Book VII.
Book IX.
Book VIII
Book X.
BOOK VII.
HE RECALLS THE BEGINNING OF HIS YOUTH, I.E., THE THIRTY-FIRST YEAR OF
HIS AGE, IN WHICH VERY GRAVE ERRORS AS TO THE NATURE OF GOD AND THE
ORIGIN OF EVIL BEING DISTINGUISHED, AND THE SACRED BOOKS MORE ACCURATELY
KNOWN, HE AT LENGTH ARRIVES AT A CLEAR KNOWLEDGE OF GOD, NOT YET RIGHTLY
APPREHENDING JESUS CHRIST.
Chap. I.—He regarded not God indeed under the form of a human body,
but as a corporeal substance diffused through space.
1. DEAD now was that evil and abominable youth of mine, and I was
passing into early manhood: as I increased in years, the fouler became I
in vanity, who could not conceive of any substance but such as I saw
with my own eyes. I thought not of Thee, O God, under the form of a
human body. Since the time I began to hear something of wisdom, I always
avoided this; and I rejoiced to have found the same in the faith of our
spiritual mother, Thy Catholic Church. But what else to imagine Thee I
knew not. And I, a man, and such a man, sought to conceive of Thee, the
sovereign and only true God; and I did in my inmost heart believe that
Thou wert incorruptible, and inviolable, and unchangeable; because, not
knowing whence or how, yet most plainly did I see and feel sure that
that which may be corrupted must be worse than that which cannot, and
what cannot be violated did I without hesitation prefer before that
which can, and deemed that which suffers no change to be better than
that which is changeable. Violently did my heart cry out against all my
phantasms, and with this one blow I endeavoured to beat away from the
eye of my mind all that unclean crowd which
fluttered around it.1 And lo, being
scarce put off, they, in the twinkling of an eye, pressed in multitudes
around me, dashed against my face, and beclouded it; so that, though I
thought not of Thee under the form of a human body, yet was I
constrained to image Thee to be something corporeal in space, either
infused into the world, or infinitely diffused beyond it,—even that
incorruptible, inviolable, and unchangeable, which I preferred to the
corruptible, and violable, and changeable; since whatsoever I conceived,
deprived of this space, appeared as nothing to me, yea, altogether
nothing, not even a void, as if a body were removed from its place and
the place should remain empty of any body at all, whether earthy,
terrestrial, watery, aerial, or celestial, but should remain a void
place—a spacious nothing, as it were.
2. I therefore being thus gross-hearted, nor clear even to myself,
whatsoever was not stretched over certain spaces, nor diffused, nor
crowded together, nor swelled out, or which did not or could not receive
some of these dimensions, I judged to be altogether nothing. For over
such forms as my eyes are wont to range did my heart then range; nor did
I see that this same observation, by which I formed those same images,
was not of this kind, and yet it could not have formed them had not
itself been something great. In like manner did I conceive of Thee, Life
of my life, as vast through infinite spaces, on every side penetrating
the whole mass of the world, and beyond it, all ways, through
immeasurable and boundless spaces; so that the earth should have Thee,
the heaven have Thee, all things have Thee, and they bounded in Thee,
but Thou nowhere. For as the body of this air which is above the earth
preventeth not the light of the sun from passing through it, penetrating
it, not by bursting or by cutting, but by filling it entirely, so I
imagined the body, not of heaven, air, and sea only, but of the earth
also, to be pervious to Thee, and in all its greatest parts as well as
smallest penetrable to receive Thy presence, by a secret inspiration,
both inwardly and outwardly governing all things which Thou hast
created. So I conjectured, because I was unable to think of anything
else; for it was untrue. For in this way would a greater part of the
earth contain a greater portion of Thee, and the less a lesser; and all
things should so be full of Thee, as that the body of an elephant should
contain more of Thee than that of a sparrow by how much larger it is,
and occupies more room; and so shouldest Thou make the portions of
Thyself present unto the several portions of the world, in pieces, great
to the great, little to the little. But Thou art not such a one; nor
hadst Thou as yet enlightened my darkness.
Chap. II.—The disputation of Nebridius against the Manichaeans, on
the question "whether God be corruptible or incorruptible."
3. It was sufficient for me, O Lord, to oppose to those deceived
deceivers and dumb praters (dumb, since Thy word sounded not forth from
them) that which a long while ago, while we were at Carthage, Nebridius
used to propound, at which all we who heard it were disturbed:
"What could that reputed nation of darkness, which the Manichaeans
are in the habit of setting up as a mass opposed to Thee, have done unto
Thee hadst Thou objected to fight with it? For had it been answered, 'It
would have done Thee some injury,' then shouldest Thou be subject to
violence and corruption; but if the reply were: 'It could do Thee no
injury,' then was no cause assigned for Thy fighting with it; and so
fighting as that a certain portion and member of Thee, or offspring of
Thy very substance, should be blended with adverse powers and natures
not of Thy creation, and be by them corrupted and deteriorated to such
an extent as to be turned from happiness into misery, and need help
whereby it might be delivered and purged; and that this offspring of Thy
substance was the soul, to which, being enslaved, contaminated, and
corrupted, Thy word, free, pure, and entire, might bring succour; but
yet also the word itself being corruptible, because it was from one and
the same substance. So that should they affirm Thee, whatsoever Thou
art, that is, Thy substance whereby Thou art, to be incorruptible, then
were all these assertions false and execrable; but if corruptible, then
that were false, and at the first utterance to be abhorred." This
argument, then, was enough against those who wholly merited to be
vomited forth from the surfeited stomach, since they had no means of
escape without horrible sacrilege, both of heart and tongue, thinking
and speaking such things of Thee.
Chap. III.—That the cause of evil is the free judgment of the will.
4. But I also, as yet, although I said and was firmly persuaded, that
Thou our Lord, the true God, who madest not only our souls but our
bodies, and not our souls and bodies alone, but all creatures and all
things, wert uncontaminable and inconvertible, and in no part mutable:
yet understood I not readily and clearly what was the cause of evil. And
yet, whatever it was, I perceived that it must be so sought out as not
to constrain me by it to believe that the immutable God was mutable,
lest I myself should become the thing that I was seeking out. I sought,
therefore, for it free from care, certain of the untruthfulness of what
these asserted, whom I shunned with my whole heart; for I perceived that
through seeking after the origin of evil, they were filled with malice,
in that they liked better to think that Thy Substance did suffer evil
than that their own did commit it.
5. And I directed my attention to discern what I now heard, that free
will was the cause of our doing evil, and Thy righteous judgment of our
suffering it. But I was unable clearly to discern it. So, then, trying
to draw the eye of my mind from that pit, I was plunged again therein,
and trying often, was as often plunged back again. But this raised me
towards Thy light, that I knew as well that I had a will as that I had
life: when, therefore, I was willing or unwilling to do anything, I was
most certain that it was none but myself that was willing and unwilling;
and immediately I perceived that there was the cause of my sin. But what
I did against my will I saw that I suffered rather than did, and that
judged I not to be my fault, but my punishment; whereby, believing Thee
to be most just, I quickly confessed myself to be not unjustly punished.
But again I said: "Who made me? Was it not my God, who is not only
good, but goodness itself? Whence came I then to will to do evil, and to
be unwilling to do good, that there might be cause for my just
punishment? Who was it that put this in me, and implanted in me the root
of bitterness, seeing I was altogether made by my most sweet God? If the
devil were the author, whence is that devil? And if he also, by his own
perverse will, of a good angel became a devil, whence also was the evil
will in him whereby he became a devil, seeing that the angel was made
altogether good by that most Good Creator?" By these reflections
was I again cast down and stifled; yet not plunged into that hell of
error (where no man confesseth unto Thee), to think that Thou dost
suffer evil, rather than that man doth it.
Chap. IV.—That God is not corruptible, who, if He were, would not
be God at all.
6. For I was so struggling to find out the rest, as having already
found that what was incorruptible must be better than the corruptible;
and Thee, therefore, whatsoever Thou wert, did I acknowledge to be
incorruptible. For never yet was, nor will be, a soul able to conceive
of anything better than Thou, who art the highest and best good. But
whereas most truly and certainly that which is incorruptible is to be
preferred to the corruptible (like as I myself did now prefer it), then,
if Thou were not incorruptible, I could in my thoughts have reached unto
something better than my God. Where, then, I saw that the incorruptible
was to be preferred to the corruptible, there ought I to seek Thee, and
there observe "whence evil itself was," that is, whence comes
the corruption by which Thy substance can by no means be profaned. For
corruption, truly, in no way injures our God,—by no will, by no
necessity, by no unforeseen chance, - - because He is God, and what He
wills is good, and Himself is that good; but to be corrupted is not
good. Nor art Thou compelled to do anything against Thy will in that Thy
will is not greater than Thy power. But greater should it be wert Thou
Thyself greater than Thyself; for the will and power of God is God
Himself. And what can be unforeseen by Thee, who knowest all things? Nor
is there any sort of nature but Thou knowest it. And what more should we
say "why that substance which God is should not be
corruptible," seeing that if it were so it could not be God?
Chap. V.—Questions concerning the origin of evil in regard to God,
who, since He is the chief good, cannot be the cause of evil.
7. And I sought "whence is evil?" And sought in an evil
way; nor saw I the evil in my very search. And I set in order before the
view of my spirit the whole creation, and whatever we can discern in it,
such as earth, sea, air, stars, trees, living creatures; yea, and
whatever in it we do not see, as the firmament of heaven, all the
angels, too, and all the spiritual inhabitants thereof. But these very
beings, as though they were bodies, did my fancy dispose in such and
such places, and I made one huge mass of all Thy creatures,
distinguished according to the kinds of bodies,—some of them being
real bodies, some what I myself had feigned for spirits. And this mass I
made huge,—not as it was, which I could not know, but as large as I
thought well, yet every way finite. But Thee, O Lord, I imagined on
every part environing and penetrating it, though every way infinite; as
if there were a sea everywhere, and on every side through immensity
nothing but an infinite sea; and it contained within itself some sponge,
huge, though finite, so that the sponge would in all its parts be filled
from the immeasurable sea. So conceived I Thy Creation to be itself
finite, and filled by Thee, the Infinite. And I said, Behold God, and
behold what God hath created; and God is good, yea, most mightily and
incomparably better than all these; but yet He, who is good, hath
created them good, and behold how He encircleth and filleth them. Where,
then, is evil, and whence, and how crept it in hither? What is its root,
and what its seed? Or hath it no being at all? Why, then, do we fear and
shun that which hath no being? Or if we fear it needlessly, then surely:
is that fear evil whereby the heart is unnecessarily pricked and
tormented,—and so much a greater evil, as we have naught to fear, and
yet do fear. Therefore either that is evil which we fear, or the act of
fearing is in itself evil. Whence, therefore, is it, seeing that God,
who is good, hath made all these things good? He, indeed, the greatest
and chiefest Good, hath created these lesser goods; but both Creator and
created are all good. Whence is evil? Or was there some evil matter of
which He made and formed and ordered it, but left something in it which
He did not convert into good? But why was this? Was He powerless to
change the whole lump, so that no evil should remain in it, seeing that
He is omnipotent? Lastly, why would He make anything at all of it, and
not rather by the same omnipotency cause it not to be at all? Or could
it indeed exist contrary to His will? Or if it were from eternity, why
did He permit it so to be for infinite spaces of times in the past, and
was pleased so long after to make something out of it? Or if He wished
now all of a sudden to do something, this rather should the Omnipotent
have accomplished, that this evil matter should not be at all, and that
He only should be the whole, true, chief, and infinite Good. Or if it
were not good that He, who was good, should not also be the framer and
creator of what was good, then that matter which was evil being removed,
and brought to nothing, He might form good matter, whereof He might
create all things. For He would not be omnipotent were He not able to
create something good without being assisted by that matter which had
not been created by Himself. Such like things did I revolve in my
miserable breast, overwhelmed with most gnawing cares lest I should die
ere I discovered the truth; yet was the faith of Thy Christ, our Lord
and Saviour, as held in the Catholic Church, fixed firmly in my heart,
unformed, indeed, as yet upon many points, and diverging from doctrinal
rules, but yet my mind did not utterly leave it, but every day rather
drank in more and more of it.
Chap. VI.—He refutes the divinations of the astrologers, deduced
from the constellations.
8. Now also had I repudiated the lying divinations and impious
absurdities of the astrologers. Let Thy mercies, out of the depth of my
soul, confess unto thee for this also, O my God. For Thou, Thou
altogether,—for who else is it that calls us back from the death of
all errors, but that Life which knows not how to die, and the Wisdom
which, requiring no light, enlightens the minds that do, whereby the
universe is governed, even to the fluttering leaves of trees?—Thou
providedst also for my obstinacy wherewith I struggled with Vindicianus,
an acute old man, and Nebridius, a young one of remarkable talent; the
former vehemently declaring, and the latter frequently, though with a
certain measure of doubt, saying, "That no art existed by which to
foresee future things, but that men's surmises had oftentimes the help
of luck, and that of many things which they foretold some came to pass
unawares to the predictors, who lighted on it by their oft
speaking." Thou, therefore, didst provide a friend for me, who was
no negligent consulter of the 'astrologers, and yet not thoroughly
skilled in those arts, but, as I said, a curious consulter with them;
and yet knowing somewhat, which he said he had heard from his father,
which, how far it would tend to overthrow the estimation of that art, he
knew not. This man, then, by name Firminius, having received a liberal
education, and being well versed in rhetoric, consulted me, as one very
dear to him, as to what I thought on some affairs of his, wherein his
worldly hopes had risen, viewed with regard to his so-called
constellations; and I, who had now begun to lean in this particular
towards Nebridius' opinion, did not indeed decline to speculate about
the matter, and to tell him what came into my irresolute mind, but still
added that I was now almost persuaded that these were but empty and
ridiculous follies. Upon this he told me that his father had been very
curious in such books, and that he had a friend who was as interested in
them as he was himself, who, with combined study and consultation,
fanned the flame of their affection for these toys, insomuch that they
would observe the moment when the very dumb animals which bred in their
houses brought forth, and then observed the position of the heavens with
regard to them, so as to gather fresh proofs of this so-called art. He
said, moreover, that his father had told him, that at the time his
mother was about to give birth to him (Firminius), a female servant of
that friend of his father's was also great with child, which could not
be hidden from her master, who took care with most diligent exactness to
know of the birth of his very dogs. And so it came to pass that (the one
for his wife, and the other for his servant, with the most careful
observation, calculating the days and hours, and the smaller divisions
of the hours) both were delivered at the same moment, so that both were
compelled to allow the very selfsame constellations, even to the
minutest point, the one for his son, the other for his young slave. For
so soon as the women began to be in travail, they each gave notice to
the other of what was fallen out in their respective houses, and had
messengers ready to despatch to one another so soon as they had
information of the actual birth, of which they had easily provided, each
in his own province, to give instant intelligence. Thus, then, he said,
the messengers of the respective parties met one another in such equal
distances from either house, that neither of them could discern any
difference either in the position of the stars or other most minute
points. And yet Firminius, born in a high estate in his parents' house,
ran his course through the prosperous paths of this world, was increased
in wealth, and elevated to honours; whereas that slave—the yoke of his
condition being unrelaxed—continued to serve his masters, as Firminius,
who knew him, informed me.
9. Upon hearing and believing these things, related by so reliable a
person, all that resistance of mine melted away; and first I endeavoured
to reclaim Firminius himself from that curiosity, by telling him, that
upon inspecting his constellations, I ought, were I to foretell truly,
to have seen in them parents eminent among their neighbours, a noble
family in its own city, good birth, becoming education, and liberal
learning. But if that servant had consulted me upon the same
constellations, since they were his also, I ought again to tell him,
likewise truly, to see in them the meanness of his origin, the
abjectness of his condition, and everything else altogether removed from
and at variance with the former. Whence, then, looking upon the same
constellations, I should, if I spoke the truth, speak diverse things, or
if I spoke the same, speak falsely; thence assuredly was it to be
gathered, that whatever, upon consideration of the constellations, was
foretold truly, .was not by art, but by chance; and whatever falsely,
was not from the unskillfulness of the art, but the error of chance.
10. An opening being thus made, I ruminated within myself on such
things, that no one of those dotards (who followed such occupations, and
whom I longed to assail, and with derision to confute) might urge
against me that Firminius had informed me falsely, or his father him: I
turned my thoughts to those that are born twins, who generally come out
of the womb so near one to another, that the small distance of time
between them—how much force soever they may contend that it has in the
nature of things—cannot be noted by human observation, or be expressed
in those figures which the astrologer is to examine that he may
pronounce the truth. Nor can they be true; for, looking into the same
figures, he must have foretold the same of Esau and Jacob, whereas the
same did not happen to them. He must therefore speak falsely; or if
truly, then, looking into the same figures, he must not speak the same
things. Not then by art, but by chance, would he speak truly. For Thou,
O Lord, most righteous Ruler of the universe, the inquirers and inquired
of knowing it not, workest by a hidden inspiration that the consulter
should hear what, according to the hidden deservings of souls, he ought
to hear, out of the depth of Thy righteous judgment, to whom let not man
say, "What is this ?" or "Why that ?" Let him not
say so, for he is man.
Chap. VII.—He is severely exercised as to the origin of evil.
11. And now, O my He]per, hadst Thou freed me from those fetters; and
I inquired, "Whence is evil?" and found no result. But Thou
sufferedst me not to be carried away from the faith by any fluctuations
of thought, whereby I believed Thee both to exist, and Thy substance to
be unchangeable, and that Thou hadst a care of and wouldest judge men;
and that in Christ, Thy Son, our Lord, and the Holy Scriptures, which
the authority of Thy Catholic Church pressed upon me, Thou hadst planned
the way of man's salvation to that life which is to come after this
death. These things being safe and immoveably settled in my mind, I
eagerly inquired, "Whence is evil ?" What torments did my
travailing heart then endure! What sighs, O my God! Yet even there were
Thine ears open, and I knew it not; and when in stillness I sought
earnestly, those silent contritions of my soul were strong cries unto
Thy mercy. No man knoweth, but only Thou, what I endured. For what was
that which was thence through my tongue poured into the ears of my most
familiar friends? Did the whole tumult of my soul, for which neither
time nor speech was sufficient, reach them? Yet went the whole into
Thine ears, all of which I bellowed out from the sightings of my heart;
and my desire was before Thee, and the light of mine eyes was not with
me; for that was within, I without. Nor was that in place, but my
attention was directed to things contained in place; but there did I
find no resting-place, nor did they receive me in such a way as that I
could say, "It is sufficient, it is well;" nor did they let me
turn back, where it might be well enough with me. For to these things
was I superior, but inferior to Thee; and Thou art my true joy when I am
subjected to Thee, and Thou hadst subjected to me what Thou createdst
beneath me. And this was the true temperature and middle region of my
safety, to continue in Thine image, and by serving Thee to have dominion
over the body. But when I lifted myself proudly against I Thee, and
"ran against the Lord, even on His l neck, with the thick
bosses" of my buckler, even these inferior things were placed above
l me, and pressed upon me, and nowhere was/ there alleviation or
breathing space. They/ encountered my sight on every side in crowds I
and troops, and in thought the images of l bodies obtruded themselves as
I was returning to Thee, as if they would say unto me, "Whither
goest thou, unworthy and base one ?" And these things had sprung
forth out of my wound; for thou humblest the proud like one that is
wounded, and through my own swelling was I separated from Thee; yea, my
too much swollen face closed up mine eyes.
Chap. VIII.—By God's assistance he by degrees arrives at the truth.
12. "But Thou, O Lord, shall endure for ever," yet not for
ever art Thou angry with us, because Thou dost commiserate our dust and
lt ashes; and it was pleasing in Thy sight to reform my deformity, and
by inward stings didst Thou disturb me, that I should be dissatisfied
until Thou wert made sure to my inward sight. And by the secret hand of
Thy remedy was my swelling lessened, and the disordered and darkened
eyesight of my mind, by the sharp anointings of healthful sorrows, was
from day to day made whole.
Chap. IX.—He compares the doctrine of the Platonists concerning the
Logos with the much more excellent doctrine of Christianity.
13. And Thou, willing first to show me how Thou "resistest the
proud, but givest grace unto the humble," and by how great art act
of mercy Thou hadst pointed out to men the path of humility, in that Thy
"Word was made flesh" and dwelt among men,—Thou procuredst
for me, by the instrumentality of one inflated with most monstrous
pride, certain books of the Platonists, translated from Greek into
Latin. And therein I read, not indeed in the same words, but to the
selfsame effect, enforced by many and divers reasons, that, "In the
beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God.
The same was in the beginning with God. All things were made by Him; and
without Him was not any thing made that was made." That which was
made by Him is "life; and the life was the light of men. And the
light shineth in darkness; and the darkness comprehendeth it not."
And that the soul of man, though it "bears witness of the
light," yet itself" is not that light; but the Word of God,
being God, is that true light that lighteth every man that cometh into
the world." And that "He was in the world, and the world
was made by Him,: and the world knew Him not.'' But that: "He came
unto His own, and His own received Him not. But as many as received Him,
to them gave He power to become the sons of God, even to then: that
believe on His name." This I did not read there.
14. In like manner, I read there that God the Word was born not of
flesh, nor of blood,: nor of the will of man, nor of the will of the
flesh, but of God. But that "the Word was made flesh, and dwelt
among us," I read not there. For I discovered in those books that
it was in many and divers ways said, that the Son was in the form of the
Father, and "thought it not robbery to be equal with God," for
that naturally He was the same substance. But that He emptied Himself,
"and took upon Him the form of a servant, and was made in the
likeness of men: and being found in fashion as a man, He humbled
Himself, and became obedient unto death, even the death of the cross.
Wherefore God also hath highly exalted Him" from the dead,
"and given Him a name above every name; that at the name of Jesus
every knee should bow, of things in heaven, and things in earth, and
things under the earth; and that every tongue should confess that Jesus
Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father;" those books have
not. For that before all times, and above all times, Thy only-begotten
Son remaineth unchangeably co-eternal with Thee; and that of'' His
fulness" souls receive, that they may be blessed; and that by
participation of the wisdom remaining in them they are renewed, that
they may be wise, is there. But that "in due time Christ died for
the ungodly," and that Thou sparedst not Thine only Son, but
deliveredst Him up for us all, is not there. "Because Thou hast hid
these things from the wise and prudent, and hast revealed them unto
babes;" that they "that labour and are heavy laden" might
"come" unto Him and He might refresh them, because He is
"meek and lowly in heart." "The meek will He guide in
judgment; and the meek will He teach His way;" looking upon our
humility and our distress, and forgiving all our sins. But such as are
puffed up with the elation of would-be sublimer learning, do not hear
Him saying, "Learn of Me; for I am meek and lowly in heart: and ye
shall find rest unto your souls." "Because that, when they
knew God, they glorified Him not as God, neither were thankful; but
became vain in their imaginations, and their foolish heart was darkened.
Professing themselves to be wise, they became fools.''
15. And therefore also did I read there, that they had changed the
glory of Thy incorruptible nature into idols and divers forms,—"
into an image made like to corruptible man, and to birds, and
four-footed beasts, and creeping things," namely, into that
Egyptian food for which Esau lost his birthright; for that Thy
first-born people worshipped the head of a four-footed beast instead of
Thee, turning back in heart towards Egypt, and prostrating Thy image—their
own soul—before the image "of an ox that eateth grass."
These things found I there; but I fed not on them. For it pleased Thee,
O Lord, to take away the reproach of diminution from Jacob, that the
elder should serve the younger; and Thou hast called the Gentiles into
Thine inheritance. And I had come unto Thee from among the Gentiles, and
I strained after that gold which Thou willedst Thy people to take from
Egypt, seeing that wheresoever it was it was Thine. And to the Athenians
Thou saidst by Thy apostle, that in Thee "we live, and move, and
have our being ;" as one of their own poets has said. And verily
these books came from thence. But I set not my mind on the idols of
Egypt, whom they ministered to with Thy gold, "who changed the
truth of God into a lie, and worshipped and served the creature more
than the Creator."
Chap. X.—Divine things are the more clearly manifested to him who
withdraws into the recesses of his heart.
16. And being thence warned to return to myself, I entered into my
inward self, Thou leading me on; and I was able to do it, for Thou wert
become my helper. And I entered, and with the eye of my soul (such as it
was) saw above the same eye of my soul, above my mind, the Unchangeable
Light. Not this common light, which all flesh may look upon, nor, as it
were, a greater one of the same kind, as though the brightness of this
should be much more resplendent, and with its greatness fill up all
things. Not like this was that light, but different, yea, very different
from all these. Nor was it above my mind as oil is above water, nor as
heaven above earth; but above it was, because it made me, and I below
it, because I was made by it. He who knows the Truth knows that Light;
and he that knows it knoweth eternity. Love knoweth it. O Eternal Truth,
and true Love, and loved Eternity! Thou art my God; to Thee do I sigh
both night and day. When I first knew Thee, Thou liftedst me up, that I
might see there was that which I might see, and that yet it was not I
that did see. And Thou didst beat back the infirmity of my sight,
pouring forth upon me most strongly Thy beams of light, and I trembled
with love and fear; and I found myself to be far off from Thee, in the
region of dissimilarity, as if I heard this voice of Thine from on high:
"I am the food of strong men; grow, and thou shalt feed upon me;
nor shall thou convert me, like the food of thy flesh, into thee, but
thou shall be converted into me." And I learned that Thou for
iniquity dost correct man, and Thou dost make my soul to consume away
like a spider. And I said, "Is Truth, therefore, nothing because it
is neither diffused through space, finite, nor infinite ?" And Thou
criedst to me from afar, "Yea, verily, 'I AM THAT I AM'" And I
heard this, as things are heard in the heart, nor was there room for
doubt; and I should more readily doubt that I live than that Truth is
not, which is "clearly seen, being understood by the things that
are made."
Chap. XI.—That creatures are mutable and God alone immutable.
17. And I viewed the other things below Thee, and perceived that they
neither altogether are, nor altogether are not. They are, indeed,
because they are from Thee; but are not, because they are not what Thou
art. For that truly is which remains immutably. It is good, then, for me
to cleave unto God, for if I remain not in Him, neither shall I in
myself; but He, remaining in Himself, reneweth all things. And Thou art
the Lord my God, since Thou standest not in need of my goodness.
Chap. XII.—Whatever things the good God has created are very good.
18. And it was made clear unto me that those things are good which
yet are corrupted, which, neither were they supremely good, nor unless
they were good, could be corrupted; because if supremely good, they were
incorruptible, and if not good at all, there was nothing in them to be
corrupted. For corruption harms, but, less it could diminish goodness,
it could not harm. Either, then, corruption harms not, which cannot be;
or, what is most certain, all which is corrupted is deprived of good.
But if they be deprived of all good, they will cease to be. For if they
be, and cannot be at all corrupted, they will become better, because
they shall remain incorruptibly. And what more monstrous than to assert
that those things which have lost all their goodness are made better?
Therefore, if they shall be deprived of all good, they shall no longer
be. So long, therefore, as they are, they are good; therefore whatsoever
is, is good. That evil, then, which I sought whence it was, is not any
substance; for were it a substance, it would be good. For either it
would be an incorruptible substance, land so a chief good, or a
corruptible substance, which unless it were good it could not be
corrupted. I perceived, therefore, and it was made clear to me, that
Thou didst make all things good, nor is there any substance at all that
was not made by Thee; and because all that Thou hast made are not equal,
therefore all things are; because individually they are good, and
altogether very good, because our God made all things very good.
Chap. XIII.—It is meet to praise the Creator for the good things
which are made in heaven and earth.
19. And to Thee is there nothing at all evil, and not only to Thee,
but to Thy whole creation; because there is nothing without which can
break in, and mar that order which Thou hast appointed it. But in the
parts thereof, some things, because they harmonize not with others, are
considered evil; whereas those very things harmonize with others, and
are good, and in themselves are good. And all these things which do not
harmonize together harmonize with the inferior part which we call earth,
having its own cloudy and windy sky concordant to it. Far be it from me,
then, to say, "These things should not be." For should I see
nothing but these, I should indeed desire better; but yet, if only for
these, ought I to praise Thee; for that Thou art to be praised is shown
from the "earth, dragons, and all deeps; fire, and hail; snow, and
vapours; stormy winds fulfilling Thy word; mountains, and all hills;
fruitful trees, and all cedars; beasts, and all cattle; creeping things,
and flying fowl; kings of the earth, and all people; princes, and all
judges of the earth; both young men and maidens; old men and
children," praise Thy name. But when, "from the heavens,"
these praise Thee, praise Thee, our God, "in the heights," all
Thy "angels," all Thy "hosts," "sun and
moon," all ye stars and light, "the heavens of heavens,"
and the "waters that be above the heavens," praise Thy name. I
did not now desire better things, because I was thinking of all; and
with a better judgment I reflected that the things above were better
than those below, but that all were better than those above alone.
Chap. XIV.—Being displeased with some part of God's creation, he
conceives of two original substances.
20. There is no wholeness in them whom aught of Thy creation
displeased no more than there was in me, when many things which Thou
madest displeased me. And, because my soul dared not be displeased at my
God, it would not suffer aught to be Thine which displeased it. Hence it
had gone into the opinion of two substances, and resisted not, but
talked foolishly. And, returning thence, it had made to itself a god,
through infinite measures of all space; and imagined it to be Thee, and
placed it in its heart, and again had become the temple of its own idol,
which was to Thee an abomination. But after Thou hadst fomented the.
head of me unconscious of it, and closed mine eyes test they should
"behold vanity," I ceased from myself a little, and my madness
was lulled to sleep; and I awoke in Thee, and saw Thee to be infinite,
though in another way; and this sight was not derived from the flesh.
Chap. XV.—Whatever is, owes its being to God.
21. And I looked hack on other things, and I perceived that it was to
Thee they owed their being, and that they were all bounded in Thee; but
in another way, not as being in space, but because Thou boldest all
things in Thine hand in truth: and all things are true so fir as they
have a being; nor is there any falsehood, unless that which is not is
thought to be. And I saw that all things harmonized, not with their
places only, but with their seasons also. And that Thou, who only art
eternal, didst not begin to work after innumerable spaces of times; for
that all spaces of times, both those which have passed and which shall
pass, neither go nor come, save through Thee, working and abiding.
Chap. XVI—Evil arises not from a substance, but from the perversion
of the will.
22. And I discerned and found it no marvel, that bread which is
distasteful to an unhealthy palate is pleasant to a healthy one; and
that the light, which is painful to sore eyes, is delightful ' to sound
ones. And Thy righteousness displeaseth the wicked; much more the viper
and little worm, which Thou hast created good, fitting in with inferior
parts of Thy creation; with which the wicked themselves also fit in, the
more in proportion as they are unlike Thee, but with the superior
creatures, in proportion as they become like to Thee. And I inquired
what iniquity was, and ascertained it not to be a substance, but a
perversion of the will, bent aside from Thee, O God, the Supreme
Substance, towards these lower things, and casting out its bowels, and
swelling outwardly.
Chap. XVII.—Above his changeable mind, he discovers the
unchangeable Author of truth.
23. And I marvelled that I now loved Thee, and no phantasm instead of
Thee. And yet I did not merit to enjoy my God, but was transported to
Thee by Thy beauty, and presently torn away from Thee by mine own
weight, sinking with grief into these inferior things. This weight was
carnal custom. Yet was there a remembrance of Thee with me; nor did I
any way doubt that there was one to whom I might cleave, but that I was
not yet one who could cleave unto Thee; for that the body which is
corrupted presseth down the soul, and the earthly dwelling weigheth down
the mind which thinketh upon many things. And most certain I was that
Thy "invisible things from the creation of the world are clearly
seen, being understood by the things that are made, even Thy eternal
power and Godhead." For, inquiring whence it was that I admired the
beauty of bodies whether celestial or terrestrial, and what supported me
in judging correctly on things mutable, and pronouncing, "This
should be thus, this not, ",— inquiring, then, whence I so
judged, seeing I did so judge, I had found the unchangeable and true
eternity of Truth, above my changeable mind. And thus, by degrees, I
passed from bodies to the soul, which makes use of the senses of the
body to perceive; and thence to its inward faculty, to which the bodily
senses represent outward things, and up to which reach the capabilities
of beasts; and thence, again, I passed on to the reasoning faculty, unto
which whatever is received from the senses of the body is referred to be
judged, which also, finding itself to be variable in me, raised itself
up to its own intelligence, and from habit drew away my thoughts,
withdrawing itself from the crowds of contradictory phantasms; that so
it might find out that light by which it was besprinkled, when, without
all doubting, it cried out, "that the unchangeable was to be
preferred before the changeable;" whence also it knew that
unchangeable, which, unless it had in some way known, it could have had
no sure ground for preferring it to the changeable. And thus, with the
flash of a trembling glance, it arrived at that which is. And then I saw
Thy invisible things understood by the things that are made. But I was
not able to fix my gaze thereon; and my infirmity being beaten back, I
was thrown again on my accustomed habits, carrying along with me naught
but a loving memory thereof, and an appetite for what I had, as it were,
smelt the odour of, but was not yet able to eat.
Chap. XVIII.—Jesus Christ, the mediator, is the only way of safety.
24. And I sought a way of acquiring strength sufficient to enjoy
Thee; but I found it not until I embraced that "Mediator between
God and man, the man Christ Jesus," "who is over all, God
blessed for ever," calling unto me, and saying, "I am the way,
the truth, and the life," and mingling that food which I was unable
to receive with our flesh. For "the Word was made flesh," that
Thy wisdom, by which Thou createdst all things, might provide milk for
our infancy. For I did not grasp my Lord Jesus,—I, though humbled,
grasped not the humble One; nor did I know what lesson that infirmity of
His would teach us. For Thy Word, the Eternal Truth, pre-eminent above
the higher parts of Thy creation, raises up those that am subject unto
Itself; but in this lower world built for Itself a humble habitation of
our clay, whereby He intended to abase from themselves such as would be
subjected and bring them over unto Himself, allaying their swelling, and
fostering their love; to the end that they might go on no further in
self-confidence, but rather should become weak, seeing before their feet
the Divinity weak by taking our "coats of skins ;" and
wearied, might cast themselves down upon It, and It rising, might lift
them up.
Chap. XIX.—He does not yet fully understand the saying of John,
that "the Word was made flesh."
25. But I thought differently, thinking only of my Lord Christ as of
a man of excellent wisdom, to whom no man could be equalled; especially
for that, being wonderfully born of a virgin, He seemed, through the
divine care for us, to have attained so great authority of leadership,—for
an example of contemning temporal things for the obtaining of
immortality. But what mystery there was in, "The Word was made
flesh," I could not even imagine. Only I had learnt out of what is
delivered to us in writing of Him, that He did eat, drink, sleep, walk,
rejoice in spirit, was sad, and discoursed; that flesh alone did not
cleave unto Thy Word, but with the human soul and body. All know thus
who know the unchangeableness of Thy Word, which I now knew as well as I
could, nor did I at all have any doubt about it. For, now to move the
limbs of the body at will, now not; now to be stirred by some affection,
now not; non, by signs to enunciate wise sayings, now to keep silence,
are properties of a soul and mind subject to change. And should these
things be falsely written of Him, all the rest would risk the
imputation, nor would there remain in those books any saving faith for
the human race. Since, then, they were written truthfully, I
acknowledged a perfect man to be in Christ—not the body of a man only,
nor with the body a sensitive soul without a rational, but a very! man;
whom, not only as being a form of truth, but for a certain great
excellency of human nature and a more perfect participation of wisdom, I
decided was to be preferred before others. But Alypius imagined the
Catholics to believe that God was so clothed with flesh, that, besides
God and flesh, there was no soul in Christ, and did not think that a
human mind was ascribed to Him. And, because He was thoroughly persuaded
that the actions which were recorded of Him could not be performed
except by a vital and rational creature, he moved the more slowly
towards the Christian faith. But, learning afterwards that this was the
error of the Apollinarian heretics, he rejoiced in the Catholic faith,
and was conformed to it. But somewhat later it was, I confess, that I
learned how in the sentence, "The Word was made flesh," the
Catholic truth can be distinguished from the falsehood of Photinus. For
the disapproval of heretics makes the tenets of Thy Church and sound
doctrine to stand out boldly. For them must be also heresies, that the
approved may be made manifest among the weak.
Chap. XX.—He rejoices that he proceeded from Plato to the Holy
Scriptures, and not the reverse.
26. But having then read those books of the Platonists, and being
admonished by them to search for incorporeal truth, I saw Thy invisible
things, understood by those things that are made; and though repulsed, I
perceived what that was, which through the darkness of my mind I was not
allowed to contemplate,—assured that Thou wert, and wert infinite, and
yet not diffused in space finite or infinite; and that Thou truly art,
who art the same ever, varying neither in part nor motion; and that all
other things are from Thee, on this most sure ground alone, that they
are. Of these things was I indeed assured, yet too weak to enjoy Thee. I
chattered as one well skilled; but had I not sought Thy way in Christ
our Saviour, I would have proved not skilful, but ready to perish. For
now, filled with my punishment, I had begun to desire to seem wise; yet
mourned I not, but rather was puffed up with knowledge. For where was
that charity building upon the "foundation" of humility,
"which is Jesus Christ"? Or, when would these books teach me
it? Upon these, therefore, I believe, it was Thy pleasure that I should
fall before I studied Thy Scriptures, that it might be impressed on my
memory how I was affected by them; and that afterwards when I was
subdued by Thy books, and when my wounds were touched by Thy healing
fingers, I might discern and distinguish what a difference there is
between presumption and confession,—between those who saw whither they
were to go, yet saw not the way, and the way which leadeth not only to
behold but to inhabit the blessed country. For had I first been moulded
in Thy Holy Scriptures, and hadst Thou, in the familiar use of them,
grown sweet unto me, and had I afterwards fallen upon those volumes,
they might perhaps have withdrawn me from the solid ground of piety; or,
had I stood firm in that wholesome disposition which I had thence
imbibed, I might have thought that it could have been attained by the
study of those books alone;
Chap. XXI.—What he found in the sacred books which are not to be
found in Plato.
27. Most eagerly, then, did I seize that venerable writing of Thy
Spirit, but more especially the Apostle Paul; and those difficulties
vanished away, in which he at one time appeared to me to contradict
himself, and the text of his discourse not to agree with the testimonies
of the Law and the Prophets. And the face of that pure speech appeared
to me one and the same; and I learned to "rejoice with trembling.''
So I commenced, and found that whatsoever truth I had there read was
declared here with the recommendation of Thy grace; that he who sees may
not so glory as if he had not received not only that which he sees, but
also that he can see (for what hath he which he hath not received?); and
that he may not only be admonished to see Thee, who art ever the same,
but also may be healed, to hold Thee; and that he who from afar off is
not able to see, may still walk on the way by which he may reach,
behold, and possess Thee. For though a man "delight in the law of
God after the inward man," what shall he do with that other law in
his members which warreth against the law of his mind, and bringeth him
into captivity to the law of sin, which is in his members? For Thou art
righteous, O Lord, but we have sinned and committed iniquity, and have
done wickedly, and Thy hand is grown heavy upon us, and we are justly
delivered over unto that ancient sinner, the governor of death; for he
induced our will to be like his will, whereby he remained not in Thy
truth. What shall "wretched man" do? "Who shall deliver
him from the body of this death," but Thy grace only, "through
Jesus 'Christ our Lord,'' whom Thou hast begotten co-eternal, and
createdst in the beginning of Thy ways, in whom the Prince of this world
found nothing worthy of death, yet killed he Him, and the handwriting
which was contrary to us was blotted out? This those writings contain
not. Those pages contain not the expression of this piety, —the tears
of confession, Thy sacrifice, a troubled spirit, "a broken and a
contrite heart," the salvation of the people, the espoused city,
the earnest of the Holy Ghost, the cup of our redemption. No man sings
there, Shall not my soul be subject unto God? For of Him cometh my
salvation, for He is my God and my salvation, my defender, I shall not
be further moved. No one there hears Him calling, "Come unto me all
ye that labour." They scorn to learn of Him, because He is meek and
lowly of heart; for "Thou hast hid those things from the wise and
prudent, and hast revealed them unto babes.'' For it is one thing, from
the mountain's wooded summit to see the land of peace, and not to find
the way thither,—in vain to attempt impassable ways, opposed and
waylaid by fugitives and deserters, under their captain the
"lion" and the "dragon;" and another to keep to the
way that leads thither, guarded by the host of the heavenly general,
where they rob not who have deserted the heavenly army, which they shun
as torture. These things did in a wonderful manner sink into my bowels,
when I read that "least of Thy apostles," and had reflected
upon Thy works, and feared greatly.
BOOK VIII.
HE FINALLY DESCRIBES THE THIRTY-SECOND YEAR OF HIS AGE, THE MOST
MEMORABLE OF HIS WHOLE LIFE, IN WHICH, BEING INSTRUCTED BY SIMPLICIANUS
CONCERNING THE CONVERSION OF OTHERS, AND THE MANNER OF ACTING, HE IS,
AFTER A SEVERE STRUGGLE, RENEWED IN HIS WHOLE MIND, AND IS CONVERTED
UNTO GOD.
Chap. I.—He, now given to divine things, and yet entangled by the
lusts of love, consults Simplicianus in reference to the renewing of his
mind.
1. O MY God, let me with gratitude remember and confess unto Thee Thy
mercies bestowed upon me. Let my bones be steeped in Thy love, and let
them say, Who is like unto Thee, O Lord? "Thou hast loosed my
bonds, I will offer unto Thee the sacrifice of thanksgiving." And
how Thou hast loosed them I will declare; and all who worship Thee when
they hear these things shall say: "Blessed be the Lord in heaven
and earth, great and wonderful is His name." Thy words had stuck
fast into my breast, and I was hedged round about by Thee on every side.
Of Thy eternal life I was now certain, although I had seen it'
"through a glass darkly." Yet I no longer doubted that there
was an incorruptible substance, from which was derived all other
substance; nor did I now desire to be more certain of Thee, but more
stedfast in Thee. As for my temporal life, all things were uncertain,
and my heart had to be purged from the old leaven. The "Way,'' the
Saviour Himself, was pleasant unto me, but as yet I disliked to pass
through its straightness. And Thou didst put into my mind, and it seemed
good in my eyes, to go unto Simplicianus, who appeared to me a faithful
servant of Thine, and Thy grace shone in him. I had also heard that from
his very youth he had lived most devoted to Thee. Now he had grown into
years, and by reason of so great age, passed in such zealous following
of Thy ways, he appeared to me likely to have gained much experience;
and so in truth he had. Out of which experience I desired him to tell me
(setting before him my griefs) which would be the most fitting way for
one afflicted as I was to walk in Thy way.
2. For the Church I saw to. be full, and one went this way, and
another that. But it was displeasing to me that I led a secular life;
yea, now that my passions had ceased to excite me. as of old with hopes
of honour and wealth, a very grievous burden it was to undergo so great
a servitude. For, compared with Thy sweetness, and the .beauty of Thy
house, which I loved, those things delighted me no longer. But still
very tenaciously was I held by the love of women; nor did the apostle
forbid me to marry, although he exhorted me to something better,
especially wishing that all men were as he himself was. But I, being
weak, made choice of the more agreeable place, and because of this alone
was tossed up and down in all beside, faint and languishing with
withering cares, because in other matters I was compelled, though
unwilling, to agree to a married life, to which I was given up and
enthralled. I had heard from the mouth of truth that "there be
eunuchs, which have made themselves eunuchs for the kingdom of heaven's
sake ;" but, saith He, "he that is able to receive it, let him
receive it.'' Vain, assuredly, are all men in whom the. knowledge of God
is not, and who could not, out of the good things which are seen, find
out Him who is good. But I was no longer in that vanity; I had
surmounted it, and by the united testimony of Thy whole creation had
found Thee, our Creator, and Thy Word, God with Thee, and together with
Thee and the Holy Ghost one God, by whom Thou createdst all things.
There is yet another kind of impious men, who "when they knew God,
they glorified Him not as God, neither were thankful." Into this
also had I fallen; but Thy right hand held me up, and bore me away, and
Thou placedst me where I might recover. For Thou hast said unto man,
"Behold, the fear of the Lord, that is wisdom ;" and desire
not to seem wise, because, "Professing themselves to be wise, they
became fools.'' But I had now found the goodly pearl, which, selling all
that I had, I ought to have bought; and I hesitated.
Chap.II.—The pious old man rejoices that he read Plato and the
Scriptures, and tells him of the rhetorician Victorinus having been
converted to the faith through the reading of the Sacred Books.
3. To Simplicianus then I went,—the father of Ambrose (at that time
a bishop) in receiving Thy grace, and whom he truly loved as a father.
To him I narrated l;he windings of my error. But when I mentioned to him
that I had read certain books of the Platonists, which Victorinus,
sometime Professor of Rhetoric at Rome (who died a Christian, as I had
been told), had translated into Latin, he congratulated me that I had
not fallen upon the writings of other philosophers, which were full of
fallacies and deceit, "after the rudiments of the world,"
whereas they, in many ways, led to the belief in God and His word. Then,
to exhort me to the humility of Christ, hidden from the wise, and
revealed to little ones, he spoke of Victorinus himself, whom, whilst he
was at Rome, he had known very intimately; and of him he related that
about which I will not be silent. For it contains great praise of Thy
grace, which ought to be confessed unto Thee, how that most learned old
man, highly skilled in all the liberal sciences, who had read,
criticised, and explained so many works of the philosophers; the teacher
of so many noble senators; who also, as a mark of his excellent
discharge of his duties, had (which men of this world esteem a great
honour) both merited and obtained a statue in the Roman Forum, he,—even
to that age a worshipper of idols, and a participator in the
sacrilegious rites to which almost all the nobility of Rome were wedded,
and had inspired the people with the love of "The dog Anubis, and a
medley crew of monster gods [who] 'gainst Neptune stand in arms, 'Gainst
Venus and Minerva, steel-clad Mars," whom Rome once conquered, now
worshipped, all which old Victorinus had with thundering eloquence
defended so many years,—he now blushed not to be the child of Thy
Christ, and an infant at Thy fountain, submitting his neck to the yoke
of humility, and subduing his forehead to the reproach of the Cross.
4. O Lord, Lord, who hast bowed the heavens and come down, touched
the mountains and they did smoke, by what means didst Thou convey
Thyself into that bosom? He used to read, as Simplicianus said, the Holy
Scripture, most studiously sought after and searched into all the
Christian writings, and said to Simplicianus,—not openly, but
secretly, and as a friend,—" Know thou that I am a
Christian." To which he replied, "I will not believe it, nor
will I rank you among the Christians unless I see you in the Church of
Christ." Whereupon he replied derisively, "Is it then the
walls that make Christians ?" And this he often said, that he
already was a Christian; and Simplidanus making the same answer, the
conceit of the "walls" was by the other as often renewed. For
he was fearful of offending his friends, proud demon-worshippers, from
the height of whose Babylonian dignity, as from cedars of Lebanon which
had not yet been broken by the Lord, he thought a storm of enmity would
descend upon him. But after that, from reading and inquiry, he had
derived strength, and feared lest he should be denied by Christ before
the holy angels if he now was afraid to confess Him before men, and
appeared to himself guilty of a great fault in being ashamed of the
sacraments of the humility of Thy word, and not being ashamed of the
sacrilegious rites of those proud demons, whose pride he had imitated
and their rites adopted, he became bold-faced against vanity, and
shame-faced toward the truth, and suddenly and unexpectedly said to
Simplicianus,—as he himself informed me,—" Let us go to the
church; I wish to be made a Christian." But he, not containing
himself for joy, accompanied him. And having been admitted to the first
sacraments of instruction, he not long after gave in his name, that he
might be regenerated by baptism,—Rome marvelling, and the Church
rejoicing. The proud saw, and were enraged; they gnashed with their
teeth, and melted away! But the Lord God was the hope of Thy servant,
and He regarded not vanities and lying madness.
5. Finally, when the hour arrived for him to make profession of his
faith (which at Rome they who are about to approach Thy grace are wont
to deliver from an elevated place, in view of the faithful people, in a
set form of words learnt by heart), the presbyters, he said, offered
Victorinus to make his profession more privately, as the custom was to
do to those who were likely, through bashfulness, to be afraid; but he
chose rather to profess his salvation in the presence of the holy
assembly. For it was not salvation that he taught in rhetoric, and yet
he had publicly professed that. How much less, therefore, ought he, when
pronouncing Thy word, to dread Thy meek flock, who, in the delivery of
his own words, had not feared the mad multitudes! So, then, when he
ascended to make his profession, all, as they recognised him, whispered
his name one to the other, with a voice of congratulation. And who was
there amongst them that did not know him? And there ran a low murmur
through the mouths of all the rejoicing multitude, "Victorinus!
Victorinus !" Sudden was the burst of exultation at the sight of
him; and suddenly were they: hushed, that they might hear him. He
pronounced the true faith with an excellent boldness, and all desired to
take him to their very heart—yea, by their love and joy they took him
thither; such were the hands with which they took him.
Chap. III.—that God and the angels rejoice more on the return of
one sinner than of many just persons.
6. Good God, what passed in man to make him rejoice more at the
salvation of a soul despaired of, and delivered from greater danger,
than if there had always been hope of him, or the danger had been less?
For so Thou also, O merciful Father, dost "joy over one sinner that
repenteth, more than over ninety and nine just persons that need no
repentance." And with much joyfulness do we hear, whenever we hear,
how the lost sheep is brought home again on the Shepherd's shoulders,
while the angels rejoice, and the drachma is restored to Thy treasury,
the neighhours rejoicing with the woman who found it; and the joy of the
solemn service of Thy house constraineth to tears, when in Thy house it
is read of Thy younger son that he "was dead, and is alive again,
and was lost, and is found." For Thou rejoicest both in us and in
Thy angels, holy through holy charity. For Thou art ever the same; for
all things which abide neither the same nor for ever, Thou ever knowest
after the same manner.
7. What, then, passes in the soul when it more delights at finding or
having restored to it the thing it loves than if it had always possessed
them? Yea, and other things bear witness hereunto; and all things are
full of witnesses, crying out, "So it is." The victorious
commander triumpheth; yet he would not have conquered had he not fought,
and the greater the peril of the battle, the more the rejoicing of the
triumph. The storm tosses the voyagers, threatens shipwreck, and every
one waxes pale at the approach of death; but sky and sea grow calm, and
they rejoice much, as they feared much. A loved one is sick, and his
pulse indicates danger; all who desire his safety are at once sick at
heart: he recovers, though not able as yet to walk with his former
strength, and there is such joy as was not before when he walked sound
and strong. Yea, the very pleasures of human life—not those only which
rush upon us unexpectedly, and against our wills, but those that are
voluntary and designed—do men obtain by difficulties. There is no
pleasure at all in eating and drinking unless the pains of hunger and
thirst go before. And drunkards eat certain salt meats with the view of
creating a troublesome heat, which the drink allaying causes pleasure.
It is also the custom that the affianced bride should not immediately be
given up, that the husband may not less esteem her whom, as betrothed,
he longed not for.
8. This law obtains in base and accursed joy; in that joy also which
is permitted and lawful; in the sincerity of honest friendship; and in
Him who was dead, and lived again, had been lost, and was found. The
greater joy is everywhere preceded by the greater pain. What meaneth
this, O Lord my God, when Thou art, an everlasting joy unto Thine own
self, and some i things about Thee are ever rejoicing in Thee? What
meaneth this, that this portion of things thus ebbs and flows,
alternately offended and reconciled? Is this the fashion of them, and is
this all Thou hast allotted to them, whereas from the highest heaven to
the lowest earth, from' the beginning of the world to its end, from the
angel to the worm, from the first movement unto the last, Thou settedst
each in its right place, and appointedst each its proper seasons,
everything good after its kind? Woe is me! How high art Thou in the
highest, and how deep in the deepest! Thou withdrawest no whither, and
scarcely do we return to Thee.
Chap. IV.—He shows by the example of Victorinus that there is more
joy in the conversion of nobles.
9. Haste, Lord, and act; stir us up, and call us back; inflame us,
and draw us to Thee; stir us up, and grow sweet unto us; let us now love
Thee, let us "run after Thee." Do not many men, out of a
deeper hell of blindness than that of Victorinus, return unto Thee, and
approach, and are enlightened, receiving that light, which they that
receive, receive power from Thee to become Thy sons? But if they be less
known among the people, even they that know them joy less for them. For
when many rejoice together, the joy of each one is the fuller in that
they are incited and inflamed by one another. Again, because those that
are known to many influence many towards salvation, and take the lead
with many to follow them. And, therefore, do they also who preceded them
much rejoice in regard to them, because they rejoice not in them alone.
May it be averted that in Thy tabernacle the persons of the rich should
be accepted before the poor, or the noble before the ignoble; since
rather "Thou hast chosen the weak things of the world to confound
the things which are mighty i and base things of the world, and things
which are despised, hast Thou chosen, yea, and things which are not, to
bring to naught things that are." And yet, even that "least of
the apostles," by whose tongue Thou soundest out these words, when
Paulus the proconsul—his pride overcome by the apostle's warfare—was
made to pass under the easy yoke of Thy Christ, and became a provincial
of the great King,—he also, instead of Saul, his former name, desired
to be called Paul, in testimony of so great a victory. For the enemy is
more overcome in one of whom he hath more hold, and by whom he hath hold
of more. But the proud hath he more hold of by reason of their nobility;
and by them of more, by reason of their authority. By how much the more
welcome, then, was the heart of Victorinus esteemed, which the devil had
held as an unassailable retreat, and the tongue of Victorinus, with
which mighty and cutting weapon he had slain many; so much the more
abundantly should Thy sons rejoice, seeing that our King hath bound the
strong man, and they saw his vessels taken from him and cleansed, and
made meet for Thy honour, and become serviceable for the Lord unto every
good work.
Chap. V.—Of the causes which alienate us from God.
10. But when that man of Thine, Simplicianus, related this to me
about Victorinus, I burned to imitate him; and it was for this end he
had related it. But when he had added this also, that in the time of the
Emperor Julian, there was a law made by which Christians were forbidden
to teach grammar and oratory, and he, in obedience to this law, chose
rather to abandon the wordy school than Thy word, by which Thou makest
eloquent the tongues of the dumb,—he appeared to me not more brave
than happy, in having thus .discovered an opportunity of waiting on Thee
only, which thing I was sighing for, thus bound, not with the irons of
another, but my own iron will. My will was the enemy master of, and
thence had made a chain for me and bound me. Because of a perverse will
was lust made; and lust indulged in became custom; and custom not
resisted became necessity. By which links, as it were, joined together
(whence I term it a "chain"), did a hard bondage hold me
enthralled. But that new will which had begun to develope in me, freely
to worship Thee, and to wish to enjoy Thee, O God, the only sure
enjoyment, was not able as yet to overcome my former wilfulness, made
strong by long indulgence. Thus did my two wills, one old and the other
new, one carnal, the other spiritual, contend within me; and by their
discord they unstrung my soul.
11. Thus came I to understand, from my own experience, what I had
read, how that "the flesh lusteth against the Spirit, and the
Spirit against the flesh." I verily lusted both ways; yet more in
that which I approved in myself, than in that which I disapproved in
myself. For in this last it was now rather not "I," because in
much I rather suffered against my will than did it willingly. And yet it
was through me that custom became more combative against me, because I
had come willingly whither I willed not. And who, then, can with any
justice speak against it, when just punishment follows the sinner? Nor
had I now any longer my wonted excuse, that as yet I hesitated to be
above the world and serve Thee, because my perception of the truth was
uncertain; for now it was certain. But I, still bound to the earth,
refused to be Thy soldier; and was as much afraid of being freed from
all embarrassments, as we ought to fear to be embarrassed.
12. Thus with the baggage of the world was I! sweetly burdened, as
when in slumber; and the thoughts wherein I meditated upon Thee were
like unto the efforts of those desiring to awake, who, still overpowered
with a heavy drowsiness, are again steeped therein. And as no one
desires to sleep always, and in the sober judgment of all waking is
better, yet does a man generally defer to shake off drowsiness, when
there is a heavy lethargy in all his limbs, and, though displeased, yet
even after it is time to rise with pleasure yields to it, so was I
assured that it were much better for me to give up myself to Thy
charity, than to yield myself to my own cupidity; but the former course
satisfied and vanquished me, the latter pleased me and fettered me. Nor
had I aught to answer Thee calling to me, "Awake, thou that
sleepest, and arise from the dead, and Christ shall give thee
light." And to Thee showing me on every side, that what Thou saidst
was true, I, convicted by the truth, had nothing at all to reply, but
the drawling and drowsy words: "Presently, lo, presently;"
"Leave me a little while." But "presently,
presently," had no present; and my "leave me a little
while" went on for a long while. In vain did I "delight in Thy
law after the inner man," when "another law in my members
warred against the law of my mind, and brought me into captivity to the
law of sin which is in my members." For the law of sin is the
violence of custom, whereby the mind is drawn and held, even against its
will; deserving to be so held in that it so willingly falls into it.
"O wretched man that I am! who shall deliver me from the body of
this death" but Thy grace only, through Jesus Christ our Lord?
Chap. VI.—Pontitianus' account of Antony, the founder of Monachism,
and of some who imitated him.
13. And how, then, Thou didst deliver me out of the bonds of carnal
desire, wherewith I was most firmly lettered, and out of the drudgery of
worldly business, will I now declare and confess unto Thy name, "O
Lord, my strength and my Redeemer." Amid increasing anxiety, I was
transacting my usual affairs, and daily sighing unto Thee. I resorted as
frequently to Thy church as the business, under the burden of which I
groaned, left me free to do. Alypius was with me, being after the third
sitting disengaged from his legal occupation, and awaiting further
opportunity of selling his counsel, as I was wont to sell the power of
speaking, if it can be supplied by teaching. But Nebridius had, on
account of our friendship, consented to teach under Verecundus, a
citizen and a grammarian of Milan, and a very intimate friend of us all;
who vehemently desired, and by the right of friendship demanded from our
company, the faithful aid he greatly stood in need of. Nebridius, then,
was not drawn to this by any desire of gain (for he could have made much
more of his learning had he been so inclined), but, as a most sweet and
kindly friend, he would not be wanting in an office of friendliness, and
slight our request. But in this he acted very discreetly, taking care
not to become known to those personages whom the world esteems great;
thus avoiding distraction of mind, which he desired to have free and at
leisure as many hours as possible, to search, or read, or hear something
concerning wisdom.
14. Upon a certain day, then, Nebridius being away (why, I do not
remember), lo, there came to the house to see Alypius and me,
Pontitianus, a countryman of ours, in so far as he was an African, who
held high office in the emperor's court. What he wanted with us I' know
not, but we sat down to talk together, and it fell out that upon a table
before us, used for games, he noticed a book; he took it up, opened it,
and, contrary to his expectation, found it to be the Apostle Paul,—for
he imagined it to be one of those books which I was wearing myself out
in teaching. At this he looked up at me smilingly, and expressed his
delight and wonder that he had so unexpectedly found this book, and this
only, before my eyes. For he was both a Christian and baptized, and
often prostrated himself before Thee our God in the church, in constant
and daily prayers. When, then, I had told him that I bestowed much pains
upon these writings, a conversation ensued on his speaking of Antony,
the Egyptian I monk, whose name was in high repute among Thy servants,
though up to that time not familiar to us. When he came to know this, he
lingered on that topic, imparting to us a knowledge of this man so
eminent, and marvelling at our ignorance. But we were amazed, hearing
Thy wonderful works most fully manifested in times so recent, and almost
in our own, wrought in the true faith and the Catholic Church. We all
wondered—we, that they were so great, and he, that we had never heard
of them.
15. From this his conversation turned to the companies in the
monasteries, and their manners so fragrant unto Thee, and of the
fruitful deserts of the wilderness, of which we knew nothing. And there
was a monastery at Milan full of good brethren, without the walls of the
city, under the fostering care of Ambrose, and we were ignorant of it.
He went on with his relation, and we listened intently and in silence.
He then related to us how on a certain afternoon, at Triers, when the
emperor was taken up with seeing the Circensian games, he and three
others, his comrades, went out for a walk in the gardens close to the
city walls, and there, as they chanced to walk two and two, one strolled
away with him, while the other two went by themselves; and these, in
their rambling, came upon a certain cottage inhabited by some of Thy
servants, "poor in spirit," of whom "is the kingdom of
heaven,'' where they found a book in which was written the life. of
Antony. This one of them began to read, marvel at, and be inflamed by
it; and in the reading, to meditate on embracing such a life, and giving
up his worldly employments to serve Thee. And these were of the body
called "Agents for Public Affairs." Then, suddenly being
overwhelmed with a holy love and a sober sense of shame, in anger with
himself, he cast his eyes upon his friend, exclaiming, "Tell me, I
entreat thee, what end we are striving for by all these labours of ours.
What is our aim? What is our motive in doing service? Can our hopes in
court rise higher than to be ministers of the emperor? And in such a
position, what is there not brittle, and fraught with danger, and by how
many dangers arrive we at greater danger? And when arrive we thither?
But if I desire to become a friend of God, behold, I am even now made
it." Thus spake he, and in the pangs of the travail of the new
life, he turned his eyes again upon the page and continued reading, and
was inwardly changed where Thou sawest, and his mind was divested of the
world, as soon became evident; for as he read, and the surging of his
heart rolled along, he raged awhile, discerned and resolved on a better
course, and now, having become Thine, he said to his friend, "Now
have I broken loose from those hopes of ours, and am determined to serve
God; and this, from this hour, in this place, I enter upon. If thou art
reluctant to imitate me, hinder me not." The other replied that he
would cleave to him, to share in so great a reward and so great a
service. Thus both of them, being now Thine, were building a tower at
the necessary cost,—of forsaking all that they had and following Thee.
Then Pontitianus, and he that had walked with him through other parts of
the garden, came in search of them to the same place, and having found
them, reminded them to return as the day had declined. But they, making
known to him their resolution and purpose, and how such a resolve had
sprung up and become confirmed in them, entreated them not to molest
them, if they refused to join themselves unto them. But the others, no
whir changed from their former selves, did yet (as he said) bewail
themselves, and piously congratulated them, recommending themselves to
their prayers; and with their hearts inclining towards earthly things,
returned to the palace. But the other two, setting their affections upon
heavenly things, remained in the cottage. And both of them had affianced
brides, who, when they heard of this, dedicated also their virginity
unto God.
Chap. VII.—He deplores his wretchedness, that having been born
thirty-two years, he had not yet found out the truth.
16. Such was the story of Pontitianus. But Thou, O Lord, whilst he
was speaking, didst turn me towards myself, taking me from behind my
back, where I had placed myself while unwilling to exercise
self-scrutiny; and Thou didst set me face to face with myself, that I
might behold how foul I was, and how crooked and sordid, bespotted and
ulcerous. And I beheld and loathed myself; and whither to fly from
myself I discovered not. And if I sought to turn my gaze away from
myself, he continued his narrative, and Thou again opposedst me unto
myself, and thrustedst me before my own eyes, that I might discover my
iniquity, and hate it. I had known it, but acted as though I knew it
not,—winked at it, and forgot it.
17. But now, the more ardently I loved those whose healthful
affections I heard tell of, that they had given up themselves wholly to
Thee to be cured, the more did I abhor myself when compared with them.
For man), of my years (perhaps twelve) had passed away since my
nineteenth, when, on the reading of Cicero's "Hortensius," I
was roused to a desire for wisdom; and still I was delaying to reject
mere worldly happiness, and to devote myself to search out that whereof
not the finding alone, but the bare search, ought to have been preferred
before the treasures and kingdoms of this world, though already found,
and before the pleasures of the body, though encompassing me at my will.
But I, miserable young man, supremely miserable even in the very outset
of my youth, had entreated chastity of Thee, and said, "Grant me
chastity and continency, but not yet." For I was afraid lest Thou
shouldest hear me soon, and soon deliver me from the disease of
concupiscence, which I desired to have satisfied rather than
extinguished. And I had wandered through perverse ways in a sacrilegious
superstition; not indeed assured thereof, but preferring that to the
others, which I did not seek religiously, but opposed maliciously.
18. And I had thought that I delayed from day to day to reject
worldly hopes and follow Thee only, because there did not appear
anything certain whereunto to direct my course. And now had the day
arrived in which I was to be laid bare to myself, and my conscience was
to chide me. "Where art thou, O my tongue? Thou saidst, verily,
that for an uncertain truth thou wert not willing to cast off the
baggage of vanity. Behold, now it is certain, and yet doth that burden
still oppress thee; whereas they who neither have so worn themselves out
with searching after it, nor yet have spent ten years and more in
thinking thereon, have had their shoulders unburdened, and gotten wings
to fly away." Thus was I inwardly consumed and mightily confounded
with an horrible shame, while Pontitianus was relating these things. And
he, having finished his story, and the business he came for, went his
way. And unto myself, what said I not within myself? With what scourges
of rebuke lashed I not my soul to make it follow me, struggling to go
after Thee! Yet it drew back; it refused, and exercised not itself. All
its arguments were exhausted and confuted. There remained a silent
trembling; and it feared, as it would death, to be restrained from the
flow of that custom whereby it was [wasting away even to death.
Chap. VIII.—The conversation with Alypius being ended, he retires
to the garden, whither his friend follows him.
19. In the midst, then, of this great strife of my inner dwelling,
which I had strongly raised up against my soul in the chamber of my
heart, troubled both in mind and countenance, I seized upon Alypius, and
exclaimed: "What is wrong with us? What is this? What heardest
thou? The unlearned start up and ' take ' heaven, and we, with our
learning, but wanting heart, see where we wallow in flesh and blood!
Because others have preceded us, are we ashamed to follow, and not
rather ashamed at not following ?" Some such words I gave utterance
to, and in my excitement flung myself from him, while he gazed upon me
in silent astonishment. For I spoke not in my wonted tone, and my brow,
cheeks, eyes, colour, tone of voice, all expressed my emotion more than
the words. There was a little garden belonging to our lodging, of which
we had the use, as of the whole house; for the master, our landlord, did
not live there. Thither had the tempest within my breast hurried me,
where no one might impede the fiery struggle in which I was engaged with
myself, until it came to the issue that Thou knewest, though I did not.
But I was mad that I might be whole, and dying that I might have life,
knowing what evil thing I was, but not knowing what good thing I was
shortly to become. Into the garden, then, I retired, Alypius following
my steps. For his presence was no bar to my solitude; or how could he
desert me so troubled? We sat down at as great a distance from the house
as we could. I was disquieted in spirit, being most impatient with
myself that I entered not into Thy will and covenant, O my God, which
all my bones cried out unto me to enter, extolling it to the skies. And
we enter not therein by ships, or chariots, or feet, no, nor by going so
far as I had come from the house to that place where we were sitting.
For not to go only, but to enter there, was naught else but to will to
go, but to will it resolutely and thoroughly; not to stagger and sway
about this way and that, a changeable and half-wounded will, wrestling,
with one part falling as another rose.
20. Finally, in the very fever of my irresolution, I made many of
those motions with my body which men sometimes desire to do, but cannot,
if either they have not the limbs, or if their limbs be bound with
fetters, weakened by disease, or hindered in any other way. Thus, if I
tore my hair, struck my forehead, or if, entwining my fingers, I clasped
my knee, this I did because I willed it. But I might have willed and not
done it, if the power of motion in my limbs had not responded. So many
things, then, I did, when to have the will was not to have the power,
and I did not that which both with an unequalled desire I longed more to
do, and which shortly when I should will I should have the power to do;
because shortly when I should will, I should will thoroughly. For in
such things the power was one with the will, and to will was to do, and
yet was it not done; and more readily did the body obey the slightest
wish of the soul in the moving its limbs at the order of the mind, than
the soul obeyed itself to accomplish in the will alone this its great
will.
Chap. IX.—That the mind commandeth the mind, but it willeth not
entirely.
21. Whence is this monstrous thing? And why is it? Let Thy mercy
shine on me, that I may inquire, if so be the hiding-places of man's
punishment, and the darkest contritions of the sons of Adam, may perhaps
answer me. Whence is this monstrous thing? and why is it? The mind
commands the body, and it obeys forthwith; the mind commands itself, and
is resisted. The mind commands the hand to be moved, and such readiness
is there that the command is scarce to be distinguished from the
obedience. Yet the mind is mind, and the hand is body. The mind commands
the mind to will, and yet, though it be itself, it obeyeth not. Whence
this monstrous thing? and why is it? I repeat, it commands itself to
will, and would not give the command unless it willed; yet is not that
done which it commandeth. But it willeth not entirely; therefore it
commandeth not entirely. For so far forth it commandeth, as it willeth;
and so far forth is the thing commanded not done, as it willeth not. For
the will commandeth that there be a will;— not another, but itself.
But it doth not command entirely, therefore that is not which it
commandeth. For were it entire, it would not even command it to be,
because it would already be. It is, therefore, no monstrous thing partly
to will, partly to be unwilling, but an infirmity of the mind, that it
doth not wholly rise, sustained by truth, pressed down by custom. And so
there are two wills, because one of them is not entire; and the one is
supplied with what the other needs.
Chap. X.—He refutes the opinion of the Manichaeans as to two kinds
of minds,—one good and the other evil.
22. Let them perish from Thy presence, O God, as "vain talkers
and deceivers" of the soul do perish, who, observing that there
were two wills in deliberating, affirm that there are two kinds of minds
in us,— one good, the other evil. They themselves verily are evil when
they hold these evil opinions; and they shall become good when they hold
the truth, and shall consent unto the truth, that Thy apostle may say
unto them, "Ye were sometimes darkness, but now are ye light in the
Lord." But, they, desiring to be light, not "in the
Lord," but in themselves, conceiving the nature of the soul to be
the same as that which God is, are made more gross darkness; for that
through a shocking arrogancy they went farther from Thee, "the true
Light, which lighteth every man that cometh into the world." Take
heed what you say, and blush for shame; draw near unto Him and be
"lightened," and your faces shall not be "ashamed."
I, when I was deliberating upon serving the Lord my God now, as I had
long purposed,—I it was who willed, I who was unwilling. It was I,
even I myself. I neither willed entirely, nor was entirely unwilling.
Therefore was I at war with myself, and destroyed by myself. And this
destruction overtook me against my will, and yet showed not the presence
of another mind, but the punishment of mine own. "Now, then, it is
no more I that do it, but sin that dwelleth in me,"—the
punishment of a more unconfined sin, in that I was a son of Adam.
23. For if there be as many contrary natures as there are conflicting
wills, there will not now be two natures only, but many. If any one
deliberate whether he should go to their conventicle, or to the theatre,
those men at once cry out, "Behold, here are two natures,—one
good, drawing this way, another bad, drawing back that way; for whence
else is this indecision between conflicting wills?" But I reply
that both are bad - - that which draws to them, and that which draws
back to the theatre. But they believe not that will to be other than
good which draws to them. Supposing, then, one of us should deliberate,
and through the conflict of his two wills should waver whether he should
go to the theatre or to our church, would not these also waver what to
answer? For either they must confess, which they are not willing to do,
that the will which leads to our church is good, as well as that of
those who have received and are held by the mysteries of theirs, or they
must imagine that there are two evil natures and two evil minds in one
man, at war one with the other; and that will not be true which they
say, that there is one good and another bad; or they must be converted
to the truth, and no longer deny that where any one deliberates, there
is one soul fluctuating between conflicting wills.
24. Let them no more say, then, when they perceive two wills to be
antagonistic to each other in the same man, that the contest is between
two opposing minds, of two opposing substances, from two opposing
principles, the one good and the other bad. For Thou, O true God, dost
disprove, check, and convince them; like as when both wills are bad, one
deliberates whether he should kill a man by poison, or by the sword;
whether he should take possession of this or that estate of another's,
when he cannot both; whether he should purchase pleasure by prodigality,
or retain his money by covetousness; whether he should go to the circus
or the theatre, if both are open on the same day; or, thirdly, whether
he should rob another man's house, if he have the opportunity; or,
fourthly, whether he should commit adultery, if at the same time he have
the means of doing so,—all these things concurring in the same point
of time, and all being equally longed for, although impossible to be
enacted at one time. For they rend the mind amid four, or even (among
the vast variety of things men desire) more antagonistic wills, nor do
they yet affirm that there are so many different substances. Thus also
is it in wills which are good. For I ask them, is it a good thing to
have delight in reading the apostle, or good to have delight in a sober
psalm, or good to discourse on the gospel? To each of these they will
answer, "It is good." What, then, if all equally delight us,
and all at the same time? Do not different wills distract the mind, when
a man is deliberating which he should rather choose? Yet are they all
good, and are at variance until one be fixed upon, whither the whole
united will may be borne, which before was divided into many. Thus,
also, when above eternity delights us, and the pleasure of temporal good
holds us down below, it is the same soul which willeth not that or this
with an entire will, and is therefore torn asunder with grievous
perplexities, while out of truth it prefers that, but out of custom
forbears not this.
Chap. XI.—In what manner the spirit struggled with the flesh, that
it might be freed from the bondage of vanity.
25. Thus was I sick and tormented, accusing myself far more severely
than was my wont, tossing and turning me in my chain till that was
utterly broken, whereby I now was but slightly, but still was held. And
Thou, O Lord, pressedst upon me in my inward parts by a severe mercy,
redoubling the lashes of fear and shame, lest I should again give way,
and that same slender remaining tie not being broken off, it should
recover strength, and enchain me the faster. For I said mentally,
"Lo, let it be done now, let it be done now." And as ,I spoke,
I all but came to a resolve. I all but did it, yet I did it not. Yet
fell I not back to my old condition, but took up my position hard by,
and drew breath. And I tried again, and wanted but very little of
reaching it, and somewhat less, and then all but touched and grasped it;
and yet came not at it, nor touched, nor grasped it, hesitating to die
unto death, and to live unto life; and the worse, whereto I had been
habituated, prevailed more with me than the better, which I had not
tried. And the very moment in which I was to become another man, the
nearer it approached me, the greater horror did it strike into me; but
it did not strike me back, nor turn me aside, but kept me in suspense.
26. The very toys of toys, and vanities of vanities, my old
mistresses, still enthralled me; they shook my fleshly garment, and
whispered softly, "Dost thou part with us? And from that moment
shall we no more be with thee for ever? And from that moment shall not
this or that be lawful for thee for ever?" And what did they
suggest to me in the words "this or that?" What is it that
they suggested, O my God? Let Thy mercy avert it from the soul of Thy
servant. What impurities did they suggest! What shame! And now I far
less than half heard them, not openly showing themselves and
contradicting me, but muttering, as it were, behind my back, and
furtively plucking me as I was departing, to make me look back upon
them. Yet they did delay me, so that I hesitated to burst and shake
myself free from them, and to leap over whither I was called,—an
unruly habit saying to me, "Dost thou think thou canst live without
them?"
27. But now it said this very faintly; for on that side towards which
I had set my face, and whither I trembled to go, did the chaste dignity
of Continence appear unto me, cheerful, but not dissolutely gay,
honestly alluring me to come and doubt nothing, and extending her holy
hands, full of a multiplicity of good examples, to receive and embrace
me. There were there so many young men and maidens, a multitude of youth
and every age, grave widows and ancient virgins, and Continence herself
in all, not barren, but a fruitful mother of children of joys, by Thee,
O Lord, her Husband. And she smiled on me with an encouraging mockery,
as if to say, "Canst not thou do what these youths and maidens can?
Or can one or other do it of themselves, and not rather in the Lord
their God? The Lord their God gave me unto them. Why standest thou in
thine own strength, and so standest not? Cast thyself upon Him; fear
not, He will not withdraw that thou shouldest fall; cast thyself upon
Him without fear, He will receive thee, and heal thee." And I
blushed beyond measure, for I still heard the muttering of those toys,
and hung in suspense. And she again seemed to say, "Shut up thine
ears against those unclean members of thine upon the earth, that they
may be mortified. They tell thee of delights, but not as doth the law of
the Lord thy God." This controversy in my heart was naught but self
against self. But Alypius, sitting close by my side, awaited in silence
the result of my unwonted emotion.
Chap. XII.—Having prayed to God, he pours
forth a shower of tears, and, admonished by a voice, he opens the book
and reads the words in Rom. XIII.; by which, being changed in his whole
soul, he discloses the divine favour to his friend and his mother.
28. But when a profound reflection had, from the secret depths of my
soul, drawn together and heaped up all my misery before the sight of my
heart, there arose a mighty storm, accompanied by as mighty a shower of
tears. Which, that I might pour forth fully, with its natural
expressions, I stole away from Alypius; for it suggested itself to me
that solitude was fitter for the business of weeping. So I retired to
such a distance that even his presence could not be oppressive to me.
Thus was it with me at that time, and he perceived it; for something, I
believe, I had spoken, wherein the sound of my voice appeared choked
with weeping, and in that state had I risen up. He then remained where
we had been sitting, most completely astonished. I flung myself down,
how, I know not, under a certain fig-tree, giving free course to my
tears, and the streams of mine eyes gushed out, an acceptable sacrifice
unto Thee. And, not indeed in these words, yet to this effect, spake I
much unto Thee,—"But Thou, O Lord, how long?" "How
long, Lord? Wilt Thou be angry for ever? Oh, remember not against us
former iniquities;" for I felt that I was enthralled by them. I
sent up these sorrowful cries,—"How long, how long? Tomorrow, and
tomorrow? Why not now? Why is there not this hour an end to my
uncleanness ?"
29. I was saying these things and weeping in the most bitter
contrition of my heart, when, lo, I heard the voice as of a boy or girl,
I know not which, coming from a neighbouring house, chanting, and oft
repeating, "Take up and read; take up and read." Immediately
my countenance was changed, and I began most earnestly to consider
whether it was usual for children in any kind of game to sing such
words; nor could I remember ever to have heard the like. So, restraining
the torrent of my tears, I rose up, interpreting it no other way than as
a command to me from Heaven to open the book, and to read the first
chapter I should light upon. For I had heard of Antony, that,
accidentally coming in whilst the gospel was being read, he received the
admonition as if what was read were addressed to him, "Go and sell
that thou hast, and give to the poor, and thou shalt have treasure in
heaven; and come and follow me." And by such oracle was he
forthwith converted unto Thee. So quickly I returned to the place where
Alypius was sitting; for there had I put down the volume of the
apostles, when I rose thence. I grasped, opened, and in silence read
that paragraph on which my eyes first fell,—"Not in rioting and
drunkenness, not in chambering and wantonness, not in strife and
envying; but put ye on the Lord Jesus Christ, and make not provision for
the flesh, to fulfil the lusts thereof." No further would I read,
nor did I need; for instantly, as the sentence ended,—by a light, as
it were, of security infused into my heart,—all the gloom of doubt
vanished away.
30. Closing the book, then, and putting either my finger between, or
some other mark, I now with a tranquil countenance made it known to
Alypius. And he thus disclosed to me what was wrought in him, which I
knew not. He asked to look at what I had read. I showed him; and he
looked even further than I had read, and I knew not what followed. This
it was, verily, "Him that is weak in the faith, receive ye;"
which he applied to himself, and discovered to me. By this admonition
was he strengthened; and by a good resolution and purpose, very much in
accord with his character (wherein, for the better, he was always far
different from me), without any restless delay he joined me. Thence we
go in to my mother. We make it known to her,—she rejoiceth. We relate
how it came to pass,—she leapeth for joy, and triumpheth, and blesseth
Thee, who art "able to do exceeding abundantly above all that we
ask or think; for she perceived Thee to have given her more for me than
she used to ask by her pitiful and most doleful groanings. For Thou
didst so convert me unto Thyself, that I sought neither a wife, nor any
other of this world's hopes,—standing in that rule of faith in which
Thou, so many years before, had showed me unto her in a vision. And thou
didst turn her grief into a gladness, much more plentiful than she had
desired, and much dearer and chaster than she used to crave, by having
grandchildren of my body.
BOOK IX.
HE SPEAKS OF HIS DESIGN OF FORSAKING THE PROFESSION OF RHETORIC; OF
THE DEATH OF HIS FRIENDS, NEBRIDIUS AND VERECUNDUS; OF HAVING RECEIVED
BAPTISM IN THE THIRTY-THIRD YEAR OF HIS AGE; AND OF THE VIRTUES AND
DEATH OF HIS MOTHER, MONICA.
Chap. I.—He praises God, the author of safety, and Jesus Christ,
the Redeemer, acknowledging his own wickedness.
1. "O LORD, truly I am Thy servant; I am Thy servant, and the
son of Thine handmaid Thou hast loosed my bonds. I will offer to Thee
the sacrifice of thanksgiving." Let my heart and my tongue praise
Thee, and let all my bones say, "Lord, who is like unto Thee
?" Let them so say, and answer Thou me, and "say unto my soul,
I am Thy salvation." Who am I, and what is my nature? How evil have
not my deeds been; or if not my deeds, my words; or if not my words, my
will? But Thou, O Lord, art good and merciful, and Thy right hand had
respect unto the profoundness of my death, and removed from the bottom
of my heart that abyss of corruption. And this was the result, that I
willed not to do what I willed, and willed to do what thou willedst. But
where, during all those years, and out of what deep and secret retreat
was my free will summoned forth in a moment, whereby I gave my neck to
Thy "easy yoke," and my shoulders to Thy "light
burden," O Christ Jesus, "my strength. and my Redeemer"?
How sweet did it suddenly become to me to be without the delights of
trifles! And what at one time I feared to lose, it was now a joy to me
to put away. For Thou didst cast them away from me, Thou true and
highest sweetness. Thou didst cast them away, and instead of thorn didst
enter in Thyself,—sweeter than all pleasure, though not to flesh and
blood; brighter than all light, but more veiled than all mysteries; more
exalted than all honour, but not to the exalted in their own conceits.
Now was my soul free from the gnawing cares of seeking and getting, and
of wallowing and exciting the itch of lust. And I babbled unto Thee my
brightness, my riches, and my health, the Lord my God.
Chap. II.—As his lungs were affected, he meditates withdrawing
himself from public favour.
2. And it seemed good to me, as before Thee, not tumultuously to
snatch away, but gently to withdraw the service of my tongue from the
talker's trade; that the young, who thought not on Thy law, nor on Thy
peace, but on mendacious follies and forensic strifes, might no longer
purchase at my mouth equipments for their vehemence. And opportunely
there wanted but a few days unto the Vacation of the Vintage; and I
determined to endure them, in order to leave in the usual way, and,
being redeemed by Thee, no more to return for sale. Our intention then
was known to Thee; but to men—excepting our own friends—was it not
known. For we had determined among ourselves not to let it get abroad to
any; although Thou hadst given to us, ascending from the valley of
tears, and singing the song of degrees, "sharp arrows," and
destroying coals, against the "deceitful tongue," which in
giving counsel opposes, and in showing love consumes, as it is wont to
do with its food.
3. Thou hadst penetrated our hearts with Thy charity, and we carried
Thy words fixed, as it were, in our bowels; and the examples of Thy
servant, whom of black Thou hadst made bright, and of dead, alive,
crowded in the bosom of our thoughts, burned and consumed our heavy
torpor, that we might not topple into the abyss; and they enkindled us
exceedingly, that every breath of the deceitful tongue of the gainsayer
might inflame us the more, not extinguish us. Nevertheless, because for
Thy name's sake which Thou hast sanctified throughout the earth, this,
our vow and purpose, might also find commenders, it looked like a
vaunting of oneself not to wait for the vacation, now so near, but to
leave beforehand a public profession, and one, too, under general
observation; so that all who looked on this act of mine, and saw how
near was the vintage-time I desired to anticipate, would talk of me a
great deal as if I were trying to appear to be a great person. And what
purpose would it serve that people should consider and dispute about my
intention, and that our good should be evil spoken of?
4. Furthermore, this very summer, from too great literary labour, my
lungs began to be weak, and with difficulty to draw deep breaths;
showing by the pains in my chest that they were affected, and refusing
too loud or prolonged speaking. This had at first been a trial to me,
for it compelled me almost of necessity to lay down that burden of
teaching; or, if I could be cured and become strong again, at least to
leave it off for a while. But when the full desire for leisure, that I
might see that Thou art the Lord, arose, and was confirmed in me, my
God, Thou knowest I even began to rejoice that I had this excuse ready,—and
that not a feigned one,—which might somewhat temper the offence taken
by those who for their sons' good wished me never to have the freedom of
sons. Full, therefore, with such joy, I bore it till that period of time
had passed,— perhaps it was some twenty days,—yet they were bravely
borne; for the cupidity which was wont to sustain part of this weighty
business had departed, and I had remained overwhelmed had not its place
been supplied by patience. Some of Thy servants, my brethren, may
perchance say that I sinned in this, in that having once fully, and from
my heart, entered on Thy warfare, I permitted myself to sit a single
hour in the seat of falsehood. I will not contend. But hast not Thou, O
most merciful Lord, pardoned and remitted this sin also, with my others,
so horrible and deadly, in the holy water?
Chap. III.—He retires to the villa of his friend Verecundus, who
was not yet a Christian, and refers to his conversion and death, as well
as that of Nebridius.
5. Verecundus was wasted with anxiety at that our happiness, since
he, being most firmly held by his bonds, saw that he would lose our
fellowship. For he was not yet a Christian, though his wife was one of
the faithful; and yet hereby, being more firmly enchained than by
anything else, was he held back from that journey which we had
commenced. Nor, he declared, did he wish to be a Christian on any other
terms than those that were impossible. However, he invited us most
courteously to make use of his country house so long as we should stay
there. Thou, O Lord, wilt "recompense" him for this "at
the resurrection of the just," seeing that Thou hast already given
him "the lot of the righteous." For although, when we were
absent at Rome, he, being overtaken with bodily sickness, and therein
being made a Christian, and one of the faithful, departed this life, yet
hadst Thou mercy on him, and not on him only, but on us also; lest,
thinking on the exceeding kindness of our friend to us, and unable to
count him in Thy flock, we should be tortured with intolerable grief.
Thanks be unto Thee, our God, we are Thine. Thy exhortations,
consolations, and faithful promises assure us that Thou now repayest
Verecundus for that country house at Cassiacum, where from the fever of
the world we found rest in Thee, with the perpetual freshness of Thy
Paradise, in that Thou hast forgiven him his earthly sins, in that
mountain flowing with milk, that fruitful mountain,—Thine own.
6. He then was at that time full of grief; but Nebridius was joyous.
Although he also, not being yet a Christian, had fallen into the pit of
that most pernicious error of believing Thy Son to be a phantasm, yet,
coming out thence, he held the same belief that we did; not as yet
initiated in any of the sacraments of Thy Church, but a most earnest
inquirer after truth. Whom, not long after our conversion and
regeneration by Thy baptism, he being also a faithful member of the
Catholic Church, and serving Thee in perfect chastity and continency
amongst his own people in Africa, when his whole household had been
brought to Christianity through him, didst Thou release from the flesh;
and now he lives in Abraham's bosom. Whatever that may be which is
signified by that bosom, there lives my Nebridius, my sweet friend, Thy
son, O Lord, adopted of a freedman; there he liveth. For what other
place could there be for such a soul? There liveth he, concerning which
he used to ask me much,—me, an inexperienced, feeble one. Now he puts
not his ear unto my mouth, but his spiritual mouth unto Thy fountain,
and drinketh as much as he is able, wisdom according to his desire,—happy
without end. Nor do I believe that he is so inebriated with it as to
forget me, seeing Thou, O Lord, whom he drinketh, art mindful of us.
Thus, then, were we comforting the sorrowing Verecundus (our friendship
being untouched, concerning our conversion, and exhorting him to a faith
according to his condition, I mean, his married state. And tarrying for
Nebridius to follow us, which being so near, he was just about to do,
when, behold, those days passed over at last; for long and many they
seemed, on account of my love of easeful liberty, that I might sing unto
Thee from my very marrow. My heart said unto Thee,—I have sought Thy
face; "Thy face, Lord, will I seek."
Chap. IV.—In the country he gives his attention to literature, and
explains the fourth Psalm in connection with the happy conversion of
Alypius. He is troubled with toothache.
7. And the day arrived on which, in very deed, I was to be released
from the Professorship of Rhetoric, from which in intention I had been
already released. And done it was; and Thou didst deliver my tongue
whence Thou hadst already delivered my heart; and full of joy I blessed
Thee for it, and retired with all mine to the villa. What I accomplished
here in writing, which was now wholly devoted to Thy service, though
still, in this pause as it were, panting from the school of pride, my
books testify,— those in which I disputed with my friends, and those
with myself alone before Thee; and what with the absent Nebridius, my
letters testify. And when can I find time to recount all Thy great
benefits which Thou bestowedst upon us at that time, especially as I am
hasting on to still greater mercies? For my memory calls upon me, and
pleasant it is to me, O Lord, to confess unto Thee, by what inward goads
Thou didst subdue me, and how Thou didst make me low, bringing down the
mountains and hills of my imaginations, and didst straighten my
crookedness, and smooth my rough ways; and by what means Thou also didst
subdue that brother of my heart, Alypius, unto the name of Thy
only-begotten, our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ, which he at first
refused to have inserted in our writings. For he rather desired that
they should savour of the "cedars" of the schools, which the
Lord hath now broken down, than of the wholesome herbs of the Church,
hostile to serpents.
8. What utterances sent I up unto Thee, my God, when I read the
Psalms of David, those faithful songs and sounds of devotion which
exclude all swelling of spirit, when new to Thy true love, at rest in
the villa with Alypius, a catechumen like myself, my mother cleaving
unto us,—in woman's garb truly, but with a man's faith, with the
peacefulness of age, full of motherly love and Christian piety! What
utterances used I to send up unto Thee in those Psalms, and how was I
inflamed towards Thee by them, and burned to rehearse them, if it were
possible, throughout the whole world, against the pride of the human
race! And yet they are sung throughout the whole world, and none can
hide himself from Thy heat. With what vehement and bitter sorrow was I
indignant at the Manichaeans; whom yet again I pitied, for that they
were ignorant of those sacraments, those medicaments, and were mad
against the antidote which might have made them sane! I wished that they
had been somewhere near me then, and, without my being aware of their
presence, could have beheld my face, and heard my words, when I read the
fourth Psalm in that time of my leisure,—how that Psalm wrought upon
me. When I called upon Thee, Thou didst hear me, O God of my
righteousness; Thou hast enlarged me when I was in distress; have mercy
upon me, and hear my prayer. Oh that they might have heard what I
uttered on these words, without my knowing whether they heard or no,
lest they should think that I spake it because of them! For, of a truth,
neither should I have said the same things, nor in the way I said them,
if I had perceived that I was heard and seen by them; and had I spoken
them, they would not so have received them as when I spake by and for
myself before Thee, out of the private feelings of my soul.
9. I alternately quaked with fear, and warmed with hope, and with
rejoicing in Thy mercy, O Father. And all these passed forth, both by
mine eyes and voice, when Thy good Spirit, turning unto us, said, O ye
sons of men, how long will ye be slow of heart? "How long will ye
love vanity, and seek after leasing?" For I had loved vanity, and
sought after leasing. And Thou, O Lord, hadst already magnified Thy Holy
One, raising Him from the dead, and setting Him at Thy right hand,
whence from on high He should send His promise, the Paraclete, "the
Spirit of Truth." And He had already sent Him, but I knew it not;
He had sent Him, because He was now magnified, rising again from the
dead, and ascending into heaven. For till then "the Holy Ghost was
not yet given, because that Jesus was not yet glorified." And the
prophet cries out, How long will ye be slow of heart? How long will ye
love vanity, and seek after leasing? Know this, that the Lord hath
magnified His Holy One. He cries out, "How long ?" He cries
out, "Know this," and I, so long ignorant, "loved vanity,
and sought after leasing." And therefore I heard and trembled,
because these words were spoken unto such as I remembered that I myself
had been. For in those phantasms which I once held for truths was there
"vanity" and "leasing." And I spake many things
loudly and earnestly, in the sorrow of my remembrance, which, would that
they who yet "love vanity and seek after leasing" had heard!
They would perchance have been troubled, and have vomited it forth, and
Thou wouldest hear them when they cried unto Thee; for by a
true death in the flesh He died for us, who now maketh
intercession for us with Thee.
10. I read further, "Be ye angry, and sin not." And how was
I moved, O my God, who had now l |