  34). 

I  read  on,  "Be  angry,  and  sin  not"  {conf  Ps.  iv.  4,  and 

*  Psalm  iv,  i.  The  other  verses  in  this  Psalm  are  treated  in  this 
chapter  ;  and  this  reference  will  suffice.  "  V  "  will  indicate  the  Vulgate 
reading. 


The  Confessions  of  S.  August  me.  163 

Eph.  iv.  26).  And  how  was  I  moved,  O  my  God,  who  had 
now  learned  to  be  angry  with  myself  for  things  past,  that 
for  the  future  I  might  not  sin;  and  to  be  justly  angry, 
because  it  was  not  another  nature  of  the  race  of  darkness 
which  sinned  for  me,  as  they  say  who  are  not  angry  at 
themselves,  "  but  treasure  up  unto  themselves  wrath  against 
the  day  of  wrath,  and  revelation  of  Thy  righteous  judgment" 
(Rom.  ii.  5).  Nor  were  my  "good  things"  now  without, 
nor  sought  with  the  eyes  of  flesh  in  yonder  sun ;  for  they 
that  would  have  joy  from  without  soon  become  empty,  and 
are  poured  out  on  the  things  which  are  seen,  and  temporal, 
and  in  their  famished  thoughts  do  Hck  their  very  shadows. 
Oh  that  they  were  wearied  out  with  their  want,  and  said, 
*'Who  will  shew  us  any  good?"  And  we  would  say,  and 
they  hear,  "The  light  of  Thy  countenance  is  sealed  upon 
us  "  (v.).  For  we  are  not  "  that  light  which  lighteneth  every 
man  "  (S.  John  i.  9),  but  we  are  enlightened  by  Thee ;  that 
"we,  who  were  sometimes  darkness,  may  be  light  in  Thee" 
(Eph.  v.  8).  Oh  that  they  could  see  the  Inward  Light 
eternal,  which  I,  having  tasted,  did  gnash  my  teeth  that  I 
could  not  shew  them,  so  long  as  they  brought  me  their 
heart  in  their  eyes  roving  abroad  from  Thee,  while  they 
said,  "  Who  will  shew  us  any  good  ?  "  For  there,  where  I 
was  angry  within  myself  in  my  chamber,  where  I  felt  com- 
punction, when  I  had  "  sacrificed,"  slaying  the  old  man  in 
me,  and  beginning  to  meditate  upon  my  renewal,  and 
"  putting  my  trust  in  Thee," — there  hadst  Thou  begun  to 
grow  sweet  unto  me,  and  "  hadst  put  gladness  in  my  heart." 
And  I  cried  out,  as  I  read  this  outwardly,  and  recognised 
its  truth  within :  nor  did  I  wish  to  be  increased  in  earthly 
good,  wasting  time  and  wasted  by  it,  when  I  might  possess 
in  Thy  Eternal  Simplicity  other  "  corn,  and  wine,  and  oil." 
And  with  a  cry  from  the  depth  of  my  heart,  I  cried  aloud 
in  the  following  verse,  O  "in  peace,"  O  "in  The  Self-Same!" 
(V.).  O  what  said  he,  "  I  will  lay  me  down  and  take  my 
rest,"  for  who  shall  hinder  us,  when  "  shall  be  brought  to 
pass  the  saying  that  is  written.  Death  is  swallowed  up  in 
victory"?  (i  Cor.  xv.  54).  And  Thou,  who  indeed  "changest 
not"  art  that  "Self-Same,"  and  in  Thee  is  rest  which  for- 
getteth  all  toil,  for  there  is  none  other  with  Thee,  nor  are 
we  to  seek  those  many  other  things,  which  are  not  what 
Thou  art :  "  for  Thou  Lord  only  hast  made  me  dwell  in 


1^4  TJic  Confessions  of  S.  Angusiinc, 

hope."  I  read,  and  glowed ;  nor  found  I  what  to  do  to 
those  deaf  and  dead,  of  whom  myself  had  been,  a  pestilent 
person,  a  bitter  and  a  blind  barker  against  those  writings, 
which  are  honied  with  the  honey  of  heaven,  and  luminous 
with  Thine  own  light :  and  I  "  consumed  away  "  over  the 
enemies  of  this  Scripture. 

When  shall  I  recall  all  which  passed  in  those  days  of 
leisure  ?  Yet  neither  have  I  forgotten,  nor  will  I  pass  over 
the  severity  of  Thy  scourge,  and  the  wonderful  swiftness  of 
Thy  mercy.  Thou  didst  at  that  time  excruciate  me  with 
pain  in  my  teeth  ;  and  when  it  had  grown  so  bad,  that  I 
could  not  speak,  it  rose  up  into  my  heart  to  bid  all  my 
friends  who  were  there,  to  pray  for  me  to  Thee,  the  God  of 
all  manner  of  health.  And  I  wrote  it  on  the  waxen  tablet, 
and  gave  it  them  to  read.  So  soon  as  with  suppliant  de- 
votion we  had  bent  our  knees,  that  pain  fled.  But  what 
pain  ?  or  how  fled  it  ?  I  was  afraid,  I  confess  it,  O  my 
Lord,  my  God ;  for  I  had  never,  from  my  earliest  age, 
suffered  the  like.  Thus  in  this  deep  was  Thy  will  dis- 
covered to  me,  and  rejoicing  in  faith,  I  praised  Thy  Name. 
And  that  faith  suffered  me  not  to  be  at  ease  about  my  past 
sins,  which  had  not  yet  been  remitted  to  me  by  means  of 
Thy  Baptism. 

CHAPTER  V. 

S.  Ambrose  advises  Jiim  to  study  the  prophecies  of  Isaiah  which,  as  yet, 
were  too  hard  for  hi?!i. 

WHEN  the  Vintage  vacation  was  over,  I  intimated  to 
the  Milanese  that  they  should  appoint  some  other 
seller  of  words  for  their  scholars,  both  because  I  had  chosen 
to  become  Thy  servant,  and  because  I  was  no  longer  equal 
to  that  profession,  by  reason  of  the  difficulty  of  breathing, 
and  the  pain  in  my  chest.  And  by  letters  I  signified  to 
Thy  Prelate,  the  holy  man  Ambrose,  my  former  errors  and 
present  solemn  purpose,  that  he  might  advise  me  what 
portion  of  Thy  Books  I  ought  especially  to  read,  to  become 
readier  and  fitter  for  receiving  so  great  grace.  He  recom- 
mended Isaiah  the  Prophet :  I  believe,  because  he  is  clear, 
beyond  others,  in  foretelling  the  Gospel  and  the  caUing  of 
the  Gentiles.     But  I,  not  understanding  the  first  lesson  of 


TJic  Confessions  of  S.  Aligns  tine.  165 

this  book,  and  imagining  the  whole  to  be  like  it,  laid  it  by, 
to  be  resumed  when  more  exercised  in  the  Lord's  inspired 
word. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

His  Baptism  zvith  Alypius  and  Adeodatus.    The  character  of  A deodatus. 

THENCE,  when  the  time  was  come,  wherein  I  was  to 
give  in  my  name,  we  left  the  country  and  returned 
to  Milan.  It  pleased  Alypius  also  to  be  with  me  born  again 
in  Thee,  being  already  clothed  with  the  humility  befitting 
Thy  Sacraments ;  and  a  most  valiant  tamer  of  the  body, 
even  to  the  point  of  treading  barefoot,  with  unwonted 
daring,  the  icy  soil  of  Italy.  We  joined  with  us  the  boy 
Adeodatus,  the  son,  after  the  flesh,  of  my  sin.  Excellently 
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  abund- 
antly able  to  reform  our  deformities  :  for  I  had  no  part  in 
that  boy,  but  the  sin.  For  that  we  brought  him  up  in  Thy 
discipline,  it  was  Thou,  none  else,  had  inspired  us  with  it.  I 
confess  unto  Thee  Thy  gifts.  There  is  a  book  of  ours  entitled 
The  Master ;  therein  he  converses  with  me.  Thou  knowest, 
that  all  which  is  there  put  into  the  mouth  of  my  interlocutor 
were  his  ideas,  in  his  sixteenth  year.  Much  besides,  and 
yet  more  admirable,  I  found  in  him.  That  talent  struck 
awe  into  me.  And  who  but  Thou  could  be  the  artificer  of 
such  wonders  ?  Soon  didst  Thou  remove  his  life  from  the 
earth  :  and  I  now  remember  him  with  the  greater  confidence, 
fearing  nothing  for  his  childhood  or  youth,  nor  for  him  at 
all.  Him  we  joined  with  us,  to  reckon  his  birth  in  Thy 
grace  from  the  same  time  with  us,  to  be  brought  up  in  Thy 
discipline  ;  and  we  were  baptised,  and  anxiety  about  our 
past  life  fled  away.  Nor  was  I  sated  in  those  days  with  the 
wondrous  sweetness  of  considering  the  depth  of  Thy 
counsels  concerning  the  salvation  of  mankind.  How  did  I 
weep,  in  Thy  Hymns  and  Canticles,  sharply  affected  by  the 
voices  of  Thy  Church  that  sweetly  resoundeth  !  Those 
tones  flowed  into  mine  ears,  and  the  Truth  distilled  into 
my  heart,  whence  the  affections  of  my  devotion  overflowed, 
and  tears  ran  down,  and  it  was  well  with  me  with  them. 


1 66  The  Confessions  of  S.  Augustine. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

The  rise  of  Chanting  at  Milan.      The  Avian  persecution  under  Justina 
stayed  upon  the  discovery  of  the  bodies  of  S.  Gervasius  and  Protasius. 

NOT  long  had  the  Church  of  Milan  begun  to  practise 
this  kind  of  consolation  and  exhortation,  the  brethren 
giving  great  care  to  the  tuneful  harmony  of  voices  and 
hearts.  For  it  was  a  year,  or  not  much  more,  since  Justina, 
mother  of  the  Emperor  Valentinian,  a  child,  persecuted  Thy 
servant  Ambrose,  on  account  of  her  heresy,  to  which  she 
had  been  seduced  by  the  Arians.  The  devout  people  kept 
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,  Hved  in  prayers.  We, 
though  as  yet  unmelted  by  the  heat  of  Thy  Spirit,  were 
nevertheless  excited  by  the  alarm  and  tumult  of  the  city. 
Then  it  was  first  instituted  that  according  to  the  custom  of 
the  eastern  regions,  Hymns  and  Psalms  should  be  sung,  lest 
the  people  should  faint  through  the  fatigue  of  sorrow  ;  and 
from  that  day  to  this  the  custom  has  been  retained ;  and 
to-day  many,  indeed  almost  all  Thy  congregations  through- 
out other  parts  of  the  world  follow  us  herein. 

Then  didst  Thou  by  a  vision  discover  to  Thy  renowned 
Bishop,  where  the  bodies  of  Gervasius  and  Protasius  the 
martyrs  lay  hid,  which  Thou  hadst  in  Thy  secret  treasury  kept 
hidden,  and  incorrupt  throughout  so  many  years,  whence 
Thou  mightest  in  due  season  bring  them  forth,  to  stay  this 
feminine  but  royal  fury.  For  when  they  were  discovered 
and  dug  up,  and  with  fitting  honour  translated  to  the  Am- 
brosian  Basilica,  not  only  were  those  whom  unclean  spirits 
vexed  cured,  and  the  devils  made  to  confess  themselves,  but 
a  certain  man,  who  had  for  many  years  been  bhnd,  a  citizen, 
and  well  known  throughout  the  city,  as  soon  as  he  had 
enquired  and  heard  the  reason  of  the  tumultuous  rejoicing 
of  the  people,  leaped  up,  and  begged  his  guide  to  lead  him 
thither.  When  led  there  he  entreated  to  be  admitted  to 
touch  with  a  handkerchief  the  bier  of  the  "  death  of  Thy 
Saints,  precious  in  Thy  sight "  (Ps.  cxvi.  5).  And  when  he 
had  done  this,  and  put  it  to  his  eyes,  they  forthwith  were 
opened.  Thence  did  fame  spread  abroad  ;  thence  did  Thy 
praises  more  brightly  shine  ;  thence  the  mind  of  that  enemy, 


The  Confessions  of  S.  A  ugiistine.  1 6y 

though  not  enlarged  to  the  soundness  of  faith,  was  yet  re- 
strained from  the  fury  of  persecution.  Thanks  to  Thee,  O 
my  God.  Whence  and  whither  hast  Thou  thus  led  my  re- 
membrance, that  I  should  confess  these  things  also  -unto 
Thee,  which,  great  though  they  be,  I  had  passed  by  in  forget- 
fulness  ?  And  yet  then,  when  "  the  savour  of  Thy  ointments" 
was  so  fragrant,  did  we  not  "  run  after  Thee  "  (Cant.  i.  3,  4). 
Therefore  did  I  weep  the  more  at  the  singing  of  Thy  hymns, 
who  once  panted  after  Thee,  and  at  length  breathed  in  Thee, 
as  far  as  breath  of  life  can  gain  access  to  this  our  house  of 
grass. 

CHAPTER  VIII. 

He  relates  tJie  incidents  of  his  mother^ s  early  life  and  education. 

THOU  "  that  makest  men  of  one  mind  to  dwell  in  one 
house"  (Ps.  Ixviii.  6),  didst  unite  with  us  Euodius 
also,  a  young  man  of  our  own  city.  He  while  discharging 
the  office  of  agent  of  public  affairs,  was  converted  to  Thee 
and  baptised  before  us,  and  abandoned  his  worldly  warfare 
to  gird  himself  for  Thine.  We  were  together  about  to  dwell 
together  in  our  holy  resolution.  We  enquired  what  place 
would  more  usefully  engage  us  as  Thy  servants ;  and  were 
together  on  our  way  back  to  Africa.  And  when  we  had 
come  to  Ostia  on  the  Tiber,  my  mother  died.  Much  I 
omit,  as  hastening  much.  Receive  my  confessions  and 
thanksgivings,  O  my  God,  for  innumerable  things  whereof  I 
am  silent.  But  I  will  not  omit  whatsoever  my  soul  would 
bring  forth  concerning  that  Thy  handmaid,  who  brought  me 
forth,  both  in  the  flesh,  that  I  might  be  born  to  this  tem- 
poral light,  and  in  heart,  that  I  might  be  born  to  Light 
eternal.  Not  her  gifts,  but  Thine  in  her,  will  I  speak  of ; 
for  neither  did  she  make  nor  educate  herself.  Thou  didst 
create  her  :  nor  did  her  father  and  mother  know  what  a  one 
should  come  from  them.  And  the  rod  of  Thy  Christ,  the 
discipline  of  Thine  only  Son,  in  a  faithful  household,  a  good 
branch  of  Thy  Church,  taught  her  in  Thy  fear.  Neverthe- 
less she  was  wont  to  lay  her  training  not  so  much  to  the 
account  of  her  mother's  diligence,  as  to  that  of  a  certain 
decrepit  maid- servant,  who  had  carried  her  father  when  a 
child,  as  little  ones  are  often  carried  on  the  backs  of  older 


1 68  The  Confessions  of  S.  Augustine. 

girls.  For  which  reason,  and  for  her  great  age,  and  excel- 
lent conversation,  she  was  in  that  Christian  household  held 
in  great  respect  by  the  heads  of  the  family.  On  this  account 
the  charge  of  her  master's  daughters  was  committed  to  her, 
and  she  heedfuUy  exercised  it,  and  was  earnest,  m  restrain- 
ing them  when  necessary  with  a  holy  severity,  in  teaching 
them  with  sober  judgment.  For,  except  at  those  hours 
wherein  they  were  most  temperately  fed  at  their  parents' 
table,  she  would  not  suffer  them,  though  parched  with  thirst, 
to  drink  even  water  ;  guarding  against  the  formation  of  a 
bad  habit,  and  adding  this  wholesome  advice  ;  "  You  drink 
water  now,  because  you  have  not  wine  in  your  power ;  but 
when  you  come  to  be  married,  and  be  made  mistresses  of 
cellars  and  pantries,  water  will  seem  insipid ;  but  the  habit 
of  drinking  will  remain."  By  such  reasonable  instruction, 
and  her  authority  to  command,  she  curbed  the  greed  of 
childhood,  and  regulated  the  very  thirst  of  the  girls  to  a 
becoming  moderation,  so  that  they  no  longer  wished  for 
what  they  should  not. 

And  yet  there  had  stolen  upon  her  (so  Thy  handmaid 
told  me,  her  son),  there  had  stolen  upon  her  a  craving  for 
wine.  For  when  she,  in  the  usual  way,  as  though  a  sober 
maiden,  was  bidden  by  her  parents  to  draw  wine  out  of 
the  cask,  holding  the  cup  under  it,  she  would  sip 
with  the  tips  of  her  lips,  where  it  lies  open  above, 
before  pouring  the  wine  into  the  flask,  just  a  little  drop,  for 
she  could  not  do  more,  from  the  reluctance  of  her  feelings. 
Nor  did  she  do  this  from  any  desire  of  drinking  too  much, 
but  out  of  the  overflowing  extravagances  of  youth,  which 
bubbled  up  in  playful  in\pulses,  and  which  in  youthful 
spirits  are  generally  repressed  by  the  gravity  of  their  elders. 
And  thus  by  adding  daily  littles  to  that  little  (for  "  he  that 
contemneth  small  things  shall  fall  by  little  and  little " 
Ecclus.  xix.  i),  she  had  fallen  into  such  a  habit,  as  greedily 
to  drink  off  her  little  cup  brim-full  almost  of  wine.  Where 
was  then  that  discreet  old  woman,  and  that  her  earnest 
restraint?  Would  aught  avail  against  a  secret  disease, 
unless  Thy  healing  care,  O  Lord,  kept  w^atch  over  us? 
Father,  mother,  and  teachers  absent,  Thou  present,  who 
createdst,  who  callest,  who  also  by  those  set  over  us,  workest 
something  towards  the  salvation  of  our  souls,  w^hat  didst 
Thou  then,  O  my  God?  how  didst  Thou  cure  her?  how 
heal  her  ?  didst  Thou  not  out  of  another  soul  bring  forth  a 


The  Confessions  of  S.  A  ugtistine.  1 69 

hard  and  a  sharp  taunt,  hke  a  surgeon's  knife  out  of  Thy 
secret  store,  and  with  one  piercing  cut  clear  away  that 
corruption  ?  For  a  maid-servant  with  whom  she  used  to 
go  to  the  cellar,  quarrelling  by  hap  with  her  little  mistress 
when  alone  with  her,  threw  up  this  fault  at  her,  calling  her 
with  most  insulting  bitterness  a  "  wine-bibber."  Stung  with 
this  taunt  she  saw  the  foulness  of  her  fault,  and  instantly 
condemned  and  forsook  it.  As  flattering  friends  corrupt, 
so  wrangling  enemies  oftentimes  correct.  But  Thou  dost 
reward  them,  not  according  to  what  Thou  doest  by  their 
means,  but  according  to  their  own  intentions.  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  else  lest  she  herself 
might  run  some  risk,  because  she  had  not  revealed  it  earlier. 
But  Thou,  Lord,  Governor  of  all  in  heaven  and  earth,  who 
turnest  to  Thy  purposes  the  depths  of  torrents,  ruling  the 
turbulent  tide  of  the  ages,  didst  heal  one  soul  by  the  dis- 
order of  the  other ;  let  not  any  then  when  he  observes  this 
ascribe  it  to  his  own  influence,  even  if  another,  whom  he 
wishes  to  be  reformed,  is  reformed  by  some  word  of  his. 


CHAPTER  IX. 
The  married  life  of  Monica  ;  her  discretion  and  luifely  duty. 

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  marriageable  age, 
being  bestowed  upon  a  husband,  she  served  him  as  her  lord  ; 
and  concerned  herself  to  gain  him  unto  Thee,  preaching 
Thee  unto  him  by  her  conduct,  in  which  Thou  didst  make 
her  fair,  and  reverently  amiable,  and  admirable  unto  her 
husband.  And  she  so  endured  his  infidelities  towards  her, 
that  she  never  had  any  quarrel  with  her  husband  for  that 
cause.  For  she  looked  for  Thy  mercy  upon  him,  that 
believing  in  Thee,  he  might  be  made  chaste.  In  addition 
to  this,  as  he  was  easy  in  his  generosity,  so  was  he  passionate 
in  temper  :  but  she  had  learnt,  not  to  resist  an  angry 
husband,  not  in  deed  only,  but  not  even  in  word.  Only 
when  he  was  calmed  and  quieted,  and  she  saw  her  oppor- 


I/O  TJie  Confessions  of  S.  Augustine. 

tunity,  she  would  give  an  explanation  of  her  actions,  if 
haply  he  had  been  unadvisedly  aroused.  In  a  word,  v.  hi 
many  matrons,  whose  husbands  were  more  good  tempered, 
bearing  on  their  ill-used  faces  traces  of  blows,  would  in  con- 
versation with  their  friends,  find  fault  with  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,  whereby  they  were  made  servants  ;  and 
thenceforward,  remembering  their  position,  they  ought  not 
to  be  arrogant  towards  their  masters."  And  when  they, 
knowing  what  a  fierce  tempered  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  quarrel  between  them,  even  for  one 
day,  and  confidentially  asking  the  reason,  she  taught  them 
her  rule,  which  I  have  given  above.  Those  wives  who 
followed  it,  when  they  had  tried  it,  were  delighted :  and 
those  who  did  not  follow  it,  when  they  were  put  in  their 
places,  were  annoyed. 

Her  mother-in-law  also,  at  first  by  whisperings  of  evil 
servants  incensed  against  her,  she  so  overcame  by  rendering 
her  services,  and  by  perseverance  in  meek  endurance,  that 
she  of  her  own  accord  told  her  son  of  the  meddling  tongues 
of  the  servants,  through  which  the  domestic  peace  betwixt 
her  and  her  daughter-in-law  had  been  disturbed,  asking  him 
to  punish  them.  Then,  when  in  compliance  with  his 
mother,  and  for  the  well-ordering  of  the  family,  and  the 
harmony  of  its  members,  he  had  with  stripes  corrected  those 
told  of,  according  to  the  will  of  her  that  told  of  them,  she 
warned  them  to  expect  the  like  recompense,  if  any  desiring 
to  please  her,  should  speak  ill  of  her  daughter-in-law  to  her; 
and,  none  now  venturing,  they  lived  together  with  a  remark- 
able sweetness  of  mutual  kindness. 

This  great  gift  also  didst  Thou  bestow,  O  my  God,  my 
mercy,  upon  that  good  slave  of  Thine,  in  whose  womb  Thou 
didst  create  me,  that  between  any  disagreeing  and  dis- 
cordant parties  where  she  was  able,  she  shewed  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 


The  Confessions  of  S.  Augustine.  171 

never  would  repeat  anything  from  one  to  the  other,  unless 
it  were  something  that  might  have  the  effect  of  reconciling 
them,  A  small  good  this  might  appear  to  me,  did  I  not  to 
my  grief  know  numberless  persons,  who  through  some  hor- 
rible and  wide-spreading  contagion  of  sin,  not  only  betray 
to  angry  foes,  the  words  of  angry  foes,  but  even  add  things 
never  said  ;  whereas  contrariwise  to  a  humane  man,  it  ought 
to  seem  a  small  matter  not  to  arouse  or  increase  enmity  by 
evil  speaking,  even  if  one  has  not  striven  by  kindly  speech 
to  allay  it ;  as  was  her  wont,  who  was  taught  by  Thee  her 
inmost  Master,  in  the  school  of  her  heart. 

Finally,  her  own  husband,  towards  the  very  end  of  his 
earthly  life,  did  she  gain  unto  Thee ;  nor  had  she  to  com- 
plain of  that  in  him  as  a  believer,  which  before  he  was  a 
believer  she  had  endured  from  him.  She  was  also  the  ser- 
vant of  Thy  servants  ;  whosoever  of  them  knew  her,  did  in 
her  much  praise  and  honour  and  love  Thee ;  because  he 
would  perceive  Thy  Presence  in  her  heart  by  the  testimony 
of  the  fruits  of  her  holy  conversation.  For  "  she  had  been 
the  wife  of  one  man,  had  requited  her  parents,  had  governed 
her  house  piously,  was  well  reported  of  for  good  works,  had 
brought  up  children  "  (i  Tim.  v.  4,  &c.),  so  often  '•  travailing 
in  birth  of  them"  (Gal.  iv.  19),  as  she  saw  them  go  astray  from 
Thee.  Lastly,  O  Lord,  since  by  Thine  own  gift  Thou  sufferest 
Thy  servants  to  speak,  she  had  such  care  of  all  of  us,  who, 
before  she  fell  asleep  in  Thee,  used  to  live  in  companion- 
ship together,  after  receiving  the  grace  of  Thy  baptism,  as 
though  she  had  been  the  mother  of  us  all ;  so  she  served 
us,  as  though  she  had  been  our  daughter. 


CHAPTER   X. 

A  conversation  upon  the  Happiness  of  the  Saints  7mth  Monica  at  Ostia. 

AS  now  the  day  drew  near,  on  which  she  was  about  to 
depart  out  of  this  life,  which  day  Thou  didst  know, 
though  we  knew  it  not,  it  fell  out,  as  I  believe,  through  Thy 
Providence,  working  in  Thy  hidden  ways,  that  she  and  I 
alone  together,  were  standing  leaning  upon  a  certain  window, 
from  which  there  was  a  view  of  the  garden  within  the  house 
which  sheltered  us,  there  at  Ostia  on  the  Tiber,  where  apart 


1/2  The  Confessions  of  S.  Augustine. 

from  the  throng,  after  the  fatigue  of  our  long  journey  we 
were  recruiting  ourselves  for  our  voyage.  Together  we  two 
held  converse  very  sweet,  and  "forgetting  those  things 
which  were  behind,  and  reaching  forth  unto  those  things 
which  were  before"  (Phil.  iii.  13),  we  were  discussing 
betwjeen  us  in  the  presence  of  the  truth,  which  Thou  art, 
of  what  kind  would  be  that  eternal  life  of  the  Saints,  which 
"  eye  hath  not  seen,  nor  ear  heard,  neither  hath  it  entered 
into  the  heart  of  man"  ([  Cor.  ii.  9).  But  with  the  mouth 
of  our  heart  we  were  panting  for  the  heavenly  streams  of 
Thy  fount,  "the  fountain  of  life,  which  is  with  Thee"  (Ps. 
xxxvi.  9),  that  besprinkled  thence  according  to  our  capacity 
we  might  in  some  measure  meditate  upon  so  great  a  matter. 
And  when  our  converse  drew  to  such  an  end,  that  the 
utmost  delight  of  the  bodily  senses,  in  the  clearest  material 
light,  by  the  side  of  the  enjoyment  of  that  life  seemed  un- 
worthy not  only  of  comparison  with  it,  but  even  to  be 
named  with  it ;  raising  ourselves  with  a  more  glowing 
emotion  towards  the  "Self-Same"  (Ps.  iv,  8,  Vulg.),  we 
wandered  step  by  step  through  all  material  things,  and  even 
the  very  heaven  whence  sun  and  moon  and  stars  shed  their 
light  upon  the  earth.  And  further  still  we  climbed,  in  inner 
thought,  and  speech,  and  in  wonder  of  Thy  works,  and  we 
reached  to  our  own  minds,  and  passed  beyond  them,  so  as 
to  touch  the  realm  of  plenty  never  failing,  where  Thou 
feedest  Israel  for  ever  in  the  pasture  of  the  truth,  and  where 
life  is  that  Wisdom,  by  which  all  things  are  made,  both 
those  which  have  been,  and  those  which  shall  be  ;  and 
Itself  is  not  made,  but  is  now  as  it  was  and  ever  shall  be ; 
or  rather  in  it  is  neither  "hath  been"  nor  "shall  be,"  but 
only  "  is,"  since  It  is  eternal.  For  "  hath  been  "  and  "  shall 
be  "  spell  not  eternity.  And  while  we  thus  speak  and  pant 
after  it,  with  the  whole  stress  of  our  hearts  we  just  for  an 
instant  touched  it,  and  we  sighed,  and  left  there  bound  the 
"first  fruits  of  the  spirit"  (Rom.  viii.  23),  and  then  returned 
to  the  broken  murmurs  of  our  own  mouth,  where  the  word 
hath  Its  beginning  and  its  end.  And  what  is  like  unto  Thy 
Word,  our  Lord,  who  abideth  in  Himself,  nor  groweth  old, 
and  makcth  all  things  new  ?  We  were  saying  then  ;  "  if  to 
any  one  should  grow  hushed  the  tumult  of  the  flesh,  hushed 
the  images  of  earth,  and  of  the  waters,  and  the  air,  hushed 
too  the  poles,  and  if  the  very  soul  should   be  hushed  to 


The  Confessions  of  S.  Aligns  tine.  173 

itself,  and  were  by  cessation  of  thought  of  self  to  pass  beyond 
itself ;  if  all  dreams,  and  imaginary  revelations,  every  tongue 
and  every  token,  were  hushed,  and  whatsoever  falls  out 
through  change ;  if  to  any,  such  should  be  wholly  hushed  to 
silence,  since  could  any  hear  them,  they  all  say  "  We  made 
not  ourselves,  but  He  made  us,  who  abideth  for  ever,"  and 
this  said,  if  now  they  should  cease  to  speak,  because  they 
had  inclined  our  ears  to  Him,  who  made  them,  and  He 
Himself  by  Himself  should  speak,  not  through  them,  but  of 
Himself,  that  so  we  should  hear  His  Word,  not  uttered  by 
a  tongue  of  flesh,  nor  by  voice  of  angel,  nor  by  thunder  of 
a  cloud,  nor  by  a  parable  of  comparison,  but  Himself,  whom 
in  these  we  love,  if,  I  say,  we  should  hear  Him,  without 
these,  as  now  we  strained  ourselves,  and  in  the  flight  of 
thought  touched  upon  the  eternal  \Visdom  that  abideth 
over  all  things ;  if  this  were  continued,  and  other  visions  of 
a  nature  by  far  inferior  were  taken  away,  and  this  one  alone 
should  ravish,  and  absorb,  and  enwrap  the  beholder  of  it 
amid  inward  joys,  so  that  life  everlasting  might  be  of  such 
a  kind,  as  was  that  one  moment  of  comprehension  for  which 
we  sighed ;  were  not  this  an  "  Enter  Thou  into  the  joy  of 
thy  Lord "  (S.  Matt.  xxv.  21)?  And  when  shall  that  be  ? 
Shall  it  be  when  "  we  all  shall  rise  again,  but  shall  not  all 
be  changed"  (  i  Cor.  xv.  51,  Vulg.).  Such  things  I  said, 
and  if  not  in  this  manner  and  in  these  words,  yet  O  Lord 
Thou  knowest,  that  on  that  day,  when  we  were  speaking  of 
such  things,  and  this  world  with  all  its  delights,  amid  such 
converse,  was  beginning  to  grow  but  cheap  to  us,  then  said 
she,  "  My  son,  as  for  myself,  I  delight  no  longer  in  anything 
in  this  life.  What  yet  here  I  may  do,  and  why  I  linger 
here,  I  know  not,  now  that  the  hope  of  this  life  has  died 
within  me.  There  was  but  one  thing  for  which  I  longed 
to  tarry  here  a  while,  that  I  might  see  thee  a  Catholic 
Christian  before  my  death.  And  this  my  God  hath  given 
me  even  more  abundantly,  so  that  I  even  see  thee  His 
servant,  and  able  to  despise  mere  earthly  happiness.  What 
do  I  here?" 


174  The  Confessions  of  S.  Augustine. 

CHAPTER   XL 

His  Afotlie7'^s  Death. 

WHAT  answer  I  made  her  unto  these  things,  I  remem- 
ber 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  brought  back  to  consciousness ;  and  looking  on  me 
and  my  brother  standing  by  her,  said  to  us  inquiringly, 
"  Where  was  I  ?  "  And  then  looking  fixedly  on  us,  who 
were  stunned  with  grief,  said,  "  Will  ye  here  bury  your 
mother?"  I  held  my  peace  and  refrained  my  weeping; 
but  my  brother  spake  something  to  the  effect  that  he  wished, 
as  the  happier  lot  for  her,  that  not  thus  on  her  journey  but 
in  her  own  country  she  might  die.  When  she  heard  this, 
with  an  anxious  look  she  chid  him  with  her  eyes,  for  that 
he  still  "savoured  such  things,"  and  then  looking  upon  me; 
**  Behold,"  saith  she,  "  what  he  saith ; "  and  soon  after  to  us 
both,  "  Lay,"  she  saith,  "  this  body  anywhere ;  let  not  the 
care  for  that  any  way  disquiet  you  :  this  only  I  ask  of  you, 
to  remember  me  at  the  Lord's  altar,  wherever  you  be." 
And  having  delivered  this  thought  in  what  words  she  could, 
she  held  her  peace,  and  laboured  for  breath,  as  the  disorder 
increased. 

But  I,  considering  Thy  gifts,  Thou  unseen  God,  which 
Thou  dost  implant  in  the  hearts  of  Thy  faithful  people,  and 
thence  come  forth  wondrous  fruits,  did  rejoice  and  give 
thanks  to  Thee,  recalling  what  I  before  knew,  how  careful 
and  anxious  she  had  ever  been,  as  to  her  grave,  which  she 
had  provided  and  prepared  for  herself  beside  the  body  of 
her  husband.  For  because  they  had  lived  in  great  harmony 
together,  she  also  wished  (so  little  can  the  human  mind 
grasp  tilings  divine)  to  have  this  addition  to  that  happiness, 
and  to  have  it  remembered  among  men,  that  it  had  been 
permitted  her,  after  her  pilgrimage  beyond  the  sea,  that  the 
mmgled  earthly  dust  of  this  wedded  pair  should  be  buried 
m  the  same  earth.  But  when  this  emptiness  had  through 
the  fulness  of  thy  Goodness  begun  to  cease  in  her  heart,  I 
knew  not,  and  rejoiced,  admiring  what  she  had  so  disclosed 
to  me  ;  though  indeed   in  that  our  discourse  also  in   the 


TJie  Confessions  of  S.  Augustine.  175 

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  when  we  were  now  at  Ostia,  she 
with  a  mother's  confidence,  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  the  courage  which  Thou  hadst  given  to  her, 
though  a  woman,  and  asked,  "  Whether  she  were  not  afraid 
to  leave  her  body  so  far  from  her  own  city  ?  "  she  replied, 
"  Nothing  is  far  to  God ;  neither  need  I  fear  that  at  the 
end  of  the  world  He  will  not  know  whence  to  raise  me  up 
again."  On  the  ninth  day  then  of  her  sickness,  in  the 
fifty-sixth  year  of  her  age,  and  the  three  and  thirtieth  of 
mine,  was  that  devout  holy  soul  delivered  from  the  body. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

His  deep  sorrozv,  and  hozu  he  7'estramed  it.    His  ??ioiher^s  burial,  and  the 
offeri7ig  fo7'  her  of  the  Holy  Sacrifice. 

I  CLOSED  her  eyes ;  and  there  flowed  withal  a  mighty 
sorrow  into  my  heart,  and  overflowed  to  tears,  and  at 
the  same  time,  by  the  violent  constraint  of  my  will,  mine 
eyes  sucked  in  the  stream  again,  even  to  drought,  and  in 
such  a  struggle  it  went  very  ill  with  me.  But  as  soon  as 
she  breathed  her  latest  breath,  the  boy  Adeodatus  burst  out 
into  a  loud  lament ;  then,  checked  by  us  all,  held  his  peace. 
In  like  manner,  also,  something  of  the  child  in  me,  which 
was  inclining  to  tears,  was  checked  and  silenced  by  the 
manly  voice  of  my  heart.  For  we  thought  it  not  meet  to 
celebrate  that  funeral  with  tearful  lamentations  and  groans, 
since  with  such  often  is  bewailed  some  unhapj)iness  of  them 
that  die,  or  their  supposed  utter  destruction.  But  she  died 
not  unhappily,  nor  did  she  die  utterly.  This  we  knew,  both 
by  the  witness  of  her  character,  by  her  "  faith  unfeigned," 
and  by  reasons  which  were  certain. 

What  then  was  it  which  did  grievously  pain  me  within, 
but  the  fresh  wound  received  from  the  sudden  breaking  of 
that  most  sweet  and  dear  habit  of  living  together?  I  re- 
joiced indeed  in  her  testimony,  when  in  the  course  of  her 
last  illness,   caressing  me  as   I    rendered  her   some   little 


176  The  Confessions  of  S.  Aiignstine. 

services,  she  called  me  "dutiful,"  and  dwelt  with  much 
loving  affection  upon  never  having  heard  any  harsh  or  un- 
kind word  uttered  against  her  by  my  mouth.  But  yet,  O 
my  God,  Who  madest  us,  what  comparison  is  there  betwixt 
that  honour  that  I  paid  to  her,  and  her  slavery  for  me  ? 
Being  then  forsaken  of  so  great  comfort  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. 

The  boy  then  being  stilled  from  weeping,  Euodius  took  up 
the  Psalter,  and  began  to  sing  the  Psalm,  "  My  song  shall 
be  of  mercy  and  judgment,  unto  Thee  O  Lord  will  I  sing" 
(ci.  i);  to  which  the  whole  household  made  response.  And 
when  they  heard  what  was  going  forward,  many  brethren  and 
religious  women  came  together ;  and  while  they  whose  duty 
it  was,  made  the  customary  preparations  for  burial,  I  apart 
from  them,  where  I  becomingly  could  do  so,  together  with 
those  who  thought  not  fit  to  leave  me,  discoursed  upon 
something  fitting  the  time ;  and  by  this  balm  of  truth, 
assuaged  that  torment,  known  to  Thee,  though  they  knew 
it  not,  and  listened  intently,  imagining  that  I  was  without 
any  sense  of  grief.  But  in  Thy  ears,  where  none  of  them 
heard,  I  blamed  the  weakness  of  my  feelings,  and  restrained 
the  flood  of  my  grief,  which  yielded  a  little  to  me,  and  then 
again  was  borne  upon  me  with  a  rush,  though  not  so  as  to 
provoke  an  outbreak  of  tears,  nor  even  a  change  of  counten- 
ance ;  but  I  knew  what  I  was  repressing  in  my  heart.  And 
since  it  much  displeased  me  that  these  accidents  of  our 
humanity,  which  must  befall  in  the  due  order  and  appointed 
lot  of  our  condition,  should  so  affect  me,  with  another  grief 
I  grieved  over  my  grief,  and  was  fretted  with  a  double 
sorrow. 

And  behold,  the  corpse  was  carried  to  the  burial ;  we 
went  and  returned  without  tears.  For  not  even  in  those 
prayers  which  we  poured  forth  unto  Thee,  when  the  Sacri- 
fice of  our  redemption  was  offered  on  her  behalf,  when  now 
the  corpse  was  by  the  grave's  side,  as  the  custom  there  is, 
previous  to  its  being  laid  therein — not  even  in  those  prayers 
did  I  weep  ;  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  memory  by  this  one  instance,  how  strong  is  the 
bond  of  all  habit,  even  upon  a  soul,  which  now  feeds  upon 


The  Confessions  of  S.  Augustine.  ly^ 

no  deceiving  Word.  It  seemed  also  good  to  me  to  go  and 
bathe,  having  heard  that  "bath"  (bahieum)  hence  derived 
its  name,  namely  from  the  Greek  (So^KavsTov,  because  it  drives 
anxiety  from  the  mind.  And  this  also  I  confess  unto  Thy 
mercy,  "Father  of  the  fatherless"  (Ps.  Ixviii.  5),  that  I 
bathed  and  was  the  same  as  before  I  bathed.  For  the 
bitterness  of  my  grief  did  not  pass  in  sweat  from  my  heart. 
Then  I  slept,  and  rose  up  again,  and  found  my  sorrow 
diminished  not  a  little ;  and  as  I  lay  lonely  on  my  bed,  I 
recalled  the  truthful  verses  of  Thine  Ambrose.  For  Thou 
art 

The  God  who  hast  created  all, 
And  hold'st  the  outspread  sky  in  thrall, 
Who  deck'st  the  day  with  beauteous  light, 
With  gracious  slumloer  robest  the  night ; 
That  so,  to  wearied  limbs,  sweet  rest 
For  daily  tasks  may  bring  new  zest, 
And  comfort  minds  worn  out  with  grief, 
While  sorrow's  burdens  find  relief. 

And  then  by  little  and  little  I  recovered  my  former 
thoughts  of  Thy  handmaid,  and  her  conversation  towards 
Thee  devout,  towards  us  kind  and  compliant,  and  holy, 
whereof  I  was  suddenly  deprived  :  and  I  was  minded  to 
weep  in  Thy  sight,  concerning  her  and  for  her  ;  concerning 
myself,  and  for  myself.  And  I  gave  my  tears  which  I  had 
restrained  till  now  leave  to  flow  as  they  would,  and  prepared 
in  them  a  resting  place  for  my  heart ;  and  it  found  rest  in 
them,  for  it  was  in  Thy  ears,  not  in  those  of  man,  who  would 
have  scornfully  interpreted  my  weeping.  And  now,  Lord,  in 
writing  I  confess  it  unto  Thee.  Let  who  will  read  it,  and 
interpret  it  as  he  will ;  even  if  he  shall  find  it  a  sin  that  I 
wept  for  my  mother  for  a  little  part  of  an  hour,  the  mother 
who  for  the  time  was  dead  to  mine  eyes,  who  had  for  many 
years  wept  for  me  that  I  might  live  in  Thine  eyes,  let  him 
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. 


M 


ITS  ^riic  Confess  ions  of  S.  Augustine. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

He  prays  for  his  mother  ;  and  requests  for  her  the  prayers  of  such  as 
shall  read  his  "  Confessions.''^ 

AT  last,  that  wound  of  my  heart  was  healed,  which  might 
have  seemed  blameworthy  for  the  earthhness  of  its 
affection,  and  I  pour  out  unto  Thee,  our  God,  in  behalf  of 
that  Thy  handmaid,  a  far  different  kind  of  tears,  flowing 
from  a  spirit  stricken  by  the  remembrance  of  the  dangers  of 
every  soul  that  "in  Adam  dieth"  (i  Cor.  xv.  22).  And 
although  she  "in  Christ  had  been  made  alive,"  even  before 
her  release  from  the  flesh,  and  had  so  lived  that  Thy  Name 
was  praised  in  her  faith  and  conduct,  yet  dare  I  not  say  that 
from  the  time  when  Thou  didst  regenerate  her  by  baptism, 
no  word  had  issued  from  her  mouth  contrary  to  Thy  Com- 
mandment. Thy  Son,  the  Truth,  hath  said,  "  Whosoever 
shall  say  unto  his  brother.  Thou  fool,  shall  be  in  danger  of 
hell  fire"  (S.  Matt.  v.  22).  But  woe  even  to  the  men  whose 
lives  deserve  praise,  if  without  mercy  Thou  shouldest  search 
them  through.  But  since  Thou  "  art  not  extreme  to  mark 
what  is  done  amiss"  (Ps.  cxxx.  3),  we  confidently  hope  to 
find  with  Thee  some  place  of  indulgence.  But  whosoever 
reckons  up  his  real  merits  to  Thee,  what  reckons  he  up  to 
Thee,  but  Thine  own  gifts  ?  O  that  men  would  know  them- 
selves to  be  but  men ;  and  that  "  he  that  glorieth,  would 
glory  in  the  Lord"  (2  Cor.  x.  17). 

1  therefore,  O  my  Praise  and  my  Life,  God  of  my  heart, 
laying  aside  for  a  while  her  good  deeds,  for  which  rejoicing 
I  render  thanks  to  Thee,  do  now  entreat  Thee  for  the  sins 
of  my  mother.  Hearken  unto  me,  through  the  Medicine  of 
our  wounds,  Who  hung  upon  the  tree,  and  now  "  sitting  at 
Thy  right  hand  maketh  intercession  to  Thee  for  us  "  (Rom. 
viii.  34).  I  know  that  she  dealt  mercifully,  and  "from  her 
heart  forgave  her  debtors  their  debts ;  do  Thou  also  forgive 
her  debts  "  (S.  Matt,  xviii.  35),  whatever  she  may  have  con- 
tracted in  so  many  years,  since  the  water  of  salvation.  For- 
give her.  Lord,  forgive,  I  beseech  Thee;  "enter  not  into 
judgment  with  her"  (Ps.  cxliii.  2).  "Let  mercy  rejoice 
agamst  judgment"  (S.  James  ii.  13),  since  Thy  words  are 
true,  and  Thou  hast  promised  "  mercy  unto  the  merciful" 


The  Confessions  of  S.  A  ugustine.  1 79 

(S.  Matt.  V.  7).  Since  they  became  so  by  Thy  gift  to  them, 
"  Who  wilt  have  mercy  on  whom  Thou  wilt  have  mercy,  and 
wilt  have  compassion  on  whom  Thou  wilt  have  compassion" 
(Rom.  ix.  15). 

And,  I  believe,  Thou  hast  already  done  what  I  ask  Thee ; 
but  "accept,  O  Lord,  the  free-will  offerings  of  my  mouth  " 
(Ps.  cxix.  108).  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  did  she  desire  a  choice 
monument,  or  feel  anxious  for  a  grave  in  her  own  land. 
These  things  she  enjoined  us  not ;  but  desired  only  that  a 
memorial  of  her  might  be  made  at  Thine  Altar,  which  she 
had  served  without  missing  one  day,  whence  she  knew  was 
dispensed  the  Sacred  Host,  by  Which  the  "hand-writing  that 
was  against  us,  is  blotted  out"  (Col  ii.  14),  through  Which 
the  enemy  was  triumphed  over,  who  reckoning  up  our 
offences,  and  seeking  what  to  lay  to  our  charge,  "found 
nothing  in  Him  "  (S.  John  xiv.  30),  in  Whom  we  conquer. 
Who  shall  restore  to  Him  the  innocent  blood  ?  Who  repay 
Him  the  price  wherewith  He  bought  us,  that  so  he  may 
take  us  out  of  His  hand?  Unto  this  Sacrament  of  our 
redemption,  Thy  handmaid  bound  her  soul  by  the  bond  of 
faith.  Let  none  tear  her  from  Thy  protection  :  let  neither 
"the  lion  nor  the  dragon"  interpose  himself  by  force  or 
fraud.  For  she  will  not  answer  that  her  debt  is  naught,  lest 
she  be  convicted  and  held  by  the  crafty  accuser :  but  she 
will  answer,  that  "  her  debts  are  forgiven  "  her  by  Him,  to 
Whom  none  can  repay  that  price,  which]  He,  Who  owed 
nothing,  paid  for  us. 

May  she  rest  then  in  peace  with  the, husband,  before  and 
after  whom  she  had  no  other ;  whom  she  served,  "  bringing 
forth  fruit  with  patience"  (S.  Luke  viii.  15)  unto  Thee,  that 
she  might  gain  him  also  for  Thee.  And  inspire,  O  Lord 
my  God,  inspire  Thy  servants  my  brethren,  Thy  sons  my 
masters,  whom  with  voice,  and  heart,  and  pen  I  serve,  that 
so  many  as  shall  read  these  Confessions,  may  have  in  re- 
membrance at  Thine  Altar,  Monica  Thy  handmaid,  with 
Patricius,  her  sometime  husband,  through  whose  flesh  Thou 
didst  bring  me  into  this  life,  how,  I  know  not.  May  they 
with  devout  affection  remember^them,  in  this  transitory  light 
my  parents,  under  Thee,  our  Father,  in  the  Catholic  mother, 
my  brethren,  and  in  that  heavenly  Jerusalem  (for  which  Thy 


I  So 


TJie  Confessions  of  S.  Angus tiJie. 


people  sigh  in  their  pilgrimage  from  their  going  out  even 
unto  their  return  thither),  my  fellow-citizens  ;  that  so  her 
last  request  to  me  may  be  more  richly  granted  in  the  prayers 
of  many  obtained  by  means  of  my  Confessions,  than  it 
could  be  through  my  own  prayers. 


BOOl^  f  ♦ 


He  describes  what  he  had  become  since  his  conversion  : 
professing  his  love  to  god  ;  and  seeks  among  the  facul- 
ties of  the  soul  the  means  by  which  we  know  god. 
Especially  he  discusses  the  nature  of  the  memory, 
WHEREIN  God  dwelleth.  He  examines  himself  with 
regard  to  the  triple  lust  of  the  flesh,  of  the  eyes, 

AND  OF  pride  OF  LIFE,  AND  CONFESSES  THAT  HIS  WHOLE  TRUST 

IS  IN  Christ  Jesus,  the  mediator  between  God  and  man. 


CHAPTER  I. 

He  desireth  to  knozv  God. 

LET  me  know  Thee,  O  my  Creator,  "  let  me  know  Thee, 
even  as  also  I  am  known"  (i  Cor.  xiii.  12).  Power 
of  my  soul,  enter  into  it,  and  fit  it  for  Thyself,  that  Thou 
mayest  have  and  hold  it  ^'  without  spot  or  wrinkle  "  (Eph.  v. 
27).  This  is  my  hope,  "therefore  do  I  speak"  (Ps.  cxvi. 
10);  and  in  this  hope  do  I  rejoice,  when  I  rejoice  health- 
fully. The  other  things  of  this  life  are  the  less  to  be  be- 
wailed, the  more  they  are  bewailed ;  and  the  more  they  are 
to  be  bewailed,  the  less  men  bewail  them.  For  behold. 
Thou  desirest  truth"  (Ps.  li.  6),  and  ''he  that  doeth  it, 
Cometh  to  the  light"  (S.  John  iii.  20).  This  would  I  do  in 
my  heart  before  Thee  in  confession  :  and  in  my  wnting, 
before  many  witnesses. 


CHAPTER  IT. 

Though  God  knmveth  the  depths  of  our  nature,  it  is  good  to  make  confes- 
sion nnto  him. 

AND   from  Thee,  O  Lord,  "in  whose  eyes  is  naked" 
(Heb.  iv.   13)  the  abyss  of  man's  conscience,  what 
could  be  hidden  in  me  though  I  were  unwilling  to  confess 


1 82  The  Confessions  of  S.  Angnstine. 

it?  For  I  should  hide  Thee  from  myself,  not  myself  from 
Thee.  But  now,  since  my  groaning  beareth  witness  that  I 
am  dis])leasing  to  myself,  Thou  shinest  out,  and  art  pleasing, 
and  beloved,  and  longed  for;  that  I  maybe  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,  whatever  I  am  ;  and  with  what  fruit  I 
confess  unto  Thee,  I  have  said.  Nor  do  I  it  with  words 
and  utterances  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  devout,  to 
confess  unto  Thee  is  nothing  else  than  not  to  ascribe 
it  to  myself:  because  Thou,  O  Lord,  "dost  bless  the 
righteous"  (Ps.  v.  13),  but  first  Thou  "justifiest  him  when 
ungodly  "  (Rom.  v.  10).  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. 


CHAPTER  III. 

With  7vhat  intent  he  iiiaketh  coiifession  before  men  of  his  present 

coidition. 

Al^HAT  then  have  I  to  do  with  men,  that  they  should 
*  V  hear  my  confessions,  as  if  they  could  "heal  all  my 
infirmities"  ?  (Ps.  ciii.  3).  The  race  is  curious  to  know  the 
lives  of  others,  backward  to  correct  their  own.  Why  seek 
they  to  hear  from  me  what  I  am  ;  who  will  not  hear  from 
'Hiee  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  man,  but  the  spirit  of  man 
which  is  in  him  "?  (i  Cor.  ii.  11).  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  who  knoweth  and  saith,  "  It  is  false," 
unless  himself  lieth?  But  because  "charity  believeth  all 
things"    (i    Cor.  xiii.   7),   especially  among    those,   whom 


The  Confessions  of  S.  Augustine.  183 

knitting  to  itself,  it  maketh  one,  I  -also,  O  Lord,  will  even 
so  make  confession  to  Thee,  that  men  may  hear,  to  whom 
I  am  unable  to  prove  whether  1  confess  the  truth,  yet  they 
whose  ears  charity  openeth  to  me,  believe  me. 

But  do  Thou,  my  inmost  Physician,  make  plain  unto  me, 
what  fruit  I  may  pluck  from  this  action.  For  the  con- 
fessions of  my  past  sins,  which  Thou  hast  "forgiven  and 
covered"  (Ps.  xxxii.  i),  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  may  not  slumber 
in  despair,  and  say,  "  I  can't,"  but  awake  in  the  love  of 
Thy  mercy  and  the  sweetness  of  Thy  grace,  whereby,  every 
one  that  is  weak  is  made  strong,  when  by  means  of  it  he 
becomes  conscious  within  himself  of  his  own  weakness,  and 
it  delighteth  the  good  to  hear  the  past  sins  of  them,  that 
now  have  abandoned  them  ;  but  it  delights  them  not 
because  they  are  evil,  but  because  they  were,  and  are  so 
no  longer.  With  what  fruit  then,  O  Lord  my  God,  to 
whom  day  by  day  my  conscience  confesseth,  trusting  rather 
in  the  hope  of  Thy  mercy  than  in  its  own  innocence,  with 
what  fruit,  I  ask,  do  I,  by  this  book,  confess  to  men  also  in 
Thy  presence,  what  I  now  am,  not  what  I  have  been? 
For  that  other  fruit  I  have  seen  and  described.  But  what 
I  now  am,  at  the  very  time  of  making  these  confessions, 
many  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,  whatever  I  am.  They 
wish  then  to  hear  me  confess  what  I  am  within ;  whither 
they  can  penetrate  neither  with  eye,  nor  ear,  nor  mind  : 
they  are  even  willing  to  beheve ;  but  will  they  know  ? 
For  charity,  whence  they  gain  their  goodness,  telleth 
them  that  in  my  confessions  I  lie  not ;  and  she  in  them, 
believeth  me. 


CHAPTER   IV. 

He  declares  what  results  he  hopeih  for  from  his  Confessions. 

BUT    for   what   fruit    do    they   desire   this?      Are   they 
desirous  to  rejoice  with  me  when  they  have  heard 
how  near  to  Thee  I  draw  by  Thy  bounty,  and  to  pray  for 


1 84  'J'fi<^  Co7ifessions  of  S.  Augustine. 

mc  wlicn  tlicy  liavc  heard  how  much  I  am  hindered  by  my 
own  weight  ?  To  such  will  I  discover  myself.  For  it  is  no 
small  fruit,  O  Lord  my  God,  "that  by  many  thanks  should 
be  given  to  Thee  on  our  behalf"  (2  Cor.  i.  ii),  and  that 
Thou  shouldest  be  entreated  by  many  for  us.  Let  the 
fraternal  spirit  love  in  me,  what  Thou  teachest  is  to  be 
loved,  and  lament  in  me,  what  Thou  teachest  is  to  be 
lamented.  This  let  a  fraternal  spirit  do,  not  a  stranger's, 
not  that  of  the  "strange  children,  whose  mouth  talketh  of 
vanity,  and  their  right  hand  is  a  right  hand  of  iniquity " 
(Ps.  cxliv.  Ti),  but  that  fraternal  spirit  which,  when  it 
approveth  me,  rejoiceth  for  me,  and  when  it  disapproveth 
me,  sorroweth  for  me ;  because  whether  it  approveth  or 
disapproveth,  it  loveth  me.  To  such  will  I  discover  myself; 
at  that  which  is  good  in  me  let  them  draw  breath  with  joy, 
at  what  is  ill,  let  them  breathe  a  sigh.  All  my  good  is 
Thy  appointment,  and  Thy  gift ;  all  my  evil  mine  own 
faults,  and  Thy  judgments.  For  the  one  let  them  draw 
breath  with  joy,  for  the  other  let  them  sigh — and  let  their 
hymn  and  their  lamentation  both  ascend  into  Thy  Presence, 
from  their  fraternal  hearts,  which  are  Thy  censers.  But  do 
Thou,  O  Lord,  rejoicing  in  the  sweet  perfume  of  Thy  Holy 
Temple,  "  have  mercy  upon  me  after  Thy  great  goodness  " 
(Ps.  li.),  for  Thy  Name's  sake;  and  by  no  means  forsaking 
what  Thou  hast  begun,  make  perfect  my  imperfections. 

This  is  the  fruit  of  my  confessions,  not  of  what  I  have 
been,  but  of  what  I  am,  that  I  may  confess  this  not  only 
before  Thee,  with  a  secret  "rejoicing  with  trembhng" 
(Ps.  ii.  11),  and  a  secret  sorrowing  with  hope,  but  also  in 
the  ears  of  the  sons  of  men  who  believe,  the  companions  of 
my  joy,  and  partakers  of  my  mortality,  fellow  citizens  and 
fellow  pilgrims  with  me,  whether  they  are  gone  before,  or 
follow  after,  or  tread  with  me  the  path  of  life.  These  are 
Thy  servants,  my  brethren,  whom  Thou  hast  willed  to 
be  Thy  sons;  my  masters,  whom  Thou  hast  bidden  me 
serve,  if  I  would  live  with  Thee,  of  Thee.  But  this  Thy 
Word  were  all  too  little  for  me,  did  it  in  speech  alone 
enjom,  and  not  in  deed  prevent.  And  this  I  do  both  in 
deeds  and  words,  this  I  do  "beneath  Thy  wings"  in  peril 
too  great,  were  not  my  soul  subdued  to  Thee  beneath  Thy 
wmgs,  and  my  weakness  known  to  Thee.  I  am  but  a  little 
one,  but  my  Father  ever  liveth,  and  my  Guardian  is  "  suffi- 


The  Confessions  of  S.  A  ugustine.  1 8  5 

cient  for  me."  For  He  is  the  same  who  hath  begotten 
and  doth  guard  me ;  and  Thou  Thyself  art  all  my  good ; 
Thou  Almighty,  Who  art  with  me,  yea,  before  I  am  with 
Thee.  To  such  then  as  Thou  biddest  me  serve,  will  I 
discover,  not  what  I  have  been,  but  what  I  now  am  and 
what  I  yet  may  be.  But  yet  "  I  judge  not  mine  own  self" 
(i  Cor.  iv.  3).     Thus  therefore  I  would  be  heard. 


CHAPTER   V. 

Our  confessions  cannot  but  he  imperfect ;  for  man  knoweth  not  himself 

as  God  knozveth. 

FOR  *'Thou,  Lord,  dost  judge  me  :"  because,  although 
"  no  man  knoweth  the  things  of  a  man,  but  the  spirit  of 
a  man  which  is  in  him,"  yet  is  there  something  of  man,  which 
not  even  "the  spirit  of  man  that  is  in  him,"  itself  "knoweth" 
(i  Cor.  ii.  u).  But  Thou,  Lord,  who  hast  made  him, 
knowest  all  concerning  him.  Yet  I,  though  in  Thy  sight  I 
despise  myself,  and  account  myself  "  dust  and  ashes ; "  yet 
know  I  something  of  Thee,  which  I  know  not  of  myself. 
And  in  truth  "  now  we  see  through  a  glass  darkly,"  not  yet 
"face  to  face"  (i  Cor.  xiii.  12);  and  therefore  so  long  as  I 
wander  far  off  from  Thee,  I  am  more  present  with  myself 
than  with  Thee ;  and  yet  I  know  that  Thou  canst  in  no  way 
suffer  harm.  But  what  temptations  I  can  resist,  what  I 
cannot,  I  know  not.  Yet  there  is  hope,  because  "  Thou 
art  faithful.  Who  wilt  not  suffer  us  to  be  tempted  above  that 
we  are  able ;  but  wilt  with  the  temptation  also  make  a  way 
to  escape,  that  we  may  be  able  to  bear  it"  (i  Cor.  x.  13). 
I  will  confess  then  what  I  know  of  myself,  I  will  confess 
also  what  I  know  not  of  myself;  since  what  I  do  know  of 
myself,  I  know  by  Thy  shining  upon  me ;  and  what  I  know 
not  of  myself,  I  know  not  only,  until  "my  darkness  be 
made  as  the  noon-day  "  (Is.  Iviii.  10)  in  Thy  countenance. 


1 86  The  Confessions  of  S.  Augustine. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

He  searcheth  throughout  the  viatcrial  creation,  wherein  he  findeth  not 
God  ;  though  it  speaketh  of  Him. 

NOT  with  doubting,  but  with  assured  consciousness,  do 
I  love  Thee,  Lord.  Thou  hast  stricken  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  without  excuse"  (Rom.  i.  20).  But  more  deeply  "wilt 
Thou  have  mercy  on  whom  Thou  wilt  have  mercy,  and  wilt 
have  compassion  on  whom  Thou  wilt  have  compassion " 
(Rom.  ix.  15),  or  else  the  heaven  and  the  earth  declare  Thy 
praises  to  deaf  ears.  But  what  do  I  love,  when  I  love 
Thee  ?  not  beauty  of  the  body,  nor  harmony  of  time,  nor 
the  brilliancy  of  light,  so  pleasant  to  these  eyes,  nor  sweet 
melodies  of  every  kind  of  song,  nor  the  sweet  scent  of 
flowers,  and  perfumes,  and  spices,  not  manna  and  honey, 
not  limbs  inviting  to  fleshly  embrace.  Not  these  do  I  love, 
when  I  love  my  God ;  and  yet  I  love  a  kind  of  light,  and 
melody,  and  fragrance,  and  food,  and  embrace,  when  I  love 
my  God,  the  light,  melody,  fragrance,  food,  embrace  of  my 
inward  man  :  where  there  shineth  upon  my  soul,  what  space 
containeth  not,  and  where  resoundeth  what  time  stealeth 
not  away,  and  where  is  fragrance  that  a  breath  scattereth 
not,  and  where  there  is  flavour  that  eating  lesseneth  not,  and 
where  there  is  an  embrace  that  satiety  rendeth  not  asunder. 
This  I  love,  when  I  love  my  God. 

And  what  is  this  ?  I  asked  the  earth,  and  it  answered  me, 
"  I  am  not  He ; "  and  all  that  therein  is  confessed  the  same. 
I  asked  the  sea  and  the  depths,  and  the  creeping  things  with 
life,  and  they  answered,  "  We  are  not  thy  God,  seek  thou 
above  us."  I  asked  the  breezy  gales  ;  and  the  airy  universe, 
and  all  its  denizens  replied,  "Anaximenes  is  mistaken.  I 
am  not  God."  I  asked  heaven,  sun,  moon,  stars,  "neither 
are  we,"  say  they,  "  the  God  whom  thou  seek  est."  And  I 
said  unto  all  things  which  stand  about  the  gateways  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  study  of  them  was  my  question 
to  them  ;  their  beauty  their  response  to  me.     And  I  turned 


TJic  Confessions  of  S.  Augustine.  187 

myself  unto  myself,  and  said  to  myself,  "What  art  thou?" 
And  I  answered,  "A  man."  And  behold,  in  me  there  con- 
front me  soul  and  body,  the  one  without,  the  other  within. 
Which  is  it  of  these,  wherein  I  ought  to  seek  my  God,  whom 
I  had  already  sought  through  the  body  from  earth  even  to 
heaven,  as  far  as  I  could  send  as  messengers  the  beams  of 
mine  eyes.  But  that  which  is  within  is  the  better  ;  for  to  it 
all  the  bodily  members  made  report,  as  to  a  president  and 
judge,  concerning  the  several  responses  of  heaven  and  earth, 
and  all  things  therein,  which  said  "  We  are  not  God,  but  He 
made  us."  The  inner  man  knew  this  by  the  agency  of  the 
outer — my  inward  self  knew  this,  I  myself,  I,  the  living  soul 
through  the  senses  of  my  body.  I  questioned  the  whole 
fabric  of  the  world  about  my  God ;  and  it  replied  to  me, 
"  I  am  not  He,  but  He  made  me." 

Is  not  this  beauty  manifest  to  all  whose  perception  is 
sound?  why  then  speaks  it  not  the  same  to  all?  Animals 
small  and  great  see  it,  but  they  cannot  question  it  :  because 
reason  is  not  placed  in  the  seat  of  judgment  over  their 
senses,  to  receive  their  reports.  But  men  can  ask,  so  that 
"  the  invisible  things  of  God  are  clearly  seen,  being  under- 
stood by  the  things  that  are  made  "  (Rom.  i.  20)  ;  but  by 
love  of  them,  they  are  made  subject  unto  them  ;  and  being 
subject,  cannot  judge.  Nor  yet  do  the  creatures  answer 
such  as  ask,  unless  they  can  judge  :  they  do  not  indeed 
change  their  tone,  that  is  their  appearance,  because  one  only 
looks  upon  them,  while  another  looks  upon  and  ques- 
tions them,  so  as  to  present  one  appearance  to  the  one, 
another  to  the  other ;  but  having  the  same  appearance 
to  each,  to  one  it  is  dumb,  to  the  other  it  is  eloquent ;  or 
rather  to  all  it  is  eloquent :  but  they  only  understand  who 
compare  its  tone,  perceived  without,  with  the  truth  within. 
For  the  truth  saith  unto  me,  "  Neither  heaven,  nor  earth 
nor  any  material  thing  is  thy  God."  This,  their  very  nature 
saith  to  him  that  seeth  them ;  "  They  are  a  mass  ;  a  mass  is 
less  in  a  part  thereof,  than  in  the  whole."  Now  to  thee  I 
speak,  O  my  soul,  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. 


J 88  TJie  Confessions  of  S.  Aligns tme, 

V 

CHAPTER  VII. 

Neither  doth  he  find  God  in  any  vital  or  sentient  faculty  within  himself. 

WHAT  then  do  I  love,  when  I  love  my  God?  who  is 
He  above  the  head  of  my  soul  ?  By  my  very  soul 
will  I  ascend  to  Him.  I  will  pass  beyond  that  power 
whereby  I  am  united  to  my  body,  and  fill  its  whole  frame 
with  life.  Nor  can  I  by  that  power  find  my  God ;  for  so 
"  horse  and  mule  that  have  no  understanding  "  (Ps.  xxxii.  9), 
might  find  Him ;  seeing  it  is  the  same  power,  whereby  even 
their  bodies  live.  But  another  power  there  is,  not  that  only 
whereby  I  animate,  but  that  too  whereby  I  render  sentient 
that  liesh,  which  the  Lord  hath  fashioned  for  me ;  which 
bids  the  eye  not  to  hear,  and  the  ear  not  to  see ;  but  the 
former,  that  I  may  see  by  it,  the  latter  that  I  may  hear  by 
it :  and  the  other  senses  respectively  their  own  positions 
and  functions,  all  of  which  are  different,  while  I,  the  one 
living  mind,  act  through  them.  I  will  pass  beyond  this 
power  of  mine  also  ;  for  this  also  have  the  horse  and  mule, 
for  they  also  perceive  through  the  body. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

He  seeheth  Him  in  his  ineniory  ;  and  describeth  its  wonders, 

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  spreading  courts  of  memory,  where 
are  treasures  of  unnumbered  impressions  of  things  of  every 
kind,  stored  by  the  senses.  There  is  hoarded  even  what  we 
imagine,  whether  by  increasing  or  diminishing,  or  in  any 
way  varying  what  sense  hath  observed  :  and  whatever  else 
hatli  been  entrusted  to  it,  and  laid  up,  which  forgetfulness 
hath  not  yet  swallowed  up  and  buried.  When  I  am  there 
I  require  what  I  will,  to  be  brought  forth,  and  some  things 
appear  forthwith ;  for  some  things  the  search  is  longer,  and 
they  seem  to  be  dragged  out  of  some  more  secret  retreats ; 
some  things  rush  forth  in  crowds,  and  while  another  is 
beingl  hunted   up,  and  sought  after,  leap  into  notice,   as 


The  Confessions  of  S.  A  ngustine.  1 89 

though  they  were  saying  "  Is  it  not  us  by  chance  ?  "     And 
with  my  heart's  hand  I  brush  them  from  the  face  of  my 
recollection,  until  what  I  want  looks  out  from  the  clouds, 
and  comes  forth  from  its  lurking  places  into  sight.     Other 
things  are  easily  suggested,  and  in  an  unbroken  order,  when 
called  for,  the  antecedents  make  way  for  the  consequents, 
and  as  they  depart,  are  put  away,  ready  to  come  forth  again, 
when  I  shall  desire.     All  this  happens  when  I  tell  a  thing 
got  by  heart.      There   all   things   are   kept   distinct,    and 
according  to  their  kind,  as  many  as  have  been  brought  in, 
each  through  his   own  approach  :  as  light,  and  all  colours 
and  material  forms,  through  the  eyes ;  but  through  the  ears 
all  kinds  of  sounds  ;  all  odours  through  the  approach  of  the 
nostrils  ;  all  flavours  by  the  approach  of  the  mouth ;  but  by 
the  general  perception  of  the  whole  body,  what  is  hard, 
what  soft,  what  hot  or  cold,   smooth  or  rough,  heavy  or 
light,  whether  external  or  internal  to  the  body.     All  these 
doth  that  vast  hall  of  memory  (and  I  know  not  what  secret 
and  untold  passages  she  hath)  receive  to  bring  forth  at  need, 
and  to  examine  again  ;  all  of  which  enter  through  their  own 
gateways,  and  are  laid  up  in  her ;  nor  do  they  themselves 
enter,  but   impressions  of  things  perceived   by  sense  are 
ready  there,  for  reflection  to  recall  them.     And  who  can 
tell  how  these  images  were  fashioned  ?  though  it  is  clear 
enough  by  what  senses  they  have  been  seized,  and  hidden 
away  within.     For  even  while  I  am  dwelling  in  darkness 
and  in  silence,  in  my  memory,  if  I  choose  it,  I  can  call  up 
colours,    and   distinguish   between   white   and   black,  and 
whatsoever  others  I  will ;  nor  do  sounds  rush  in  to  disturb 
my  meditation  upon  what  was  drawn  in  by  my  eyes,  though 
they  too  are  there,  and  seem  to  be  put  away  and  remain 
hidden  in  a  place  apart.     For  I  call  for  them  too  at  my 
pleasure,  and  there  they  are  forthwith.     And  though  my 
tongue  be   still,  and  my  throat  silent,  I  sing  as  much  as  I 
like ;  and  those  images  of  colours,  which  are  there  no  less, 
do   not   thrust    themselves    forward,    nor   interrupt,    when 
another  treasure,  which  poured  in  at  the  ears,  is  again  being 
dealt  with.     So  also  I  recall  other  things,  which  have  been 
imported  and  stored  up  through  my  other  senses,  just  as  I 
please  :    and  the  scent  of  lilies  I  can  distinguish  from  that 
of  violets,  though  actually  smelling  nothing ;    and  I   can 
prefer  honey  to  mead,  the  smooth  to  the  rough,  though  at 


190  The  Confessions  of  S.  Augustine. 

the  moment  making  use  of  neither  taste  nor  touch,  but 
only  of  remembrance. 

This  I  do  within,  in  the  huge  hall  of  my  memory.  For 
there  the  heaven,  and  the  earth,  and  the  sea,  with  all  that  in 
them  is  which  I  have  been  able  to  discern  by  sense,  are 
ready  to  my  hand,  saving  only  such  things  as  I  have  for- 
gotten. There  also  I  meet  with  myself,  and  I  remember 
myself,  what  I  did,  and  when,  and  where,  and  in  what  way, 
when  I  did  it,  I  was  affected  by  it.  There  are  all  things  I 
remember,  whether  such  as  have  arisen  within  my  own 
ex])erience,  or  those  to  which  I  have  given  credit.  More- 
over out  of  the  same  copious  store  I  weave  in  with  the 
past  varying  impressions  of  things  either  experienced,  or 
such  as  I  have  believed  from  my  own  experience ;  and 
from  these  again  forecast  actions,  events,  and  hopes  ;  and 
I  exercise  myself  in  them  all,  as  though  really  present 
again.  "  This  or  that  will  I  do,"  I  say  to  myself,  in  that 
vast  secret  chamber  of  my  mind,  filled  with  images  of  things 
so  many  and  so  great,  "and  this  or  that  will  follow."  "  O 
that  it  might  be  that  or  the  other  !  "  "  God  forbid  this  or 
that."  Such  things  within  myself  I  say,  and  while  I  am 
saying  them  the  images  of  all  are  before  me,  out  of  that 
same  treasury  of  memory,  nor  could  I  say  them  at  all  if 
they  were  wanting  there.  Great  is  that  power  of  memory, 
too  great,  my  God,  that  wide  and  unbounded  sanctuary. 
Who  can  come  at  the  depth  of  it?  And  this  is  a  power  of 
my  soul,  and  belongs  to  my  nature,  nor  can  I  even  myself 
take  in  the  whole  of  what  I  am.  Therefore  the  mind  is 
too  narrow  to  contain  itself.  And  where  can  that  portion 
of  it  be,  which  itself  cannot  take  in?  Is  it  outside  itself, 
and  not  in  itself?  How  then  is  it  that  it  cannot  take  it  in  ? 
A  great  amazement  arises  with  me,  upon  this  ;  surprise 
astounds  me.  And  men  travel  to  enjoy  the  heights  of 
mountains,  and  the  mighty  billows  of  the  sea,  and  the  wide 
flowmg  tides  of  rivers,  and  the  expanse  of  ocean,  and  the 
circuits  of  the  stars,  and  leave  themselves  behind,  and  feel 
no  wonder  that  though  I  speak  of  all  these  things,  I  do  not 
see  them  with  mine  eyes  ;  and  yet  I  could  not  speak  of 
them,  did  I  not  see  within  in  my  memory,  in  those  spaces 
so  vast,  mountains,  and  billows,  and  rivers,  and  stars,  which 
I  have  seen,  and  ocean,  of  which  I  have  heard,  as  though  I 
were  looking  upon  them  without.     Yet  I   did  not  swallow 


The  Confessions  of  S.  Augustine.  191 

them  up  by  looking  at  them,  when  I  saw  them  with  these 
eyes  :  nor  are  they  themselves  within  me,  but  their  images. 
And  I  know  from  what  bodily  sense  each  impression  in  me 
hath  been  derived. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

In  what  way  the  liberal  sciences  may  be  said  to  be  in  the  meniofy. 

BUT  not  only  these  things  doeth  that  unmeasured 
spaciousness  of  my  memory  contain.  Here  too  are 
all  those  things  which  I  have  learnt  of  the  liberal  sciences, 
and  not  forgotten,  put  back  as  it  were  in  an  inward  place, 
which  is  no  place  ;  nor  have  I  there  the  images  of  these 
things,  but  the  things  themselves.  For  what  literature  is, 
what  skill  in  discussion,  how  many  kinds  of  questions  there 
are,  what  ever  I  know  about  these  things,  is  in  such  a 
manner  contained  in  my  memory,  that  I  do  not  keep  the 
image,  and  leave  the  thing  itself  without,  neither  hath  it 
sounded  and  passed  by,  as  a  voice  imprinted  through  the 
ears  by  some  impress,  whereby  it  might  be  recalled  as 
though  it  still  sounded,  when  it  hath  already  ceased  to 
sound  :  or  as  a  sweet  odour  affects  the  organ  of  smell,  while 
it  is  passing  by,  and  being  dissipated  in  the  air,  whence  it 
casts  upon  the  memory  an  image  of  itself,  which  we  recall 
in  recollection ;  or  as  food,  which  certainly  hath  no  taste 
when  it  hath  reached  the  stomach,  still  has  a  sort  of  taste 
in  the  memory.  Indeed  these  things  themselves  are  not 
admitted  to  it,  but  only  their  images  are  caught  with 
wonderful  speed,  and  are  laid  by,  as  though  in  wonderful 
cabinets,  and  wonderfully  brought  forth  again  by  recollecting 
them. 

CHAPTER  X. 

Of  the  channels  through  which  literature  has  access  to  the  memory. 

BUT  when  I  hear  that  there  are  three  kinds  of  questions  : 
namely,  whether  a  thing  is  ?  what  it  is  ?  of  what  kind 
it  is  ?  I  retain  indeed  images  of  the  sounds,  of  which  these 
words  are  composed,  and  I  know  that  they  themselves  have  , 


192  TJie  Confessions  of  S.  Augustine. 

passed  through  the  air  with  a  vibration,  and  exist  no  longer; 
but  the  things  themselves,  signified  by  those  sounds,  I  have 
neither  touched  upon  with  any  bodily  sense,  nor  have  I  seen 
them  anywhere  beyond  my  mind  :  and  in  my  memory  I 
have  stored  away  not  their  images  but  themselves,  and 
whence  they  found  entrance  to  me  let  them  tell  if  they  can. 
For  I  pass  through  all  the  doors  of  my  flesh,  nor  find  I 
through  which  of  them  they  made  their  entry.  For  the 
eyes  say,  "if  they  are  coloured,  we  ushered  them  in;"  the 
cars  say,  "  if  they  sounded,  they  were  declared  by  us ;  "  the 
nostrils  say,  ''if  they  have  any  smell,  they  passed  through 
by  us;"  the  sense  of  taste  says,  "if  they  have  no  flavour, 
ask  me  nothing  about  them ; "  touch  says,  "  if  it  have  not " 
bulk,  I  have  not  handled  it,  and  if  I  have  not  handled  it,  I 
have  not  shown  it  in.  Whence  and  how  have  they  found 
entrance  to  my  memory  ?  I  know  not  how ;  for  when  I 
learnt  them,  I  did  not  believe  them  in  another's  mind,  but 
recognised  them  in  my  own,  and  proved  their  truth,  and 
entrusted  them  to  it,  just  as  if  putting  them  away  some- 
where, whence  I  could  fetch  them  out  when  I  chose.  There 
therefore  they  were,  even  before  I  had  learned  them, 
but  in  memory  they  were  not.  Where  then  were  they?  or 
why  when  they  were  spoken,  did  I  assent  to  them  and  say 
"  It  is  so,  it  is  true,"  unless  they  were  already  in  my  memory, 
but  so  far  off,  and  so  concealed,  as  if  in  very  secret  corners, 
that  unless  dragged  out  by  the  suggestion  of  another,  I 
could  not  even  by  chance  think  of  them. 


CHAPTER  XL 

How  things  are  learnt  by  the  nie/nory. 

A/yHEREFORE  we  conclude  that  to  learn  those  things, 
^  ^  whose  images  we  do  not  imbibe  through  our  senses, 
l)ut  discern  themselves  by  themselves  within  us,  but  without 
images  as  they  are,  is  nothing  else  than  to  collect  as  it  were 
by  thought,  those  things  which  the  memory  held  though 
promiscuously  and  without  arrangement,  and  to  provide  by 
heedful  consideration,  that  they  may  be  placed  ready  to 
hand  in  that  same  memory,  where  before  they  were  lurking 
scattered  and  neglected,  so  as  to  easily  occur  to  the  mind  once 


TJic  Confessions  of  S,  Augustine.  193 

familiarised  with  them.  And  how  many  things  of  this  kind 
does  my  memory  bear  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  more  distant  secret 
chambers,  that  they  must,  as  though  new,  be  thought  out 
again  from  thence  (for  other  abode  they  have  none),  and  be 
driven  together  again,  that  they  may  be  known  ;  that  is  to  say, 
they  must  as  it  were  be  collected  together  from  their  disper- 
sion: whence  the  word ''  to  cogitate"  is  derived.  For  "cogo" 
and"cogito"  (/.^.,"1  drive  together,"  and  "I  ponder  upon  '') 
have  the  same  connection  as  "ago"  with  "agito,"  and  "facio" 
with  "factito."  But  the  mind  has  claimed  this  word  for  its 
own  exclusive  use,  so  that  not  what  is  collected  elsewhere, 
but  only  what  is  collected  in  the  mind,  that  is,  is  "  driven 
together,"  can  properly  be  described  as  "pondered  upon." 


CHAPTER  XII. 

Of  the  ineDwry  of  mimbers. 

THE  memory  containeth  also  reasons  and  laws  innumer- 
able of  numbers  and  dimensions,  none  of  which  hath 
any  bodily  sense  impressed  ;  seeing  they  have  neither  colour, 
nor  sound,  nor  scent,  nor  taste,  nor  bulk.     I  have  heard  the 
sound  of  the  words  whereby  when  discussed  they  are  de- 
noted :  but  the  sounds  are  of  one  kind,  the  things  them- 
selves are  quite  different.     For  the  sounds  differ  in  Greek 
and  in  Latin ;  but  the  things  are  neither  Greek  nor  Latin, 
nor  any  other  language.     I  have  seen  the  lines  of  craftsmen  ; 
as  fine  as  possible,  like  the  gossamer  of  a  spider ;  but  these 
things  are  of  another  kind  ;  they  are  not  the  images  of  those 
which  my  fleshly  eye  has  made  known  to   me.     He  only 
knoweth  them,  who  without  any  conception  of  any  kind  of 
body  hath  recognised  them  within  himself    I  have  perceived 
also  the  numbers  of  the  things  with  which  we  number  all 
the  senses  of  my  body;  but  those  numbers  wherewith  we 
number,  are  different,  nor  are  they  the  images  of  these,  and 
therefore  they  indeed  are.     Let  him  who  seeth  them  not, 
deride  me  for  saying  these  things,  and  I  will  pity  him,  while 
he  derides  me. 


194  TJic  Confessions  of  S.  Augnstine. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

Of  the  Dicmoyy  of  remembrances  ;  and  of  the  ?nemory  of  the  emotions 

of  the  mind. 

ALL  these  things  I  keep  in  my  memory,  and  how  I  learnt 
them  I  keep  in  my  memory.  Many  things  also  most 
falsely  objected  against  them  have  I  heard,  and  keep  in  my 
memory,  which  though  they  be  false,  yet  is  it  not  false  that 
I  remember  them ;  and  I  remember  also  that  I  have  dis- 
tinguished between  those  truths  and  these  falsehoods  alleged 
against  them.  And  I  perceive  that  to  distinguish  between 
them  now,  and  to  remember  that  I  have  often  distinguished 
between  them,  when  I  have  many  times  pondered  over  them, 
are  quite  different  things.  I  remember  therefore  both  that  I 
have  often  understood  these  things  ;  and  also,  I  stow  away  in 
my  memory  what  I  now  discern  and  understand,  that  here- 
after I  may  remember  that  I  understood  it  now.  Therefore 
I  remember  also  the  fact  that  I  have  remembered  ;  so  that 
if  afterwards  I  recall  that  I  have  now  been  able  to  remem- 
ber, I  shall  certainly  recall  it  by  the  power  of  memory.  The 
emotions  also  of  the  mind  this  same  memory  contains, 
though  not  in  the  same  way  as  the  mind  itself  holds  them, 
when  it  is  enduring  them  ;  but  in  a  very  different  manner, 
according  to  its  own  power.  For  without  rejoicing  I 
remember  that  I  did  rejoice  ;  and  without  sorrow  I  recollect 
my  past  sorrows ;  and  that  I  was  "  sometime  afraid  "  I  recall 
witliout  present  fear ;  and  I  call  to  mind  an  ancient  desire 
without  renewal  of  desire.  Nay,  on  the  contrary,  I  am 
sometimes  glad  when  I  remember  past  sorrow,  and  sorry 
when  recalling  joy. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

Thai  the  recollection,  of  certain  emotions  doth  not  awaken  similar 

emotions. 

AND  this  is  not  remarkable  with  regard  to  the  body ;  for 
^^  mmd  is  one  thing,  body  another.  If  I  therefore  with 
joy  remember  some  past  pain  of  body,  it  is  not  so  wonder- 
ful ;  but  here  is  the  marvel,  in  that  memory  itself  is  mind. 


The  Confessions  of  S.  Augustine.  195 

for  when  we  are  bidding  one  to  hold  anything  in  memory, 
we  say,  "  See  that  you  keep  it.  in  mind ; "  and  when  we 
forget,  we  say,  "  It  was  not  in  my  mind,"  or,  "  It  sHpped 
out  of  my  mind,"  calling  the  memory  itself  the  mind.  Since 
then  this  is  so,  how  is  it,  that  when  with  joy  I  remember 
my  past  sorrow,  the  mind  hath  joy,  and  the  memory 
sorrow ;  but  the  mind  has  joy  by  reason  of  the  gladness  in 
it,  while  the  memory  is  not  sad  by  reason  of  the  sorrow 
that  is  in  it  ?  Does  the  memory  perchance  not  belong  to 
the  mind  ?  Who  will  say  so  ?  The  memory  then  is  a  sort 
of  belly  of  the  mind,  and  joy  and  sadness  a  kind  of  food, 
sweet  or  bitter ;  when  these  are  entrusted  to  the  memory, 
they  are  passed  into  a  kind  of  belly ;  and  there  they  can  be 
stowed,  but  can  no  longer  have  a  flavour.  Ridiculous  it  is 
to  imagine  these  to  be  alike  \  and  yet  are  they  not  utterly 
unlike. 

But  see  I  am  drawing  upon  my  memory,  when  I  say 
there  are  four  emotions  of  the  mind,  desire,  joy,  fear, 
sorrow  ;  and  whatever  discussion  I  may  hold  upon  them, 
by  dividing  each  into  its  subordinate  species,  and  by  defin- 
ing it,  it  is  there  that  I  find  what  to  say,  and  thence  I  pro- 
duce it :  yet  am  I  not  moved  by  any  of  these  emotions, 
when  by  calling  them  to  mind,  I  remember  them ;  and  even 
before  I  recalled  them,  and  dealt  with  them  again,  they 
were  there ;  and  therefore  could  they,  by  recollection,  thence 
be  brought.  Perchance,  then,  as  meat  from  the  belly  by 
rumination,  so  by  recollection  these  are  brought  up  again 
from  the  memory.  Why  then  is  not  the  sweetness  of  joy, 
or  the  bitterness  of  sorrow,  tasted  in  the  mouth  of  his 
thought  by  the  disputant,  that  is,  by  him  who  remembers? 
Is  the  comparison  unlike  in  this,  because  not  in  all  respects 
like  ?  For  who  would  willingly  speak  of  such  things  if  as 
often  as  we  name  grief  or  fear,  we  should  be  compelled  to 
be  sad  or  fearful  ?  And  yet  we  could  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  bodily 
senses,  but  notions  of  the  very  things  themselves  which  we 
have  received  through  no  fleshly  gateway,  but  which  the 
mind  itself  perceiving  by  the  experience  of  its  own  passions, 
committed  to  the  memory,  or  the  memory  of  itself  retained, 
though  they  were  not  entrusted  to  it. 


196  The  Confessions  of  S.  Augustine. 


CHAPTER  XV. 

That  { 1)1  ages  of  things  present  as  well  as  absent  are  retained  in  the 

meinory. 


B 


UT  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  memory,  I  should  not  know  what  to  say  of 
it,  neither  in  discussion  about  it  could  I  distinguish  it  from 
pleasure.  I  name  bodily  health  ;  being  sound  in  body,  the 
thing  itself  is  present  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,  understand  what  was 
being  spoken  of,  unless  the  same  image  were  retained  by 
the  power  of  memory,  although  the  thing  itself  were  absent 
from  the  body.  I  name  numbers  whereby  w^e  number; 
and  not  their  images,  but  themselves  are  present  in  my 
mcmor)'.  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  itself ;  there  it  is  itself  when  I  remember  it. 
I  name  memory,  and  I  recognise  what  I  name.  And  where 
do  I  recognise  it,  but  in  the  memory  itself?  Is  it  also 
present  to  itself  by  its  image,  and  not  by  itself? 


CHArXER  XVI. 

Of  the  meuiory  of  forget ftilness. 

Air  HAT,  when  I  name  forgetfulness,  and  withal  recognise 
W  ^vhat  I  name?  whence  should  I  recognise  it,  unless 
1  remembered  it  ?  I  am  not  speaking  of  the  sound  of  the 
name,  but  of  the  thing  which  it  signifies  :  and  if  I  had 
forgotten  this,  I  certainly  should  not  be  able  to  recognise 
what  the  sound  meant.  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  by  which  I  remember, 


The  Confessions  of  S.  Augustine.  197 

forgetfulness  which  I  remember.  But  what  is  forgetfulness, 
but  the  privation  of  memory  ?  How  then  is  it  present  that 
I  remember  it,  since  when  it  is  present  I  cannot  remember  ? 
But  if  we  remember  anything,  we  keep  it  in  memory ;  but 
unless  we  remembered  forgetfulness,  we  could  not  in  any 
way  realise,  upon  hearing  that  word,  the  thing  which  it 
denotes.  Forgetfulness  therefore  is  retained  in  the  memory. 
It  is  present  then  that  we  may  not  forget,  yet  when  it  is 
present,  we  forget.  Is  it  to  be  understood  from  this,  that 
forgetfulness,  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  remember,  but  to 
forget  ?  Who  now  shall  search  out  this  ?  who  shall  com- 
prehend how  it  is  ? 

Lord,  I,  truly,  toil  therein,  yea  and  toil  in  myself ;  I  am 
become  a  difficult  soil,  demanding  excessive  "sweat."  For 
we  are  not  now  exploring  tracts  of  sky,  or  measuring  the 
distances  of  the  stars,  or  enquiring  into  the  gravity  of  the 
earth.  It  is  I  myself  who  remember,  I  a  rational  mind. 
It  would  not  be  so  wonderful  if  something  not  myself  were 
so  far  out  of  my  reach.  But  what  is  nearer  to  me  than 
myself?  And  lo,  the  power  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  in  my  memory,  on  purpose  that  I  should 
not  forget  ?  Either  is  most  absurd.  What  third  course  is 
there  ?  How  can  I  say  that  the  image  of  forgetfulness  is 
retained  by  my  memory,  not  forgetfulness  itself,  when  I  re- 
member 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  remember  Carthage, 
thus  all  places  where  I  have  been,  thus  the  faces  of  men  I 
have  seen,  and  things  reported  by  the  other  senses ;  thus, 
too,  the  health  or  sickness  of  the  body.  For  when  these 
things  were  present,  my  memory  received  from  them  images, 
which,  being  present  with  me,  I  might  look  on  and  go  over 
again  in  my  mind,  when  they  were  gone  and  I  remembered 
them.  If  then  this  forgetfulness  is  retained  in  the  memory 
through  its  image,  not  through  itself,  then  plainly,  itself  was 


198  The  Confessions  of  S.  Augustine. 

once  present,  that  its  image  might  be  received.  But  when 
it  was  present,  how  did  it  sketch  its  image  in  the  memory, 
seeing  that  by  its  presence  it  obliterates  even  what  it  finds 
already  jotted  down?  And  yet,  in  whatever  way,  although 
that  way  be  incomprehensible  and  inexplicable,  yet  certain 
am  1  that  I  remember  even  that  very  forgetfulness,  wherein 
what  we  remember  is  overwhelmed. 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

TJwugh  the  power  of  memory  he  vast  and  woiiderfitl,  he  passeth  beyond 
it  in  his  search  after  God. 

GREAT  is  the  power  of  memory,  a  fearful  thing,  O  my  God, 
a  deep  and  boundless  manifoldness ;  and  this  thing 
is  the  rational  mind,  and  this  am  I  myself.  What  am  I  then, 
O  my  God  ?  What  nature  am  I  ?  A  life  various  and  mani- 
fold, and  vast  exceedingly.  Behold  in  the  plains,  and  caves, 
and  caverns  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  cer- 
tain notions  or  impressions,  as  the  emotions  of  the  mind, 
which,  even  when  the  mind  doth  not  undergo,  the  memory 
retaineth,  while  yet  whatsoever  is  in  the  memory,  is  also  in 
the  mind — through  all  these  do  I  run,  and  flit  hither  and 
thither ;  I  penetrate  them  as  far  as  I  can,  and  there  is  no 
limit.  So  great  is  the  power  of  memory,  so  great  the  power 
of  life  in  mortal  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  even  attain  unto  Thee,  O  sweet  Light.  What 
sayest  Hiou  to  me  ?  See,  I  am  mounting  up  through  my 
mind  towards  Thee  who  abidest  above  me  :  and  I  now  will 
pass  beyond  this  power  of  mine  which  is  called  memory, 
desirous  to  reach  unto  Thee,  where  Thou  mayest  be 
reached ;  and  to  cleave  unto  Thee,  whence  one  may  cleave 
unto  Thee.  For  even  beasts  and  birds  have  memory ;  else 
could  they  not  return  to  their  dens  and  nests,  nor  many 
other  things  they  are  used  unto  :  nor  indeed  could  they  be 
used  to  any  thing,  but  by  memory.  I  will  pass  then  beyond 
memory  also,  that  1  may  arrive  at  Him  who  hath  separated 


The  Confess iotis  of  S.  A  ugustine.  1 99 

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  sweetness  ? 
And  where  shall  I  find  Thee  ? 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

Hoiv  ivhat  is  lost,  must  still  remain  in  the  ineuiory,  that  it  may  be 

found  again. 

IF  I  find  Thee  without  my  memory,  then  have  I  not 
Thee  in  my  remembrance.  And  how  shall  I  find  Thee 
if  I  have  Thee  not  in  remembrance  ?  For  the  woman  that 
had  lost  her  groat  (S.  Luke  xv.  i)  and  sought  it  with  a 
light ;  unless  she  had  remembered  it,  could  not  have  found 
it.  For  when  it  was  found,  whence  should  she  know 
whether  it  were  the  same,  if  she  had  no  remembrance  of  it? 
I  remember  to  have  sought  and  found  many  a  lost  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  "No,"  until  that  was  offered  me  which  I  was  seeking. 
And  had  I  not  remembered  it,  whatever  it  was,  even  had  it 
been  offered  to  me  I  should  not  have  found  it,  for  I  should 
not  have  been  able  to  recognise  it.  And  so  it  ever  is,  when 
we  seek  and  find  any  lost  thing.  Notwithstanding,  when 
any  thing  is  by  chance  lost  from  the  sight,  not  from  the 
memory,  yet,  like  some  visible  body,  its  image  is  still  re- 
tained within,  and  it  is  sought  until  it  is  restored  to  sight, 
and  when  it  has  been  found,  it  is  recognised  by  its  cor- 
respondence with  the  inward  image;  nor  do  we  say  that 
we  have  found  what  was  lost,  unless  we  recognise  it ;  nor 
can  we  recognise  it,  unless  we  remember  it.  This  thing 
then  was  lost  only  to  the  eyes ;  in  the  memory  it  was 
retained. 


200  The  Co7ifessio7is  of  S.  Augustine. 

CHAPTER  XIX. 

That  forgotten  things  are  not  zvhoUy  lost  by  the  nie/nory  ;  or  if 
7vholly  lost  cannot  he  recovered. 

BUT  what  when  the  memory  itself  loses  anything,  which 
happens  when   we    forget,    and    seek    to    recollect? 
where  do  we  finally  search  but  in  the  m.emory  itself?  and 
there,  if  one  thing  be  perchance  offered  instead  of  another, 
we  reject  it,  until  we  meet  with   that  of  which   we  are  in 
search,  and  when  we  have  met  with  it,  we  say,  "  This  is  it ;  " 
which  we  should  not  say  unless  w^e  recognised  it,  nor  recog- 
nise it  unless  we  remembered  it.     But  we  had  certainly  for- 
gotten it.     Or  is  it  that  it  had  not  entirely  escaped  us  ?  but 
by  some  portion  which  we  retained,  the  other  part  was 
sought  for ;  because  the  memory  perceived  that  it  was  not 
making  the   w^onted   associations,    and  as   though    halting 
through  the  maiming  of  its  wonted  operation,  kept  pressing 
for  the  restoration  of  what  was  missing?     For  instance,  if 
we  see  with  our  eyes,  or  only  think  of  somebody  we  know, 
but  forget  his  name,  and  are  trying  to  recall  it,  if  any  other 
should  occur  to  us,  it  does  not  connect  itself  with  him, 
because  we  have  never  been  accustomed  to  associate  it  with 
him,  and  we  therefore  reject  it,  until  that  comes  back  to  us 
whereon  at  once  our  usual  recognition  easily  settles.     And 
whence  does  that  present  itself,  but   out   of  the  memory 
itself?  for  even  when  we  recognise  it,  on  being  reminded 
by  another,  it  is  thence  it  comes.      For  we  do   not  give 
credit  to  it  as  a  novelty,  but  remember  it,  and  acknowledge 
that  it  is  as  stated  to  us.     But  were  it  utterly  blotted  out  of 
the  mind,  we  should  not  remember  it,  even  when  reminded. 
P  or  we  have  not  as  yet  utterly  forgotten  that,  which  we  still 
remember  that  we  have  forgotten.     So  we  cannot  even  seek 
what  is  lest,  if  we  have  utterly  forgotten  it. 


CHAPTER  XX. 

IVith  what  //laniier  of  desire  men  seek  the  Blessed  Life  ;  and  what 
hnoivledge  they  have  of  it. 

H  ^^1^^'^^^  ^°  ^  ^^^^  Thee,  O  Lord  ?  For  when  I  seek 
TK  1  '  "^^  ^^^'  ^  ^^^^  ^^^^  blessed  life.  "  I  will  seek 
1  nee  that  my  soul  may  live  "  (Amos  v.  6).     For  my  body 


TJie  Confessions  of  S.  Augustine.  201 

liveth  by  my  soul ;  and  my  soul  by  Thee.  How  then  do  I 
seek  the  blessed  life  ?  for  it  is  not  mine  until  I  can  say, 
there  where  I  ought  to  say  it,  "It  is  enough  " ?  How  do  I 
seek  it?  Is  it  by  remembrance  as  though  I  had  for- 
gotten it,  yet  still  retained  that  I  had  forgotten  it  ?  or 
by  desiring  to  learn  it  as  a  thing  unknown,  whether 
I  had  never  known  it,  or  so  forgotten  it,  as  not  even  to 
remember  that  I  had  forgotten  it  ?  Is  not  the  blessed  life 
that  which  all  desire,  so  that  there  is  absolutely  none  that 
does  not  desire  it?  Where  have  they  known  it,  that  they 
so  desire  it  ?  where  seen  it  that  they  so  love  it  ?  Truly  we 
have  it,  how,  I  know  not.  Yea,  there  is  another  way,  where- 
in when  one  hath  it,  for  the  time  he  is  happy;  and  there 
are  those  who  are  happy  in  hope.  These  have  it  in  a  lower 
degree,  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,  had  they  it  not  in  some  sort,  would 
not  so  will  to  be  happy ;  but  that  they  do  will  it  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  doubtful  whether  it  be  in  the  memory  ;  because  if  it  be 
there,  then  we  must  have  formerly  been  happy.  Whether 
each  individually,  or  all  in  that  man  who  first  sinned,  "in 
whom  also  we  all  died"  (i  Cor.  xv.  22),  and  from  whom  we 
are  all  born  v/ith  misery,  I  now  enquire  not ;  but  only, 
whether  the  blessed  life  be  in  the  memory  ?  for  we  could 
not  love  it,  unless  we  knew  it.  We  hear  the  name,  and 
confess  that  we  all  desire  the  thing  itself;  it  is  not  the  mere 
sound  that  charms  us.  For  Avhen  a  Greek  hears  it  in  Latin, 
he  is  not  charmed  because  he  knows  not  what  is  said  ;  but 
he  would  be  as  pleased  as  we  are  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  pant  to 
attain.  Know  therefore  it  is  to  all,  for  could  they  with  one 
voice  be  asked,  "  would  they  be  happy  ? "  they  would 
answer  without  any  hesitation  that  "  they  would."  And  this 
could  not  be,  unless  the  thing  itself  whereof  it  is  the  name, 
were  retained  in  their  memory. 


202  The  Confessions  of  S.  Augustine 

CHAPTER  XXI. 

Whence  do  toe  derive  our  memory  of  the  blessed  life  ? 

BUT  is  it  in  the  same  way  as  one,  who  has  seen  it,  re- 
members Carthage  ?  No.  For  the  blessed  Hfe  is  not 
seen  with  the  eye,  because  it  is  not  material.  Is  it  as 
we  remember  numbers  then?  No.  For  he  that  has  these 
in  his  knowledge,  seeks  no  further  to  attain  them  :  but  the 
blessed  life,  we  have  in  our  knowledge,  and  therefore  love 
it,  and  yet  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  still  are  not  yet  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  delighted,  and  desire  to  become  so,  although 
except  from  some  inward  knowledge  they  would  not  be  de- 
lighted, nor  wish  to  become  the  like,  unless  they  were 
delighted.  But  the  blessed  life  we  do  not  by  any  bodily 
sense  know  by  our  experience  from  others.  Is  it  as  we  re- 
member joy?  Perhaps  it  may  be.  For  even  when  sad  I  re- 
member my  joy,  so  doth  the  wretched  the  happy  life  ;  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,  sometimes  with  disgust,  sometimes  with  regret,  according 
to  the  various  nature  of  the  things,  on  account  of  which  I 
remember  that  I  have  rejoiced.  For  even  from  foul  things 
have  I  been  pervaded  with  a  sort  of  joy  ;  which  now  recalling, 
1  detest  and  execrate;  sometimes  also  from  good  and  honour- 
able things ;  and  I  now  recall  them  with  regret,  although 
l)crchance  no  longer  present;  and  therefore  with  sadness  I 
recall  former  joy. 

Where  then  and  when  did  I  experience  my  blessed  life, 
that  I  should  remember  and  love,  and  crave  for  it  ?  Nor  is 
it  I  alone,  or  some  few  besides,  but  absolutely  all  would 
fam  be  happy.  And  unless  we  knew  of  it  by  some  certain 
knowledge,  we  should  not  wish  for  it  with  so  certain  a  will. 
But  how  is  it  that  if  two  men  were  asked  whether  they 
would  like  to  enlist  for  soldiers,  one,  perchance  would 
answer  that  he  would,  the  other,  that  he  would  not ;  but  if 


The  Confessions  of  S.  A  ugnstine.  203 

they  were  asked,  whether  they  would  be  happy,  both  would 
instantly  without  any  hesitation  say  they  would  ;  and  for  no 
other  reason  would  the  one  enlist,  and  the  other  not,  but 
that  they  might  be  happy.  Is  it  perchance,  that  as  one 
looks  for  his  joy  in  this  thing,  another  in  that,  all  agree  in 
their  desire  of  being  happy,  as  they  would  (if  they  were 
asked),  that  they  wished  to  have  joy,  and  this  joy  they  call 
a  happy  life?  Although  then  one  obtains  this  joy  by  one 
means,  another  by  another,  all  have  one  end,  which  they 
strive  to  attain,  namely  joy.  And  since  this  is  a  thing 
which  none  can  say  that  he  has  never  experienced,  it  is 
therefore  found  in  the  memory,  and  recognised  whenever 
the  name  of  a  blessed  life  is  mentioned. 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

The  true  joy  of  the  blessed  life. 

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  "  not "  given  "  to  the  ungodly  " 
(Is.  xlviii.  22),  but  to  those  who  worship  Thee  for  Thine 
own  sake,  whose  joy  Thou  Thyself  art.  And  this  is  the 
blessed  life,  to  rejoice  to  Thee,  of  Thee,  for  Thee ;  this  it  is-, 
and  there  is  no  other.  For  they  who  think  there  is  another, 
pursue  some  other  joy,  and  not  the  true.  But  their  will  is 
not  turned  away  from  some  shadow  of  joy. 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 

That  all  desire  joy  in  the  truth. 

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 
blessed  life,  do  not  truly  desire  the  blessed  life.  Or  do  all 
men  desire  this,  but  "  because  the  flesh  lusteth  against  the 
Spirit,  and  the  Spirit  against  the  flesh,  so  that  they  cannot 
do  the  things  that  they  would"  (Gal.  v.  17),  they  fall  upon 
that  which  they  can,  and  are  content  therewith ;  because, 


204  ^^^^'  Co7ifessio)is  of  S.  Augustine. 

what  they  are  not  able  to  do,  they  do  not  will  so  strongly, 
as  would  suffice  to  make  them  able  ?  For  I  ask  any  one, 
had  he  rather  joy  in  truth,  or  in  falsehood  ?  They  will  as 
little  hesitate  to  say,  "  in  the  truth,"  as  to  say,  "  that  they 
desire  to  be  happy."  But  the  blessed  life  is  joy  in  the 
truth.  For  this  is  a  joying  in  Thee,  Who  art  "  the  truth," 
O  God  "  my  light,  health  of  my  countenance,  my  God" 
(Psa.  xxvii.  i,  xHi.  ii).  This  blessed  life  all  desire;  this 
life  which  alone  is  blessed,  "all  desire  ;  joy  in  the  truth  all 
desire.  I  have  met  with  many  that  would  fain  deceive ; 
who  would  choose  to  be  deceived  ?  no  one.  Where 
then  did  they  know  this  happy  life,  save  where  they  knew 
the  truth  also  ?  For  they  love  it  also,  since  they  would  not 
be  deceived.  And  when  they  love  a  happy  life,  which  is 
no  other  than  rejoicing  in  the  truth,  then  also  do  they 
love  the  truth ;  but  they  could  not  love  it,  were  there  not 
some  notice  of  it  in  their  memory.  Why  then  do  they  not 
rejoice  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,  lest 
darkness  come  upon  them  "  (S.  John  xii.  35). 

But  why  doth  "  truth  bring  forth  hatred,"  and  why  is  that 
man  of  thine  that  preacheth  truth  become  their  enemy, 
seeing  that  the  blessed  life  is  loved,  which  is  nothing  else 
than  rejoicing  in  the  truth  :  unless  it  be  that  truth  is  loved 
only  in  such  a  sort,  that  they  who  love  something  else  than 
it,  want  what  they  love  to  be  the  truth  ;  and  because  they 
are  unwilling  to  be  deceived,  are  unwilling  to  be  convinced 
that  they  have  been  deceived  ?  Therefore,  for  the  sake  of 
that  thing,  which  instead  of  truth  they  love,  they  hate  the 
truth.  They  love  her,  when  she  enlightens  j  but  they  hate 
her  when  she  rebukes.  For  since  they  would  not  be  de- 
ceived, and  would  deceive,  they  love  her,  when  she  manifests 
herself,  but  hate  her  when  she  manifests  them.  Whence 
she  shall  so  repay  them,  that  they  who  would  not  be  made 
manifest  by  her,  she  both  against  their  will  makes  manifest, 
and  herself  becometh  not  manifest  unto  them.  Thus,  thus, 
yea  thus  doth  the  mind  of  man,  thus  blind  and  sick,  foul 
and  ill-favoured,  wish  to  be  hidden,  but  that  aught  should 
be  hidden  from  it,  it  wills  not.     But  the  contrary  is  requited 


TJie  Confessions  of  S.  Augustine.  205 

it,  that  itself  should  not  be  hidden  from  the  Truth ;  but  the 
Truth  is  hid  from  it.  Yet  even  thus  whilst  wretched,  it 
would  rather  rejoice  in  truths  than  in  falsehoods.  Happy- 
then  will  it  be,  when,  no  distraction  interposing,  it  shall 
rejoice  in  that  one  Truth,  by  which  all  things  are  true. 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 

He  delightetli  that  he  hath  found  God,  abiding  in  his  memory. 

SEE  how  far  I  have  travelled  in  my  memory,  seeking 
Thee,  O  Lord ;  and  I  have  not  found  Thee,  without 
it.  Nor  have  I  found  any  thing  concerning  Thee,  but  what 
I  have  kept  in  memory,  from  the  time  I  learned  Thee.  For 
since  I  learned  Thee,  I  have  not  forgotten  Thee.  For 
where  I  found  Truth,  there  found  I  my  God,  the  very 
Truth ;  which  since  I  learned,  I  have  not  forgotten.  Since 
then  I  learned  Thee,  Thou  abidest  in  my  memory ;  and 
there  do  I  find  Thee,  when  I  called  Thee  to  remembrance, 
and  delight  in  Thee.  These  are  my  holy  delights,  which 
Thou  hast  given  me  in  Thy  mercy,  looking  upon  my  poverty. 


CHAPTER  XXV. 

Where  and  hoiv  God  dwelleth  in  his  memory. 

BUT  where  in  my  memory  abidest  Thou,  O  Lord, 
where  abidest  Thou  there  ?  what  manner  of  lodging 
hast  Thou  formed  there  for  Thyself?  what  sort  of 
sanctuary  hast  Thou  built  for  Thyself?  Thou  hast  given 
this  honour  to  my  memory,  to  abide  in  it ;  but  in  what 
quarter  of  it  Thou  abidest,  that  am  I  now  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  material  things  :  and  1  came  to  those  parts  to 
which  I  committed  the  affections  of  my  mind,  nor  did  I  find 
Thee  there.  And  I  entered  into  the  very  seat  of  my  mind, 
which  it  hath  in  my  memory,  inasmuch  as  the  mind  remem- 
bers itself  also,  and  Thou  wast  not  there ;  for  as  Thou  art 
not  a  corporeal  image,  nor  the  affection  of  a  living  being 


2o6  The  Confessions  of  S.  Augustine. 

(as  wlien  we  rejoice,  condole,  desire,  fear,  remember,  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  unchangeable  over  all,  and 
yet  hast  vouchsafed  to  dwell  in  my  memory,  since  I  learned 
Thee.  And  why  seek  I  now,  in  what  place  thereof  Thou 
dwellest,  as  if  there  were  in  truth  places  therein  ?  Certainly 
Thou  dwellest  in  it,  because  I  have  remembered  Thee  ever 
since  I  learned  Thee ;  and  there  I  find  Thee,  when  I  call 
Thee  to  remembrance. 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 

That  God  is  not  hi  any  place  ;  and  zuko  is  His  best  servant. 

WHERE  then  did  I  find  Thee,  that  I  might  learn  Thee? 
For  in  my  memory  Thou  wert  not,  before  1  learned 
Thee.  Where  then  did  I  find  Thee,  that  I  might  learn 
Thee,  but  in  Thee  above  me  ?  Place  there  is  none ;  we  go 
backward  and  forward,  and  there  is  no  place.  Every  where, 
O  Truth,  dost  Thou  keep  watch  over  all  that  consult  Thee, 
and  at  once  respond,  though  they  consult  Thee  concerning 
divers  matters.  Clearly  dost  Thou  answer,  though  all  do 
not  clearly  hear.  All  consult  Thee  on  what  they  will, 
though  they  hear  not  always  what  they  will.  He  is  Thy 
best  servant,  who  does  not  so  much  look  to  hear  from  Thee 
what  accords  with  his  will,  but  rather  to  will  what  he  hath 
heard  from  Thee. 

CHAPTER  XXVn. 

Ahse7it  from  God,  he  is  attracted  by  His  beauty. 

'T^OO  late  I  loved  Thee,  Beauty  so  old  and  yet  so  new, 
J-  too  late  I  loved  Thee!  And  behold.  Thou  wert 
within,  and  I  without,  and  there  I  sought  Thee;  and  in  my 
deformity  rushed  amidst  those  beauteous  forms  which  Thou 
hadst  made.  Thou  w^ert  with  me,  but  I  was  not  with^Thee. 
Things  held  me  far  from  Thee,  which  unless  they  had'their 
being  in  Thee,  had  no  being.  Thou  didst  call,  and  cry 
aloud,  and  break  through  my  deafness.     Thou  didst  blaze 


The  Confessions  of  S.  A  ngustine.  207 

forth,  and  shine,  and  scatter  my  blindness.  Thou  wert 
fragrant,  and  I  drew  in  my  breath,  and  pant  for  Thee.  I 
tasted,  and  I  hunger  and  thirst.  Thou  didst  touch  me,  and 
I  burned  for  Thy  peace. 


CHAPTER  XXVIII. 

That  the  life  on  earth  is  full  of  trials. 

WHEN  I  shall  with  my  whole  self  cleave  to  Thee,  I 
shall  no  where  have  sorrow,  or  labour ;  and  my  life 
shall  wholly  live,  as  wholly  full  of  Thee.  But  now  since 
whom  Thou  fillest.  Thou  Hftest  up,  because  I  am  not  full 
of  Thee  I  am  a  burden  to  myself.  Lamentable  joys  struggle 
with  joyous  sorrows  :  and  on  which  side  standeth  victory,  I 
know  not.  Woe  is  me  !  Lord,  have  mercy  upon  me.  My 
evil  sorrows  struggle  with  my  good  joys  ;  and  on  which  side 
standeth  victory,  I  know  not.  Woe  is  me  !  Lord,  have 
mercy  upon  me.  Woe  is  me  !  lo  !  I  hide  not  my  wounds  ; 
Thou  art  the  Physician,  I  the  sick ;  Thou  merciful,  I  miser- 
able. "Is  not  the  Hfe  of  man  upon  earth  all  trial?  "  (Job 
vii.  I,  O.V.).  Who  hketh  troubles  and  difficulties?  Thou 
biddest  us  endure  them,  not  love  them.  None  loveth  what 
he  endureth,  though  he  loveth  to  endure.  For  even  though 
he  rejoiceth  that  he  endureth,  he  would  none  the  less  prefer 
that  there  were  nothing  to  endure.  In  adversity  I  long  for 
prosperity,  in  prosperity  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  hard,  and  patient  endurance  suffereth  ship- 
wreck. Is  not  the  "  life  of  man  upon  earth  all  trial  : "  with- 
out any  intermission  ? 


2o8  Tlic  Confessions  of  S.  A  ugiistine. 

CHAPTER  XXIX. 

He  putteth  his  hope  in  the  mercy  of  God. 

AND  all  my  hope  is  nowhere  but  in  Thy  exceeding  great 
mercy.  Grant  what  Thou  dost  command,  and  com- 
mand what  Thou  wilt.  Thou  dost  enjoin  upon  us  contin- 
ency.  ''And  when  I  perceived,"  saith  one,  "that  no  man 
could  be  continent,  except  God  gave  it,  this  also  was  a 
point  of  wisdom  to  know  whose  gift  it  was"  (Wisd.  viii.  21, 
Vulg).  By  continency  verily,  are  we  bound  up  and  brought 
back  into  One,  whence  we  were  dissipated  into  many.  For 
too  little  doth  he  love  Thee,  who  loves  any  thing  with  Thee, 
which  he  loveth  not  for  Thee.  O  love,  who  ever  burnest 
and  never  consumest !  O  charity,  my  God  !  enkindle  me. 
Thou  dost  command  continency.  Grant  what  Thou  com- 
mandest,  and  command  what  Thou  wilt. 


CHAPTER  XXX. 

Concerning  JlcsJiIy  desire^  and  the  extent  to  ivhich  it  still  can  infltience 

him. 

T^HOU  dost  indeed  command  me  to  be  continent  from 
J-  "  the  lust  of  the  flesh,  the  lust  of  the  eyes,  and  the  am- 
bition of  the  world  "  (i  John  ii.  16).  Thou  hast  commanded 
to  abstain  from  concubinage ;  and  concerning  marriage  itself 
hast  counselled  a  better  course  than  Thou  hast  permitted. 
And  since  Thou  gavest  it,  it  was  done,  even  before  I  became 
a  dispenser  of  Thy  Sacrament.  But  there  yet  live  in  my 
memory  (whereof  I  have  spoken  much)  the  images  of  such 
things,  as  my  habit  liath  fixed  there  ;  and  when  I  am  awake 
they  haunt  me,  though  they  have  lost  their  power,  but  in  my 
sleep,  not  only  do  they  present  themselves,  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,  when  asleep,  false  visions  per- 
suade to  that  which  when  wakmg,  the  true  cannot.  Am  I 
not  then  myself,  O  Lord  my  God  ?  And  yet  how  much 
difference  there  is  betwixt  myself  and  myself,  within  that 
moment  wherein  I  pass  from  hence  to  sleep,  or  from  sleep 


The  Confessions  o/  S.  Augustine.  209 

return  hither.  Where  is  reason  then,  which,  awake,  re- 
sisteth  such  suggestions  ?  And  should  the  things  themselves 
be  urged  on  it,  it  remaineth  unshaken.  Is  it  closed  up  with 
the  eyes  ?  does  it  slumber  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  falleth  out  otherwise,  upon 
waking  we  return  to  peace  of  conscience  :  and  by  this  very 
difference  discover  that  we  did  not,  what  yet  we  grieve  to 
know  was  some  way  done  in  us. 

Is  not  Thine  hand  mighty,  O  Almighty  God,  to  heal  all 
the  weaknesses  of  my  soul,  and  by  Thy  more  abundant 
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,  set  free  from  the  bird- 
lime of  concupiscence ;  that  it  be  not  rebellious  against 
itself,  and  that  even  in  dreams  not  only  it  may  not  commit 
those  debasing  corruptions,  through  carnal  images,  to  the 
defilement  of  the  flesh,  but  not  even  consent  unto  them.  For 
that  nothing  of  this  sort  should  have,  over  the  pure  affec- 
tions 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  art  "  able  to  do  above  all  that  we  ask  or 
think  "  (Eph.  iii.  20).  But  what  I  yet  am  in  this  kind  of  my 
evil,  have  I  confessed  unto  my  good  Lord  ;  "  rejoicing  with 
trembling"  (Ps.  ii.  11),  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  that  ful- 
ness of  peace,  which  my  outward  and  inward  man  shall  have 
with  Thee,  when  "  death  hath  been  swallowed  up  in  victory  " 
(i  Cor.  XV.  54). 

CHAPTER  XXXI. 

Concerning  greed  and  drunkenness. 

THERE  is  another  "  evil  of  the  day,"  would  that  it  were 
"  sufficient  unto  it  "  (S.  Matt.  vi.  34).  For  by  eating 
and  drinking  we  repair  the  daily  decays  of  our  body,  until 
Thou  *' destroy  both  meats  and  belly"  (i  Cor.  vi.  13),  when 


210  The  Confessions  of  S.  Augustine. 

Thou  shalt  slay  my  want  with  a  wondrous  sufficiency,  and 
"  shalt  i)ut  on  this  incorruptible  the  clothing  of  incorruption 
everlasting"  (i  Cor.  xv.  54).  But  now  the  necessity  is 
sweet  unto  me,  and  against  this  sweetness  do  I  fight,  lest  I 
be  taken  captive  ;  and  carry  on  a  daily  war  by  fastings  ; 
often  "  bringmg  my  body  into  subjection"  (i  Cor.  ix.  27), 
and  my  pains  are  driven  away  by  pleasure.  For  hunger 
and  thirst  are  a  sort  of  pain  ;  they  burn  and  kill  like  a  fever, 
unless  the  medicine  of  nourishments  come  to  our  aid.  But 
since  this  is  at  hand  from  the  comfort  of  Thy  gifts,  with 
which  earth  and  water  and  air  serve  our  weakness,  our 
calamity  is  termed  pleasure. 

'l^his  hast  Thou  taught  me,  that  I  should  set  myself  to 
take  food  as  physic.     But  while  I  am  passing  from  the  dis- 
comfort of  emptiness  to  the  content  of  satisfaction,  in  the 
very  passage  the  snare  of  concupiscence  besets  me.     For 
that  ])assing  is  pleasure,  nor  is  there  any  other  way  to  pass 
thither,  whither  we  needs  must  pass.     And  though  health 
be  the  cause  of  eating  and  drinking,  yet  a  dangerous  enjoy- 
ment waiteth  thereon  like  a  lackey,  and  oftentimes  endeav- 
ours to  precede  it,  so  as  to  be  the  real  cause  of  what  1  say 
I  do,  or  wish  to  do,  only  for  health's  sake ;  nor  is  the  same 
moderation  in  both.     For  what  is  enough  for  health,  is  too 
little  for  pleasure.     And  it  is-  often  uncertain,  whether  it  be 
the  necessary  care  of  the  body  which  gives  an  appetite  for 
more  support,  or  whether  a  sensual  and  deceptive  greed  is 
tendering  its  service.     In  this  uncertainty  the  unhappy  soul 
grows   cheerful,   and  therein  prepares    the   defence  of  an 
excuse,  glad  that  it  is  not  manifest  how  much  may  suffice 
for  the  moderate  need  of  health,  but  that  beneath  the  cloak 
of  health  it  may  conceal  the  matter  of  enjoyment.     These 
temptations  I  daily  endeavour  to  resist,  and  T  call  on  Thy 
right  hand  for  my  preservation,  and  refer  my  uncertainties 
to  Thee  ;  because  my  discretion  in  this  matter  is  not  yet 
established. 

I  hear  the  voice  of  my  God  commanding,  "  Let  not  your 
hearts  be  overcharged  with  surfeiting  and  drunkenness" 
(S.  Luke  xxi.  34).  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  "  no  one  can  be  con- 
tinent unless  Thou  give  it."    Many  things  thou  givest  to  us, 


The  Confessions  of  S.  Aitgustine.  211 

who  pray ;  and  whatever  good  thing  we  received  before  we 
prayed,  we  received  from  Thee  :  and  in  order  that  we  might 
afterwards  know  this  did  we  receive  it.  A  drunkard  I  never 
was  ;  but  I  have  known  drunkards  made  sober  by  Thee. 
From  Thee  then  it  was,  that  they  who  never  were  such, 
should  not  so  be,  as  it  was  from  Thee  that  they  should  not 
always  continue  such,  who  have  been  such ;  whose  doing 
also  it  was  that  both  should  know  whose  doing  it  was.  I 
heard  another  voice  of  Thine,  ''  Go  not  after  thy  lusts,  but 
refrain  thyself  from  thine  appetites  "  (Ecclus.  xviii.  30).  Yea 
by  Thy  favour  have  I  heard  that  which  I  have  much  loved  ; 
"  neither  if  we  eat,  have  we  the  more ;  neither  if  we  eat  not, 
shall  we  have  the  less"  (i  Cor.  viii.  8).  That  is  to  say, 
neither  shall  the  one  make  me  rich  nor  the  other  miserable. 
I  heard  also  another,  "  for  I  have  learned  in  whatsoever 
state  I  am,  therewith  to  be  content ;  I  know  both  how  to 
abound  and  how  to  suffer  need.  I  can  do  all  things 
through  him,  which  strengtheneth  me"  (Phil.  iv.  11-13). 
Behold  a  soldier  of  the  heavenly  camp,  not  dust  such  as  we 
are.  But  "  remember,"  Lord,  "  that  we  are  dust,"  and  that 
of  "  dust  Thou  hast  made  man  ;  "  and  he  "  was  lost  and  is 
found."  Nor  could  he  of  himself  do  this,  because  he  whom 
I  so  loved,  saying  this  through  the  breath  of  Thy  inspiration, 
was  of  the  same  dust.  *'  I  can  do  all  things,"  saith  he, 
"  through  Him  that  strengtheneth  me."  Strengthen  me 
that  I  may  be  able.  Grant  what  Thou  commandest,  and 
command  what  Thou  wilt.  He  confesses  to  have  received, 
and  when  "he  glorieth,  he  glorieth  in  the  Lord"  (i  Cor. 
i.  30).  Another  have  I  heard  begging  that  he  might  re- 
ceive ;  "  Take  from  me,"  saith  he,  "  greediness  of  the  belly  " 
(Ecclus.  xxiii.  6) ;  whence  it  appeareth,  O  my  holy  God, 
that  Thou  givest,  when  what  Thou  commandest  to  be  done 
is  done. 

Thou  hast  taught  me,  good  Father,  that  "  to  the  pure,  all 
things  are  pure"  (Tit.  i.  15);  but  that  "it  is  evil  for  that 
man  who  eateth  with  offence"  (Rom.  xiv.  20),  and,  that 
"  every  creature  of  Thine  is  good,  and  nothing  to  be  refused, 
if  it  be  received  with  thanksgiving "  ( i  Tim.  iv.  4) ;  and, 
that  "meat  commendeth  us  not  to  God"  (i  Cor.  viii.  8); 
and,  that  "no  man  should  judge  us  in  meat  or  in  drink" 
(Col.  ii.  16) ;  and,  that  "  he  that  eateth,  let  him  not  despise 
him   that   eateth    not ;  and   let  not  him  which  eateth  not 


212 


TJie  Confessions  of  S,  Augustine, 


judge  him  that  eateth  "  (Rom.  xiv.  3).  These  things  have 
I  learned,  thanks  be  to  Thee,  praise  to  Thee,  my  God,  my 
Master,  that  knockest  at  my  ears,  that  enHghtenest  my 
heart.  Take  me  out  of  all  temptation.  I  fear  not  the 
uncleanness  of  meat,  but  the  uncleanness  of  greediness. 
1  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  wonderful  abstinence,  was  not  polluted 
by  feeding  on  living  creatures,  locusts.  I  know  also  that 
Esau  was  deceived  by  lusting  for  lentiles ;  and  that  David 
blamed  himself  for  his  longing  for  water ;  and  that  our  King 
was  tempted,  not  concerning  flesh,  but  bread.  And  there- 
fore the  people  in  the  wilderness  also  deserved  to  be  re- 
proved, not  for  desiring  flesh,  but  because,  in  the  desire  for 
food,  they  murmured  against  the  Lord. 

Placed  then  amid  these  temptations,  I  strive  daily  against 
concupiscence  in  eating  and  drinking.  For  it  is  not  a  thing 
that  I  can  determine  to  cut  off  once  for  all,  and  never  to 
touch  again,  as  I  could  in  the  matter  of  concubinage.  The 
reins  of  the  throat  then  must  be  held  in  a  moderation 
neither  too  loose  nor  too  strict.  And  who  is  he,  O  Lord^ 
who  is  not  some  little  carried  beyond  the  bounds  of  neces- 
sity ?  whoever  he  is,  he  is  a  great  one ;  let  him  magnify 
Thy  Name.  But  I  am  not  such,  for  "  I  am  a  sinful  man." 
Yet  do  I  too  magnify  Thy  name ;  and  "  He  maketh  inter- 
cession to  Thee"  (Rom.  viii.  34),  for  my  sins,  who  "hath 
overcome  the  world"  (S.  John  xvi.  ^tZ))  numbering  me 
among  the  "  weak  members  of  His  body ; "  because  "  Thine 
eyes  have  seen  that  which  is  imperfect,  and  in  Thy  book 
shall  all  be  written"  (Ps.  cxxxix.  16). 


CHAPTER  XXXII. 

Coiuerning  the  attractions  of  pleasant  odours. 

'VIT'ITH  the  attraction  of  pleasant  odours,  I  am  not  much 
^^  concerned.  When  absent,  I  do  not  miss  them; 
when  present,  I  do  not  refuse  them ;  yet  I  am  always  ready 
to  do  without  them.  So  I  seem  to  myself;  perchance  I  am 
deceived.  For  that  also  is  a  deplorable  darkness,  in  which 
my  abiluy  is  hidden  from  me,  so  that  my  mind,  enquiring. 


The  Confessio7is  of  S.  Augustine.  213 

into  herself  concerning  her  own  powers,  does  not  reckon 
herself  to  be  readily  trustworthy,  because  what  is  really  in 
her  is  mostly  concealed,  unless  revealed  by  experience. 
And  no  one  ought  to  be  free  from  anxiety  in  this  life,  the 
whole  of  which  is  called  a  "  trial,"  lest  he  who  could  be 
made  better  from  being  worse,  may  not  also  from  being 
better  become  worse.  Our  only  hope,  only  confidence, 
only  sure  promise,  is  Thy  mercy. 


CHAPTER  XXXIII. 

Concerning  temptations  arising  from  love  of  sweet  music. 

THE  delights  of  the  ear  had  enmeshed  me  more  firmly 
and  had  subdued  me;  but  Thou  didst  release  me, 
and  set  me  free.  Now  in  those  tones,  of  which  Thy  words 
are  the  hfe,  when  they  are  sung  with  a  sweet  and  accom- 
plished voice,  I  find  some  httle  satisfaction ;  though  I  am 
not  so  fast  holden  of  them  but  that  I  can  arouse  myself, 
when  I  will.  But  still,  they  do  demand  a  place  of  some 
honour  in  my  heart,  together  with  the  phrases  themselves, 
to  gain  an  entrance  for  which  to  me  they  live,  and  I  have 
difficulty  in  assigning  to  them  their  proper  place.  For 
sometimes  I  seem  to  myself  to  give  them  more  honour  than 
is  seemly,  feeling  our  minds  to  be  more  religiously  and  fer- 
vently raised  unto  a  flame  of  devotion,  by  the  holy  words 
themselves  when  thus  sung,  than  when  not ;  and  that  all  the 
emotions  of  our  spirit,  in  accordance  with  their  own  variety, 
have  measures  suited  to  them  in  expression  and  melody,  by 
some  secret  and  hidden  correspondence  with  which  they 
are  called  forth.  But  this  gratification  of  my  flesh,  to 
which  my  mind  ought  not  to  be  resigned  to  its  weakening, 
doth  oft  beguile  me,  the  sense  not  so  waiting  upon  reason, 
as  patiently  to  follow  her ;  but  though  for  her  alone  it  has 
deserved  admission,  it  attempts  to  outrun  her,  and  to  take 
the  lead.  Thus  in  these  things  I  sin  without  perceiving  it ; 
but  afterwards  I  perceive  it. 

But  sometimes  in  avoiding,  without  sufficient  moderation, 
this  very  deception,  I  err  in  too  great  strictness  ;  and  some- 
times to  that  degree,  as  to  wish  the  whole  melody  of  sweet 
music,  to  which  the   Psalms  of  David  are  generally  set,  to 


214  ^/^^  Confessions  of  S.  Augustine. 

be  banished  from  my  ears,  aye,  and  from  those  of  the 
Church  itself;  and  that  mode  seems  to  me  safer,  which  I  re- 
member to  have  been  often  told  me  of  Athanasius,  Bishop 
of  Alexandria,  who  made  the  reader  of  the  psalm  intone 
with  so  slight  an  inflection  of  voice,  that  it  was  more  like 
recitation  than  chanting.  Yet  again,  when  I  remember  the 
tears  which  I  poured  forth  at  the  chants  of  Thy  church,  in 
the  beginnings  of  my  recovery  of  the  Faith,  and  how  even 
now  I  am  moved,  not  with  the  singing,  but  with  the  things 
sung,  when  they  are  sung  with  a  clear  voice  and  well  suited 
melody,  I  realise  again  the  great  advantage  of  this  insti- 
tution. Thus  I  hesitate  between  the  danger  of  mere  enjoy- 
ment, and  my  experience  of  their  wholesomeness ;  and  I 
am  more  drawn,  though  not  now  declaring  an  irrevocable 
opinion,  to  approve  of  the  custom  of  chanting  in  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  singing,  than  with  the  words 
which  are  being  sung,  I  confess  that  I  sin  grievously,  and 
then  I  would  prefer  not  to  hear  the  chanter.  See  now  how 
I  am  placed.  Weep  with  me,  and  weep  for  me,  ye  who 
order  aright  the  good  within,  whence  actions  proceed.  You 
who  do  not  so  act,  these  things  do  not  affect.  But  Thou,  O 
Lord  my  God,  hearken  ;  behold,  and  see,  and  "  have  mercy 
and  heal  me"  (Ps.  vi.  2),  Thou,  in  whose  presence  I  am 
made  an  enigma  to  myself;  and  "  this  is  my  infirmity  " 
(Ps.  Ixxvii.  10). 

CHAPTER  XXXIV. 

Concerning  pleastives  of  the  eyes. 

n^HERE  remains  the  pleasure  of  these  eyes  of  my  flesh, 
-*-  concerning  which  I  will  make  confessions  which  the 
ears  of  Thy  temple,  ears  fraternal  and  devout,  may  hear, 
and  so  bring  to  an  end  the  temptations  of  the  "  lust  of  the 
flesh,"  which  yet  assail  me,  "  groaning,  and  desiring  to  be 
clothed  upon  with  my  house  which  is  from  heaven"  (2  Cor. 
V.  2).  The  eyes  love  fair  and  varied  forms,  and  bright  and 
pleasmg  colours.  Let  not  these  possess  my  soul;  let 
God  rather  possess  it,  who  made  these  things  very  good 
mdecd,  yet  is  He  my  good,  not  they.     And  these  affect  me, 


TJie  Confessions  of  S.  A  ugnstinc.  2 1  ^ 

waking,  the  whole  day,  nor  is  any  rest  given  me  from  them, 
as  there  is  from  musical,  sometimes,  in  silence,  from  all 
voices.  For  the  light,  the  very  queen  of  colours,  suffusing 
all  that  we  behold,  wherever  I  am  through  the  day,  charms 
me  by  its  varied  play,  even  when  busy  upon  something  else, 
and  not  thinking  of  it.  Indeed  so  greatly  doth  it  ingratiate 
itself,  that  if  it  be  suddenly  withdrawn,  it  is  regretfully 
sought  for;  and  if  absent  long,  saddeneth  the  mind, 

O  Thou  light,  which  Tobias  saw,  when  though  these  eyes 

were  blinded,  he  used  to  teach  his  son  the  way  of  life ;  and 

went  before  him  on  the  foot  of  charity,  never  straying ;  or 

which  Isaac  saw,  his  fleshly  "  eyes  being  dim  "  and  closed  by 

old  age,  when  it  was  permitted  him  to  bless  his  sons  without 

recognising  them,  but  in  blessing  to  recognise  them ;  or 

which  Jacob  saw,  when  he  also,  blind  through  great  age, 

with  illumined  heart,  threw  light  upon  the   tribes  of  the 

people  that  should  be,  foreshewn  in  the  persons  of  his  sons  ; 

and  laid  his  hands  upon  his  grandsons  by  Joseph,  mystically 

crossed,  not  as  their  father  by  his  outward  eye  wanted  to 

correct  them,  but  according  to  his  own  inward  discernment ! 

This  is  light,  one  it  is,  and  one  are  all  who  see  and  love  it. 

But  that  corporeal  light  of  which  I  was  speaking  seasoneth 

the  life  of  this  world  for  her  blind  lovers,  with  an  enticing 

and  dangerous  sweetness.     But  they  who  know  how  to  praise 

Thee  for  it,  "O  God  who  hast  created  all,""^  take  it  up  in 

that  hymn  of  Thine,  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  Thy  way  be 

entangled  ;  and  I  lift  up  mine  invisible  eyes  to  Thee,  that 

Thou  wouldest  "  pluck  my  feet  out  of  the  net "  (Ps.  xxv.  15), 

Thou  dost  repeatedly  pluck  them  out,  for  they  are  ensnared. 

Thou  ceasest  not  to  pluck  them  out,  though  I  often  am 

taken  in   snares   scattered  on   all   sides ;   because   "  Thou 

that  keepest  Israel   shalt  neither  slumber  nor  sleep"  (Ps. 

cxxi.  4). 

What  numberless  things  made  by  various  arts  and  crafts, 
in  vestures,  shoes,  vessels,  and  manufactures  of  all  kinds, 
pictures  too,  and  divers  images,  and  these  far  exceeding  all 
necessary  and  moderate  use  and  all  pious  meaning,  have 
men  added    to    the    enticements    of  the   eyes ;   outwardly 

*  See  ante,  Book  ix. ,  cap.  xii. 


2\6  TJie  Confessions  of  S.  Aligns  fine, 

following  what  themselves  make,  inwardly  forsaking  Him 
by  whom  themselves  were  made,  and  destroying  that  which 
themselves  have  been  made !  But  I,  my  God  and  my 
Beauty,  do  hence  also  sing  a  hymn  to  Thee,  and  do  sacrifice 
praise  to  Him  who  sanctifieth  me ;  because  those  beautiful 
things  which  are  conveyed  through  men's  souls  to  the  hands 
of  artificers,  come  from  that  Beauty,  Which  is  above  our 
souls,  for  which  my  soul  by  day  and  night  doth  sigh.  But 
those  who  make  and  those  who  pursue  these  outward 
beauties  draw  thence  indeed  the  means  of  appreciating  them, 
but  draw  not  thence  the  means  of  using  them.  And  He  is 
there,  though  they  perceive  Him  not,  that  so  they  might 
not  wander,  but  "keep  their  strength  for  Thee"  (Ps.  Iviii. 
lo,  Vulg.),  and  not  scatter  it  abroad  upon  delicious  weari- 
nesses. And  I,  though  I  speak  and  see  this,  entangle  my 
steps  with  these  beauties;  but  Thou  pluckest  me  out,  O 
Lord,  Thou  pluckest  me  out ;  "  because  Thy  loving-kindness 
is  before  my  eyes  "  (Ps.  xxvi.  3).  For  I  am  taken  miserably, 
and  Thou  pluckest  me  out  mercifully,  though  sometimes, 
when  I  had  fallen  lightly  upon  them,  I  perceive  it  not; 
sometimes  with  pain,  because  I  had  stuck  fast  in  them. 


CHAPTER   XXXV. 

Concerning  the  temptation  of  curiosity. 

'T^O  this  is  added  another  form  of  temptation  more  mani- 
^  foldly  dangerous.  For  besides  that  lust  of  the  flesh 
which  consists  in  the  delight  of  all  senses  and  pleasures, 
wherem  its  slaves,  who  go  far  from  Thee,  waste  and  perish, 
there  is  in  the  soul,  by  means  of  the  same  senses  of  the 
body,  a  certain  vain  and  curious  desire,  cloaked  under  the 
title  of  knowledge  and  science,  not  of  delighting  in  the 
flesh,  but  of  acquiring  experience  through  the  flesh.  And 
because  this  is  situated  in  the  appetite  for  knowing,  and 
the  eyes  are  chief  among  the  senses  as  sources  of  knowledge. 
It  is  called  in  the  Divine  language,  "The  lust  of  the  eyes" 
(I  S.  John  11.  16).  For,  to  see,  belongeth  properly  to 
the  eyes  alone.  -Yet  we  make  use  of  this  word  also  of  the 
other  senses,  when  we  employ  them  in  seeking \nowledge. 
l-or  we  do  not  say,  hark  how  it  flashes,  or  smell  how  it 


The  Confessions  of  S.  Augustine.  217 

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  shines,  which  the  eyes  alone  can  perceive ;  but  also, 
see  how  it  sounds,  see  how  it  smells,  see  how  it  tastes,  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  office  of  seeing,  wherein  the  eyes  hold  the  first  place,  the 
other  senses  by  a  sort  of  comparison  adopt  for  themselves, 
when  they  are  seeking  a  knowledge  of  anything. 

But  by  this  may  more  evidently  be  discerned,  wherein 
pleasure  and  wherein  curiosity  is  the  object  of  the  senses ; 
for  pleasure  seeketh  objects  beautiful,  melodious,  fragrant, 
savoury,  soft ;  but  curiosity,  the  opposites  also  of  all  these, 
for  the  sake  of  making  trial  of  them,  not  with  the  object  of 
undergoing  annoyance,  but  from  the  lust  of  experiment  and 
knowing.  For  what  pleasure  is  there  in  seeing  in  a  mangled 
corpse  what  makes  one  shudder?  And  yet  if  it  be  lying 
near,  they  flock  thither,  to  be  made  sad,  and  to  turn  pale. 
They  even  fear  that  they  may  see  it  in  their  dreams;  as  if 
any  one  forced  them  to  see  it  when  they  were  awake,  or  any 
report  of  its  beauty  induced  them.  Thus  also  in  the  other 
senses,  which  it  were  long  to  go  through.  From  this 
disease  of  curiosity  are  certain  marvels  exhibited  in 
shows.  Hence  men  go  on  to  search  out  the  hidden 
powers  of  nature  (which  is  beyond  us),  which  to  know 
profits  not,  and  wherein  men  desire  nothing  but  to  know. 
Hence  is  it  also,  if  any  perverted  knowledge,  for  the  same 
end,  is  sought  by  means  of  arts  magical.  Hence  also,  in 
rehgion  itself,"  is  God  tempted,  when  signs  and  wonders  are 
demanded  of  Him,  not  desired  for  any  purpose  of  salvation, 
but  only  for  the  attainment  of  knowledge. 

In  this  so  vast  forest,  full  of  snares  and  perils,  behold 
many  of  them  I  have  cut  away,  and  driven  from  my  heart, 
as  Thou  hast  granted  me  to  do,  O  God  of  my  salvation. 
And  yet  when  dare  I  say,  since  so  many  things  of  this  kind 
clamour  on  every  side  about  our  daily  life — when  dare  I 
say,  that  nothing  of  this  sort  engages  my  attention,  or 
causes  in  me  an  empty  interest?  True,  the  theatres  do  not 
now  carry  me  away,  nor  care  I  to  know  the  transits  of  the 
stars,  nor  did  my  soul  ever  seek  oracles  from  ghosts;  all 
sacrilegious  rites  I  detest.  From  Thee,  O  Lord  my  God,  to 
whom  I  owe  humble  and  single-hearted  service,  by  what 


2]S,  TJic  Confessions  of  S.  Augustine. 

devices  and  suggestions  doth  the  enemy  tamper  with  me,  so 
that  I  may  seek  some  sign  !  But  I  beseech  Thee  by  our 
King,  and  by  our  pure  and  holy  country,  Jerusalem,  that  as 
any  consenting  thereto  is  far  from  me,  so  may  it  ever  be 
further  and  further.  But  when  I  pray  Thee  for  the  salva- 
tion of  any,  my  end  and  intention  is  far  different.  Thou 
givest  and  wilt  give  me  the  will  to  follow  Thee,  who  doest 
what  Thou  wilt. 

Notwithstanding,  in  now  many  most  petty  and  contemp- 
tible things  is  our  curiosity  daily  tempted,  and  how  often  we 
give  way,  who  can  recount?  How  often  do  we  at  first 
appear  to  bear  with  people,  telling  idle  tales^  so  as  not  to 
"  offend  the  weak,"  and  then  little  by  little  render  an  eager 
attention  ?  I  am  not  now  a  spectator  of  a  dog  coursing  a 
hare,  when  it  is  done  in  the  circus ;  but  yet  in  a  field,  if  I 
happen  to  be  passing  by,  that  sport  will  possibly  divert  my 
mind  from  some  great  subject  of  thought,  and  direct  it  to 
itself,  not  forcing  me  to  stray  from  the  road,  with  the  body 
of  my  beast,  but  in  the  inclination  of  my  mind.  And 
unless  Thou,  having  shown  me  my  infirmity,  didst  speedily 
admonish  me  either  through  the  sight  itself,  by  some  con- 
templation to  rise  towards  Thee,  or  altogether  to  despise 
and  pass  it  by,  I  grow  dull  and  stupid  over  it.  What, 
wlien  sitting  at  home,  a  lizard  catching  flies,  or  a  spider  en- 
tangling them  as  they  rush  into  her  nets,  ofttimes  takes  my 
attention  ?  Is  it  true  that  the  thing  is  not  the  same,  because 
the  creatures  are  but  small  ?  I  go  on  from  them  to  praise 
Thee  the  wonderful  Creator  and  Orderer  of  all  things,  but 
this  is  not  what  I  begin  to  take  notice  of.  It  is  one  thing 
to  rise  quickly,  another  not  to  fall.  And  of  such  things  is 
my  life  full;  and  my  one  hope  is  Thy  exceeding  great 
mercy.  For  when  our  heart  becomes  the  receptacle  of  such 
thmgs,  and  entertains  the  throngs  of  this  abundant  vanity, 
this  causes  often  interruptions  and  distractions  in  our 
prayers,  and  whilst  in  Thy  presence  we  direct  the  voice  of 
our  hcnrt  to  Thine  ears,  this  so  great  concern  is  broken  off, 
by  the  rushing  in  of  trifling  thoughts,  I  know  not  whence. 


TJie  Confessions  of  S.  Ajigiistine.  219 

CHAPTER  XXXVI. 

Concernmg  the  love  oj  p7-aise,  and  fear  of  blame. 

SHALL  we  then  account  this  also  among  things  of  no 
importance,  or  shall  aught  restore  us  to  hope,  save 
Thy  complete  mercy,  since  Thou  hast  begun  to  change  us  ? 
And  Thou  knowest  how  far  Thou  hast  already  changed  me, 
who  first  dost  heal  me  of  the  desire  of  excusing  myself,  so 
that  Thou  mayest  be  merciful  to  all  my  other  "  iniquities, 
and  heal  all  my  infirmities,  and  redeem  my  life  from  cor- 
ruption, and  crown  me  with  mercy  and  pity,  and  satisfy  my 
desire  with  good  things"  (Ps.  ciii.  3-5);  who  didst  curb  my 
pride  with  Thy  fear,  and  tame  my  neck  to  Thy  "  yoke."  And 
now  I  bear  it  and  it  is  "  light "  unto  me,  because  so  hast 
Thou  promised,  and  hast  made  it ;  and  verily  so  it  was,  and 
I  knew  it  not,  when  I  feared  to  take  it  upon  me. 

But,  O  Lord,  Thou  who  art  alone  a  Lord  without  pride, 
because  Thou  art  the  only  true  Lord,  who  hast  no  lord ; 
hath  this  third  kind  of  temptation  also  ceased  from  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  it  comes  that  men  do 
not  entirely  love  Thee,  nor  purely  fear  Thee.  And  there- 
fore "  Thou  resistest  the  proud,  and  givest  grace  to  the 
humble  "  (i  S.  Peter  v.  5) ;  yea,  Thou  dost  "  thunder  "  above 
the  ambitions  of  the  world,  and  the  "  foundations  of  the  hills 
shake  "  (Ps.  xviii.  7).  Because  now  certain  duties  of  human 
society  make  it  necessary  to  be  loved  and  feared  of  men,  the 
adversary  of  our  true  blessedness  presseth  upon  us,  every- 
where spreading  his  snares  of  "  well-done,  well-done  ; "  that 
while  we  greedily  gather  them,  we  may  through  our  heed- 
lessness be  taken,  and  lay  down  our  joy  in  Thy  truth,  and 
rest  it  in  the  deceit  of  men  ;  and  take  pleasure  in  being 
loved  and  feared  not  for  Thee,  but  instead  of  Thee  ;  and 
thus  having  been  made  like  him,  he  may  have  them  for  his 
own,  not  in  the  fellowship  of  charity,  but  as  partakers  of  his 
torment,  who  determined  to  "  set  his  throne  in  the  north  " 
(Is.  xiv.  14),  that  dark  and  chilled  they  might  serve  him 
who  in  a  perverted  and  crooked  way  doth  imitate  Thee. 
But  we,  O  Lord,  behold  we  are  Thy  "  little  flock  "  (S.  Luke 


220  T/ie  Confessio7is  of  S,  Augustiyie. 

xii.  32),  possess  Thou  us.  Stretch  out  Thy  wings,  and  let 
us  flee  beneath  them.  Be  Thou  our  glory  ;  let  us  be  loved 
for  Thee,  and  Thy  word  feared  in  us.  He  that  would  be 
praised  of  men,  when  Thou  blamest,  will  not  be  defended 
of  men,  when  Thou  judgest;  nor  delivered,  when  Thou 
condemnest.  But  when  it  is  not  "the  sinner  that  is  praised 
in  the  desires  of  his  soul,  nor  he  that  doeth  unrighteousness 
that  is  blessed"  (Ps.  ix.  24,  Vulg.),  but  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  blamest.  And 
better  then  is  he  who  gave  the  praise,  than  he  who  is 
praised.  For  God's  gift  in  man  pleased  the  one,  while 
man's  gift  pleased  the  other  more  than  God's. 


CHAPTER  XXXVII. 

He  confesseth  that  he  loveili  praise  ;  hut  suggests  that  there  tnay  be 
a  j'ight  tise  of  it. 

BY  these  temptations  we  are  assailed  daily,  O  Lord  ; 
without  ceasing  are  we  assailed.  Our  daily  "furnace  " 
is  the  tongue  of  men.  And  in  this  kind  also  Thou  com- 
mandest  us  continency.  Give  what  Thou  commandest, 
and  command  what  Thou  wilt.  Thou  knowest  the  groan- 
ing of  my  heart  to  Thee  concerning  this  matter,  and  the 
rivers  of  mine  eyes.  For  I  cannot  learn  how  far  I  am  more 
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  power  of  examin- 
ing myself;  in  tliis  hardly  any.  For  I  see,  in  regard  of  the 
pleasures  of  the  flesh,  and  vain  curiosity  for  knowledge,  how 
far  I  have  attained  the  power  of  refraining  my  mind,  when 
I  am  without  them,  whether  by  my  own  choice,  or  through 
their  absence.  For  then  I  ask  myself  how  much  more  or 
less  troublesome  it  is  to  me,  not  to  have  them  ?  Even 
riches,  which  are  sought  on  this  account,  that  they  may 
make  provision  for  some  one  or  two,  or  all  of  these  three 
lusts,  if  the  soul  cannot  discern,  whether,  when  it  hath  them. 
It  despiseth  them,  they  may  be  cast  aside,  that  so  it  may 
prove  Itself.     But  what  can  we  do  so  as  to  be  free  from 


The  Confessions  of  S.  Augustine.  22 1 

praise,  and  so  put  it  to  the  test  ?  Must  we  live  ill,  yea  so 
abandonedly  and  atrociously,  that  no  one  should  know 
without  detesting  us  ?  What  greater  madness  can  be  said, 
or  thought  of?  But  if  praise  both  is  and  ought  to  be  the 
accompaniment  of  good  living  and  good  works,  it  behoves 
us  to  forsake  its  company  no  more  than  the  good  life  itself. 
Yet  I  do  not  perceive  whether  I  could  calmly  or  impatiently 
bear  to  be  without  anything,  unless  it  be  absent. 

What  then  do    I   confess   unto   Thee   in   this   kind   of 
temptation,  O  Lord?     What,  but  that  I  delight  in  praise, 
but  in  truth  itself,  more  than  in  praise  ?     For  were  I  asked 
whether  I  should  prefer  to  be  in  some  frenzy,  or  in  error 
about  all  things,  and  so  to  receive  the  praise  of  all  men  ; 
or  to  be  firm,  and  most  confident  in  the  truth,  and  yet  to 
receive  the   blame  of  all,  I   know  which   I  should  choose. 
But  yet  I  am  unwilling  that  the  commendation  of  a  stranger's 
words   should  even   increase  my  joy  for  any  good   in  me. 
Yet   I   own,  it  does   not  only  increase  it,  but  blame  also 
diminishes  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  restrain  our  regard,  but  also  righteousness, 
that  is,  whereon  to  bestow  it,  and  hast  willed  us  to  love  not 
Thee  only,  but  our   neighbour   also ;    often,    when    I   am 
delighted  with  the  praise  of  some  one  of  good  understand- 
ing, I  seem  to  myself  to  be  taking  delight  in  the  profit,  or 
hope  of  it,  of  my  neighbour,   and  on  the  other  hand,  to 
be  grieved  for  evil  in  him,  when  I  hear  him  blame   either 
what  he  is  ignorant  of,  or  what  is  good.     For  sometimes  I 
am  grieved  at  my  own  praise,  either  when  those  things  be 
praised  in  me,  in  which  I  am  displeasing  to  myself :  or  when 
lesser  and  slight   good  things   are   more  highly  esteemed 
than  they  ought  to  be.     But  again,  how  do  I  know?  Am  I 
so  affected  for  this  reason,  namely  that  I   do  not  like  my 
commender  to  differ  from  me  about  myself:  not  because  I 
am  anxious  for  his  advantage,  but  because  those  same  good 
things  which  please  me  in  myself,  please  me  more  when 
they  please  another  also  ?     For  somehow  L  am  not  praised 
when  my  opinion  of  myself  is  not  praised,  since  indeed 
either    those    things  are  praised,  which  displease  me  ;  or 
those  more,  which  please  me  less.     Am  I  then  doubtful  of 
myself  in  this  matter  ? 


222  TJic  Confessions  of  S.  Augustine. 

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  neighbour.  And  whether  it  be  so  with  me,  I 
know  not.  For  herein  I  know  less  of  myself,  than  of  Thee. 
I  beseech  Thee,  now,  O  my  God,  discover  to  me  myself 
also,  that  I  may  confess  unto  my  brethren,  who  are  to  pray 
for  me,  wherein  I  find  myself  unsound.  Let  me  examine 
myself  again  more  diligently.  If  in  my  praise  I  am  moved 
with  the  good  of  my  neighbour,  why  am  I  less  moved  if 
another  be  unjustly  dispraised  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,  before  me? 
Know  I  not  this  also?  or  is  it  at  last  that  I  "  deceive  my- 
self," 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  head  " 
(Ps.  cxli.  5,  Vulg.) ;  "  I  am  poor  and  needy  "  (Ps.  cxix.  22), 
but  better  while  in  hidden  groanings  I  displease  myself, 
and  seek  Thy  mercy,  until  what  is  lacking  in  my  defective 
state  here  newed  and  perfected,  even  unto  that  peace  which 
the  eye  of  the  proud  knoweth  not. 


CHAPTER  XXXVIII. 

That  vain-o/oyy  sometimes  hideth  beneath  an  appearance  of  contempt  of 

Itself 

Y^T  the  word,  which  cometh  out  of  the  mouth,  and  deeds 
-■-  known  to  men,  bring  with  them  a  most  perilous 
temptation  through  the  love  of  praise  :  which,  to  establish  a 
certam  excellency  of  our  own,  solicits  and  collects  men's 
suffrages.  It  tempts,  even  when  it  is  reproved  by  myself  in 
myself,  on  the  very  ground  that  it  is  reproved.  And  often 
a  man  glories  more  vainly  of  the  very  contempt  of  vain 
glory;  and  so  it  is  no  longer  contempt  of  vain-glory, 
whereof  he  glories.  For  he  doth  not  despise  it  when  he 
glories  inwardly. 


The  Confessions  of  S.  Augustine.  223 

CHAPTER  XXXIX. 

Of  self-complacency. 

THERE  is  anotjier  evil  within,  arising  from  the  same 
kind  of  temptation  ;  whereby  men  become  vain  from 
self-complacency,  though  they  please  not,  or  displease,  or  do 
not  care  to  please  others.  But  pleasing  themselves,  they 
much  displease  Thee^  not  only  because  they  take  pleasure 
in  things  not  good,  as  if  good,  but  in  Thy  good  things,  as 
though  their  own ;  or  even  if  as  Thine,  yet  as  though  for 
their  own  deserts  ;  or  even  if  as  though  from  Thy  grace,  yet 
not  rejoicing  with  fellowship,  but  even  grudging  them  to 
others.  In  all  these  and  the  Hke  perils  and  travails,  Thou 
seest  the  trembling  of  my  heart ;  and  I  rather  feel  that  my 
wounds  are  healed  by  Thee,  than  that  they  are  not  inflicted 
by  myself. 

CHAPTER  XL. 

He  summeth  up  his  former  description  of  his  search  after  God,  and  de- 
clares the  szveetness  of  complete  communion  with  God,  sometimes 
vouchsafed  to  him. 

WHERE  hast  Thou  not  walked  with  me,  O  Truth, 
teaching  me  what  to  beware,  and  what  to  desire ; 
when  I  referred  to  Thee  what  I  could  discover  here  below, 
and  took  counsel  with  Thee  ?  With  my  outward  senses,  as  I 
could,  I  surveyed  the  world,  and  observed  the  life,  which 
my  body  hath  from  me,  and  these  my  senses.  Thence  I 
entered  into  the  recesses  of  my  memory,  those  manifold  and 
spacious  chambers,  wonderfully  furnished  with  innumerable 
stores ;  and  I  considered,  and  was  afraid,  and  could  discern 
nothing  of  them  without  Thee,  and  found  that  none  of  them 
was  Thee.  Nor  was  I  myself,  who  found  out  these  things, 
who  went  over  them  all,  and  endeavoured  to  distinguish 
them,  and  to  appraise  them  all  according  to  their  proper 
worth,  taking  some  things  upon  the  report  of  my  senses, 
questioning  about  others  which  I  felt  to  be  mingled  with 
myself,  distinguishing  and  enumerating  the  reporters  them- 
selves, and  in  the  wide  resources  of  my  memory  busying 
myself  with  some  things,  storing  away  others,  drawing  out 


224  ^/'^  Confessions  of  S.  Augustine, 

others ;  nor  yet  was  I  myself  when  I  did  this,  i.e.  that  my 
power  whereby  I  did  it,  neither  was  it  Thou,  for  Thou  art 
the  abiding  Hght,  which  I  consulted  concerning  all  these, 
whether  they  were,  what  they  were,  and  how  they  ought  to 
be  valued.  And  I  heard  Thee  directing  and  commanding 
me ;  and  this  I  often  do.  This  is  my  delight,  and  as  often 
as  I  can  get  relaxation  from  works  of  necessity,  I  fly  to  this 
pleasure.  Nor  in  all  these  which  I  run  over  consulting 
Thee,  can  I  find  any  safe  place  for  my  soul,  except  in  Thee, 
in  whom  my  scattered  powers  are  may  be  gathered,  so  that 
nothing  of  my  being  may  depart  from  Thee.  And  some- 
times 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  could  ever  be  which 
this  life  would  not  be.  But  by  the  weights  of  my  miseries 
I  fall  back  again  into  those  lower  things,  and  am  sucked 
back  by  my  wonted  habits,  and  am  h olden  fast,  and  greatly 
weep,  but  am  greatly  holden.  So  great  a  power  hath  the 
burden  of  habit.  Here  I  can  stay,  but  would  not ;  there  I 
would  be,  but  cannot ;  both  ways,  miserable. 


CHAPTER  XLI. 

//(•  s  Hill  Diet  h  up  his  confession  with  regard  to  the  triple  lust. 

'T^HUS  then  have  I  considered  the  diseases  of  my  sins  in 
^  that  threefold  lust,  and  I  have  called  on  Thy  right 
hand  for  my  salvation.  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"  (Ps.  xxxi.  22).  Thou  art  the  Truth  who  presidest 
over  all,  but  I  through  my  covetousness  would  not^  indeed 
lose  Thee,  but  would  with  Thee  possess  a  lie  ;  as  no  man 
would  in  such  vv'ise  speak  falsely,  as  himself  to  be  ignorant 
of  the  truth.  So  then  I  lost  Thee,  because  Thou  vouch- 
safest  not  to  be  possessed  together  with  a  lie. 


The  Confessions  of  S.  Augustine.  225 


CHAPTER  XLIL 

O/  the  deceits  of  the  Devil,  xvhich  overtake  them  who  seek  for  Angelic 

Mediation. 

WHOM  could  I  find  to  reconcile  me  to  Thee  ?  must  I 
go  canvassing  the  Angels  ?  by  what  prayer  ?  by  what 
sacraments  ?  Many  endeavouring  to  return  unto  Thee,  and 
of  themselves  unable,  have,  as  I  hear,  tried  this,  and  fallen 
into  a  desire  of  curious  visions,  and  have  been  accounted 
worthy  of  such  delusions.  For  they,  being  high  minded, 
sought  Thee  by  the  pride  of  learning,  swelling  out  rather, 
than  smiting  upon,  their  breasts,  and  so  by  the  likeness  of 
their  own  state  of  heart,  brought  down  upon  themselves  the 
"powers  of  the  air"  (Eph.  ii.  2),  the  fellow-conspirators  and 
companions  of  their  pride,  by  whom,  through  magical 
influences,  they  were  deceived,  seeking  a  mediator,  by  whom 
they  might  be  purged,  and  there  was  none.  For  it  was  the 
Devil  "  transforming  himself  into  an  Angel  of  light "  (2  Cor. 
xi.  14) ;  and  it  much  enticed  proud  flesh,  that  he  had  no 
fleshly  body.  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  men,  he  should  be 
too  far  away  from  God  :  or  if  in  both  like  God,  too  far  away 
from  men  ;  and  so  not  be  a  mediator.  That  deceiving 
mediator  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,  namely,  that  not  being  clothed  with  the 
mortality  of  flesh,  would  vaunt  himself  for  immortal.  But 
since  'the  wages  of  sin  is  death'  (Rom.  vi.  23);  this  also 
he  hath  in  common  with  men,  that  with  them  he  should  be 
condemned  to  death." 


226  The  Confessions  of  S.  A  iigustine. 


CHAPTER  XLIII. 

The  Man  Christ  Jesus  the  only  Mediator  between  God  and  Man.     In 
Him  his  soul  is  satisfied. 

BUT  the  true  Mediator,  Whom  in  Thy  secret  mercy 
Thou  hast  shewed  to  the  humble,  and  didst  send, 
that  by  His  example  also  they  might  learn  that  same  humi- 
lity, that  "  Mediator  between  God  and  man,  the  Man  Christ 
Jesus"  (i  Tim.  ii.  5),  appeared  betwixt  mortal  sinners  and 
the  immortal  Just  One ;  sharing  with  men,  mortality,  with 
God,  righteousness  :  so  that  since  the  wages  of  righteous- 
ness is  life  and  peace.  He  might  by  a  righteousness  con- 
joined with  God,  make  void  that  death  of  justified  sinners, 
which  it  was  His  will  to  share  in  common  with  them. 
Hence  He  was  shewed  forth  to  holy  men  of  old  ;  that  they 
too  through  faith  in  His  Passion  to  come,  as  we  through 
faith  in  it  passed,  might  be  saved.  In  so  far  as  He  was 
man.  He  was  a  Mediator ;  in  that  He  was  the  Word,  He 
was  not  in  a  middle  place,  because  equal  with  God,  and 
God  with  God,  and  together  [with  the  Holy  Spirit]  one  God. 
How  hast  Thou  loved  us,  O  good  Father,  who  "  sparedst 
not  Thine  only  Son,  but  deliveredst  Him  up  for  us  un-" 
godly!"  (Rom.  viii.  32).  How  hast  Thou  loved  us,  for 
whom,  "  He  that  thought  it  not  robbery  to  be  equal  with 
Thee,  was  made  subject  even  to  the  death  of  the  cross  " 
(Phil.  ii.  6).  He  alone  "free  among  the  dead  "  (Ps.  Ixxxviii. 
5),  "having  power  to  lay  down  His  life,  and  power  to  take 
it  again"  (S.  John  x.  18)  :  for  us  to  Thee  both  Victor  and 
Victim,  and  therefore  Victor,  because  the  Victim ;  for  us  to 
Thee  Priest  and  Sacrifice,  and  therefore  Priest  because  the 
Sacrifice ;  making  us  to  Thee  sons  instead  of  servants,  by 
being  begotten  of  Thee,  and  becoming  servant  to  us. 
Rightly  then  is  my  hope  strong  in  Him,  that  Thou  "wilt 
heal  all  my  infirmities  "  by  Him  Who  "  sitteth  at  Thy  right 
hand  and  maketh  intercession  for  us "  (Rom.  viii.  34), 
otherwise  I  should  despair.  For  many  and  great  are  those 
infirmities  of  mine,  many  they  are,  and  great;  but  Thy 
medicine  is  greater.  We  might  think  that  Thy  Word  was 
far  removed  from  any  union  with  man,  and  despair  of  our- 
selves, had  He  not  been  "made  flesh  and  dwelt  among  us  " 
(S.  John  i.  14). 


The  Confessions  of  S.  Augnstine.  227 

Affrighted  with  my  sins  and  the  burden  of  my  misery,  I 
had  devised  in  my  heart,  and  purposed  to  "  flee  to  the  wil- 
derness ; "  but  Thou  didst  forbid  me,  and  strengthen  me, 
saying,  "  Therefore  Christ  died  for  all,  that  they  which  live 
should  not  henceforth  live  unto  themselves,  but  unto  Him 
which  died  for  them"  (2  Cor.  v.  15).  See,  Lord,  I  "cast 
my  care  upon  Thee  "  that  I  may  live,  and  I  will  "  consider 
the  wondrous  things  of  Thy  law"  (Ps.  cxix.  t8).  Thou 
knowest  my  unskilfulness,  and  my  weakness  ;  teach  me,  and 
heal  me.  He,  Thine  only  Son,  "  in  Whom  are  hid  all  the 
treasures  of  wisdom  and  knowledge  "  (Col.  ii.  3),  hath  re- 
deemed me  with  His  blood.  ''  Let  not  the  proud  speak 
evil  of  me ; "  because  I  think  upon  the  price  of  my  Re- 
demption, and  eat  and  drink,  and  communicate  it ;  and 
being  "  poor,"  I  desire  to  be  satisfied  from  Him  amongst 
those  who  "  eat  and  are  satisfied.  And  they  shall  praise 
the  Lord  that  seek  Him  "  (Ps.  xx.  26).  * 

*  The  remaining  three  books  in  the  Latin  text  consist  entirely  of  a 
commentary  upon  the  early  chapters  of  Genesis,  and  are  seldom  pub- 
lished with  the  "Confessions." 


f 


THE   END. 


5  M.— v.— 40/11/86. 

TURNBULI-    AND    SHEARS,    PRINTKKS,    EDINBURGH. 


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