translated by Edward B. Pusey, D.D.
_________________________________________________________________

Contents

[1]Book I
* [2]Chapter I
He Proclaims the Greatness of God, Whom He Desires to Seek and Invoke,
Being Awakened by Him.
* [3]Chapter II
That the God Whom We Invoke is in Us, and We in Him.
* [4]Chapter III
Everywhere God Wholly Filleth All Things, But Neither Heaven nor Earth
Containeth Him.
* [5]Chapter IV
The Majesty of God is Supreme, and His Virtues Inexplicable
* [6]Chapter V
He Seeks Rest in God, and Pardon of His Sins.
* [7]Chapter VI
He Describes His Infancy, and Lauds the Protection and Eternal
Providence of God.
* [8]Chapter VII
He Shows by Example That Even Infancy is Prone to Sin.
* [9]Chapter VIII
That When a Boy he Learned to Speak, not by any set Method, but From the
Acts and Words of His Parents.
* [10]Chapter IX
Concerning the Hatred of Learning, the Love of Play, and the Fear of
Being Whipped Noticeable in Boys: and of the Folly of our Elders and
Masters.
* [11]Chapter X
Through a Love of Ball-Playing and Shows, He Neglects His Studies and
the Injunctions of His Parents
* [12]Chapter XI
Siezed by Disease, His Mother Being Troubled, He Earnestly Demands
Baptism, Which on Recovery is Postponed”His Father not as yet Believing
in Christ.
* [13]Chapter XII
Being Compelled, He Gave His Attention to Learning; But Fully
Acknowledges That This was the Work of God.
* [14]Chapter XIII
He Delighted in Latin Studies and the Empty Fables of the Poets, but
Hated the Elementss of Literature and the Greek Language.
* [15]Chapter XIV
Why he Despised Greek Literature, and Easily Learned Latin.
* [16]Chapter XV
He Entreats God, that Whatever Useful Things he Learned as a Boy May be
Dedicated to Him.
* [17]Chapter XVI
He Disapproves of the Mode of Educating Youth, and he Points out why
Wickedness is Attributed to the Gods by the Poets.
* [18]Chapter XVII
He Continues on the Unhappy Method of Training Youth in Literary
Subjects.
* [19]Chapter XVIII
Men Desire to Observe the Rules of Learning, but Neglect the Eternal
Rules of Everlasting Safety.

[20]Book II
* [21]Chapter I
He Deplores the Wickedness of His Youth.
* [22]Chapter II
Stricken With Exceeding Grief, He Remembers the Dissolute Passions in
Which, in His Sixteenth Year, He Used to Indulge.
* [23]Chapter III
Concerning His Father, a Freeman of Thagaste, the Assister of His Son's
Studies, and on the Admonitions of His Mother on the Preservation of
Chastitiy.
* [24]Chapter IV
He Commits Theft With His Companions, Not Urged on by Poverty, but From
a Certain Distaste of Well-Doing
* [25]Chapter V
Concerning the Motives to Sin, Which are not in the Love of Evil, but in
the Desire of Obtaining the Property of Others.
* [26]Chapter VI
Whe He Delighted in that Theft, When all Things Which Under the
Appearance of Good Invite to Vice are True and Perfect in God Alone.
* [27]Chapter VII
He Gives Thanks to God for the Remission of His Sins, and Reminds
Everyone that the Supreme God mya have Preserved Us from Greater Sins.
* [28]Chapter VIII
In His Theft He Loved the Company of his Fellow-Sinners.
* [29]Chapter IX
It was a Pleasure to Him Also to Laugh When Seriously Deceiving Others.
* [30]Chapter X
With God There is True Rest and Life Unchanging.

[31]Book III
* [32]Chapter I
Deluded by an Insane Love, He, Though Foul and Dishonourable, Desires to
be Thought Elegant and Urbane.
* [33]Chapter II
In Public Spectacles He is Moved by an Empty Compassion. He is Attacked
by a Troublesome Spiritual Disease.
* [34]Chapter III
Not Even When at Church Does he Suppress His Desires. In the School of
Rhetoric He Abhors the Acts of the Subverters.
* [35]Chapter IV
In the Nineteenth Year of His Age (His Father Having Died Two Years
Before) He is Led by the Hortensius of Cicero toPhilosophy, to God,
and a Better Mode of Thinking.
* [36]Chapter V
He Rejects the Sacred Scriptures as too Simple, and as not to be
Compared With the Dignity of Tully.
* [37]Chapter VI
Deceived by His Own Fault, He Falls Into the Errors of the Manichaeans,
who Gloried in the True Knowledge of God and in a Thorough Examination
of Things.
* [38]Chapter VII
He Attacks the Doctrine of the Manichaeans Concerning Evil, God, and the
Righteousness of the Patriarchs.
* [39]Chapter VIII
He Argues Against the Same as to the Reason of Offences.
* [40]Chapter IX
That the Judgment of God and Men, as to Human Acts of Violence, is
Different.
* [41]Chapter X
He Reproves the Triflings of the Manichæans as to the Fruits of the
Earth.
* [42]Chapter XI
He Refers to the Tears, and the Memorable Dream Concerning Her Son,
Granted by God to His Mother.
* [43]Chapter XII
The Excellent Answer of the Bishop When Referred to by His Mother as to
the Conversion of Her Son.

[44]Book IV
* [45]Chapter I
Concerning that Most Unhappy Time in Which He, Being Deceived, Deceived
Others; and Concerning the Mockers of His Confession.
* [46]Chapter II
He Teaches Rhetoric, the Only Thing He Loved, and Scorns the Soothsayer,
who Promised Him Victory.
* [47]Chapter III
Not Even the Most Experienced Men Could Persuade Him of the Vanity of
Astrology, to Which He was Devoted.
* [48]Chapter IV
Sorely Distressed by Weeping at the Death of His Friend, He Provides
Consolation for Himself.
* [49]Chapter V
Why Weeping is Pleasant to the Wretched.
* [50]Chapter VI
His Friend Being Snatched Away by Death, He Imagines that He Remains
Only as Half.
* [51]Chapter VII
Troubled by Restlessness and Grief, He Leaves His Country a Second Time
for Carthage.
* [52]Chapter VIII
That His Grief Ceased by Time, and the Consolation of Friends.
* [53]Chapter IX
That the Love of a Human Being, However Constant in Loving and Returning
Love, Perishes; While He who Loves God Never Loses a Friend
* [54]Chapter X
That All Things Exist That They may Perish, and That we are not Safe
Unless God Watches Over Us.
* [55]Chapter XI
That Portions of the World are not to be Loved; but that God, Their
Author, is Immutable, and His Word Eternal.
* [56]Chapter XII
Love is not Condemned, but Love in God, in Whom There is Rest Through
Jesus Christ, is to be Preferred.
* [57]Chapter XIII
Love Originates From Grace, and Beauty Enticing Us.
* [58]Chapter XIV
Concerning the Books Which He WroteOn the Fair and Fit, Dedicated to
Hierius.
* [59]Chapter XV
While Writing, Being Blinded by Corporeal Images, He Failed to Recognise
the spiritual Nature of God.
* [60]Chapter XVI
He Very Easily Understood the Liberal Arts and the Categories of
Aristotle, but Without True Fruit.

[61]Book V
* [62]Chapter I
That It Becomes the Soul to Praise God, and to Confess Unto Him.
* [63]Chapter II
On the Vanity of Those Who Wished to Escape the Omnipotent God.
* [64]Chapter III
Heaving Heard Faustus, the Most Learned Bishop of the Manichaeans, He
Discerns that God, the Author both of Things Animate and Inanimate,
Chiefly has Care for the Humble.
* [65]Chapter IV
That the Knowledge of terrestrial and Celestial Things does not Give
Happiness, but the Knowledge of God Only.
* [66]Chapter V
Of Manichaeus Pertinaciously Teaching False Doctrines, and Proudly
Arrogating to Himself the Holy Spirit.
* [67]Chapter VI
Faustus was Indeed an Elegant Speaker, but knew Nothing of the Liberal
Sciences.
* [68]Chapter VII
Clearly seeing the fallacies of the Manichaeans, he retires from them,
being remarkably aided by God.
* [69]Chapter VIII
He sets out for Rome, his mother in vain lamenting it.
* [70]Chapter IX
Being attacked by fever, he is in great danger
* [71]Chapter X
When he had left the Manichaeans, he retained his depraved opinions
concerning sin and the origin of the saviour.
* [72]Chapter XI
Helpidius disputed well against the Manichaeans as to the authenticity
of the New Testament.
* [73]Chapter XII
Professing rhetoric at Rome, he discovers the fraud of his scholars.
* [74]Chapter XIII
He is sent to Milan, that he, about to teach rhetoric, may be known by
Ambrose.
* [75]Chapter XIV
Having heard the bishop, he percieves the force of the Catholic faith,
yet doubts, after the manner of the modern academics.

[76]Book VI
* [77]Chapter I
His mother having followed him to Milan, declares that she will not die
before her son shall have embraced the Catholic faith.
* [78]Chapter II
She, on the prohibition of Ambrose, abstains from honouring the memory
of the Martyrs.
* [79]Chapter III
As Ambrose was occupied with business and study, Augustin could seldom
consult him concerning the Holy Scriptures.
* [80]Chapter IV
He recognises the falsity of his own opinions, and commits to memory the
saying of Ambrose.
* [81]Chapter V
Faith is the basis of human life; man cannot discover that truth which
holy scripture has disclosed.
* [82]Chapter VI
On the source and cause of true joy,”the example of the joyous beggar
being adduced.
* [83]Chapter VII
He leads to reformation his friend Alypius, seized with madness for the
Circensian games.
* [84]Chapter VIII
The same when at Rome, being led by others into the Amphitheatre, is
delighted with the Gladitorial games.
* [85]Chapter IX
Innocent Alypius, being apprehended as a thief, is st at liberty by the
cleverness of an architecht.
* [86]Chapter X
The wonderful integrity of Alypius in judgment. the lasting friendship
of Nebridius with Augustin.
* [87]Chapter XI
Being troubled by his grievous errors, he meditates entering on a new
life.
* [88]Chapter XII
Discussion with Alypius concerning a life of celibacy.
* [89]Chapter XIII
Being urged by his mother to take a wife, he sought a maiden that was
pleasing unto him.
* [90]Chapter XIV
The design of establishing a common household with his friends is
speedily hindered.
* [91]Chapter XV
He dismisses one mistress, and chooses another.
* [92]Chapter XVI
The fear of death and judgment called him, believing in the immortality
of the soul, back from his wickedness, him who aforetime believed in the
opinions of Epicurus.

[93]Book VII
* [94]Chapter I
He regarded not god indeed under the form of a human body, but as a
corporeal substance diffused through space.
* [95]Chapter II
The disputation of Nebridius against the Manichaeans, on the question
Whether God be corruptible or incorruptible.
* [96]Chapter III
That the cause of evil is the free judgment of the will.
* [97]Chapter IV
That God is not corruptible, who, if he were, would not be God at all.
* [98]Chapter V
Questions concerning the origin of evil in regard to God, who, since he
is the chief god, cannot be the cause of evil.
* [99]Chapter VI
He refutes the Divinations of the astrologers, deduced from the
constellations.
* [100]Chapter VII
He is severely exercised as to the origin of evil.
* [101]Chapter VIII
By God's assistance he by degrees arrives at the truth.
* [102]Chapter IX
He compares the doctrine of the Platonists concerning the Logos with the
much more excellent doctrine of Christianity.
* [103]Chapter X
Divine things are the more clearly manifested to him who withdraws into
the recesses of his heart.
* [104]Chapter XI
That creatures are mutable and God alone immutable.
* [105]Chapter XII
Whatever things the good God has created are very good.
* [106]Chapter XIII
It is meet to praise the creator for the good things which are made in
Heaven and Earth.
* [107]Chapter XIV
Being displeased with some part of God's creation, he conceives of two
original substances.
* [108]Chapter XV
Whatever is, owes its being to God.
* [109]Chapter XVI
Evil arises not from a substance, but from the perversion of the will.
* [110]Chapter XVII
Above his changeable mind, he discovers the unchangeable author of
truth.
* [111]Chapter XVIII
Jesus Christ, the mediator, is the only way of safety.
* [112]Chapter XIX
He does not yet fully understand the saying of John, thatthe word was
made flesh.
* [113]Chapter XX
He Rejoices that he proceeded from Plato to the HOly Scriptures, and not
the reverse.
* [114]Chapter XXI
What he found in the sacred books which are not to be found in Plato.

[115]Book VIII
* [116]Chapter I
He, now given to divine things, and yet entangled by the lusts of love,
consults simplicanus in reference to the renewing of his mind.
* [117]Chapter 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
* [118]Chapter III
That God and the Angels rejoice more on the return of one sinner than of
many just persons.
* [119]Chapter IV
He shows by the example of victorinus that there is more joy In the
conversion of nobles.
* [120]Chapter V
Of the causes which alienate us from God.
* [121]Chapter VI
Pontitainus™ account of Antony, the founder of monachism, and of some
who imitated him.
* [122]Chapter VII
He deplores his wretchedness, that having been born thirty-two years, he
had not yet found out the truth.
* [123]Chapter VIII
The conversation with Alypius being ended, he retires to the garden
whither his friend follows him.
* [124]Chapter IX
That the mind commandeth the mind, but it willeth not entirely.
* [125]Chapter X
He refutes the opinion of the Manichaeans as to two kinds of minds,”one
good and the other evil.
* [126]Chapter XI
In what manner the spirit struggled with the flesh, that it might be
freed from the bondage of vanity.
* [127]Chapter 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. 13; by
which, being changed in his whole soul, he discloses the divine favour
to his friend and his mother.

[128]Book IX
* [129]Chapter I
He praises God, the author of safety, and Jesus Christ, the redeemer,
acknowledging his own wickedness.
* [130]Chapter II
As his lungs were affected, he meditates withdrawing himself from public
favour.
* [131]Chapter 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.
* [132]Chapter 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.
* [133]Chapter V
at the recommendation of Ambrose, he reads the prophecies of Isaiah, but
does not understand them.
* [134]Chapter VI
He is baptized at Milan with Alypius and his son Adeodatus. the bookDe
Magistro.
* [135]Chapter VII
Of the Church hymns instituted at Milan; of the Ambrosian Persecution
raised by Justina; and of the discovery of the bodies of two martyrs.
* [136]Chapter VIII
Of the conversion of Evodius, and the death of his mother whin returning
with him to Africa; and whose education he tenderly relates.
* [137]Chapter IX
He describes the praiseworthy habits of his mother; her kindness towards
her husband and her sons.
* [138]Chapter X
A conversation he had with his mother concerning the kindom of heaven.
* [139]Chapter XI
His mother, attacked by fever, dies at Ostia.
* [140]Chapter XII
How he mourned his dead mother.
* [141]Chapter XIII
He entreats God for her sins, and admonishes his readers to remember her
piously.

[142]Book X
* [143]Chapter I
In God alone is the hope and joy of man.
* [144]Chapter II
That all things are manifest to God. That confession unto him is not
made by the words of the flesh, but of the soul, and the cry of
reflection.
* [145]Chapter III
He who confesseth rightly unto God best knoweth himself.
* [146]Chapter IV
That in his confessions he may do good, he considers others.
* [147]Chapter V
That man knoweth not himself wholly.
* [148]Chapter VI
The love of God, in his nature superior to all creatures, is acquired by
the knowledge of the senses and the exercise of reason.
* [149]Chapter VII
That God is to be found neither from the powers of the body nor of the
soul.
* [150]Chapter VIII
Of the nature and the amazing power of memory.
* [151]Chapter IX
Not only things, but also literature and images, are taken from the
memory, and are brought forth by the act of remembering.
* [152]Chapter X
Literature is not introduced to the memory through the senses, but is
brought forth from its more secret places.
* [153]Chapter XI
What it is to learn and to think.
* [154]Chapter XII
on the recollection of things mathematical.
* [155]Chapter XIII
Memory retains all things.
* [156]Chapter XIV
Concerning the manner in which joy and sadness may be brought back to
the mind and memory.
* [157]Chapter XV
In memory there are also images of things which are absent.
* [158]Chapter XVI
The privation of memory is forgetfulness.
* [159]Chapter XVII
God cannot be attained unto by the power of memory, which beasts and
birds possess.
* [160]Chapter XVIII
A thing when lost could not be found unless it were retained in the
memory.
* [161]Chapter XIX
What it is to remember.
* [162]Chapter XX
We should not seek for God and the Happy life unless we had known it.
* [163]Chapter XXi
How a happy life may be retained in the memory.
* [164]Chapter XXII
A happy life is to rejoice in God, and for God.
* [165]Chapter XXIII
All wish to rejoice in the truth.
* [166]Chapter XXIV
He who finds truth, finds God.
* [167]Chapter XXV
He is glad that God dwells in his memory.
* [168]Chapter XXVI
God everywhere answers those who take counsel of him.
* [169]Chapter XXVII
He grieves that he was so long without God.
* [170]Chapter XXVIII
On the misery of human life.
* [171]Chapter XXIX
All hope is in the mercy of God.
* [172]Chapter XXX
Of the perverse images of dreams, which he wishes to have taken away.
* [173]Chapter XXXI
About to speak of the temptations of the lust of the flesh, he first
complains of the lust of eating and drinking.
* [174]Chapter XXXII
Of the charms of perfumes which are more easily overcome.
* [175]Chapter XXXIII
He Overcame the pleasures of the ear, although in the church he
frequently delighted in the song, not in the thing sung.
* [176]Chapter XXXIV
Of the very dangerous allurements of the eyes; on account of beauty of
form, God, the creator, is to be praised.
* [177]Chapter XXXV
Another kind of temptation is curiosity, which is stimulated by the lust
of the eyes.
* [178]Chapter XXXVI
A third kind ispride, which is pleasing to man, not to God.
* [179]Chapter XXXVII
He is forcibly goaded on by the love of praise.
* [180]Chapter XXXVIII
Vain-glory is the highest danger.
* [181]Chapter XXXIX
Of the vice of those who, while pleasing themselves, displease God.
* [182]Chapter XL
The only safe resting-place for the soul is to be found in God.
* [183]Chapter XLI
Having conquered his triple desire, he arrives at salvation.
* [184]Chapter XLII
In what manner many sought the mediator.
* [185]Chapter XLIII
That Jesus Christ, at the same time God and man, is the true and most
efficacious mediator.

[186]Book XI
* [187]Chapter I
By confession he desires to stimulate towards God his own love and that
of his readers.
* [188]Chapter II
He begs of God that through the Holy Scriptures he may be led to truth.
* [189]Chapter III
He begins from the creation of the world”not understanding the Hebrew
text.
* [190]Chapter IV
Heaven and Earth cry out that they have been created by God.
* [191]Chapter V
God created the world not from any certain matter, but In his own word.
* [192]Chapter VI
He did not, however, create it by sounding and passing word.
* [193]Chapter VII
By his co-eternal word he speaks, and all things are done.
* [194]Chapter VIII
That word itself is the beginning of all things, in the which we are
instructed as to evangeelical truth.
* [195]Chapter IX
Wisdom and the beginning.
* [196]Chapter X
The rashness of those who inquire what God did before he created Heaven
and Earth.
* [197]Chapter XI
They who ask this have not as yet known the eternity of God, which is
exempt from the relation of time.
* [198]Chapter XII
What God did before the creation of the world.
* [199]Chapter XIII
Before the times created by God, times were not.
* [200]Chapter XIV
Neither time past nor future, but the present only, really is.
* [201]Chapter XV
There is only a moment of present time.
* [202]Chapter XVI
Time can only be perceived or measured while it is passing.
* [203]Chapter XVII
Nevertheless there is time past and future.
* [204]Chapter XVIII
Past and future times cannot be thought of but as present.
* [205]Chapter XIX
We are ignorant in what manner God teaches future things.
* [206]Chapter XX
In what manner time may properly be designated.
* [207]Chapter XXI
How time may be measured.
* [208]Chapter XXII
He prays God that he would explain this most entangled enigma.
* [209]Chapter XXIII
That time is a certain extension.
* [210]Chapter XXIV
That time is not a motion of a body which we measure by time.
* [211]Chapter XXV
He calls on God to enlighten his mind.
* [212]Chapter XXVI
We measure longer events by shorter in time.
* [213]Chapter XXVII
Times are measured in proportion as they pass by.
* [214]Chapter XXVIII
Time in the human mind, which expects, considers, and remembers.
* [215]Chapter XXIX
That human life is a distraction, but that through the mercy of God he
was intent on the prize of his heavenly calling.
* [216]Chapter XXX
Again he refutes the empty qquestion,What did God before the creation
of the world?
* [217]Chapter XXXI
How the Knowledge of God differs from that of Man.

[218]Book XII
* [219]Chapter I
The Discovery of Truth is Difficult, but God Has promised that he who
seeks shall find.
* [220]Chapter II
Of the double heaven,”the visible, and the heaven of heavens.
* [221]Chapter III
Of the Darkness upon the deep, and of the invisible and formless earth.
* [222]Chapter IV
From the Formlessness of matter, the beautiful world has arisen.
* [223]Chapter V
What may have been the form of matter.
* [224]Chapter VI
He confesses that at one time he himself thought erroneously of matter.
* [225]Chapter VII
Out of nothing God made heaven and earth.
* [226]Chapter VIII
Heaven and Earth were madeIn the beginning; afterwards the world,
during six days, from shapeless matter.
* [227]Chapter IX
That the Heaven of Heavens was an Intellectual creature, but that the
Earth was invisible and formless before the days that it was made.
* [228]Chapter X
He begs of God that he may live in the true light, and may be instructed
as to the mysteries of the sacred books.
* [229]Chapter Xi
What may be discovered to him by God.
* [230]Chapter XII
From the formless Earth God created another Heaven and a visible and
formed Earth.
* [231]Chapter XIII
Of the intellectual Heaven and formless Earth, out of which, on another
day, the firmament was formed.
* [232]Chapter XIV
Of the depth of the Sacred Scripture, and itS enemies.
* [233]Chapter XV
He argues against adversaries concerning the Heaven of Heavens.
* [234]Chapter XVI
He wishes to have no intercourse with those who deny divine truth.
* [235]Chapter XVII
He mentions five explanations of the words of Genesis I.
* [236]Chapter XVIII
What error is harmless in sacred scripture.
* [237]Chapter XIX
He enumerates the things concerning which all agree.
* [238]Chapter XX
Of the words,in the beginning, Variously understood.
* [239]Chapter XXI
Of the explanation of the words,The Earth was invisible.
* [240]Chapter XXII
He discusses whether matter was from eternity, or was made by God.
* [241]Chapter XXIII
Two kinds of disagreements in the books to be explained.
* [242]Chapter XXIV
Out of the many true things, it is not asserted confidently that Moses
understood this or that.
* [243]Chapter XXV
It behoves interpreters, when disagreeing concerning obscure places, to
regard God the author of truth, and the rule of charity.
* [244]Chapter XXVI
What he might have asked of God had he been enjoined to write the Book
of Genesis.
* [245]Chapter XXVII
The style of speaking in the Book of Genesis is simple and clear.
* [246]Chapter XXVIII
The words,In the beginning, and,The Heaven and the Earth, are
differently understood.
* [247]Chapter XXIX
Concerning the opinion of those who explain itAt first he made.
* [248]Chapter XXX
In the great diversity of opinions, it becomes all to unite charity and
divine truth.
* [249]Chapter XXXI
Moses is supposed to have perceived whatever of truth can be discovered
in his words.
* [250]Chapter XXXII
First, the sense of the writer is to be discovered, then that is to be
brought out which divine truth intended.

[251]Book XIII
* [252]Chapter I
He calls upon God, and proposes to himself to worship him.
* [253]Chapter II
All creatures subsist from the plenitude of divine goodnss.
* [254]Chapter III
Genesis I. 3,”ofLight,”He understands as it is seen in the spiritual
creature.
* [255]Chapter IV
All things have been created by the grace of God, and are not of him as
standing need of created things.
* [256]Chapter V
He recognises the Trinity in the first two verses of Genesis.
* [257]Chapter VI
Why the Holy Ghost should have been mentioned after the mention of
Heaven and Earth.
* [258]Chapter VII
That the Holy Spirit brings us to God.
* [259]Chapter VIII
That nothing whatever, short of God, can yield to the rational creature
a happy rest.
* [260]Chapter IX
Why the Holy Spirit was onlyBorne over the waters.
* [261]Chapter X
That nothing arose save by the gift of God.
* [262]Chapter XI
That the symbols of the Trinity in man, to be, to know, and to will, are
never thoroughly examined.
* [263]Chapter XII
Allegorical explanation of Genesis, Chapter I, concerning the origin of
the church and its worship.
* [264]Chapter XIII
That the renewal of man is not completed in this world.
* [265]Chapter XIV
that out of the children of the night and of the darkness, childred of
the light and day are made.
* [266]Chapter XV
Allegorical explanation of the firmament and upper works, Ver. 6.
* [267]Chapter XVI
That no one but the unchangeable light kows himself.
* [268]Chapter XVII
Allegorical explanation of the sea and the fruit-bearing earth”verses 9
and 11.
* [269]Chapter XVIII
Of the lights and stars of Heaven”of day and night, ver. 14.
* [270]Chapter XIX
All men should become lights in the firmament of Heaven.
* [271]Chapter XX
Concerning reptiles and flying creatures (ver. 20),”the sacrament of
baptism being regarded.
* [272]Chapter XXI
Concerning the living soul, birds, and fishes (Ver. 24),”the sacrament
of the eucharist being regarded.
* [273]Chapter XXII
He explains the divine image (ver. 26.) of the renewal of the mind.
* [274]Chapter XXIII
That to have power over all things (ver. 26) is to judge spiritually of
all.
* [275]Chapter XXIV
Why God has blessed men, fishes, flying creatures, and not herbs and the
other animals.
* [276]Chapter XXV
He explains the fruits of the Earth (ver. 29) of Works of mercy.
* [277]Chapter XXVI
In the confessing of benefits, computation is made not as to the
gift, but as to thefruit,”that is, the good and right will of the
giver.
* [278]Chapter XXVII
Many are ignorant as to this, and ask for miracles, which are signified
under the names offishes andWhales.
* [279]Chapter XXVIII
He proceeds to the last verse,All things are very good,”that is, the
work being altogether good.
* [280]Chapter XXIX
Although it is said eight times thatGod saw that it was good, yet
time has no relation to God and his word.
* [281]Chapter XXX
He refutes the opinions of the Manichaeans and the Gnostics concerning
the origin of the world.
* [282]Chapter XXXI
We do not seeThat it was Good, but through the spirit of God, which
is in us.
* [283]Chapter XXXII
Of the particular works of God, more especially of man.
* [284]Chapter XXXIII
The world was created by God out of Nothing.
* [285]Chapter XXXIV
He briefly repeats the allegorical interpretation of Genesis (Chapter
1), and confesses that we see it by the Divine Spirit.
* [286]Chapter XXXV
He prays God for that peace of rest which hath no evening.
* [287]Chapter XXXVI
The seventh day, without evening and setting, the image of eternal life
and rest in God.
* [288]Chapter XXXVII
Of rest in God, who ever worketh, and yet is ever at rest.
* [289]Chapter XXXVIII
Of the Difference between the knowledge of God and of men, and of the
repose which is to be sought from God only.
_________________________________________________________________

Book I
_________________________________________________________________

Chapter I

Great art Thou, O Lord, and greatly to be praised; great is Thy power, and
Thy wisdom infinite. And Thee would man praise; man, but a particle of Thy
creation; man, that bears about him his mortality, the witness of his sin,
the witness that Thou resistest the proud: yet would man praise Thee; he,
but a particle of Thy creation. Thou awakest us to delight in Thy praise;
for Thou madest us for Thyself, and our heart is restless, until it repose
in Thee. Grant me, Lord, to know and understand which is first, to call on
Thee or to praise Thee? and, again, to know Thee or to call on Thee? for who
can call on Thee, not knowing Thee? for he that knoweth Thee not, may call
on Thee as other than Thou art. Or, is it rather, that we call on Thee that
we may know Thee? but how shall they call on Him in whom they have not
believed? or how shall they believe without a preacher? and they that seek
the Lord shall praise Him: for they that seek shall find Him, and they that
find shall praise Him. I will seek Thee, Lord, by calling on Thee; and will
call on Thee, believing in Thee; for to us hast Thou been preached. My
faith, Lord, shall call on Thee, which Thou hast given me, wherewith Thou
hast inspired me, through the Incarnation of Thy Son, through the ministry
of the Preacher.
_________________________________________________________________

Chapter II

And how shall I call upon my God, my God and Lord, since, when I call for
Him, I shall be calling Him to myself? and what room is there within me,
whither my God can come into me? whither can God come into me, God who made
heaven and earth? is there, indeed, O Lord my God, aught in me that can
contain Thee? do then heaven and earth, which Thou hast made, and wherein
Thou hast made me, contain Thee? or, because nothing which exists could
exist without Thee, doth therefore whatever exists contain Thee? Since,
then, I too exist, why do I seek that Thou shouldest enter into me, who were
not, wert Thou not in me? Why? because I am not gone down in hell, and yet
Thou art there also. For if I go down into hell, Thou art there. I could not
be then, O my God, could not be at all, wert Thou not in me; or, rather,
unless I were in Thee, of whom are all things, by whom are all things, in
whom are all things? Even so, Lord, even so. Whither do I call Thee, since I
am in Thee? or whence canst Thou enter into me? for whither can I go beyond
heaven and earth, that thence my God should come into me, who hath said, I
fill the heaven and the earth.
_________________________________________________________________

Chapter III

Do the heaven and earth then contain Thee, since Thou fillest them? or dost
Thou fill them and yet overflow, since they do not contain Thee? And
whither, when the heaven and the earth are filled, pourest Thou forth the
remainder of Thyself? or hast Thou no need that aught contain Thee, who
containest all things, since what Thou fillest Thou fillest by containing
it? for the vessels which Thou fillest uphold Thee not, since, though they
were broken, Thou wert not poured out. And when Thou art poured out on us,
Thou art not cast down, but Thou upliftest us; Thou art not dissipated, but
Thou gatherest us. But Thou who fillest all things, fillest Thou them with
Thy whole self? or, since all things cannot contain Thee wholly, do they
contain part of Thee? and all at once the same part? or each its own part,
the greater more, the smaller less? And is, then one part of Thee greater,
another less? or, art Thou wholly every where, while nothing contains Thee
wholly?
_________________________________________________________________

Chapter IV

What art Thou then, my God? what, but the Lord God? For who is Lord but the
Lord? or who is God save our God? Most highest, most good, most potent, most
omnipotent; most merciful, yet most just; most hidden, yet most present;
most beautiful, yet most strong, stable, yet incomprehensible; unchangeable,
yet all-changing; never new, never old; all-renewing, and bringing age upon
the proud, and they know it not; ever working, ever at rest; still
gathering, yet nothing lacking; supporting, filling, and overspreading;
creating, nourishing, and maturing; seeking, yet having all things. Thou
lovest, without passion; art jealous, without anxiety; repentest, yet
grievest not; art angry, yet serene; changest Thy works, Thy purpose
unchanged; receivest again what Thou findest, yet didst never lose; never in
need, yet rejoicing in gains; never covetous, yet exacting usury. Thou
receivest over and above, that Thou mayest owe; and who hath aught that is
not Thine? Thou payest debts, owing nothing; remittest debts, losing
nothing. And what had I now said, my God, my life, my holy joy? or what
saith any man when he speaks of Thee? Yet woe to him that speaketh not,
since mute are even the most eloquent.
_________________________________________________________________

Chapter V

Oh! that I might repose on Thee! Oh! that Thou wouldest enter into my heart,
and inebriate it, that I may forget my ills, and embrace Thee, my sole good!
What art Thou to me? In Thy pity, teach me to utter it. Or what am I to Thee
that Thou demandest my love, and, if I give it not, art wroth with me, and
threatenest me with grievous woes? Is it then a slight woe to love Thee not?
Oh! for Thy mercies™ sake, tell me, O Lord my God, what Thou art unto me.
Say unto my soul, I am thy salvation. So speak, that I may hear. Behold,
Lord, my heart is before Thee; open Thou the ears thereof, and say unto my
soul, I am thy salvation. After this voice let me haste, and take hold on
Thee. Hide not Thy face from me. Let me die”lest I die”only let me see Thy
face.

Narrow is the mansion of my soul; enlarge Thou it, that Thou mayest enter
in. It is ruinous; repair Thou it. It has that within which must offend
Thine eyes; I confess and know it. But who shall cleanse it? or to whom
should I cry, save Thee? Lord, cleanse me from my secret faults, and spare
Thy servant from the power of the enemy. I believe, and therefore do I
speak. Lord, Thou knowest. Have I not confessed against myself my
transgressions unto Thee, and Thou, my God, hast forgiven the iniquity of my
heart? I contend not in judgment with Thee, who art the truth; I fear to
deceive myself; lest mine iniquity lie unto itself. Therefore I contend not
in judgment with Thee; for if Thou, Lord, shouldest mark iniquities, O Lord,
who shall abide it?
_________________________________________________________________

Chapter VI

Yet suffer me to speak unto Thy mercy, me, dust and ashes. Yet suffer me to
speak, since I speak to Thy mercy, and not to scornful man. Thou too,
perhaps, despisest me, yet wilt Thou return and have compassion upon me. For
what would I say, O Lord my God, but that I know not whence I came into this
dying life (shall I call it?) or living death. Then immediately did the
comforts of Thy compassion take me up, as I heard (for I remember it not)
from the parents of my flesh, out of whose substance Thou didst sometime
fashion me. Thus there received me the comforts of woman's milk. For neither
my mother nor my nurses stored their own breasts for me; but Thou didst
bestow the food of my infancy through them, according to Thine ordinance,
whereby Thou distributest Thy riches through the hidden springs of all
things. Thou also gavest me to desire no more than Thou gavest; and to my
nurses willingly to give me what Thou gavest them. For they, with a
heaven-taught affection, willingly gave me what they abounded with from
Thee. For this my good from them, was good for them. Nor, indeed, from them
was it, but through them; for from Thee, O God, are all good things, and
from my God is all my health. This I since learned, Thou, through these Thy
gifts, within me and without, proclaiming Thyself unto me. For then I knew
but to suck; to repose in what pleased, and cry at what offended my flesh;
nothing more.

Afterwards I began to smile; first in sleep, then waking: for so it was told
me of myself, and I believed it; for we see the like in other infants,
though of myself I remember it not. Thus, little by little, I became
conscious where I was; and to have a wish to express my wishes to those who
could content them, and I could not; for the wishes were within me, and they
without; nor could they by any sense of theirs enter within my spirit. So I
flung about at random limbs and voice, making the few signs I could, and
such as I could, like, though in truth very little like, what I wished. And
when I was not presently obeyed (my wishes being hurtful or unintelligible),
then I was indignant with my elders for not submitting to me, with those
owing me no service, for not serving me; and avenged myself on them by
tears. Such have I learnt infants to be from observing them; and that I was
myself such, they, all unconscious, have shown me better than my nurses who
knew it.

And, lo! my infancy died long since, and I live. But Thou, Lord, who for
ever livest, and in whom nothing dies: for before the foundation of the
worlds, and before all that can be calledbefore, Thou art, and art God
and Lord of all which Thou hast created: in Thee abide, fixed for ever, the
first causes of all things unabiding; and of all things changeable, the
springs abide in Thee unchangeable: and in Thee live the eternal reasons of
all things unreasoning and temporal. Say, Lord, to me, Thy suppliant; say,
all-pitying, to me, Thy pitiable one; say, did my infancy succeed another
age of mine that died before it? was it that which I spent within my
mother's womb? for of that I have heard somewhat, and have myself seen women
with child? and what before that life again, O God my joy, was I any where
or any body? For this have I none to tell me, neither father nor mother, nor
experience of others, nor mine own memory. Dost Thou mock me for asking
this, and bid me praise Thee and acknowledge Thee, for that I do know?

I acknowledge Thee, Lord of heaven and earth, and praise Thee for my first
rudiments of being, and my infancy, whereof I remember nothing; for Thou
hast appointed that man should from others guess much as to himself; and
believe much on the strength of weak females. Even then I had being and
life, and (at my infancy's close) I could seek for signs whereby to make
known to others my sensations. Whence could such a being be, save from Thee,
Lord? Shall any be his own artificer? or can there elsewhere be derived any
vein, which may stream essence and life into us, save from thee, O Lord, in
whom essence and life are one? for Thou Thyself art supremely Essence and
Life. For Thou art most high, and art not changed, neither in Thee doth
to-day come to a close; yet in Thee doth it come to a close; because all
such things also are in Thee. For they had no way to pass away, unless Thou
upheldest them. And since Thy years fail not, Thy years are one to-day. How
many of ours and our fathers™ years have flowed away through Thyto-day,
and from it received the measure and the mould of such being as they had;
and still others shall flow away, and so receive the mould of their degree
of being. But Thou art still the same, and all things of tomorrow, and all
beyond, and all of yesterday, and all behind it, Thou hast done to-day. What
is it to me, though any comprehend not this? Let him also rejoice and say,
What thing is this? Let him rejoice even thus! and be content rather by not
discovering to discover Thee, than by discovering not to discover Thee.
_________________________________________________________________

Chapter VII

Hear, O God. Alas, for man's sin! So saith man, and Thou pitiest him; for
Thou madest him, but sin in him Thou madest not. Who remindeth me of the
sins of my infancy? for in Thy sight none is pure from sin, not even the
infant whose life is but a day upon the earth. Who remindeth me? doth not
each little infant, in whom I see what of myself I remember not? What then
was my sin? was it that I hung upon the breast and cried? for should I now
so do for food suitable to my age, justly should I be laughed at and
reproved. What I then did was worthy reproof; but since I could not
understand reproof, custom and reason forbade me to be reproved. For those
habits, when grown, we root out and cast away. Now no man, though he prunes,
wittingly casts away what is good. Or was it then good, even for a while, to
cry for what, if given, would hurt? bitterly to resent, that persons free,
and its own elders, yea, the very authors of its birth, served it not? that
many besides, wiser than it, obeyed not the nod of its good pleasure? to do
its best to strike and hurt, because commands were not obeyed, which had
been obeyed to its hurt? The weakness then of infant limbs, not its will, is
its innocence. Myself have seen and known even a baby envious; it could not
speak, yet it turned pale and looked bitterly on its foster-brother. Who
knows not this? Mothers and nurses tell you that they allay these things by
I know not what remedies. Is that too innocence, when the fountain of milk
is flowing in rich abundance, not to endure one to share it, though in
extremest need, and whose very life as yet depends thereon? We bear gently
with all this, not as being no or slight evils, but because they will
disappear as years increase; for, though tolerated now, the very same
tempers are utterly intolerable when found in riper years.

Thou, then, O Lord my God, who gavest life to this my infancy, furnishing
thus with senses (as we see) the frame Thou gavest, compacting its limbs,
ornamenting its proportions, and, for its general good and safety,
implanting in it all vital functions, Thou commandest me to praise Thee in
these things, to confess unto Thee, and sing unto Thy name, Thou most
Highest. For Thou art God, Almighty and Good, even hadst Thou done nought
but only this, which none could do but Thou: whose Unity is the mould of all
things; who out of Thy own fairness makest all things fair; and orderest all
things by Thy law. This age then, Lord, whereof I have no remembrance, which
I take on others™ word, and guess from other infants that I have passed,
true though the guess be, I am yet loth to count in this life of mine which
I live in this world. For no less than that which I spent in my mother's
womb, is it hid from me in the shadows of forgetfulness. But if I was shapen
in iniquity, and in sin did my mother conceive me, where, I beseech Thee, O
my God, where, Lord, or when, was I Thy servant guiltless? But, lo! that
period I pass by; and what have I now to do with that, of which I can recall
no vestige?
_________________________________________________________________

Chapter VIII

Passing hence from infancy, I came to boyhood, or rather it came to me,
displacing infancy. Nor did that depart,”(for whither went it?)”and yet it
was no more. For I was no longer a speechless infant, but a speaking boy.
This I remember; and have since observed how I learned to speak. It was not
that my elders taught me words (as, soon after, other learning) in any set
method; but I, longing by cries and broken accents and various motions of my
limbs to express my thoughts, that so I might have my will, and yet unable
to express all I willed, or to whom I willed, did myself, by the
understanding which Thou, my God, gavest me, practise the sounds in my
memory. When they named any thing, and as they spoke turned towards it, I
saw and remembered that they called what they would point out by the name
they uttered. And that they meant this thing and no other was plain from the
motion of their body, the natural language, as it were, of all nations,
expressed by the countenance, glances of the eye, gestures of the limbs, and
tones of the voice, indicating the affections of the mind, as it pursues,
possesses, rejects, or shuns. And thus by constantly hearing words, as they
occurred in various sentences, I collected gradually for what they stood;
and having broken in my mouth to these signs, I thereby gave utterance to my
will. Thus I exchanged with those about me these current signs of our wills,
and so launched deeper into the stormy intercourse of human life, yet
depending on parental authority and the beck of elders.
_________________________________________________________________

Chapter IX

O God my God, what miseries and mockeries did I now experience, when
obedience to my teachers was proposed to me, as proper in a boy, in order
that in this world I might prosper, and excel in tongue-science, which
should serve to thepraise of men, and to deceitful riches. Next I was put
to school to get learning, in which I (poor wretch) knew not what use there
was; and yet, if idle in learning, I was beaten. For this was judged right
by our forefathers; and many, passing the same course before us, framed for
us weary paths, through which we were fain to pass; multiplying toil and
grief upon the sons of Adam. But, Lord, we found that men called upon Thee,
and we learnt from them to think of Thee (according to our powers) as of
some great One, who, though hidden from our senses, couldest hear and help
us. For so I began, as a boy, to pray to Thee, my aid and refuge; and broke
the fetters of my tongue to call on Thee, praying Thee, though small, yet
with no small earnestness, that I might not be beaten at school. And when
Thou heardest me not (not thereby giving me over to folly), my elders, yea
my very parents, who yet wished me no ill, mocked my stripes, my then great
and grievous ill.

Is there, Lord, any of soul so great, and cleaving to Thee with so intense
affection (for a sort of stupidity will in a way do it); but is there any
one who, from cleaving devoutly to Thee, is endued with so great a spirit,
that he can think as lightly of the racks and hooks and other torments
(against which, throughout all lands, men call on Thee with extreme dread),
mocking at those by whom they are feared most bitterly, as our parents
mocked the torments which we suffered in boyhood from our masters? For we
feared not our torments less; nor prayed we less to Thee to escape them. And
yet we sinned, in writing or reading or studying less than was exacted of
us. For we wanted not, O Lord, memory or capacity, whereof Thy will gave
enough for our age; but our sole delight was play; and for this we were
punished by those who yet themselves were doing the like. But elder folks™
idleness is calledbusiness; that of boys, being really the same, is
punished by those elders; and none commiserates either boys or men. For will
any of sound discretion approve of my being beaten as a boy, because, by
playing a ball, I made less progress in studies which I was to learn, only
that, as a man, I might play more unbeseemingly? and what else did he who
beat me? who, if worsted in some trifling discussion with his fellow-tutor,
was more embittered and jealous than I when beaten at ball by a play-fellow?
_________________________________________________________________

Chapter X

And yet, I sinned herein, O Lord God, the Creator and Disposer of all things
in nature, of sin the Disposer only, O Lord my God, I sinned in
transgressing the commands of my parents and those of my masters. For what
they, with whatever motive, would have me learn, I might afterwards have put
to good use. For I disobeyed, not from a better choice, but from love of
play, loving the pride of victory in my contests, and to have my ears
tickled with lying fables, that they might itch the more; the same curiosity
flashing from my eyes more and more, for the shows and games of my elders.
Yet those who give these shows are in such esteem, that almost all wish the
same for their children, and yet are very willing that they should be
beaten, if those very games detain them from the studies, whereby they would
have them attain to be the givers of them. Look with pity, Lord, on these
things, and deliver us who call upon Thee now; deliver those too who call
not on Thee yet, that they may call on Thee, and Thou mayest deliver them.
_________________________________________________________________

Chapter XI

As a boy, then, I had already heard of an eternal life, promised us through
the humility of the Lord our God stooping to our pride; and even from the
womb of my mother, who greatly hoped in Thee, I was sealed with the mark of
His cross and salted with His salt. Thou sawest, Lord, how while yet a boy,
being seized on a time with sudden oppression of the stomach, and like near
to death”Thou sawest, my God (for Thou wert my keeper), with what eagerness
and what faith I sought, from the pious care of my mother and Thy Church,
the mother of us all, the baptism of Thy Christ, my God and Lord. Whereupon
the mother my flesh, being much troubled (since, with a heart pure in Thy
faith, she even more lovingly travailed in birth of my salvation), would in
eager haste have provided for my consecration and cleansing by the
health-giving sacraments, confessing Thee, Lord Jesus, for the remission of
sins, unless I had suddenly recovered. And so, as if I must needs be again
polluted should I live, my cleansing was deferred, because the defilements
of sin would, after that washing, bring greater and more perilous guilt. I
then already believed: and my mother, and the whole household, except my
father: yet did not he prevail over the power of my mother's piety in me,
that as he did not yet believe, so neither should I. For it was her earnest
care that Thou my God, rather than he, shouldest be my father; and in this
Thou didst aid her to prevail over her husband, whom she, the better,
obeyed, therein also obeying Thee, who hast so commanded.

I beseech Thee, my God, I would fain know, if so Thou willest, for what
purpose my baptism was then deferred? was it for my good that the rein was
laid loose, as it were, upon me, for me to sin? or was it not laid loose? If
not, why does it still echo in our ears on all sides,Let him alone, let
him do as he will, for he is not yet baptised? but as to bodily health, no
one says,Let him be worse wounded, for he is not yet healed. How much
better then, had I been at once healed; and then, by my friends™ and my own,
my soul's recovered health had been kept safe in Thy keeping who gavest it.
Better truly. But how many and great waves of temptation seemed to hang over
me after my boyhood! These my mother foresaw; and preferred to expose to
them the clay whence I might afterwards be moulded, than the very cast, when
made.
_________________________________________________________________

Chapter XII

In boyhood itself, however (so much less dreaded for me than youth), I loved
not study, and hated to be forced to it. Yet I was forced; and this was well
done towards me, but I did not well; for, unless forced, I had not learnt.
But no one doth well against his will, even though what he doth, be well.
Yet neither did they well who forced me, but what was well came to me from
Thee, my God. For they were regardless how I should employ what they forced
me to learn, except to satiate the insatiate desires of a wealthy beggary,
and a shameful glory. But Thou, by whom the very hairs of our head are
numbered, didst use for my good the error of all who urged me to learn; and
my own, who would not learn, Thou didst use for my punishment”a fit penalty
for one, so small a boy and so great a sinner. So by those who did not well,
Thou didst well for me; and by my own sin Thou didst justly punish me. For
Thou hast commanded, and so it is, that every inordinate affection should be
its own punishment.
_________________________________________________________________

Chapter XIII

But why did I so much hate the Greek, which I studied as a boy? I do not yet
fully know. For the Latin I loved; not what my first masters, but what the
so-called grammarians taught me. For those first lessons, reading, writing
and arithmetic, I thought as great a burden and penalty as any Greek. And
yet whence was this too, but from the sin and vanity of this life, because I
was flesh, and a breath that passeth away and cometh not again? For those
first lessons were better certainly, because more certain; by them I
obtained, and still retain, the power of reading what I find written, and
myself writing what I will; whereas in the others, I was forced to learn the
wanderings of one Aeneas, forgetful of my own, and to weep for dead Dido,
because she killed herself for love; the while, with dry eyes, I endured my
miserable self dying among these things, far from Thee, O God my life.

For what more miserable than a miserable being who commiserates not himself;
weeping the death of Dido for love to Aeneas, but weeping not his own death
for want of love to Thee, O God. Thou light of my heart, Thou bread of my
inmost soul, Thou Power who givest vigour to my mind, who quickenest my
thoughts, I loved Thee not. I committed fornication against Thee, and all
around me thus fornicating there echoedWell done! well done! for the
friendship of this world is fornication against Thee; andWell done! well
done! echoes on till one is ashamed not to he thus a man. And for all this
I wept not, I who wept for Dido slain, andseeking by the sword a stroke
and wound extreme, myself seeking the while a worse extreme, the extremest
and lowest of Thy creatures, having forsaken Thee, earth passing into the
earth. And if forbid to read all this, I was grieved that I might not read
what grieved me. Madness like this is thought a higher and a richer
learning, than that by which I learned to read and write.

But now, my God, cry Thou aloud in my soul; and let Thy truth tell me,Not
so, not so. Far better was that first study. For, lo, I would readily
forget the wanderings of Aeneas and all the rest, rather than how to read
and write. But over the entrance of the Grammar School is a vail drawn!
true; yet is this not so much an emblem of aught recondite, as a cloak of
error. Let not those, whom I no longer fear, cry out against me, while I
confess to Thee, my God, whatever my soul will, and acquiesce in the
condemnation of my evil ways, that I may love Thy good ways. Let not either
buyers or sellers of grammar-learning cry out against me. For if I question
them whether it be true that Aeneas came on a time to Carthage, as the poet
tells, the less learned will reply that they know not, the more learned that
he never did. But should I ask with what letters the nameAeneas is
written, every one who has learnt this will answer me aright, as to the
signs which men have conventionally settled. If, again, I should ask which
might be forgotten with least detriment to the concerns of life, reading and
writing or these poetic fictions? who does not foresee what all must answer
who have not wholly forgotten themselves? I sinned, then, when as a boy I
preferred those empty to those more profitable studies, or rather loved the
one and hated the other.One and one, two;two and two, four; this was
to me a hateful singsong:the wooden horse lined with armed men, andthe
burning of Troy, andCreusa's shade and sad similitude, were the choice
spectacle of my vanity.
_________________________________________________________________

Chapter XIV

Why then did I hate the Greek classics, which have the like tales? For Homer
also curiously wove the like fictions, and is most sweetlyvain, yet was he
bitter to my boyish taste. And so I suppose would Virgil be to Grecian
children, when forced to learn him as I was Homer. Difficulty, in truth, the
difficulty of a foreign tongue, dashed, as it were, with gall all the
sweetness of Grecian fable. For not one word of it did I understand, and to
make me understand I was urged vehemently with cruel threats and
punishments. Time was also (as an infant) I knew no Latin; but this I
learned without fear or suffering, by mere observation, amid the caresses of
my nursery and jests of friends, smiling and sportively encouraging me. This
I learned without any pressure of punishment to urge me on, for my heart
urged me to give birth to its conceptions, which I could only do by learning
words not of those who taught, but of those who talked with me; in whose
ears also I gave birth to the thoughts, whatever I conceived. No doubt,
then, that a free curiosity has more force in our learning these things,
than a frightful enforcement. Only this enforcement restrains the rovings of
that freedom, through Thy laws, O my God, Thy laws, from the master's cane
to the martyr's trials, being able to temper for us a wholesome bitter,
recalling us to Thyself from that deadly pleasure which lures us from Thee.
_________________________________________________________________

Chapter XV

Hear, Lord, my prayer; let not my soul faint under Thy discipline, nor let
me faint in confessing unto Thee all Thy mercies, whereby Thou hast drawn me
out of all my most evil ways, that Thou mightest become a delight to me
above all the allurements which I once pursued; that I may most entirely
love Thee, and clasp Thy hand with all my affections, and Thou mayest yet
rescue me from every temptation, even unto the end. For lo, O Lord, my King
and my God, for Thy service be whatever useful thing my childhood learned;
for Thy service, that I speak, write, read, reckon. For Thou didst grant me
Thy discipline, while I was learning vanities; and my sin of delighting in
those vanities Thou hast forgiven. In them, indeed, I learnt many a useful
word, but these may as well be learned in things not vain; and that is the
safe path for the steps of youth.
_________________________________________________________________

Chapter XVI

But woe is thee, thou torrent of human custom! Who shall stand against thee?
how long shalt thou not be dried up? how long roll the sons of Eve into that
huge and hideous ocean, which even they scarcely overpass who climb the
cross? Did not I read in thee of Jove the thunderer and the adulterer? both,
doubtless, he could not be; but so the feigned thunder might countenance and
pander to real adultery. And now which of our gowned masters lends a sober
ear to one who from their own school cries out,These were Homer's
fictions, transferring things human to the gods; would he had brought down
things divine to us! Yet more truly had he said,These are indeed his
fictions; but attributing a divine nature to wicked men, that crimes might
be no longer crimes, and whoso commits them might seem to imitate not
abandoned men, but the celestial gods.

And yet, thou hellish torrent, into thee are cast the sons of men with rich
rewards, for compassing such learning; and a great solemnity is made of it,
when this is going on in the forum, within sight of laws appointing a salary
beside the scholar's payments; and thou lashest thy rocks and roarest,
Hence words are learnt; hence eloquence; most necessary to gain your ends,
or maintain opinions. As if we should have never known such words as
golden shower,lap,beguile,temples of the heavens, or others in
that passage, unless Terence had brought a lewd youth upon the stage,
setting up Jupiter as his example of seduction.
Viewing a picture, where the tale was drawn,

Of Jove's descending in a golden shower

To Danae's lap a woman to beguile.

And then mark how he excites himself to lust as by celestial authority:
And what God? Great Jove,

Who shakes heaven's highest temples with his thunder,

And I, poor mortal man, not do the same!

I did it, and with all my heart I did it.

Not one whit more easily are the words learnt for all this vileness; but by
their means the vileness is committed with less shame. Not that I blame the
words, being, as it were, choice and precious vessels; but that wine of
error which is drunk to us in them by intoxicated teachers; and if we, too,
drink not, we are beaten, and have no sober judge to whom we may appeal.
Yet, O my God (in whose presence I now without hurt may remember this), all
this unhappily I learnt willingly with great delight, and for this was
pronounced a hopeful boy.
_________________________________________________________________

Chapter XVII

Bear with me, my God, while I say somewhat of my wit, Thy gift, and on what
dotages I wasted it. For a task was set me, troublesome enough to my soul,
upon terms of praise or shame, and fear of stripes, to speak the words of
Juno, as she raged and mourned that she could not
This Trojan prince from Latinum turn.

Which words I had heard that Juno never uttered; but we were forced to go
astray in the footsteps of these poetic fictions, and to say in prose much
what he expressed in verse. And his speaking was most applauded, in whom the
passions of rage and grief were most preeminent, and clothed in the most
fitting language, maintaining the dignity of the character. What is it to
me, O my true life, my God, that my declamation was applauded above so many
of my own age and class? is not all this smoke and wind? and was there
nothing else whereon to exercise my wit and tongue? Thy praises, Lord, Thy
praises might have stayed the yet tender shoot of my heart by the prop of
Thy Scriptures; so had it not trailed away amid these empty trifles, a
defiled prey for the fowls of the air. For in more ways than one do men
sacrifice to the rebellious angels.
_________________________________________________________________

Chapter XVIII

But what marvel that I was thus carried away to vanities, and went out from
Thy presence, O my God, when men were set before me as models, who, if in
relating some action of theirs, in itself not ill, they committed some
barbarism or solecism, being censured, were abashed; but when in rich and
adomed and well-ordered discourse they related their own disordered life,
being bepraised, they gloried? These things Thou seest, Lord, and holdest
Thy peace; long-suffering, and plenteous in mercy and truth. Wilt Thou hold
Thy peace for ever? and even now Thou drawest out of this horrible gulf the
soul that seeketh Thee, that thirsteth for Thy pleasures, whose heart saith
unto Thee, I have sought Thy face; Thy face, Lord, will I seek. For darkened
affections is removal from Thee. For it is not by our feet, or change of
place, that men leave Thee, or return unto Thee. Or did that Thy younger son
look out for horses or chariots, or ships, fly with visible wings, or
journey by the motion of his limbs, that he might in a far country waste in
riotous living all Thou gavest at his departure? a loving Father, when Thou
gavest, and more loving unto him, when he returned empty. So then in
lustful, that is, in darkened affections, is the true distance from Thy
face.

Behold, O Lord God, yea, behold patiently as Thou art wont how carefully the
sons of men observe the covenanted rules of letters and syllables received
from those who spake before them, neglecting the eternal covenant of
everlasting salvation received from Thee. Insomuch, that a teacher or
learner of the hereditary laws of pronunciation will more offend men by
speaking without the aspirate, of auman being, in despite of the laws of
grammar, than if he, ahuman being, hate ahuman being in despite of
Thine. As if any enemy could be more hurtful than the hatred with which he
is incensed against him; or could wound more deeply him whom he persecutes,
than he wounds his own soul by his enmity. Assuredly no science of letters
can be so innate as the record of conscience,that he is doing to another
what from another he would be loth to suffer. How deep are Thy ways, O God,
Thou only great, that sittest silent on high and by an unwearied law
dispensing penal blindness to lawless desires. In quest of the fame of
eloquence, a man standing before a human judge, surrounded by a human
throng, declaiming against his enemy with fiercest hatred, will take heed
most watchfully, lest, by an error of the tongue, he murder the wordhuman
being; but takes no heed, lest, through the fury of his spirit, he murder
the real human being.

This was the world at whose gate unhappy I lay in my boyhood; this the stage
where I had feared more to commit a barbarism, than having committed one, to
envy those who had not. These things I speak and confess to Thee, my God;
for which I had praise from them, whom I then thought it all virtue to
please. For I saw not the abyss of vileness, wherein I was cast away from
Thine eyes. Before them what more foul than I was already, displeasing even
such as myself? with innumerable lies deceiving my tutor, my masters, my
parents, from love of play, eagerness to see vain shows and restlessness to
imitate them! Thefts also I committed, from my parents™ cellar and table,
enslaved by greediness, or that I might have to give to boys, who sold me
their play, which all the while they liked no less than I. In this play,
too, I often sought unfair conquests, conquered myself meanwhile by vain
desire of preeminence. And what could I so ill endure, or, when I detected
it, upbraided I so fiercely, as that I was doing to others? and for which
if, detected, I was upbraided, I chose rather to quarrel than to yield. And
is this the innocence of boyhood? Not so, Lord, not so; I cry Thy mercy, my
God. For these very sins, as riper years succeed, these very sins are
transferred from tutors and masters, from nuts and balls and sparrows, to
magistrates and kings, to gold and manors and slaves, just as severer
punishments displace the cane. It was the low stature then of childhood
which Thou our King didst commend as an emblem of lowliness, when Thou
saidst, Of such is the kingdom of heaven.

Yet, Lord, to Thee, the Creator and Governor of the universe, most excellent
and most good, thanks were due to Thee our God, even hadst Thou destined for
me boyhood only. For even then I was, I lived, and felt; and had an
implanted providence over my well-being”a trace of that mysterious Unity
whence I was derived; I guarded by the inward sense the entireness of my
senses, and in these minute pursuits, and in my thoughts on things minute, I
learnt to delight in truth, I hated to be deceived, had a vigorous memory,
was gifted with speech, was soothed by friendship, avoided pain, baseness,
ignorance. In so small a creature, what was not wonderful, not admirable?
But all are gifts of my God: it was not I who gave them me; and good these
are, and these together are myself. Good, then, is He that made me, and He
is my good; and before Him will I exult for every good which of a boy I had.
For it was my sin, that not in Him, but in His creatures”myself and
others”I sought for pleasures, sublimities, truths, and so fell headlong
into sorrows, confusions, errors. Thanks be to Thee, my joy and my glory and
my confidence, my God, thanks be to Thee for Thy gifts; but do Thou preserve
them to me. For so wilt Thou preserve me, and those things shall be enlarged
and perfected which Thou hast given me, and I myself shall be with Thee,
since even to be Thou hast given me.
_________________________________________________________________

Book II
_________________________________________________________________

Chapter I

I will now call to mind my past foulness, and the carnal corruptions of my
soul; not because I love them, but that I may love Thee, O my God. For love
of Thy love I do it; reviewing my most wicked ways in the very bitterness of
my remembrance, that Thou mayest grow sweet unto me (Thou sweetness never
failing, Thou blissful and assured sweetness); and gathering me again out of
that my dissipation, wherein I was torn piecemeal, while turned from Thee,
the One Good, I lost myself among a multiplicity of things. For I even burnt
in my youth heretofore, to be satiated in things below; and I dared to grow
wild again, with these various and shadowy loves: my beauty consumed away,
and I stank in Thine eyes; pleasing myself, and desirous to please in the
eyes of men.
_________________________________________________________________

Chapter II

And what was it that I delighted in, but to love, and be loved? but I kept
not the measure of love, of mind to mind, friendship's bright boundary: but
out of the muddy concupiscence of the flesh, and the bubblings of youth,
mists fumed up which beclouded and overcast my heart, that I could not
discern the clear brightness of love from the fog of lustfulness. Both did
confusedly boil in me, and hurried my unstayed youth over the precipice of
unholy desires, and sunk me in a gulf of flagitiousnesses. Thy wrath had
gathered over me, and I knew it not. I was grown deaf by the clanking of the
chain of my mortality, the punishment of the pride of my soul, and I strayed
further from Thee, and Thou lettest me alone, and I was tossed about, and
wasted, and dissipated, and I boiled over in my fornications, and Thou
heldest Thy peace, O Thou my tardy joy! Thou then heldest Thy peace, and I
wandered further and further from Thee, into more and more fruitless
seed-plots of sorrows, with a proud dejectedness, and a restless weariness.

Oh! that some one had then attempered my disorder, and turned to account the
fleeting beauties of these, the extreme points of Thy creation! had put a
bound to their pleasureableness, that so the tides of my youth might have
cast themselves upon the marriage shore, if they could not be calmed, and
kept within the object of a family, as Thy law prescribes, O Lord: who this
way formest the offspring of this our death, being able with a gentle hand
to blunt the thorns which were excluded from Thy paradise? For Thy
omnipotency is not far from us, even when we be far from Thee. Else ought I
more watchfully to have heeded the voice from the clouds: Nevertheless such
shall have trouble in the flesh, but I spare you. And it is good for a man
not to touch a woman. And, he that is unmarried thinketh of the things of
the Lord, how he may please the Lord; but he that is married careth for the
things of this world, how he may please his wife.

To these words I should have listened more attentively, and being severed
for the kingdom of heaven's sake, had more happily awaited Thy embraces; but
I, poor wretch, foamed like a troubled sea, following the rushing of my own
tide, forsaking Thee, and exceeded all Thy limits; yet I escaped not Thy
scourges. For what mortal can? For Thou wert ever with me mercifully
rigorous, and besprinkling with most bitter alloy all my unlawful pleasures:
that I might seek pleasures without alloy. But where to find such, I could
not discover, save in Thee, O Lord, who teachest by sorrow, and woundest us,
to heal; and killest us, lest we die from Thee. Where was I, and how far was
I exiled from the delights of Thy house, in that sixteenth year of the age
of my flesh, when the madness of lust (to which human shamelessness giveth
free licence, though unlicensed by Thy laws) took the rule over me, and I
resigned myself wholly to it? My friends meanwhile took no care by marriage
to save my fall; their only care was that I should learn to speak
excellently, and be a persuasive orator.
_________________________________________________________________

Chapter III

For that year were my studies intermitted: whilst after my return from
Madaura (a neighbour city, whither I had journeyed to learn grammar and
rhetoric), the expenses for a further journey to Carthage were being
provided for me; and that rather by the resolution than the means of my
father, who was but a poor freeman of Thagaste. To whom tell I this? not to
Thee, my God; but before Thee to mine own kind, even to that small portion
of mankind as may light upon these writings of mine. And to what purpose?
that whosoever reads this, may think out of what depths we are to cry unto
Thee. For what is nearer to Thine ears than a confessing heart, and a life
of faith? Who did not extol my father, for that beyond the ability of his
means, he would furnish his son with all necessaries for a far journey for
his studies™ sake? For many far abler citizens did no such thing for their
children. But yet this same father had no concern how I grew towards Thee,
or how chaste I were; so that I were but copious in speech, however barren I
were to Thy culture, O God, who art the only true and good Lord of Thy
field, my heart.

But while in that my sixteenth year I lived with my parents, leaving all
school for a while (a season of idleness being interposed through the
narrowness of my parents™ fortunes), the briers of unclean desires grew rank
over my head, and there was no hand to root them out. When that my father
saw me at the baths, now growing towards manhood, and endued with a restless
youthfulness, he, as already hence anticipating his descendants, gladly told
it to my mother; rejoicing in that tumult of the senses wherein the world
forgetteth Thee its Creator, and becometh enamoured of Thy creature, instead
of Thyself, through the fumes of that invisible wine of its self-will,
turning aside and bowing down to the very basest things. But in my mother's
breast Thou hadst already begun Thy temple, and the foundation of Thy holy
habitation, whereas my father was as yet but a Catechumen, and that but
recently. She then was startled with a holy fear and trembling; and though I
was not as yet baptised, feared for me those crooked ways in which they walk
who turn their back to Thee, and not their face.

Woe is me! and dare I say that Thou heldest Thy peace, O my God, while I
wandered further from Thee? Didst Thou then indeed hold Thy peace to me? And
whose but Thine were these words which by my mother, Thy faithful one, Thou
sangest in my ears? Nothing whereof sunk into my heart, so as to do it. For
she wished, and I remember in private with great anxiety warned me,not to
commit fornication; but especially never to defile another man's wife.
These seemed to me womanish advices, which I should blush to obey. But they
were Thine, and I knew it not: and I thought Thou wert silent and that it
was she who spake; by whom Thou wert not silent unto me; and in her wast
despised by me, her son, the son of Thy handmaid, Thy servant. But I knew it
not; and ran headlong with such blindness, that amongst my equals I was
ashamed of a less shamelessness, when I heard them boast of their
flagitiousness, yea, and the more boasting, the more they were degraded: and
I took pleasure, not only in the pleasure of the deed, but in the praise.
What is worthy of dispraise but vice? But I made myself worse than I was,
that I might not be dispraised; and when in any thing I had not sinned as
the abandoned ones, I would say that I had done what I had not done, that I
might not seem contemptible in proportion as I was innocent; or of less
account, the more chaste.

Behold with what companions I walked the streets of Babylon, and wallowed in
the mire thereof, as if in a bed of spices and precious ointments. And that
I might cleave the faster to its very centre, the invisible enemy trod me
down, and seduced me, for that I was easy to be seduced. Neither did the
mother of my flesh (who had now fled out of the centre of Babylon, yet went
more slowly in the skirts thereof as she advised me to chastity, so heed
what she had heard of me from her husband, as to restrain within the bounds
of conjugal affection (if it could not be pared away to the quick) what she
felt to be pestilent at present and for the future dangerous. She heeded not
this, for she feared lest a wife should prove a clog and hindrance to my
hopes. Not those hopes of the world to come, which my mother reposed in
Thee; but the hope of learning, which both my parents were too desirous I
should attain; my father, because he had next to no thought of Thee, and of
me but vain conceits; my mother, because she accounted that those usual
courses of learning would not only be no hindrance, but even some
furtherance towards attaining Thee. For thus I conjecture, recalling, as
well as I may, the disposition of my parents. The reins, meantime, were
slackened to me, beyond all temper of due severity, to spend my time in
sport, yea, even unto dissoluteness in whatsoever I affected. And in all was
a mist, intercepting from me, O my God, the brightness of Thy truth; and
mine iniquity burst out as from very fatness.
_________________________________________________________________

Chapter IV

Theft is punished by Thy law, O Lord, and the law written in the hearts of
men, which iniquity itself effaces not. For what thief will abide a thief?
not even a rich thief, one stealing through want. Yet I lusted to thieve,
and did it, compelled by no hunger, nor poverty, but through a cloyedness of
well-doing, and a pamperedness of iniquity. For I stole that, of which I had
enough, and much better. Nor cared I to enjoy what I stole, but joyed in the
theft and sin itself. A pear tree there was near our vineyard, laden with
fruit, tempting neither for colour nor taste. To shake and rob this, some
lewd young fellows of us went, late one night (having according to our
pestilent custom prolonged our sports in the streets till then), and took
huge loads, not for our eating, but to fling to the very hogs, having only
tasted them. And this, but to do what we liked only, because it was
misliked. Behold my heart, O God, behold my heart, which Thou hadst pity
upon in the bottom of the bottomless pit. Now, behold, let my heart tell
Thee what it sought there, that I should be gratuitously evil, having no
temptation to ill, but the ill itself. It was foul, and I loved it; I loved
to perish, I loved mine own fault, not that for which I was faulty, but my
fault itself. Foul soul, falling from Thy firmament to utter destruction;
not seeking aught through the shame, but the shame itself!
_________________________________________________________________

Chapter V

For there is an attractiveness in beautiful bodies, in gold and silver, and
all things; and in bodily touch, sympathy hath much influence, and each
other sense hath his proper object answerably tempered. Wordly honour hath
also its grace, and the power of overcoming, and of mastery; whence springs
also the thirst of revenge. But yet, to obtain all these, we may not depart
from Thee, O Lord, nor decline from Thy law. The life also which here we
live hath its own enchantment, through a certain proportion of its own, and
a correspondence with all things beautiful here below. Human friendship also
is endeared with a sweet tie, by reason of the unity formed of many souls.
Upon occasion of all these, and the like, is sin committed, while through an
immoderate inclination towards these goods of the lowest order, the better
and higher are forsaken,”Thou, our Lord God, Thy truth, and Thy law. For
these lower things have their delights, but not like my God, who made all
things; for in Him doth the righteous delight, and He is the joy of the
upright in heart.

When, then, we ask why a crime was done, we believe it not, unless it appear
that there might have been some desire of obtaining some of those which we
called lower goods, or a fear of losing them. For they are beautiful and
comely; although compared with those higher and beatific goods, they be
abject and low. A man hath murdered another; why? he loved his wife or his
estate; or would rob for his own livelihood; or feared to lose some such
things by him; or, wronged, was on fire to be revenged. Would any commit
murder upon no cause, delighted simply in murdering? who would believe it?
for as for that furious and savage man, of whom it is said that he was
gratuitously evil and cruel, yet is the cause assigned;lest (saith he)
through idleness hand or heart should grow inactive. And to what end?
that, through that practice of guilt, he might, having taken the city,
attain to honours, empire, riches, and be freed from fear of the laws, and
his embarrassments from domestic needs, and consciousness of villainies. So
then, not even Catiline himself loved his own villainies, but something
else, for whose sake he did them.
_________________________________________________________________

Chapter VI

What then did wretched I so love in thee, thou theft of mine, thou deed of
darkness, in that sixteenth year of my age? Lovely thou wert not, because
thou wert theft. But art thou any thing, that thus I speak to thee? Fair
were the pears we stole, because they were Thy creation, Thou fairest of
all, Creator of all, Thou good God; God, the sovereign good and my true
good. Fair were those pears, but not them did my wretched soul desire; for I
had store of better, and those I gathered, only that I might steal. For,
when gathered, I flung them away, my only feast therein being my own sin,
which I was pleased to enjoy. For if aught of those pears came within my
mouth, what sweetened it was the sin. And now, O Lord my God, I enquire what
in that theft delighted me; and behold it hath no loveliness; I mean not
such loveliness as in justice and wisdom; nor such as is in the mind and
memory, and senses, and animal life of man; nor yet as the stars are
glorious and beautiful in their orbs; or the earth, or sea, full of
embryo-life, replacing by its birth that which decayeth; nay, nor even that
false and shadowy beauty which belongeth to deceiving vices.

For so doth pride imitate exaltedness; whereas Thou alone art God exalted
over all. Ambition, what seeks it, but honours and glory? whereas Thou alone
art to be honoured above all, and glorious for evermore. The cruelty of the
great would fain be feared; but who is to be feared but God alone, out of
whose power what can be wrested or withdrawn? when, or where, or whither, or
by whom? The tendernesses of the wanton would fain be counted love: yet is
nothing more tender than Thy charity; nor is aught loved more healthfully
than that Thy truth, bright and beautiful above all. Curiosity makes
semblance of a desire of knowledge; whereas Thou supremely knowest all. Yea,
ignorance and foolishness itself is cloaked under the name of simplicity and
uninjuriousness; because nothing is found more single than Thee: and what
less injurious, since they are his own works which injure the sinner? Yea,
sloth would fain be at rest; but what stable rest besides the Lord? Luxury
affects to be called plenty and abundance; but Thou art the fulness and
never-failing plenteousness of incorruptible pleasures. Prodigality presents
a shadow of liberality: but Thou art the most overflowing Giver of all good.
Covetousness would possess many things; and Thou possessest all things. Envy
disputes for excellency: what more excellent than Thou? Anger seeks revenge:
who revenges more justly than Thou? Fear startles at things unwonted and
sudden, which endangers things beloved, and takes forethought for their
safety; but to Thee what unwonted or sudden, or who separateth from Thee
what Thou lovest? Or where but with Thee is unshaken safety? Grief pines
away for things lost, the delight of its desires; because it would have
nothing taken from it, as nothing can from Thee.

Thus doth the soul commit fornication, when she turns from Thee, seeking
without Thee, what she findeth not pure and untainted, till she returns to
Thee. Thus all pervertedly imitate Thee, who remove far from Thee, and lift
themselves up against Thee. But even by thus imitating Thee, they imply Thee
to be the Creator of all nature; whence there is no place whither altogether
to retire from Thee. What then did I love in that theft? and wherein did I
even corruptly and pervertedly imitate my Lord? Did I wish even by stealth
to do contrary to Thy law, because by power I could not, so that being a
prisoner, I might mimic a maimed liberty by doing with impunity things
unpermitted me, a darkened likeness of Thy Omnipotency? Behold, Thy servant,
fleeing from his Lord, and obtaining a shadow. O rottenness, O monstrousness
of life, and depth of death! could I like what I might not, only because I
might not?
_________________________________________________________________

Chapter VII

What shall I render unto the Lord, that, whilst my memory recalls these
things, my soul is not affrighted at them? I will love Thee, O Lord, and
thank Thee, and confess unto Thy name; because Thou hast forgiven me these
so great and heinous deeds of mine. To Thy grace I ascribe it, and to Thy
mercy, that Thou hast melted away my sins as it were ice. To Thy grace I
ascribe also whatsoever I have not done of evil; for what might I not have
done, who even loved a sin for its own sake? Yea, all I confess to have been
forgiven me; both what evils I committed by my own wilfulness, and what by
Thy guidance I committed not. What man is he, who, weighing his own
infirmity, dares to ascribe his purity and innocency to his own strength;
that so he should love Thee the less, as if he had less needed Thy mercy,
whereby Thou remittest sins to those that turn to Thee? For whosoever,
called by Thee, followed Thy voice, and avoided those things which he reads
me recalling and confessing of myself, let him not scorn me, who being sick,
was cured by that Physician, through whose aid it was that he was not, or
rather was less, sick: and for this let him love Thee as much, yea and more;
since by whom he sees me to have been recovered from such deep consumption
of sin, by Him he sees himself to have been from the like consumption of sin
preserved.
_________________________________________________________________

Chapter VIII

What fruit had I then (wretched man!) in those things, of the remembrance
whereof I am now ashamed? Especially, in that theft which I loved for the
theft's sake; and it too was nothing, and therefore the more miserable I,
who loved it. Yet alone I had not done it: such was I then, I remember,
alone I had never done it. I loved then in it also the company of the
accomplices, with whom I did it? I did not then love nothing else but the
theft, yea rather I did love nothing else; for that circumstance of the
company was also nothing. What is, in truth? who can teach me, save He that
enlighteneth my heart, and discovereth its dark corners? What is it which
hath come into my mind to enquire, and discuss, and consider? For had I then
loved the pears I stole, and wished to enjoy them, I might have done it
alone, had the bare commission of the theft sufficed to attain my pleasure;
nor needed I have inflamed the itching of my desires by the excitement of
accomplices. But since my pleasure was not in those pears, it was in the
offence itself, which the company of fellow-sinners occasioned.
_________________________________________________________________

Chapter IX

What then was this feeling? For of a truth it was too foul: and woe was me,
who had it. But yet what was it? Who can understand his errors? It was the
sport, which as it were tickled our hearts, that we beguiled those who
little thought what we were doing, and much disliked it. Why then was my
delight of such sort that I did it not alone? Because none doth ordinarily
laugh alone? ordinarily no one; yet laughter sometimes masters men alone and
singly when on one whatever is with them, if anything very ludicrous
presents itself to their senses or mind. Yet I had not done this alone;
alone I had never done it. Behold my God, before Thee, the vivid remembrance
of my soul; alone, I had never committed that theft wherein what I stole
pleased me not, but that I stole; nor had it alone liked me to do it, nor
had I done it. O friendship too unfriendly! thou incomprehensible inveigler
of the soul, thou greediness to do mischief out of mirth and wantonness,
thou thirst of others™ loss, without lust of my own gain or revenge: but
when it is said,Let's go, let's do it, we are ashamed not to be
shameless.
_________________________________________________________________

Chapter X

Who can disentangle that twisted and intricate knottiness? Foul is it: I
hate to think on it, to look on it. But Thee I long for, O Righteousness and
Innocency, beautiful and comely to all pure eyes, and of a satisfaction
unsating. With Thee is rest entire, and life imperturbable. Whoso enters
into Thee, enters into the joy of his Lord: and shall not fear, and shall do
excellently in the All-Excellent. I sank away from Thee, and I wandered, O
my God, too much astray from Thee my stay, in these days of my youth, and I
became to myself a barren land.
_________________________________________________________________

Book III
_________________________________________________________________

Chapter I

To Carthage I came, where there sang all around me in my ears a cauldron of
unholy loves. I loved not yet, yet I loved to love, and out of a deep-seated
want, I hated myself for wanting not. I sought what I might love, in love
with loving, and safety I hated, and a way without snares. For within me was
a famine of that inward food, Thyself, my God; yet, through that famine I
was not hungered; but was without all longing for incorruptible sustenance,
not because filled therewith, but the more empty, the more I loathed it. For
this cause my soul was sickly and full of sores, it miserably cast itself
forth, desiring to be scraped by the touch of objects of sense. Yet if these
had not a soul, they would not be objects of love. To love then, and to be
beloved, was sweet to me; but more, when I obtained to enjoy the person I
loved, I defiled, therefore, the spring of friendship with the filth of
concupiscence, and I beclouded its brightness with the hell of lustfulness;
and thus foul and unseemly, I would fain, through exceeding vanity, be fine
and courtly. I fell headlong then into the love wherein I longed to be
ensnared. My God, my Mercy, with how much gall didst Thou out of Thy great
goodness besprinkle for me that sweetness? For I was both beloved, and
secretly arrived at the bond of enjoying; and was with joy fettered with
sorrow-bringing bonds, that I might be scourged with the iron burning rods
of jealousy, and suspicions, and fears, and angers, and quarrels.
_________________________________________________________________

Chapter II

Stage-plays also carried me away, full of images of my miseries, and of fuel
to my fire. Why is it, that man desires to be made sad, beholding doleful
and tragical things, which yet himself would no means suffer? yet he desires
as a spectator to feel sorrow at them, this very sorrow is his pleasure.
What is this but a miserable madness? for a man is the more affected with
these actions, the less free he is from such affections. Howsoever, when he
suffers in his own person, it uses to be styled misery: when he
compassionates others, then it is mercy. But what sort of compassion is this
for feigned and scenical passions? for the auditor is not called on to
relieve, but only to grieve: and he applauds the actor of these fictions the
more, the more he grieves. And if the calamities of those persons (whether
of old times, or mere fiction) be so acted, that the spectator is not moved
to tears, he goes away disgusted and criticising; but if he be moved to
passion, he stays intent, and weeps for joy.

Are griefs then too loved? Verily all desire joy. Or whereas no man likes to
be miserable, is he yet pleased to be merciful? which because it cannot be
without passion, for this reason alone are passions loved? This also springs
from that vein of friendship. But whither goes that vein? whither flows it?
wherefore runs it into that torrent of pitch bubbling forth those monstrous
tides of foul lustfulness, into which it is wilfully changed and
transformed, being of its own will precipitated and corrupted from its
heavenly clearness? Shall compassion then be put away? by no means. Be
griefs then sometimes loved. But beware of uncleanness, O my soul, under the
guardianship of my God, the God of our fathers, who is to be praised and
exalted above all for ever, beware of uncleanness. For I have not now ceased
to pity; but then in the theatres I rejoiced with lovers when they wickedly
enjoyed one another, although this was imaginary only in the play. And when
they lost one another, as if very compassionate, I sorrowed with them, yet
had my delight in both. But now I much more pity him that rejoiceth in his
wickedness, than him who is thought to suffer hardship, by missing some
pernicious pleasure, and the loss of some miserable felicity. This certainly
is the truer mercy, but in it grief delights not. For though he that grieves
for the miserable, be commended for his office of charity; yet had he, who
is genuinely compassionate, rather there were nothing for him to grieve for.
For if good will be ill willed (which can never be), then may he, who truly
and sincerely commiserates, wish there might be some miserable, that he
might commiserate. Some sorrow may then be allowed, none loved. For thus
dost Thou, O Lord God, who lovest souls far more purely than we, and hast
more incorruptibly pity on them, yet are wounded with no sorrowfulness. And
who is sufficient for these things?

But I, miserable, then loved to grieve, and sought out what to grieve at,
when in another's and that feigned and personated misery, that acting best
pleased me, and attracted me the most vehemently, which drew tears from me.
What marvel that an unhappy sheep, straying from Thy flock, and impatient of
Thy keeping, I became infected with a foul disease? And hence the love of
griefs; not such as should sink deep into me; for I loved not to suffer,
what I loved to look on; but such as upon hearing their fictions should
lightly scratch the surface; upon which, as on envenomed nails, followed
inflamed swelling, impostumes, and a putrefied sore. My life being such, was
it life, O my God?
_________________________________________________________________

Chapter III

And Thy faithful mercy hovered over me afar. Upon how grievous iniquities
consumed I myself, pursuing a sacrilegious curiosity, that having forsaken
Thee, it might bring me to the treacherous abyss, and the beguiling service
of devils, to whom I sacrificed my evil actions, and in all these things
Thou didst scourge me! I dared even, while Thy solemnities were celebrated
within the walls of Thy Church, to desire, and to compass a business
deserving death for its fruits, for which Thou scourgedst me with grievous
punishments, though nothing to my fault, O Thou my exceeding mercy, my God,
my refuge from those terrible destroyers, among whom I wandered with a stiff
neck, withdrawing further from Thee, loving mine own ways, and not Thine;
loving a vagrant liberty.

Those studies also, which were accounted commendable, had a view to
excelling in the courts of litigation; the more bepraised, the craftier.
Such is men's blindness, glorying even in their blindness. And now I was
chief in the rhetoric school, whereat I joyed proudly, and I swelled with
arrogancy, though (Lord, Thou knowest) far quieter and altogether removed
from the subvertings of thoseSubverters (for this ill-omened and devilish
name was the very badge of gallantry) among whom I lived, with a shameless
shame that I was not even as they. With them I lived, and was sometimes
delighted with their friendship, whose doings I ever did abhor”i.e., their
subvertings, wherewith they wantonly persecuted the modesty of strangers,
which they disturbed by a gratuitous jeering, feeding thereon their
malicious birth. Nothing can be liker the very actions of devils than these.
What then could they be more truly called thanSubverters? themselves
subverted and altogether perverted first, the deceiving spirits secretly
deriding and seducing them, wherein themselves delight to jeer at and
deceive others.
_________________________________________________________________

Chapter IV

Among such as these, in that unsettled age of mine, learned I books of
eloquence, wherein I desired to be eminent, out of a damnable and
vainglorious end, a joy in human vanity. In the ordinary course of study, I
fell upon a certain book of Cicero, whose speech almost all admire, not so
his heart. This book of his contains an exhortation to philosophy, and is
calledHortensius. But this book altered my affections, and turned my
prayers to Thyself O Lord; and made me have other purposes and desires.
Every vain hope at once became worthless to me; and I longed with an
incredibly burning desire for an immortality of wisdom, and began now to
arise, that I might return to Thee. For not to sharpen my tongue (which
thing I seemed to be purchasing with my mother's allowances, in that my
nineteenth year, my father being dead two years before), not to sharpen my
tongue did I employ that book; nor did it infuse into me its style, but its
matter.

How did I burn then, my God, how did I burn to re-mount from earthly things
to Thee, nor knew I what Thou wouldest do with me? For with Thee is wisdom.
But the love of wisdom is in Greek calledphilosophy, with which that book
inflamed me. Some there be that seduce through philosophy, under a great,
and smooth, and honourable name colouring and disguising their own errors:
and almost all who in that and former ages were such, are in that book
censured and set forth: there also is made plain that wholesome advice of
Thy Spirit, by Thy good and devout servant: Beware lest any man spoil you
through philosophy and vain deceit, after the tradition of men, after the
rudiments of the world, and not after Christ. For in Him dwelleth all the
fulness of the Godhead bodily. And since at that time (Thou, O light of my
heart, knowest) Apostolic Scripture was not known to me, I was delighted
with that exhortation, so far only, that I was thereby strongly roused, and
kindled, and inflamed to love, and seek, and obtain, and hold, and embrace
not this or that sect, but wisdom itself whatever it were; and this alone
checked me thus unkindled, that the name of Christ was not in it. For this
name, according to Thy mercy, O Lord, this name of my Saviour Thy Son, had
my tender heart, even with my mother's milk, devoutly drunk in and deeply
treasured; and whatsoever was without that name, though never so learned,
polished, or true, took not entire hold of me.
_________________________________________________________________

Chapter V

I resolved then to bend my mind to the holy Scriptures, that I might see
what they were. But behold, I see a thing not understood by the proud, nor
laid open to children, lowly in access, in its recesses lofty, and veiled
with mysteries; and I was not such as could enter into it, or stoop my neck
to follow its steps. For not as I now speak, did I feel when I turned to
those Scriptures; but they seemed to me unworthy to he compared to the
stateliness of Tully: for my swelling pride shrunk from their lowliness, nor
could my sharp wit pierce the interior thereof. Yet were they such as would
grow up in a little one. But I disdained to be a little one; and, swollen
with pride, took myself to be a great one.
_________________________________________________________________

Chapter VI

Therefore I fell among men proudly doting, exceeding carnal and prating, in
whose mouths were the snares of the Devil, limed with the mixture of the
syllables of Thy name, and of our Lord Jesus Christ, and of the Holy Ghost,
the Paraclete, our Comforter. These names departed not out of their mouth,
but so far forth as the sound only and the noise of the tongue, for the
heart was void of truth. Yet they cried outTruth, Truth, and spake much
thereof to me, yet it was not in them: but they spake falsehood, not of Thee
only (who truly art Truth), but even of those elements of this world, Thy
creatures. And I indeed ought to have passed by even philosophers who spake
truth concerning them, for love of Thee, my Father, supremely good, Beauty
of all things beautiful. O Truth, Truth, how inwardly did even then the
marrow of my soul pant after Thee, when they often and diversely, and in
many and huge books, echoed of Thee to me, though it was but an echo? And
these were the dishes wherein to me, hungering after Thee, they, instead of
Thee, served up the Sun and Moon, beautiful works of Thine, but yet Thy
works, not Thyself, no nor Thy first works. For Thy spiritual works are
before these corporeal works, celestial though they be, and shining. But I
hungered and thirsted not even after those first works of Thine, but after
Thee Thyself, the Truth, in whom is no variableness, neither shadow of
turning: yet they still set before me in those dishes, glittering fantasies,
than which better were it to love this very sun (which is real to our sight
at least), than those fantasies which by our eyes deceive our mind. Yet
because I thought them to be Thee, I fed thereon; not eagerly, for Thou
didst not in them taste to me as Thou art; for Thou wast not these
emptinesses, nor was I nourished by them, but exhausted rather. Food in
sleep shows very like our food awake; yet are not those asleep nourished by
it, for they are asleep. But those were not even any way like to Thee, as
Thou hast now spoken to me; for those were corporeal fantasies, false
bodies, than which these true bodies, celestial or terrestrial, which with
our fleshly sight we behold, are far more certain: these things the beasts
and birds discern as well as we, and they are more certain than when we
fancy them. And again, we do with more certainty fancy them, than by them
conjecture other vaster and infinite bodies which have no being. Such empty
husks was I then fed on; and was not fed. But Thou, my soul's Love, in
looking for whom I fail, that I may become strong, art neither those bodies
which we see, though in heaven; nor those which we see not there; for Thou
hast created them, nor dost Thou account them among the chiefest of Thy
works. How far then art Thou from those fantasies of mine, fantasies of
bodies which altogether are not, than which the images of those bodies,
which are, are far more certain, and more certain still the bodies
themselves, which yet Thou art not; no, nor yet the soul, which is the life
of the bodies. So then, better and more certain is the life of the bodies
than the bodies. But Thou art the life of souls, the life of lives, having
life in Thyself; and changest not, life of my soul.

Where then wert Thou then to me, and how far from me? Far verily was I
straying from Thee, barred from the very husks of the swine, whom with husks
I fed. For how much better are the fables of poets and grammarians than
these snares? For verses, and poems, andMedea flying, are more profitable
truly than these men's five elements, variously disguised, answering to five
dens of darkness, which have no being, yet slay the believer. For verses and
poems I can turn to true food, andMedea flying, though I did sing, I
maintained not; though I heard it sung, I believed not: but those things I
did believe. Woe, woe, by what steps was I brought down to the depths of
hell! toiling and turmoiling through want of Truth, since I sought after
Thee, my God (to Thee I confess it, who hadst mercy on me, not as yet
confessing), not according to the understanding of the mind, wherein Thou
willedst that I should excel the beasts, but according to the sense of the
flesh. But Thou wert more inward to me than my most inward part; and higher
than my highest. I lighted upon that bold woman, simple and knoweth nothing,
shadowed out in Solomon, sitting at the door, and saying, Eat ye bread of
secrecies willingly, and drink ye stolen waters which are sweet: she seduced
me, because she found my soul dwelling abroad in the eye of my flesh, and
ruminating on such food as through it I had devoured.
_________________________________________________________________

Chapter VII

For other than this, that which really is I knew not; and was, as it were
through sharpness of wit, persuaded to assent to foolish deceivers, when
they asked me,whence is evil?is God bounded by a bodily shape, and has
hairs and nails?are they to be esteemed righteous who had many wives at
once, and did kill men, and sacrifice living creatures? At which I, in my
ignorance, was much troubled, and departing from the truth, seemed to myself
to be making towards it; because as yet I knew not that evil was nothing but
a privation of good, until at last a thing ceases altogether to be; which
how should I see, the sight of whose eyes reached only to bodies, and of my
mind to a phantasm? And I knew not God to be a Spirit, not one who hath
parts extended in length and breadth, or whose being was bulk; for every
bulk is less in a part than in the whole: and if it be infinite, it must be
less in such part as is defined by a certain space, than in its infinitude;
and so is not wholly every where, as Spirit, as God. And what that should be
in us, by which we were like to God, and might be rightly said to be after
the image of God, I was altogether ignorant.

Nor knew I that true inward righteousness which judgeth not according to
custom, but out of the most rightful law of God Almighty, whereby the ways
of places and times were disposed according to those times and places;
itself meantime being the same always and every where, not one thing in one
place, and another in another; according to which Abraham, and Isaac, and
Jacob, and Moses, and David, were righteous, and all those commended by the
mouth of God; but were judged unrighteous by silly men, judging out of man's
judgment, and measuring by their own petty habits, the moral habits of the
whole human race. As if in an armory, one ignorant of what were adapted to
each part should cover his head with greaves, or seek to be shod with a
helmet, and complain that they fitted not: or as if on a day when business
is publicly stopped in the afternoon, one were angered at not being allowed
to keep open shop, because he had been in the forenoon; or when in one house
he observeth some servant take a thing in his hand, which the butler is not
suffered to meddle with; or something permitted out of doors, which is
forbidden in the dining-room; and should be angry, that in one house, and
one family, the same thing is not allotted every where, and to all. Even
such are they who are fretted to hear something to have been lawful for
righteous men formerly, which now is not; or that God, for certain temporal
respects, commanded them one thing, and these another, obeying both the same
righteousness: whereas they see, in one man, and one day, and one house,
different things to be fit for different members, and a thing formerly
lawful, after a certain time not so; in one corner permitted or commanded,
but in another rightly forbidden and punished. Is justice therefore various
or mutable? No, but the times, over which it presides, flow not evenly,
because they are times. But men whose days are few upon the earth, for that
by their senses they cannot harmonise the causes of things in former ages
and other nations, which they had not experience of, with these which they
have experience of, whereas in one and the same body, day, or family, they
easily see what is fitting for each member, and season, part, and person; to
the one they take exceptions, to the other they submit.

These things I then knew not, nor observed; they struck my sight on all
sides, and I saw them not. I indited verses, in which I might not place
every foot every where, but differently in different metres; nor even in any
one metre the self-same foot in all places. Yet the art itself, by which I
indited, had not different principles for these different cases, but
comprised all in one. Still I saw not how that righteousness, which good and
holy men obeyed, did far more excellently and sublimely contain in one all
those things which God commanded, and in no part varied; although in varying
times it prescribed not every thing at once, but apportioned and enjoined
what was fit for each. And I in my blindness, censured the holy Fathers, not
only wherein they made use of things present as God commanded and inspired
them, but also wherein they were foretelling things to come, as God was
revealing in them.
_________________________________________________________________

Chapter VIII

Can it at any time or place be unjust to love God with all his heart, with
all his soul, and with all his mind; and his neighbour as himself? Therefore
are those foul offences which be against nature, to be every where and at
all times detested and punished; such as were those of the men of Sodom:
which should all nations commit, they should all stand guilty of the same
crime, by the law of God, which hath not so made men that they should so
abuse one another. For even that intercourse which should be between God and
us is violated, when that same nature, of which He is Author, is polluted by
perversity of lust. But those actions which are offences against the customs
of men, are to be avoided according to the customs severally prevailing; so
that a thing agreed upon, and confirmed, by custom or law of any city or
nation, may not be violated at the lawless pleasure of any, whether native
or foreigner. For any part which harmoniseth not with its whole, is
offensive. But when God commands a thing to be done, against the customs or
compact of any people, though it were never by them done heretofore, it is
to be done; and if intermitted, it is to be restored; and if never ordained,
is now to be ordained. For lawful if it he for a king, in the state which he
reigns over, to command that which no one before him, nor he himself
heretofore, had commanded, and to obey him cannot be against the common weal
of the state (nay, it were against it if he were not obeyed, for to obey
princes is a general compact of human society); how much more unhesitatingly
ought we to obey God, in all which He commands, the Ruler of all His
creatures! For as among the powers in man's society, the greater authority
is obeyed in preference to the lesser, so must God above all.

So in acts of violence, where there is a wish to hurt, whether by reproach
or injury; and these either for revenge, as one enemy against another; or
for some profit belonging to another, as the robber to the traveller; or to
avoid some evil, as towards one who is feared; or through envy, as one less
fortunate to one more so, or one well thriven in any thing, to him whose
being on a par with himself he fears, or grieves at, or for the mere
pleasure at another's pain, as spectators of gladiators, or deriders and
mockers of others. These be the heads of iniquity which spring from the lust
of the flesh, of the eye, or of rule, either singly, or two combined, or all
together; and so do men live ill against the three, and seven, that psaltery
of often strings, Thy Ten Commandments, O God, most high, and most sweet.
But what foul offences can there be against Thee, who canst not be defiled?
or what acts of violence against Thee, who canst not be harmed? But Thou
avengest what men commit against themselves, seeing also when they sin
against Thee, they do wickedly against their own souls, and iniquity gives
itself the lie, by corrupting and perverting their nature, which Thou hast
created and ordained, or by an immoderate use of things allowed, or in
burning in things unallowed, to that use which is against nature; or are
found guilty, raging with heart and tongue against Thee, kicking against the
pricks; or when, bursting the pale of human society, they boldly joy in
self-willed combinations or divisions, according as they have any object to
gain or subject of offence. And these things are done when Thou art
forsaken, O Fountain of Life, who art the only and true Creator and Governor
of the Universe, and by a self-willed pride, any one false thing is selected
therefrom and loved. So then by a humble devoutness we return to Thee; and
Thou cleansest us from our evil habits, and art merciful to their sins who
confess, and hearest the groaning of the prisoner, and loosest us from the
chains which we made for ourselves, if we lift not up against Thee the horns
of an unreal liberty, suffering the loss of all, through covetousness of
more, by loving more our own private good than Thee, the Good of all.
_________________________________________________________________

Chapter IX

Amidst these offences of foulness and violence, and so many iniquities, are
sins of men, who are on the whole making proficiency; which by those that
judge rightly, are, after the rule of perfection, discommended, yet the
persons commended, upon hope of future fruit, as in the green blade of
growing corn. And there are some, resembling offences of foulness or
violence, which yet are no sins; because they offend neither Thee, our Lord
God, nor human society; when, namely, things fitting for a given period are
obtained for the service of life, and we know not whether out of a lust of
having; or when things are, for the sake of correction, by constituted
authority punished, and we know not whether out of a lust of hurting. Many
an action then which in men's sight is disapproved, is by Thy testimony
approved; and many, by men praised, are (Thou being witness) condemned:
because the show of the action, and the mind of the doer, and the unknown
exigency of the period, severally vary. But when Thou on a sudden commandest
an unwonted and unthought of thing, yea, although Thou hast sometime
forbidden it, and still for the time hidest the reason of Thy command, and
it be against the ordinance of some society of men, who doubts but it is to
be done, seeing that society of men is just which serves Thee? But blessed
are they who know Thy commands! For all things were done by Thy servants;
either to show forth something needful for the present, or to foreshow
things to come.
_________________________________________________________________

Chapter X

These things I being ignorant of, scoffed at those Thy holy servants and
prophets. And what gained I by scoffing at them, but to be scoffed at by
Thee, being insensibly and step by step drawn on to those follies, as to
believe that a fig-tree wept when it was plucked, and the tree, its mother,
shed milky tears? Which fig notwithstanding (plucked by some other's, not
his own, guilt) had some Manichaean saint eaten, and mingled with his
bowels, he should breathe out of it angels, yea, there shall burst forth
particles of divinity, at every moan or groan in his prayer, which particles
of the most high and true God had remained bound in that fig, unless they
had been set at liberty by the teeth or belly of someElect saint! And I,
miserable, believed that more mercy was to be shown to the fruits of the
earth than men, for whom they were created. For if any one an hungered, not
a Manichaean, should ask for any, that morsel would seem as it were
condemned to capital punishment, which should be given him.
_________________________________________________________________

Chapter XI

And Thou sentest Thine hand from above, and drewest my soul out of that
profound darkness, my mother, Thy faithful one, weeping to Thee for me, more
than mothers weep the bodily deaths of their children. For she, by that
faith and spirit which she had from Thee, discerned the death wherein I lay,
and Thou heardest her, O Lord; Thou heardest her, and despisedst not her
tears, when streaming down, they watered the ground under her eyes in every
place where she prayed; yea Thou heardest her. For whence was that dream
whereby Thou comfortedst her; so that she allowed me to live with her, and
to eat at the same table in the house, which she had begun to shrink from,
abhorring and detesting the blasphemies of my error? For she saw herself
standing on a certain wooden rule, and a shining youth coming towards her,
cheerful and smiling upon her, herself grieving, and overwhelmed with grief.
But he having (in order to instruct, as is their wont not to be instructed)
enquired of her the causes of her grief and daily tears, and she answering
that she was bewailing my perdition, he bade her rest contented, and told
her to look and observe,That where she was, there was I also. And when
she looked, she saw me standing by her in the same rule. Whence was this,
but that Thine ears were towards her heart? O Thou Good omnipotent, who so
carest for every one of us, as if Thou caredst for him only; and so for all,
as if they were but one!

Whence was this also, that when she had told me this vision, and I would
fain bend it to mean,That she rather should not despair of being one day
what I was; she presently, without any hesitation, replies:No; for it was
not told me that,˜where he, there thou also™; but˜where thou, there he
also™? I confess to Thee, O Lord, that to the best of my remembrance (and I
have oft spoken of this), that Thy answer, through my waking mother,”that
she was not perplexed by the plausibility of my false interpretation, and so
quickly saw what was to be seen, and which I certainly had not perceived
before she spake,”even then moved me more than the dream itself, by which a
joy to the holy woman, to be fulfilled so long after, was, for the
consolation of her present anguish, so long before foresignified. For almost
nine years passed, in which I wallowed in the mire of that deep pit, and the
darkness of falsehood, often assaying to rise, but dashed down the more
grievously. All which time that chaste, godly, and sober widow (such as Thou
lovest), now more cheered with hope, yet no whit relaxing in her weeping and
mourning, ceased not at all hours of her devotions to bewail my case unto
Thee. And her prayers entered into Thy presence; and yet Thou sufferedst me
to be yet involved and reinvolved in that darkness.
_________________________________________________________________

Chapter XII

Thou gavest her meantime another answer, which I call to mind; for much I
pass by, hasting to those things which more press me to confess unto Thee,
and much I do not remember. Thou gavest her then another answer, by a Priest
of Thine, a certain Bishop brought up in Thy Church, and well studied in Thy
books. Whom when this woman had entreated to vouchsafe to converse with me,
refute my errors, unteach me ill things, and teach me good things (for this
he was wont to do, when he found persons fitted to receive it), he refused,
wisely, as I afterwards perceived. For he answered, that I was yet
unteachable, being puffed up with the novelty of that heresy, and had
already perplexed divers unskilful persons with captious questions, as she
had told him:but let him alone a while (saith he),only pray God for
him, he will of himself by reading find what that error is, and how great
its impiety. At the same time he told her, how himself, when a little one,
had by his seduced mother been consigned over to the Manichees, and had not
only read, but frequently copied out almost all, their books, and had
(without any argument or proof from any one) seen how much that sect was to
be avoided; and had avoided it. Which when he had said, and she would not be
satisfied, but urged him more, with entreaties and many tears, that he would
see me and discourse with me; he, a little displeased at her importunity,
saith,Go thy ways and God bless thee, for it is not possible that the son
of these tears should perish. Which answer she took (as she often mentioned
in her conversations with me) as if it had sounded from heaven.
_________________________________________________________________

Book IV
_________________________________________________________________

Chapter I

For this space of nine years (from my nineteenth year to my
eight-and-twentieth) we lived seduced and seducing, deceived and deceiving,
in divers lusts; openly, by sciences which they call liberal; secretly, with
a false-named religion; here proud, there superstitious, every where vain.
Here, hunting after the emptiness of popular praise, down even to theatrical
applauses, and poetic prizes, and strifes for grassy garlands, and the
follies of shows, and the intemperance of desires. There, desiring to be
cleansed from these defilements, by carrying food to those who were called
elect andholy, out of which, in the workhouse of their stomachs, they
should forge for us Angels and Gods, by whom we might be cleansed. These
things did I follow, and practise with my friends, deceived by me, and with
me. Let the arrogant mock me, and such as have not been, to their soul's
health, stricken and cast down by Thee, O my God; but I would still confess
to Thee mine own shame in Thy praise. Suffer me, I beseech Thee, and give me
grace to go over in my present remembrance the wanderings of my forepassed
time, and to offer unto Thee the sacrifice of thanksgiving. For what am I to
myself without Thee, but a guide to mine own downfall? or what am I even at
the best, but an infant sucking the milk Thou givest, and feeding upon Thee,
the food that perisheth not? But what sort of man is any man, seeing he is
but a man? Let now the strong and the mighty laugh at us, but let us poor
and needy confess unto Thee.
_________________________________________________________________

Chapter II

In those years I taught rhetoric, and, overcome by cupidity, made sale of a
loquacity to overcome by. Yet I preferred (Lord, Thou knowest) honest
scholars (as they are accounted), and these I, without artifice, taught
artifices, not to be practised against the life of the guiltless, though
sometimes for the life of the guilty. And Thou, O God, from afar perceivedst
me stumbling in that slippery course, and amid much smoke sending out some
sparks of faithfulness, which I showed in that my guidance of such as loved
vanity, and sought after leasing, myself their companion. In those years I
had one,”not in that which is called lawful marriage, but whom I had found
out in a wayward passion, void of understanding; yet but one, remaining
faithful even to her; in whom I in my own case experienced what difference
there is betwixt the self-restraint of the marriage-covenant, for the sake
of issue, and the bargain of a lustful love, where children are born against
their parents™ will, although, once born, they constrain love.

I remember also, that when I had settled to enter the lists for a theatrical
prize, some wizard asked me what I would give him to win; but I, detesting
and abhorring such foul mysteries, answered,Though the garland were of
imperishable gold, I would not suffer a fly to be killed to gain me it.
For he was to kill some living creatures in his sacrifices, and by those
honours to invite the devils to favour me. But this ill also I rejected, not
out of a pure love for Thee, O God of my heart; for I knew not how to love
Thee, who knew not how to conceive aught beyond a material brightness. And
doth not a soul, sighing after such fictions, commit fornication against
Thee, trust in things unreal, and feed the wind? Still I would not forsooth
have sacrifices offered to devils for me, to whom I was sacrificing myself
by that superstition. For what else is it to feed the wind, but to feed
them, that is by going astray to become their pleasure and derision?
_________________________________________________________________

Chapter III

Those impostors then, whom they style Mathematicians, I consulted without
scruple; because they seemed to use no sacrifice, nor to pray to any spirit
for their divinations: which art, however, Christian and true piety
consistently rejects and condemns. For, it is a good thing to confess unto
Thee, and to say, Have mercy upon me, heal my soul, for I have sinned
against Thee; and not to abuse Thy mercy for a licence to sin, but to
remember the Lord's words, Behold, thou art made whole, sin no more, lest a
worse thing come unto thee. All which wholesome advice they labour to
destroy, saying,The cause of thy sin is inevitably determined in heaven;
andThis did Venus, or Saturn, or Mars: that man, forsooth, flesh and
blood, and proud corruption, might be blameless; while the Creator and
Ordainer of heaven and the stars is to bear the blame. And who is He but our
God? the very sweetness and well-spring of righteousness, who renderest to
every man according to his works: and a broken and contrite heart wilt Thou
not despise.

There was in those days a wise man, very skilful in physic, and renowned
therein, who had with his own proconsular hand put the Agonistic garland
upon my distempered head, but not as a physician: for this disease Thou only
curest, who resistest the proud, and givest grace to the humble. But didst
Thou fail me even by that old man, or forbear to heal my soul? For having
become more acquainted with him, and hanging assiduously and fixedly on his
speech (for though in simple terms, it was vivid, lively, and earnest), when
he had gathered by my discourse that I was given to the books of
nativity-casters, he kindly and fatherly advised me to cast them away, and
not fruitlessly bestow a care and diligence, necessary for useful things,
upon these vanities; saying, that he had in his earliest years studied that
art, so as to make it the profession whereby he should live, and that,
understanding Hippocrates, he could soon have understood such a study as
this; and yet he had given it over, and taken to physic, for no other reason
but that he found it utterly false; and he, a grave man, would not get his
living by deluding people.But thou, saith he,hast rhetoric to maintain
thyself by, so that thou followest this of free choice, not of necessity:
the more then oughtest thou to give me credit herein, who laboured to
acquire it so perfectly as to get my living by it alone. Of whom when I had
demanded, how then could many true things be foretold by it, he answered me
(as he could)that the force of chance, diffused throughout the whole order
of things, brought this about. For if when a man by haphazard opens the
pages of some poet, who sang and thought of something wholly different, a
verse oftentimes fell out, wondrously agreeable to the present business: it
were not to be wondered at, if out of the soul of man, unconscious what
takes place in it, by some higher instinct an answer should be given, by
hap, not by art, corresponding to the business and actions of the
demander.

And thus much, either from or through him, Thou conveyedst to me, and
tracedst in my memory, what I might hereafter examine for myself. But at
that time neither he, nor my dearest Nebridius, a youth singularly good and
of a holy fear, who derided the whole body of divination, could persuade me
to cast it aside, the authority of the authors swaying me yet more, and as
yet I had found no certain proof (such as I sought) whereby it might without
all doubt appear, that what had been truly foretold by those consulted was
the result of haphazard, not of the art of the star-gazers.
_________________________________________________________________

Chapter IV

In those years when I first began to teach rhetoric in my native town, I had
made one my friend, but too dear to me, from a community of pursuits, of
mine own age, and, as myself, in the first opening flower of youth. He had
grown up of a child with me, and we had been both school-fellows and
play-fellows. But he was not yet my friend as afterwards, nor even then, as
true friendship is; for true it cannot be, unless in such as Thou cementest
together, cleaving unto Thee, by that love which is shed abroad in our
hearts by the Holy Ghost, which is given unto us. Yet was it but too sweet,
ripened by the warmth of kindred studies: for, from the true faith (which he
as a youth had not soundly and thoroughly imbibed), I had warped him also to
those superstitious and pernicious fables, for which my mother bewailed me.
With me he now erred in mind, nor could my soul be without him. But behold
Thou wert close on the steps of Thy fugitives, at once God of vengeance, and
Fountain of mercies, turning us to Thyself by wonderful means; Thou tookest
that man out of this life, when he had scarce filled up one whole year of my
friendship, sweet to me above all sweetness of that my life.

Who can recount all Thy praises, which he hath felt in his one self? What
diddest Thou then, my God, and how unsearchable is the abyss of Thy
judgments? For long, sore sick of a fever, he lay senseless in a
death-sweat; and his recovery being despaired of, he was baptised,
unknowing; myself meanwhile little regarding, and presuming that his soul
would retain rather what it had received of me, not what was wrought on his
unconscious body. But it proved far otherwise: for he was refreshed, and
restored. Forthwith, as soon as I could speak with him (and I could, so soon
as he was able, for I never left him, and we hung but too much upon each
other), I essayed to jest with him, as though he would jest with me at that
baptism which he had received, when utterly absent in mind and feeling, but
had now understood that he had received. But he so shrunk from me, as from
an enemy; and with a wonderful and sudden freedom bade me, as I would
continue his friend, forbear such language to him. I, all astonished and
amazed, suppressed all my emotions till he should grow well, and his health
were strong enough for me to deal with him as I would. But he was taken away
from my frenzy, that with Thee he might be preserved for my comfort; a few
days after in my absence, he was attacked again by the fever, and so
departed.

At this grief my heart was utterly darkened; and whatever I beheld was
death. My native country was a torment to me, and my father's house a
strange unhappiness; and whatever I had shared with him, wanting him, became
a distracting torture. Mine eyes sought him every where, but he was not
granted them; and I hated all places, for that they had not him; nor could
they now tell me,he is coming, as when he was alive and absent. I became
a great riddle to myself, and I asked my soul, why she was so sad, and why
she disquieted me sorely: but she knew not what to answer me. And if I said,
Trust in God, she very rightly obeyed me not; because that most dear friend,
whom she had lost, was, being man, both truer and better than that phantasm
she was bid to trust in. Only tears were sweet to me, for they succeeded my
friend, in the dearest of my affections.
_________________________________________________________________

Chapter V

And now, Lord, these things are passed by, and time hath assuaged my wound.
May I learn from Thee, who art Truth, and approach the ear of my heart unto
Thy mouth, that Thou mayest tell me why weeping is sweet to the miserable?
Hast Thou, although present every where, cast away our misery far from Thee?
And Thou abidest in Thyself, but we are tossed about in divers trials. And
yet unless we mourned in Thine ears, we should have no hope left. Whence
then is sweet fruit gathered from the bitterness of life, from groaning,
tears, sighs, and complaints? Doth this sweeten it, that we hope Thou
hearest? This is true of prayer, for therein is a longing to approach unto
Thee. But is it also in grief for a thing lost, and the sorrow wherewith I
was then overwhelmed? For I neither hoped he should return to life nor did I
desire this with my tears; but I wept only and grieved. For I was miserable,
and had lost my joy. Or is weeping indeed a bitter thing, and for very
loathing of the things which we before enjoyed, does it then, when we shrink
from them, please us?
_________________________________________________________________

Chapter VI

But what speak I of these things? for now is no time to question, but to
confess unto Thee. Wretched I was; and wretched is every soul bound by the
friendship of perishable things; he is torn asunder when he loses them, and
then he feels the wretchedness which he had ere yet he lost them. So was it
then with me; I wept most bitterly, and found my repose in bitterness. Thus
was I wretched, and that wretched life I held dearer than my friend. For
though I would willingly have changed it, yet was I more unwilling to part
with it than with him; yea, I know not whether I would have parted with it
even for him, as is related (if not feigned) of Pylades and Orestes, that
they would gladly have died for each other or together, not to live together
being to them worse than death. But in me there had arisen some unexplained
feeling, too contrary to this, for at once I loathed exceedingly to live and
feared to die. I suppose, the more I loved him, the more did I hate, and
fear (as a most cruel enemy) death, which had bereaved me of him: and I
imagined it would speedily make an end of all men, since it had power over
him. Thus was it with me, I remember. Behold my heart, O my God, behold and
see into me; for well I remember it, O my Hope, who cleansest me from the
impurity of such affections, directing mine eyes towards Thee, and plucking
my feet out of the snare. For I wondered that others, subject to death, did
live, since he whom I loved, as if he should never die, was dead; and I
wondered yet more that myself, who was to him a second self, could live, he
being dead. Well said one of his friend,Thou half of my soul; for I felt
that my soul and his soul wereone soul in two bodies: and therefore was
my life a horror to me, because I would not live halved. And therefore
perchance I feared to die, lest he whom I had much loved should die wholly.
_________________________________________________________________

Chapter VII

O madness, which knowest not how to love men, like men! O foolish man that I
then was, enduring impatiently the lot of man! I fretted then, sighed, wept,
was distracted; had neither rest nor counsel. For I bore about a shattered
and bleeding soul, impatient of being borne by me, yet where to repose it, I
found not. Not in calm groves, not in games and music, nor in fragrant
spots, nor in curious banquetings, nor in the pleasures of the bed and the
couch; nor (finally) in books or poesy, found it repose. All things looked
ghastly, yea, the very light; whatsoever was not what he was, was revolting
and hateful, except groaning and tears. For in those alone found I a little
refreshment. But when my soul was withdrawn from them a huge load of misery
weighed me down. To Thee, O Lord, it ought to have been raised, for Thee to
lighten; I knew it; but neither could nor would; the more, since, when I
thought of Thee, Thou wert not to me any solid or substantial thing. For
Thou wert not Thyself, but a mere phantom, and my error was my God. If I
offered to discharge my load thereon, that it might rest, it glided through
the void, and came rushing down again on me; and I had remained to myself a
hapless spot, where I could neither be, nor be from thence. For whither
should my heart flee from my heart? Whither should I flee from myself?
Whither not follow myself? And yet I fled out of my country; for so should
mine eyes less look for him, where they were not wont to see him. And thus
from Thagaste, I came to Carthage.
_________________________________________________________________

Chapter VIII

Times lose no time; nor do they roll idly by; through our senses they work
strange operations on the mind. Behold, they went and came day by day, and
by coming and going, introduced into my mind other imaginations and other
remembrances; and little by little patched me up again with my old kind of
delights, unto which that my sorrow gave way. And yet there succeeded, not
indeed other griefs, yet the causes of other griefs. For whence had that
former grief so easily reached my very inmost soul, but that I had poured
out my soul upon the dust, in loving one that must die, as if he would never
die? For what restored and refreshed me chiefly was the solaces of other
friends, with whom I did love, what instead of Thee I loved; and this was a
great fable, and protracted lie, by whose adulterous stimulus, our soul,
which lay itching in our ears, was being defiled. But that fable would not
die to me, so oft as any of my friends died. There were other things which
in them did more take my mind; to talk and jest together, to do kind offices
by turns; to read together honied books; to play the fool or be earnest
together; to dissent at times without discontent, as a man might with his
own self; and even with the seldomness of these dissentings, to season our
more frequent consentings; sometimes to teach, and sometimes learn; long for
the absent with impatience; and welcome the coming with joy. These and the
like expressions, proceeding out of the hearts of those that loved and were
loved again, by the countenance, the tongue, the eyes, and a thousand
pleasing gestures, were so much fuel to melt our souls together, and out of
many make but one.
_________________________________________________________________

Chapter IX

This is it that is loved in friends; and so loved, that a man's conscience
condemns itself, if he love not him that loves him again, or love not again
him that loves him, looking for nothing from his person but indications of
his love. Hence that mourning, if one die, and darkenings of sorrows, that
steeping of the heart in tears, all sweetness turned to bitterness; and upon
the loss of life of the dying, the death of the living. Blessed whoso loveth
Thee, and his friend in Thee, and his enemy for Thee. For he alone loses
none dear to him, to whom all are dear in Him who cannot be lost. And who is
this but our God, the God that made heaven and earth, and filleth them,
because by filling them He created them? Thee none loseth, but who leaveth.
And who leaveth Thee, whither goeth or whither teeth he, but from Thee
well-pleased, to Thee displeased? For where doth he not find Thy law in his
own punishment? And Thy law is truth, and truth Thou.
_________________________________________________________________

Chapter X

Turn us, O God of Hosts, show us Thy countenance, and we shall be whole. For
whithersoever the soul of man turns itself, unless toward Thee, it is
riveted upon sorrows, yea though it is riveted on things beautiful. And yet
they, out of Thee, and out of the soul, were not, unless they were from
Thee. They rise, and set; and by rising, they begin as it were to be; they
grow, that they may be perfected; and perfected, they wax old and wither;
and all grow not old, but all wither. So then when they rise and tend to be,
the more quickly they grow that they may be, so much the more they haste not
to be. This is the law of them. Thus much has Thou allotted them, because
they are portions of things, which exist not all at once, but by passing
away and succeeding, they together complete that universe, whereof they are
portions. And even thus is our speech completed by signs giving forth a
sound: but this again is not perfected unless one word pass away when it
hath sounded its part, that another may succeed. Out of all these things let
my soul praise Thee, O God, Creator of all; yet let not my soul be riveted
unto these things with the glue of love, through the senses of the body. For
they go whither they were to go, that they might not be; and they rend her
with pestilent longings, because she longs to be, yet loves to repose in
what she loves. But in these things is no place of repose; they abide not,
they flee; and who can follow them with the senses of the flesh? yea, who
can grasp them, when they are hard by? For the sense of the flesh is slow,
because it is the sense of the flesh; and thereby is it bounded. It
sufficeth for that it was made for; but it sufficeth not to stay things
running their course from their appointed starting-place to the end
appointed. For in Thy Word, by which they are created, they hear their
decree,hence and hitherto.
_________________________________________________________________

Chapter XI

Be not foolish, O my soul, nor become deaf in the ear of thine heart with
the tumult of thy folly. Hearken thou too.

The Word itself calleth thee to return: and there is the place of rest
imperturbable, where love is not forsaken, if itself forsaketh not. Behold,
these things pass away, that others may replace them, and so this lower
universe be completed by all his parts. But do I depart any whither? saith
the Word of God. There fix thy dwelling, trust there whatsoever thou hast
thence, O my soul, at least now thou art tired out with vanities. Entrust
Truth, whatsoever thou hast from the Truth, and thou shalt lose nothing; and
thy decay shall bloom again, and all thy diseases be healed, and thy mortal
parts be reformed and renewed, and bound around thee: nor shall they lay
thee whither themselves descend; but they shall stand fast with thee, and
abide for ever before God, Who abideth and standeth fast for ever.

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

Chapter XII

If bodies please thee, praise God on occasion of them, and turn back thy
love upon their Maker; lest in these things which please thee, thou
displease. If souls please thee, be they loved in God: for they too are
mutable, but in Him are they firmly stablished; else would they pass, and
pass away. In Him then be they beloved; and carry unto Him along with thee
what souls thou canst, and say to them,Him let us love, Him let us love:
He made these, nor is He far off. For He did not make them, and so depart,
but they are of Him, and in Him. See there He is, where truth is loved. He
is within the very heart, yet hath the heart strayed from Him. Go back into
your heart, ye transgressors, and cleave fast to Him that made you. Stand
with Him, and ye shall stand fast. Rest in Him, and ye shall be at rest.
Whither go ye in rough ways? Whither go ye? The good that you love is from
Him; but it is good and pleasant through reference to Him, and justly shall
it be embittered, because unjustly is any thing loved which is from Him, if
He be forsaken for it. To what end then would ye still and still walk these
difficult and toilsome ways? There is no rest, where ye seek it. Seek what
ye seek; but it is not there where ye seek. Ye seek a blessed life in the
land of death; it is not there. For how should there be a blessed life where
life itself is not?
But our true Life came down hither, and bore our death, and slew him, out
of the abundance of His own life: and He thundered, calling aloud to us to
return hence to Him into that secret place, whence He came forth to us,
first into the Virgin's womb, wherein He espoused the human creation, our
mortal flesh, that it might not be for ever mortal, and thence like a
bridegroom coming out of his chamber, rejoicing as a giant to run his
course. For He lingered not, but ran, calling aloud by words, deeds, death,
life, descent, ascension; crying aloud to us to return unto Him. And He
departed from our eyes, that we might return into our heart, and there find
Him. For He departed, and to, He is here. He would not be long with us, yet
left us not; for He departed thither, whence He never parted, because the
world was made by Him. And in this world He was, and into this world He came
to save sinners, unto whom my soul confesseth, and He healeth it, for it
hath sinned against Him. O ye sons of men, how long so slow of heart? Even
now, after the descent of Life to you, will ye not ascend and live? But
whither ascend ye, when ye are on high, and set your mouth against the
heavens? Descend, that ye may ascend, and ascend to God. For ye have fallen,
by ascending against Him. Tell them this, that they may weep in the valley
of tears, and so carry them up with thee unto God; because out of His spirit
thou speakest thus unto them, if thou speakest, burning with the fire of
charity.
_________________________________________________________________

Chapter XIII

These things I then knew not, and I loved these lower beauties, and I was
sinking to the very depths, and to my friends I said,Do we love any thing
but the beautiful? What then is the beautiful? and what is beauty? What is
it that attracts and wins us to the things we love? for unless there were in
them a grace and beauty, they could by no means draw us unto them. And I
marked and perceived that in bodies themselves, there was a beauty, from
their forming a sort of whole, and again, another from apt and mutual
correspondence, as of a part of the body with its whole, or a shoe with a
foot, and the like. And this consideration sprang up in my mind, out of my
inmost heart, and I wroteon the fair and fit, I think, two or three
books. Thou knowest, O Lord, for it is gone from me; for I have them not,
but they are strayed from me, I know not how.
_________________________________________________________________

Chapter XIV

But what moved me, O Lord my God, to dedicate these books unto Hierius, an
orator of Rome, whom I knew not by face, but loved for the fame of his
learning which was eminent in him, and some words of his I had heard, which
pleased me? But more did he please me, for that he pleased others, who
highly extolled him, amazed that out of a Syrian, first instructed in Greek
eloquence, should afterwards be formed a wonderful Latin orator, and one
most learned in things pertaining unto philosophy. One is commended, and,
unseen, he is loved: doth this love enter the heart of the hearer from the
mouth of the commender? Not so. But by one who loveth is another kindled.
For hence he is loved who is commended, when the commender is believed to
extol him with an unfeigned heart; that is, when one that loves him, praises
him.

For so did I then love men, upon the judgment of men, not Thine, O my God,
in Whom no man is deceived. But yet why not for qualities, like those of a
famous charioteer, or fighter with beasts in the theatre, known far and wide
by a vulgar popularity, but far otherwise, and earnestly, and so as I would
be myself commended? For I would not be commended or loved, as actors are
(though I myself did commend and love them), but had rather be unknown, than
so known; and even hated, than so loved. Where now are the impulses to such
various and divers kinds of loves laid up in one soul? Why, since we are
equally men, do I love in another what, if I did not hate, I should not
spurn and cast from myself? For it holds not, that as a good horse is loved
by him, who would not, though he might, be that horse, therefore the same
may be said of an actor, who shares our nature. Do I then love in a man,
what I hate to be, who am a man? Man himself is a great deep, whose very
hairs Thou numberest, O Lord, and they fall not to the ground without Thee.
And yet are the hairs of his head easier to be numbered than his feelings,
and the beatings of his heart.

But that orator was of that sort whom I loved, as wishing to be myself such;
and I erred through a swelling pride, and was tossed about with every wind,
but yet was steered by Thee, though very secretly. And whence do I know, and
whence do I confidently confess unto Thee, that I had loved him more for the
love of his commenders, than for the very things for which he was commended?
Because, had he been unpraised, and these self-same men had dispraised him,
and with dispraise and contempt told the very same things of him, I had
never been so kindled and excited to love him. And yet the things had not
been other, nor he himself other; but only the feelings of the relators. See
where the impotent soul lies along, that is not yet stayed up by the
solidity of truth! Just as the gales of tongues blow from the breast of the
opinionative, so is it carried this way and that, driven forward and
backward, and the light is overclouded to it, and the truth unseen. And to,
it is before us. And it was to me a great matter, that my discourse and
labours should be known to that man: which should he approve, I were the
more kindled; but if he disapproved, my empty heart, void of Thy solidity,
had been wounded. And yet thefair and fit, whereon I wrote to him, I
dwelt on with pleasure, and surveyed it, and admired it, though none joined
therein.
_________________________________________________________________

Chapter XV

But I saw not yet, whereon this weighty matter turned in Thy wisdom, O Thou
Omnipotent, who only doest wonders; and my mind ranged through corporeal
forms; andfair, I defined and distinguished what is so in itself, and
fit, whose beauty is in correspondence to some other thing: and this I
supported by corporeal examples. And I turned to the nature of the mind, but
the false notion which I had of spiritual things, let me not see the truth.
Yet the force of truth did of itself flash into mine eyes, and I turned away
my panting soul from incorporeal substance to lineaments, and colours, and
bulky magnitudes. And not being able to see these in the mind, I thought I
could not see my mind. And whereas in virtue I loved peace, and in
viciousness I abhorred discord; in the first I observed a unity, but in the
other, a sort of division. And in that unity I conceived the rational soul,
and the nature of truth and of the chief good to consist; but in this
division I miserably imagined there to be some unknown substance of
irrational life, and the nature of the chief evil, which should not only be
a substance, but real life also, and yet not derived from Thee, O my God, of
whom are all things. And yet that first I called a Monad, as it had been a
soul without sex; but the latter a Duad;”anger, in deeds of violence, and in
flagitiousness, lust; not knowing whereof I spake. For I had not known or
learned that neither was evil a substance, nor our soul that chief and
unchangeable good.

For as deeds of violence arise, if that emotion of the soul be corrupted,
whence vehement action springs, stirring itself insolently and unrulily; and
lusts, when that affection of the soul is ungoverned, whereby carnal
pleasures are drunk in, so do errors and false opinions defile the
conversation, if the reasonable soul itself be corrupted; as it was then in
me, who knew not that it must be enlightened by another light, that it may
be partaker of truth, seeing itself is not that nature of truth. For Thou
shalt light my candle, O Lord my God, Thou shalt enlighten my darkness: and
of Thy fulness have we all received, for Thou art the true light that
lighteth every man that cometh into the world; for in Thee there is no
variableness, neither shadow of change.

But I pressed towards Thee, and was thrust from Thee, that I might taste of
death: for thou resistest the proud. But what prouder, than for me with a
strange madness to maintain myself to be that by nature which Thou art? For
whereas I was subject to change (so much being manifest to me, my very
desire to become wise, being the wish, of worse to become better), yet chose
I rather to imagine Thee subject to change, and myself not to be that which
Thou art. Therefore I was repelled by Thee, and Thou resistedst my vain
stiffneckedness, and I imagined corporeal forms, and, myself flesh, I
accused flesh; and, a wind that passeth away, I returned not to Thee, but I
passed on and on to things which have no being, neither in Thee, nor in me,
nor in the body. Neither were they created for me by Thy truth, but by my
vanity devised out of things corporeal. And I was wont to ask Thy faithful
little ones, my fellow-citizens (from whom, unknown to myself, I stood
exiled), I was wont, prating and foolishly, to ask them,Why then doth the
soul err which God created? But I would not be asked,Why then doth God
err? And I maintained that Thy unchangeable substance did err upon
constraint, rather than confess that my changeable substance had gone astray
voluntarily, and now, in punishment, lay in error.

I was then some six or seven and twenty years old when I wrote those
volumes; revolving within me corporeal fictions, buzzing in the ears of my
heart, which I turned, O sweet truth, to thy inward melody, meditating on
thefair and fit, and longing to stand and hearken to Thee, and to rejoice
greatly at the Bridegroom's voice, but could not; for by the voices of mine
own errors, I was hurried abroad, and through the weight of my own pride, I
was sinking into the lowest pit. For Thou didst not make me to hear joy and
gladness, nor did the bones exult which were not yet humbled.
_________________________________________________________________

Chapter XVI

And what did it profit me, that scarce twenty years old, a book of
Aristotle, which they call the often Predicaments, falling into my hands (on
whose very name I hung, as on something great and divine, so often as my
rhetoric master of Carthage, and others, accounted learned, mouthed it with
cheeks bursting with pride), I read and understood it unaided? And on my
conferring with others, who said that they scarcely understood it with very
able tutors, not only orally explaining it, but drawing many things in sand,
they could tell me no more of it than I had learned, reading it by myself.
And the book appeared to me to speak very clearly of substances, such as
man, and of their qualities, as the figure of a man, of what sort it is;
and stature, how many feet high; and his relationship, whose brother he is;
or where placed; or when born; or whether he stands or sits; or be shod or
armed; or does, or suffers anything; and all the innumerable things which
might be ranged under these nine Predicaments, of which I have given some
specimens, or under that chief Predicament of Substance.

What did all this further me, seeing it even hindered me? when, imagining
whatever was, was comprehended under those often Predicaments, I essayed in
such wise to understand, O my God, Thy wonderful and unchangeable Unity
also, as if Thou also hadst been subjected to Thine own greatness or beauty;
so that (as in bodies) they should exist in Thee, as their subject: whereas
Thou Thyself art Thy greatness and beauty; but a body is not great or fair
in that it is a body, seeing that, though it were less great or fair, it
should notwithstanding be a body. But it was falsehood which of Thee I
conceived, not truth, fictions of my misery, not the realities of Thy
blessedness. For Thou hadst commanded, and it was done in me, that the earth
should bring forth briars and thorns to me, and that in the sweat of my
brows I should eat my bread.

And what did it profit me, that all the books I could procure of the
so-called liberal arts, I, the vile slave of vile affections, read by
myself, and understood? And I delighted in them, but knew not whence came
all, that therein was true or certain. For I had my back to the light, and
my face to the things enlightened; whence my face, with which I discerned
the things enlightened, itself was not enlightened. Whatever was written,
either on rhetoric, or logic, geometry, music, and arithmetic, by myself
without much difficulty or any instructor, I understood, Thou knowest, O
Lord my God; because both quickness of understanding, and acuteness in
discerning, is Thy gift: yet did I not thence sacrifice to Thee. So then it
served not to my use, but rather to my perdition, since I went about to get
so good a portion of my substance into my own keeping; and I kept not my
strength for Thee, but wandered from Thee into a far country, to spend it
upon harlotries. For what profited me good abilities, not employed to good
uses? For I felt not that those arts were attained with great difficulty,
even by the studious and talented, until I attempted to explain them to
such; when he most excelled in them who followed me not altogether slowly.

But what did this further me, imagining that Thou, O Lord God, the Truth,
wert a vast and bright body, and I a fragment of that body? Perverseness too
great! But such was I. Nor do I blush, O my God, to confess to Thee Thy
mercies towards me, and to call upon Thee, who blushed not then to profess
to men my blasphemies, and to bark against Thee. What profited me then my
nimble wit in those sciences and all those most knotty volumes, unravelied
by me, without aid from human instruction; seeing I erred so foully, and
with such sacrilegious shamefulness, in the doctrine of piety? Or what
hindrance was a far slower wit to Thy little ones, since they departed not
far from Thee, that in the nest of Thy Church they might securely be
fledged, and nourish the wings of charity, by the food of a sound faith. O
Lord our God, under the shadow of Thy wings let us hope; protect us, and
carry us. Thou wilt carry us both when little, and even to hoar hairs wilt
Thou carry us; for our firmness, when it is Thou, then is it firmness; but
when our own, it is infirmity. Our good ever lives with Thee; from which
when we turn away, we are turned aside. Let us now, O Lord, return, that we
may not be overturned, because with Thee our good lives without any decay,
which good art Thou; nor need we fear, lest there be no place whither to
return, because we fell from it: for through our absence, our mansion fell
not”Thy eternity.
_________________________________________________________________

Book V
_________________________________________________________________

Chapter I

Accept the sacrifice of my confessions from the ministry of my tongue, which
Thou hast formed and stirred up to confess unto Thy name. Heal Thou all my
bones, and let them say, O Lord, who is like unto Thee? For he who confesses
to Thee doth not teach Thee what takes place within him; seeing a closed
heart closes not out Thy eye, nor can man's hard-heartedness thrust back Thy
hand: for Thou dissolvest it at Thy will in pity or in vengeance, and
nothing can hide itself from Thy heat. But let my soul praise Thee, that it
may love Thee; and let it confess Thy own mercies to Thee, that it may
praise Thee. Thy whole creation ceaseth not, nor is silent in Thy praises;
neither the spirit of man with voice directed unto Thee, nor creation
animate or inanimate, by the voice of those who meditate thereon: that so
our souls may from their weariness arise towards Thee, leaning on those
things which Thou hast created, and passing on to Thyself, who madest them
wonderfully; and there is refreshment and true strength.
_________________________________________________________________

Chapter II

Let the restless, the godless, depart and flee from Thee; yet Thou seest
them, and dividest the darkness. And behold, the universe with them is fair,
though they are foul. And how have they injured Thee? or how have they
disgraced Thy government, which, from the heaven to this lowest earth, is
just and perfect? For whither fled they, when they fled from Thy presence?
or where dost not Thou find them? But they fled, that they might not see
Thee seeing them, and, blinded, might stumble against Thee (because Thou
forsakest nothing Thou hast made); that the unjust, I say, might stumble
upon Thee, and justly be hurt; withdrawing themselves from thy gentleness,
and stumbling at Thy uprightness, and falling upon their own ruggedness.
Ignorant, in truth, that Thou art every where, Whom no place encompasseth!
and Thou alone art near, even to those that remove far from Thee. Let them
then be turned, and seek Thee; because not as they have forsaken their
Creator, hast Thou forsaken Thy creation. Let them be turned and seek Thee;
and behold, Thou art there in their heart, in the heart of those that
confess to Thee, and cast themselves upon Thee, and weep in Thy bosom, after
all their rugged ways. Then dost Thou gently wipe away their tears, and they
weep the more, and joy in weeping; even for that Thou, Lord,”not man of
flesh and blood, but”Thou, Lord, who madest them, re-makest and comfortest
them. But where was I, when I was seeking Thee? And Thou wert before me, but
I had gone away from Thee; nor did I find myself, how much less Thee!
_________________________________________________________________

Chapter III

I would lay open before my God that nine-and-twentieth year of mine age.
There had then come to Carthage a certain Bishop of the Manichees, Faustus
by name, a great snare of the Devil, and many were entangled by him through
that lure of his smooth language: which though I did commend, yet could I
separate from the truth of the things which I was earnest to learn: nor did
I so much regard the service of oratory as the science which this Faustus,
so praised among them, set before me to feed upon. Fame had before bespoken
him most knowing in all valuable learning, and exquisitely skilled in the
liberal sciences. And since I had read and well remembered much of the
philosophers, I compared some things of theirs with those long fables of the
Manichees, and found the former the more probable; even although they could
only prevail so far as to make judgment of this lower world, the Lord of it
they could by no means find out. For Thou art great, O Lord, and hast
respect unto the humble, but the proud Thou beholdest afar off. Nor dost
Thou draw near, but to the contrite in heart, nor art found by the proud,
no, not though by curious skill they could number the stars and the sand,
and measure the starry heavens, and track the courses of the planets.

For with their understanding and wit, which Thou bestowedst on them, they
search out these things; and much have they found out; and foretold, many
years before, eclipses of those luminaries, the sun and moon,”what day and
hour, and how many digits,”nor did their calculation fail; and it came to
pass as they foretold; and they wrote down the rules they had found out, and
these are read at this day, and out of them do others foretell in what year
and month of the year, and what day of the month, and what hour of the day,
and what part of its light, moon or sun is to be eclipsed, and so it shall
be, as it is foreshowed. At these things men, that know not this art, marvel
and are astonished, and they that know it, exult, and are puffed up; and by
an ungodly pride departing from Thee, and failing of Thy light, they foresee
a failure of the sun's light, which shall be, so long before, but see not
their own, which is. For they search not religiously whence they have the
wit, wherewith they search out this. And finding that Thou madest them, they
give not themselves up to Thee, to preserve what Thou madest, nor sacrifice
to Thee what they have made themselves; nor slay their own soaring
imaginations, as fowls of the air, nor their own diving curiosities
(wherewith, like the fishes of the seal they wander over the unknown paths
of the abyss), nor their own luxuriousness, as beasts of the field, that
Thou, Lord, a consuming fire, mayest burn up those dead cares of theirs, and
re-create themselves immortally.

But they knew not the way, Thy Word, by Whom Thou madest these things which
they number, and themselves who number, and the sense whereby they perceive
what they number, and the understanding, out of which they number; or that
of Thy wisdom there is no number. But the Only Begotten is Himself made unto
us wisdom, and righteousness, and sanctification, and was numbered among us,
and paid tribute unto Caesar. They knew not this way whereby to descend to
Him from themselves, and by Him ascend unto Him. They knew not this way, and
deemed themselves exalted amongst the stars and shining; and behold, they
fell upon the earth, and their foolish heart was darkened. They discourse
many things truly concerning the creature; but Truth, Artificer of the
creature, they seek not piously, and therefore find Him not; or if they find
Him, knowing Him to be God, they glorify Him not as God, neither are
thankful, but become vain in their imaginations, and profess themselves to
be wise, attributing to themselves what is Thine; and thereby with most
perverse blindness, study to impute to Thee what is their own, forging lies
of Thee who art the Truth, and changing the glory of uncorruptible God into
an image made like corruptible man, and to birds, and four-footed beasts,
and creeping things, changing Thy truth into a lie, and worshipping and
serving the creature more than the Creator.

Yet many truths concerning the creature retained I from these men, and saw
the reason thereof from calculations, the succession of times, and the
visible testimonies of the stars; and compared them with the saying of
Manichaeus, which in his frenzy he had written most largely on these
subjects; but discovered not any account of the solstices, or equinoxes, or
the eclipses of the greater lights, nor whatever of this sort I had learned
in the books of secular philosophy. But I was commanded to believe; and yet
it corresponded not with what had been established by calculations and my
own sight, but was quite contrary.
_________________________________________________________________

Chapter IV

Doth then, O Lord God of truth, whoso knoweth these things, therefore please
Thee? Surely unhappy is he who knoweth all these, and knoweth not Thee: but
happy whoso knoweth Thee, though he know not these. And whoso knoweth both
Thee and them is not the happier for them, but for Thee only, if, knowing
Thee, he glorifies Thee as God, and is thankful, and becomes not vain in his
imaginations. For as he is better off who knows how to possess a tree, and
return thanks to Thee for the use thereof, although he know not how many
cubits high it is, or how wide it spreads, than he that can measure it, and
count all its boughs, and neither owns it, nor knows or loves its Creator:
so a believer, whose all this world of wealth is, and who having nothing,
yet possesseth all things, by cleaving unto Thee, whom all things serve,
though he know not even the circles of the Great Bear, yet is it folly to
doubt but he is in a better state than one who can measure the heavens, and
number the stars, and poise the elements, yet neglecteth Thee who hast made
all things in number, weight, and measure.
_________________________________________________________________

Chapter V

But yet who bade that Manichaeus write on these things also, skill in which
was no element of piety? For Thou hast said to man, Behold piety and wisdom;
of which he might be ignorant, though he had perfect knowledge of these
things; but these things, since, knowing not, he most impudently dared to
teach, he plainly could have no knowledge of piety. For it is vanity to make
profession of these worldly things even when known; but confession to Thee
is piety. Wherefore this wanderer to this end spake much of these things,
that convicted by those who had truly learned them, it might be manifest
what understanding he had in the other abstruser things. For he would not
have himself meanly thought of, but went about to persuade men,That the
Holy Ghost, the Comforter and Enricher of Thy faithful ones, was with
plenary authority personally within him. When then he was found out to have
taught falsely of the heaven and stars, and of the motions of the sun and
moon (although these things pertain not to the doctrine of religion), yet
his sacrilegious presumption would become evident enough, seeing he
delivered things which not only he knew not, but which were falsified, with
so mad a vanity of pride, that he sought to ascribe them to himself, as to a
divine person.

For when I hear any Christian brother ignorant of these things, and mistaken
on them, I can patiently behold such a man holding his opinion; nor do I see
that any ignorance as to the position or character of the corporeal creation
can injure him, so long as he doth not believe any thing unworthy of Thee, O
Lord, the Creator of all. But it doth injure him, if he imagine it to
pertain to the form of the doctrine of piety, and will yet affirm that too
stiffly whereof he is ignorant. And yet is even such an infirmity, in the
infancy of faith, borne by our mother Charity, till the new-born may grow up
unto a perfect man, so as not to be carried about with every wind of
doctrine. But in him who in such wise presumed to be the teacher, source,
guide, chief of all whom he could so persuade, that whoso followed him
thought that he followed, not a mere man, but Thy Holy Spirit; who would not
judge that so great madness, when once convicted of having taught any thing
false, were to be detested and utterly rejected? But I had not as yet
clearly ascertained whether the vicissitudes of longer and shorter days and
nights, and of day and night itself, with the eclipses of the greater
lights, and whatever else of the kind I had read of in other books, might be
explained consistently with his sayings; so that, if they by any means
might, it should still remain a question to me whether it were so or no; but
I might, on account of his reputed sanctity, rest my credence upon his
authority.
_________________________________________________________________

Chapter VI

And for almost all those nine years, wherein with unsettled mind I had been
their disciple, I had longed but too intensely for the coming of this
Faustus. For the rest of the sect, whom by chance I had lighted upon, when
unable to solve my objections about these things, still held out to me the
coming of this Faustus, by conference with whom these and greater
difficulties, if I had them, were to be most readily and abundantly cleared.
When then he came, I found him a man of pleasing discourse, and who could
speak fluently and in better terms, yet still but the self-same things which
they were wont to say. But what availed the utmost neatness of the
cup-bearer to my thirst for a more precious draught? Mine ears were already
cloyed with the like, nor did they seem to me therefore better, because
better said; nor therefore true, because eloquent; nor the soul therefore
wise, because the face was comely, and the language graceful. But they who
held him out to me were no good judges of things; and therefore to them he
appeared understanding and wise, because in words pleasing. I felt however
that another sort of people were suspicious even of truth, and refused to
assent to it, if delivered in a smooth and copious discourse. But Thou, O my
God, hadst already taught me by wonderful and secret ways, and therefore I
believe that Thou taughtest me, because it is truth, nor is there besides
Thee any teacher of truth, where or whencesoever it may shine upon us. Of
Thyself therefore had I now learned, that neither ought any thing to seem to
be spoken truly, because eloquently; nor therefore falsely, because the
utterance of the lips is inharmonious; nor, again, therefore true, because
rudely delivered; nor therefore false, because the language is rich; but
that wisdom and folly are as wholesome and unwholesome food; and adorned or
unadorned phrases as courtly or country vessels; either kind of meats may be
served up in either kind of dishes.

That greediness then, wherewith I had of so long time expected that man, was
delighted verily with his action and feeling when disputing, and his choice
and readiness of words to clothe his ideas. I was then delighted, and, with
many others and more than they, did I praise and extol him. It troubled me,
however, that in the assembly of his auditors, I was not allowed to put in
and communicate those questions that troubled me, in familiar converse with
him. Which when I might, and with my friends began to engage his ears at
such times as it was not unbecoming for him to discuss with me, and had
brought forward such things as moved me; I found him first utterly ignorant
of liberal sciences, save grammar, and that but in an ordinary way. But
because he had read some of Tully's Orations, a very few books of Seneca,
some things of the poets, and such few volumes of his own sect as were
written in Latin and neatly, and was daily practised in speaking, he
acquired a certain eloquence, which proved the more pleasing and seductive
because under the guidance of a good wit, and with a kind of natural
gracefulness. Is it not thus, as I recall it, O Lord my God, Thou judge of
my conscience? before Thee is my heart, and my remembrance, Who didst at
that time direct me by the hidden mystery of Thy providence, and didst set
those shameful errors of mine before my face, that I might see and hate
them.
_________________________________________________________________

Chapter VII

For after it was clear that he was ignorant of those arts in which I thought
he excelled, I began to despair of his opening and solving the difficulties
which perplexed me (of which indeed however ignorant, he might have held the
truths of piety, had he not been a Manichee). For their books are fraught
with prolix fables, of the heaven, and stars, sun, and moon, and I now no
longer thought him able satisfactorily to decide what I much desired,
whether, on comparison of these things with the calculations I had elsewhere
read, the account given in the books of Manichaeus were preferable, or at
least as good. Which when I proposed to he considered and discussed, he, so
far modestly, shrunk from the burthen. For he knew that he knew not these
things, and was not ashamed to confess it. For he was not one of those
talking persons, many of whom I had endured, who undertook to teach me these
things, and said nothing. But this man had a heart, though not right towards
Thee, yet neither altogether treacherous to himself. For he was not
altogether ignorant of his own ignorance, nor would he rashly be entangled
in a dispute, whence he could neither retreat nor extricate himself fairly.
Even for this I liked him the better. For fairer is the modesty of a candid
mind, than the knowledge of those things which I desired; and such I found
him, in all the more difficult and subtile questions.

My zeal for the writings of Manichaeus being thus blunted, and despairing
yet more of their other teachers, seeing that in divers things which
perplexed me, he, so renowned among them, had so turned out; I began to
engage with him in the study of that literature, on which he also was much
set (and which as rhetoric-reader I was at that time teaching young students
at Carthage), and to read with him, either what himself desired to hear, or
such as I judged fit for his genius. But all my efforts whereby I had
purposed to advance in that sect, upon knowledge of that man, came utterly
to an end; not that I detached myself from them altogether, but as one
finding nothing better, I had settled to be content meanwhile with what I
had in whatever way fallen upon, unless by chance something more eligible
should dawn upon me. Thus, that Faustus, to so many a snare of death, had
now neither willing nor witting it, begun to loosen that wherein I was
taken. For Thy hands, O my God, in the secret purpose of Thy providence, did
not forsake my soul; and out of my mother's heart's blood, through her tears
night and day poured out, was a sacrifice offered for me unto Thee; and Thou
didst deal with me by wondrous ways. Thou didst it, O my God: for the steps
of a man are ordered by the Lord, and He shall dispose his way. Or how shall
we obtain salvation, but from Thy hand, re-making what it made?
_________________________________________________________________

Chapter VIII

Thou didst deal with me, that I should be persuaded to go to Rome, and to
teach there rather, what I was teaching at Carthage. And how I was persuaded
to this, I will not neglect to confess to Thee; because herein also the
deepest recesses of Thy wisdom, and Thy most present mercy to us, must be
considered and confessed. I did not wish therefore to go to Rome, because
higher gains and higher dignities were warranted me by my friends who
persuaded me to this (though even these things had at that time an influence
over my mind), but my chief and almost only reason was, that I heard that
young men studied there more peacefully, and were kept quiet under a
restraint of more regular discipline; so that they did not, at their
pleasures, petulantly rush into the school of one whose pupils they were
not, nor were even admitted without his permission. Whereas at Carthage
there reigns among the scholars a most disgraceful and unruly licence. They
burst in audaciously, and with gestures almost frantic, disturb all order
which any one hath established for the good of his scholars. Divers outrages
they commit, with a wonderful stolidity, punishable by law, did not custom
uphold them; that custom evincing them to be the more miserable, in that
they now do as lawful what by Thy eternal law shall never be lawful; and
they think they do it unpunished, whereas they are punished with the very
blindness whereby they do it, and suffer incomparably worse than what they
do. The manners then which, when a student, I would not make my own, I was
fain as a teacher to endure in others: and so I was well pleased to go
where, all that knew it, assured me that the like was not done. But Thou, my
refuge and my portion in the land of the living; that I might change my
earthly dwelling for the salvation of my soul, at Carthage didst goad me,
that I might thereby be torn from it; and at Rome didst proffer me
allurements, whereby I might be drawn thither, by men in love with a dying
life, the one doing frantic, the other promising vain, things; and, to
correct my steps, didst secretly use their and my own perverseness. For both
they who disturbed my quiet were blinded with a disgraceful frenzy, and they
who invited me elsewhere savoured of earth. And I, who here detested real
misery, was there seeking unreal happiness.

But why I went hence, and went thither, Thou knewest, O God, yet showedst it
neither to me, nor to my mother, who grievously bewailed my journey, and
followed me as far as the sea. But I deceived her, holding me by force, that
either she might keep me back or go with me, and I feigned that I had a
friend whom I could not leave, till he had a fair wind to sail. And I lied
to my mother, and such a mother, and escaped: for this also hast Thou
mercifully forgiven me, preserving me, thus full of execrable defilements,
from the waters of the sea, for the water of Thy Grace; whereby when I was
cleansed, the streams of my mother's eyes should be dried, with which for me
she daily watered the ground under her face. And yet refusing to return
without me, I scarcely persuaded her to stay that night in a place hard by
our ship, where was an Oratory in memory of the blessed Cyprian. That night
I privily departed, but she was not behind in weeping and prayer. And what,
O Lord, was she with so many tears asking of Thee, but that Thou wouldest
not suffer me to sail? But Thou, in the depth of Thy counsels and hearing
the main point of her desire, regardest not what she then asked, that Thou
mightest make me what she ever asked. The wind blew and swelled our sails,
and withdrew the shore from our sight; and she on the morrow was there,
frantic with sorrow, and with complaints and groans filled Thine ears, Who
didst then disregard them; whilst through my desires, Thou wert hurrying me
to end all desire, and the earthly part of her affection to me was chastened
by the allotted scourge of sorrows. For she loved my being with her, as
mothers do, but much more than many; and she knew not how great joy Thou
wert about to work for her out of my absence. She knew not; therefore did
she weep and wail, and by this agony there appeared in her the inheritance
of Eve, with sorrow seeking what in sorrow she had brought forth. And yet,
after accusing my treachery and hardheartedness, she betook herself again to
intercede to Thee for me, went to her wonted place, and I to Rome.
_________________________________________________________________

Chapter IX

And lo, there was I received by the scourge of bodily sickness, and I was
going down to hell, carrying all the sins which I had committed, both
against Thee, and myself, and others, many and grievous, over and above that
bond of original sin, whereby we all die in Adam. For Thou hadst not
forgiven me any of these things in Christ, nor had He abolished by His Cross
the enmity which by my sins I had incurred with Thee. For how should He, by
the crucifixion of a phantasm, which I believed Him to be? So true, then,
was the death of my soul, as that of His flesh seemed to me false; and how
true the death of His body, so false was the life of my soul, which did not
believe it. And now the fever heightening, I was parting and departing for
ever. For had I then parted hence, whither had I departed, but into fire and
torments, such as my misdeeds deserved in the truth of Thy appointment? And
this she knew not, yet in absence prayed for me. But Thou, everywhere
present, heardest her where she was, and, where I was, hadst compassion upon
me; that I should recover the health of my body, though frenzied as yet in
my sacrilegious heart. For I did not in all that danger desire Thy baptism;
and I was better as a boy, when I begged it of my mother's piety, as I have
before recited and confessed. But I had grown up to my own shame, and I
madly scoffed at the prescripts of Thy medicine, who wouldest not suffer me,
being such, to die a double death. With which wound had my mother's heart
been pierced, it could never be healed. For I cannot express the affection
she bore to me, and with how much more vehement anguish she was now in
labour of me in the spirit, than at her childbearing in the flesh.

I see not then how she should have been healed, had such a death of mine
stricken through the bowels of her love. And where would have been those her
so strong and unceasing prayers, unintermitting to Thee alone? But wouldest
Thou, God of mercies, despise the contrite and humbled heart of that chaste
and sober widow, so frequent in almsdeeds, so full of duty and service to
Thy saints, no day intermitting the oblation at Thine altar, twice a day,
morning and evening, without any intermission, coming to Thy church, not for
idle tattlings and old wives™ fables; but that she might hear Thee in Thy
discourses, and Thou her in her prayers. Couldest Thou despise and reject
from Thy aid the tears of such an one, wherewith she begged of Thee not gold
or silver, nor any mutable or passing good, but the salvation of her son's
soul? Thou, by whose gift she was such? Never, Lord. Yea, Thou wert at hand,
and wert hearing and doing, in that order wherein Thou hadst determined
before that it should be done. Far be it that Thou shouldest deceive her in
Thy visions and answers, some whereof I have, some I have not mentioned,
which she laid up in her faithful heart, and ever praying, urged upon Thee,
as Thine own handwriting. For Thou, because Thy mercy endureth for ever,
vouchsafest to those to whom Thou forgivest all of their debts, to become
also a debtor by Thy promises.
_________________________________________________________________

Chapter X

Thou recoveredst me then of that sickness, and healedst the son of Thy
handmaid, for the time in body, that he might live, for Thee to bestow upon
him a better and more abiding health. And even then, at Rome, I joined
myself to those deceiving and deceivedholy ones; not with their disciples
only (of which number was he, in whose house I had fallen sick and
recovered); but also with those whom they callThe Elect. For I still
thoughtthat it was not we that sin, but that I know not what other nature
sinned in us; and it delighted my pride, to be free from blame; and when I
had done any evil, not to confess I had done any, that Thou mightest heal my
soul because it had sinned against Thee: but I loved to excuse it, and to
accuse I know not what other thing, which was with me, but which I was not.
But in truth it was wholly I, and mine impiety had divided me against
myself: and that sin was the more incurable, whereby I did not judge myself
a sinner; and execrable iniquity it was, that I had rather have Thee, Thee,
O God Almighty, to be overcome in me to my destruction, than myself of Thee
to salvation. Not as yet then hadst Thou set a watch before my mouth, and a
door of safe keeping around my lips, that my heart might not turn aside to
wicked speeches, to make excuses of sins, with men that work iniquity; and,
therefore, was I still united with their Elect.

But now despairing to make proficiency in that false doctrine, even those
things (with which if I should find no better, I had resolved to rest
contented) I now held more laxly and carelessly. For there half arose a
thought in me that those philosophers, whom they call Academics, were wiser
than the rest, for that they held men ought to doubt everything, and laid
down that no truth can be comprehended by man: for so, not then
understanding even their meaning, I also was clearly convinced that they
thought, as they are commonly reported. Yet did I freely and openly
discourage that host of mine from that over-confidence which I perceived him
to have in those fables, which the books of Manichaeus are full of. Yet I
lived in more familiar friendship with them, than with others who were not
of this heresy. Nor did I maintain it with my ancient eagerness; still my
intimacy with that sect (Rome secretly harbouring many of them) made me
slower to seek any other way: especially since I despaired of finding the
truth, from which they had turned me aside, in Thy Church, O Lord of heaven
and earth, Creator of all things visible and invisible: and it seemed to me
very unseemly to believe Thee to have the shape of human flesh, and to be
bounded by the bodily lineaments of our members. And because, when I wished
to think on my God, I knew not what to think of, but a mass of bodies (for
what was not such did not seem to me to be anything), this was the greatest,
and almost only cause of my inevitable error.

For hence I believed Evil also to be some such kind of substance, and to
have its own foul and hideous bulk; whether gross, which they called earth,
or thin and subtile (like the body of the air), which they imagine to be
some malignant mind, creeping through that earth. And because a piety, such
as it was, constrained me to believe that the good God never created any
evil nature, I conceived two masses, contrary to one another, both
unbounded, but the evil narrower, the good more expansive. And from this
pestilent beginning, the other sacrilegious conceits followed on me. For
when my mind endeavoured to recur to the Catholic faith, I was driven back,
since that was not the Catholic faith which I thought to be so. And I seemed
to myself more reverential, if I believed of Thee, my God (to whom Thy
mercies confess out of my mouth), as unbounded, at least on other sides,
although on that one where the mass of evil was opposed to Thee, I was
constrained to confess Thee bounded; than if on all sides I should imagine
Thee to be bounded by the form of a human body. And it seemed to me better
to believe Thee to have created no evil (which to me ignorant seemed not
some only, but a bodily substance, because I could not conceive of mind
unless as a subtile body, and that diffused in definite spaces), than to
believe the nature of evil, such as I conceived it, could come from Thee.
Yea, and our Saviour Himself, Thy Only Begotten, I believed to have been
reached forth (as it were) for our salvation, out of the mass of Thy most
lucid substance, so as to believe nothing of Him, but what I could imagine
in my vanity. His Nature then, being such, I thought could not be born of
the Virgin Mary, without being mingled with the flesh: and how that which I
had so figured to myself could be mingled, and not defiled, I saw not. I
feared therefore to believe Him born in the flesh, lest I should be forced
to believe Him defiled by the flesh. Now will Thy spiritual ones mildly and
lovingly smile upon me, if they shall read these my confessions. Yet such
was I.
_________________________________________________________________

Chapter XI

Furthermore, what the Manichees had criticised in Thy Scriptures, I thought
could not be defended; yet at times verily I had a wish to confer upon these
several points with some one very well skilled in those books, and to make
trial what he thought thereon; for the words of one Helpidius, as he spoke
and disputed face to face against the said Manichees, had begun to stir me
even at Carthage: in that he had produced things out of the Scriptures, not
easily withstood, the Manichees™ answer whereto seemed to me weak. And this
answer they liked not to give publicly, but only to us in private. It was,
that the Scriptures of the New Testament had been corrupted by I know not
whom, who wished to engraff the law of the Jews upon the Christian faith:
yet themselves produced not any uncorrupted copies. But I, conceiving of
things corporeal only, was mainly held down, vehemently oppressed and in a
manner suffocated by thosemasses; panting under which after the breath of
Thy truth, I could not breathe it pure and untainted.
_________________________________________________________________

Chapter XII

I began then diligently to practise that for which I came to Rome, to teach
rhetoric; and first, to gather some to my house, to whom, and through whom,
I had begun to be known; when to, I found other offences committed in Rome,
to which I was not exposed in Africa. True, thosesubvertings by
profligate young men were not here practised, as was told me: but on a
sudden, said they, to avoid paying their master's stipend, a number of
youths plot together, and remove to another;”breakers of faith, who for love
of money hold justice cheap. These also my heart hated, though not with a
perfect hatred: for perchance I hated them more because I was to suffer by
them, than because they did things utterly unlawful. Of a truth such are
base persons, and they go a whoring from Thee, loving these fleeting
mockeries of things temporal, and filthy lucre, which fouls the hand that
grasps it; hugging the fleeting world, and despising Thee, Who abidest, and
recallest, and forgivest the adulteress soul of man, when she returns to
Thee. And now I hate such depraved and crooked persons, though I love them
if corrigible, so as to prefer to money the learning which they acquire, and
to learning, Thee, O God, the truth and fulness of assured good, and most
pure peace. But then I rather for my own sake misliked them evil, than liked
and wished them good for Thine.
_________________________________________________________________

Chapter XIII

When therefore they of Milan had sent to Rome to the prefect of the city, to
furnish them with a rhetoric reader for their city, and sent him at the
public expense, I made application (through those very persons, intoxicated
with Manichaean vanities, to be freed wherefrom I was to go, neither of us
however knowing it) that Symmachus, then prefect of the city, would try me
by setting me some subject, and so send me. To Milan I came, to Ambrose the
Bishop, known to the whole world as among the best of men, Thy devout
servant; whose eloquent discourse did then plentifully dispense unto Thy
people the flour of Thy wheat, the gladness of Thy oil, and the sober
inebriation of Thy wine. To him was I unknowing led by Thee, that by him I
might knowingly be led to Thee. That man of God received me as a father, and
showed me an Episcopal kindness on my coming. Thenceforth I began to love
him, at first indeed not as a teacher of the truth (which I utterly
despaired of in Thy Church), but as a person kind towards myself. And I
listened diligently to him preaching to the people, not with that intent I
ought, but, as it were, trying his eloquence, whether it answered the fame
thereof, or flowed fuller or lower than was reported; and I hung on his
words attentively; but of the matter I was as a careless and scornful
looker-on; and I was delighted with the sweetness of his discourse, more
recondite, yet in manner less winning and harmonious, than that of Faustus.
Of the matter, however, there was no comparison; for the one was wandering
amid Manichaean delusions, the other teaching salvation most soundly. But
salvation is far from sinners, such as I then stood before him; and yet was
I drawing nearer by little and little, and unconsciously.
_________________________________________________________________

Chapter XIV

For though I took no pains to learn what he spake, but only to hear how he
spake (for that empty care alone was left me, despairing of a way, open for
man, to Thee), yet together with the words which I would choose, came also
into my mind the things which I would refuse; for I could not separate them.
And while I opened my heart to admithow eloquently he spake, there also
enteredhow truly he spake; but this by degrees. For first, these things
also had now begun to appear to me capable of defence; and the Catholic
faith, for which I had thought nothing could be said against the
Manichees™ objections, I now thought might be maintained without
shamelessness; especially after I had heard one or two places of the Old
Testament resolved, and ofttimesin a figure, which when I understood
literally, I was slain spiritually. Very many places then of those books
having been explained, I now blamed my despair, in believing that no answer
could be given to such as hated and scoffed at the Law and the Prophets. Yet
did I not therefore then see that the Catholic way was to be held, because
it also could find learned maintainers, who could at large and with some
show of reason answer objections; nor that what I held was therefore to be
condemned, because both sides could be maintained. For the Catholic cause
seemed to me in such sort not vanquished, as still not as yet to be
victorious.

Hereupon I earnestly bent my mind, to see if in any way I could by any
certain proof convict the Manichees of falsehood. Could I once have
conceived a spiritual substance, all their strongholds had been beaten down,
and cast utterly out of my mind; but I could not. Notwithstanding,
concerning the frame of this world, and the whole of nature, which the
senses of the flesh can reach to, as I more and more considered and compared
things, I judged the tenets of most of the philosophers to have been much
more probable. So then after the manner of the Academics (as they are
supposed) doubting of every thing, and wavering between all, I settled so
far, that the Manichees were to be abandoned; judging that, even while
doubting, I might not continue in that sect, to which I already preferred
some of the philosophers; to which philosophers notwithstanding, for that
they were without the saving Name of Christ, I utterly refused to commit the
cure of my sick soul. I determined therefore so long to be a Catechumen in
the Catholic Church, to which I had been commended by my parents, till
something certain should dawn upon me, whither I might steer my course.
_________________________________________________________________

Book VI
_________________________________________________________________

Chapter I

O Thou, my hope from my youth, where wert Thou to me, and whither wert Thou
gone? Hadst not Thou created me, and separated me from the beasts of the
field, and fowls of the air? Thou hadst made me wiser, yet did I walk in
darkness, and in slippery places, and sought Thee abroad out of myself, and
found not the God of my heart; and had come into the depths of the sea, and
distrusted and despaired of ever finding truth. My mother had now come to
me, resolute through piety, following me over sea and land, in all perils
confiding in Thee. For in perils of the sea, she comforted the very mariners
(by whom passengers unacquainted with the deep, use rather to be comforted
when troubled), assuring them of a safe arrival, because Thou hadst by a
vision assured her thereof. She found me in grievous peril, through despair
of ever finding truth. But when I had discovered to her that I was now no
longer a Manichee, though not yet a Catholic Christian, she was not
overjoyed, as at something unexpected; although she was now assured
concerning that part of my misery, for which she bewailed me as one dead,
though to be reawakened by Thee, carrying me forth upon the bier of her
thoughts, that Thou mightest say to the son of the widow, Young man, I say
unto thee, Arise; and he should revive, and begin to speak, and Thou
shouldest deliver him to his mother. Her heart then was shaken with no
tumultuous exultation, when she heard that what she daily with tears desired
of Thee was already in so great part realised; in that, though I had not yet
attained the truth, I was rescued from falsehood; but, as being assured,
that Thou, Who hadst promised the whole, wouldest one day give the rest,
most calmly, and with a heart full of confidence, she replied to me,She
believed in Christ, that before she departed this life, she should see me a
Catholic believer. Thus much to me. But to Thee, Fountain of mercies,
poured she forth more copious prayers and tears, that Thou wouldest hasten
Thy help, and enlighten my darkness; and she hastened the more eagerly to
the Church, and hung upon the lips of Ambrose, praying for the fountain of
that water, which springeth up unto life everlasting. But that man she loved
as an angel of God, because she knew that by him I had been brought for the
present to that doubtful state of faith I now was in, through which she
anticipated most confidently that I should pass from sickness unto health,
after the access, as it were, of a sharper fit, which physicians callthe
crisis.
_________________________________________________________________

Chapter II

When then my mother had once, as she was wont in Afric, brought to the
Churches built in memory of the Saints, certain cakes, and bread and wine,
and was forbidden by the door-keeper; so soon as she knew that the Bishop
had forbidden this, she so piously and obediently embraced his wishes, that
I myself wondered how readily she censured her own practice, rather than
discuss his prohibition. For wine-bibbing did not lay siege to her spirit,
nor did love of wine provoke her to hatred of the truth, as it doth too many
(both men and women), who revolt at a lesson of sobriety, as men well-drunk
at a draught mingled with water. But she, when she had brought her basket
with the accustomed festival-food, to be but tasted by herself, and then
given away, never joined therewith more than one small cup of wine, diluted
according to her own abstemious habits, which for courtesy she would taste.
And if there were many churches of the departed saints that were to be
honoured in that manner, she still carried round that same one cup, to be
used every where; and this, though not only made very watery, but
unpleasantly heated with carrying about, she would distribute to those about
her by small sips; for she sought there devotion, not pleasure. So soon,
then, as she found this custom to be forbidden by that famous preacher and
most pious prelate, even to those that would use it soberly, lest so an
occasion of excess might be given to the drunken; and for these, as it were,
anniversary funeral solemnities did much resemble the superstition of the
Gentiles, she most willingly forbare it: and for a basket filled with fruits
of the earth, she had learned to bring to the Churches of the martyrs a
breast filled with more purified petitions, and to give what she could to
the poor; that so the communication of the Lord's Body might be there
rightly celebrated, where, after the example of His Passion, the martyrs had
been sacrificed and crowned. But yet it seems to me, O Lord my God, and thus
thinks my heart of it in Thy sight, that perhaps she would not so readily
have yielded to the cutting off of this custom, had it been forbidden by
another, whom she loved not as Ambrose, whom, for my salvation, she loved
most entirely; and he her again, for her most religious conversation,
whereby in good works, so fervent in spirit, she was constant at church; so
that, when he saw me, he often burst forth into her praises; congratulating
me that I had such a mother; not knowing what a son she had in me, who
doubted of all these things, and imagined the way to life could not be found
out.
_________________________________________________________________

Chapter III

Nor did I yet groan in my prayers, that Thou wouldest help me; but my spirit
was wholly intent on learning, and restless to dispute. And Ambrose himself,
as the world counts happy, I esteemed a happy man, whom personages so great
held in such honour; only his celibacy seemed to me a painful course. But
what hope he bore within him, what struggles he had against the temptations
which beset his very excellencies, or what comfort in adversities, and what
sweet joys Thy Bread had for the hidden mouth of his spirit, when chewing
the cud thereof, I neither could conjecture, nor had experienced. Nor did he
know the tides of my feelings, or the abyss of my danger. For I could not
ask of him, what I would as I would, being shut out both from his ear and
speech by multitudes of busy people, whose weaknesses he served. With whom
when he was not taken up (which was but a little time), he was either
refreshing his body with the sustenance absolutely necessary, or his mind
with reading. But when he was reading, his eye glided over the pages, and
his heart searched out the sense, but his voice and tongue were at rest.
Ofttimes when we had come (for no man was forbidden to enter, nor was it his
wont that any who came should be announced to him), we saw him thus reading
to himself, and never otherwise; and having long sat silent (for who durst
intrude on one so intent?) we were fain to depart, conjecturing that in the
small interval which he obtained, free from the din of others™ business, for
the recruiting of his mind, he was loth to be taken off; and perchance he
dreaded lest if the author he read should deliver any thing obscurely, some
attentive or perplexed hearer should desire him to expound it, or to discuss
some of the harder questions; so that his time being thus spent, he could
not turn over so many volumes as he desired; although the preserving of his
voice (which a very little speaking would weaken) might be the truer reason
for his reading to himself. But with what intent soever he did it, certainly
in such a man it was good.

I however certainly had no opportunity of enquiring what I wished of that so
holy oracle of Thine, his breast, unless the thing might be answered
briefly. But those tides in me, to be poured out to him, required his full
leisure, and never found it. I heard him indeed every Lord's day, rightly
expounding the Word of truth among the people; and I was more and more
convinced that all the knots of those crafty calumnies, which those our
deceivers had knit against the Divine Books, could be unravelled. But when I
understood withal, thatman created by Thee, after Thine own image, was
not so understood by Thy spiritual sons, whom of the Catholic Mother Thou
hast born again through grace, as though they believed and conceived of Thee
as bounded by human shape (although what a spiritual substance should be I
had not even a faint or shadowy notion); yet, with joy I blushed at having
so many years barked not against the Catholic faith, but against the
fictions of carnal imaginations. For so rash and impious had I been, that
what I ought by enquiring to have learned, I had pronounced on, condemning.
For Thou, Most High, and most near; most secret, and most present; Who hast
not limbs some larger, some smaller, but art wholly every where, and no
where in space, art not of such corporeal shape, yet hast Thou made man
after Thine own image; and behold, from head to foot is he contained in
space.
_________________________________________________________________

Chapter IV

Ignorant then how this Thy image should subsist, I should have knocked and
proposed the doubt, how it was to be believed, not insultingly opposed it,
as if believed. Doubt, then, what to hold for certain, the more sharply
gnawed my heart, the more ashamed I was, that so long deluded and deceived
by the promise of certainties, I had with childish error and vehemence,
prated of so many uncertainties. For that they were falsehoods became clear
to me later. However I was certain that they were uncertain, and that I had
formerly accounted them certain, when with a blind contentiousness, I
accused Thy Catholic Church, whom I now discovered, not indeed as yet to
teach truly, but at least not to teach that for which I had grievously
censured her. So I was confounded, and converted: and I joyed, O my God,
that the One Only Church, the body of Thine Only Son (wherein the name of
Christ had been put upon me as an infant), had no taste for infantine
conceits; nor in her sound doctrine maintained any tenet which should
confine Thee, the Creator of all, in space, however great and large, yet
bounded every where by the limits of a human form.

I joyed also that the old Scriptures of the law and the Prophets were laid
before me, not now to be perused with that eye to which before they seemed
absurd, when I reviled Thy holy ones for so thinking, whereas indeed they
thought not so: and with joy I heard Ambrose in his sermons to the people,
oftentimes most diligently recommend this text for a rule, The letter
killeth, but the Spirit giveth life; whilst he drew aside the mystic veil,
laying open spiritually what, according to the letter, seemed to teach
something unsound; teaching herein nothing that offended me, though he
taught what I knew not as yet, whether it were true. For I kept my heart
from assenting to any thing, fearing to fall headlong; but by hanging in
suspense I was the worse killed. For I wished to be as assured of the things
I saw not, as I was that seven and three are ten. For I was not so mad as to
think that even this could not be comprehended; but I desired to have other
things as clear as this, whether things corporeal, which were not present to
my senses, or spiritual, whereof I knew not how to conceive, except
corporeally. And by believing might I have been cured, that so the eyesight
of my soul being cleared, might in some way be directed to Thy truth, which
abideth always, and in no part faileth. But as it happens that one who has
tried a bad physician, fears to trust himself with a good one, so was it
with the health of my soul, which could not be healed but by believing, and
lest it should believe falsehoods, refused to be cured; resisting Thy hands,
Who hast prepared the medicines of faith, and hast applied them to the
diseases of the whole world, and given unto them so great authority.
_________________________________________________________________

Chapter V

Being led, however, from this to prefer the Catholic doctrine, I felt that
her proceeding was more unassuming and honest, in that she required to be
believed things not demonstrated (whether it was that they could in
themselves be demonstrated but not to certain persons, or could not at all
be), whereas among the Manichees our credulity was mocked by a promise of
certain knowledge, and then so many most fabulous and absurd things were
imposed to be believed, because they could not be demonstrated. Then Thou, O
Lord, little by little with most tender and most merciful hand, touching and
composing my heart, didst persuade me”considering what innumerable things I
believed, which I saw not, nor was present while they were done, as so many
things in secular history, so many reports of places and of cities, which I
had not seen; so many of friends, so many of physicians, so many continually
of other men, which unless we should believe, we should do nothing at all in
this life; lastly, with how unshaken an assurance I believed of what parents
I was born, which I could not know, had I not believed upon
hearsay”considering all this, Thou didst persuade me, that not they who
believed Thy Books (which Thou hast established in so great authority among
almost all nations), but they who believed them not, were to be blamed; and
that they were not to be heard, who should say to me,How knowest thou
those Scriptures to have been imparted unto mankind by the Spirit of the one
true and most true God? For this very thing was of all most to be believed,
since no contentiousness of blasphemous questionings, of all that multitude
which I had read in the self-contradicting philosophers, could wring this
belief from me,That Thou art whatsoever Thou wert (what I knew not), and
That the government of human things belongs to Thee.

This I believed, sometimes more strongly, more weakly otherwhiles; yet I
ever believed both that Thou wert, and hadst a care of us; though I was
ignorant, both what was to be thought of Thy substance, and what way led or
led back to Thee. Since then we were too weak by abstract reasonings to find
out truth: and for this very cause needed the authority of Holy Writ; I had
now begun to believe that Thou wouldest never have given such excellency of
authority to that Writ in all lands, hadst Thou not willed thereby to be
believed in, thereby sought. For now what things, sounding strangely in the
Scripture, were wont to offend me, having heard divers of them expounded
satisfactorily, I referred to the depth of the mysteries, and its authority
appeared to me the more venerable, and more worthy of religious credence, in
that, while it lay open to all to read, it reserved the majesty of its
mysteries within its profounder meaning, stooping to all in the great
plainness of its words and lowliness of its style, yet calling forth the
intensest application of such as are not light of heart; that so it might
receive all in its open bosom, and through narrow passages waft over towards
Thee some few, yet many more than if it stood not aloft on such a height of
authority, nor drew multitudes within its bosom by its holy lowliness. These
things I thought on, and Thou wert with me; I sighed, and Thou heardest me;
I wavered, and Thou didst guide me; I wandered through the broad way of the
world, and Thou didst not forsake me.
_________________________________________________________________

Chapter VI”

I panted after honours, gains, marriage; and thou deridedst me. In these
desires I underwent most bitter crosses, Thou being the more gracious, the
less Thou sufferedst aught to grow sweet to me, which was not Thou. Behold
my heart, O Lord, who wouldest I should remember all this, and confess to
Thee. Let my soul cleave unto Thee, now that Thou hast freed it from that
fast-holding birdlime of death. How wretched was it! and Thou didst irritate
the feeling of its wound, that forsaking all else, it might be converted
unto Thee, who art above all, and without whom all things would be nothing;
be converted, and be healed. How miserable was I then, and how didst Thou
deal with me, to make me feel my misery on that day, when I was preparing to
recite a panegyric of the Emperor, wherein I was to utter many a lie, and
lying, was to be applauded by those who knew I lied, and my heart was
panting with these anxieties, and boiling with the feverishness of consuming
thoughts. For, passing through one of the streets of Milan, I observed a
poor beggar, then, I suppose, with a full belly, joking and joyous: and I
sighed, and spoke to the friends around me, of the many sorrows of our
frenzies; for that by all such efforts of ours, as those wherein I then
toiled dragging along, under the goading of desire, the burthen of my own
wretchedness, and, by dragging, augmenting it, we yet looked to arrive only
at that very joyousness whither that beggar-man had arrived before us, who
should never perchance attain it. For what he had obtained by means of a few
begged pence, the same was I plotting for by many a toilsome turning and
winding; the joy of a temporary felicity. For he verily had not the true
joy; but yet I with those my ambitious designs was seeking one much less
true. And certainly he was joyous, I anxious; he void of care, I full of
fears. But should any ask me, had I rather be merry or fearful? I would
answer merry. Again, if he asked had I rather be such as he was, or what I
then was? I should choose to be myself, though worn with cares and fears;
but out of wrong judgment; for, was it the truth? For I ought not to prefer
myself to him, because more learned than he, seeing I had no joy therein,
but sought to please men by it; and that not to instruct, but simply to
please. Wherefore also Thou didst break my bones with the staff of Thy
correction.

Away with those then from my soul who say to her,It makes a difference
whence a man's joy is. That beggar-man joyed in drunkenness; Thou desiredst
to joy in glory. What glory, Lord? That which is not in Thee. For even as
his was no true joy, so was that no true glory: and it overthrew my soul
more. He that very night should digest his drunkenness; but I had slept and
risen again with mine, and was to sleep again, and again to rise with it,
how many days, Thou, God, knowest. Butit doth make a difference whence a
man's joy is. I know it, and the joy of a faithful hope lieth incomparably
beyond such vanity. Yea, and so was he then beyond me: for he verily was the
happier; not only for that he was thoroughly drenched in mirth, I
disembowelled with cares: but he, by fair wishes, had gotten wine; I, by
lying, was seeking for empty, swelling praise. Much to this purpose said I
then to my friends: and I often marked in them how it fared with me; and I
found it went ill with me, and grieved, and doubled that very ill; and if
any prosperity smiled on me, I was loth to catch at it, for almost before I
could grasp it, it flew away.
_________________________________________________________________

Chapter VII

These things we, who were living as friends together, bemoaned together, but
chiefly and most familiarly did I speak thereof with Alypius and Nebridius,
of whom Alypius was born in the same town with me, of persons of chief rank
there, but younger than I. For he had studied under me, both when I first
lectured in our town, and afterwards at Carthage, and he loved me much,
because I seemed to him kind, and learned; and I him, for his great
towardliness to virtue, which was eminent enough in one of no greater years.
Yet the whirlpool of Carthaginian habits (amongst whom those idle spectacles
are hotly followed) had drawn him into the madness of the Circus. But while
he was miserably tossed therein, and I, professing rhetoric there, had a
public school, as yet he used not my teaching, by reason of some unkindness
risen betwixt his father and me. I had found then how deadly he doted upon
the Circus, and was deeply grieved that he seemed likely, nay, or had thrown
away so great promise: yet had I no means of advising or with a sort of
constraint reclaiming him, either by the kindness of a friend, or the
authority of a master. For I supposed that he thought of me as did his
father; but he was not such; laying aside then his father's mind in that
matter, he began to greet me, come sometimes into my lecture room, hear a
little, and be gone.

I however had forgotten to deal with him, that he should not, through a
blind and headlong desire of vain pastimes, undo so good a wit. But Thou, O
Lord, who guidest the course of all Thou hast created, hadst not forgotten
him, who was one day to be among Thy children, Priest and Dispenser of Thy
Sacrament; and that his amendment might plainly be attributed to Thyself,
Thou effectedst it through me, unknowingly. For as one day I sat in my
accustomed place, with my scholars before me, he entered, greeted me, sat
down, and applied his mind to what I then handled. I had by chance a passage
in hand, which while I was explaining, a likeness from the Circensian races
occurred to me, as likely to make what I would convey pleasanter and
plainer, seasoned with biting mockery of those whom that madness had
enthralled; God, Thou knowest that I then thought not of curing Alypius of
that infection. But he took it wholly to himself, and thought that I said it
simply for his sake. And whence another would have taken occasion of offence
with me, that right-minded youth took as a ground of being offended at
himself, and loving me more fervently. For Thou hadst said it long ago, and
put it into Thy book, Rebuke a wise man and he will love Thee. But I had not
rebuked him, but Thou, who employest all, knowing or not knowing, in that
order which Thyself knowest (and that order is just), didst of my heart and
tongue make burning coals, by which to set on fire the hopeful mind, thus
languishing, and so cure it. Let him be silent in Thy praises, who considers
not Thy mercies, which confess unto Thee out of my inmost soul. For he upon
that speech burst out of that pit so deep, wherein he was wilfully plunged,
and was blinded with its wretched pastimes; and he shook his mind with a
strong self-command; whereupon all the filths of the Circensian pastimes
flew off from him, nor came he again thither. Upon this, he prevailed with
his unwilling father that he might be my scholar. He gave way, and gave in.
And Alypius beginning to be my hearer again, was involved in the same
superstition with me, loving in the Manichees that show of continency which
he supposed true and unfeigned. Whereas it was a senseless and seducing
continency, ensnaring precious souls, unable as yet to reach the depth of
virtue, yet readily beguiled with the surface of what was but a shadowy and
counterfeit virtue.
_________________________________________________________________

Chapter VIII

He, not forsaking that secular course which his parents had charmed him to
pursue, had gone before me to Rome, to study law, and there he was carried
away incredibly with an incredible eagerness after the shows of gladiators.
For being utterly averse to and detesting spectacles, he was one day by
chance met by divers of his acquaintance and fellow-students coming from
dinner, and they with a familiar violence haled him, vehemently refusing and
resisting, into the Amphitheatre, during these cruel and deadly shows, he
thus protesting:Though you hale my body to that place, and there set me,
can you force me also to turn my mind or my eyes to those shows? I shall
then be absent while present, and so shall overcome both you and them.
They, hearing this, led him on nevertheless, desirous perchance to try that
very thing, whether he could do as he said. When they were come thither, and
had taken their places as they could, the whole place kindled with that
savage pastime. But he, closing the passage of his eyes, forbade his mind to
range abroad after such evil; and would he had stopped his ears also! For in
the fight, when one fell, a mighty cry of the whole people striking him
strongly, overcome by curiosity, and as if prepared to despise and be
superior to it whatsoever it were, even when seen, he opened his eyes, and
was stricken with a deeper wound in his soul than the other, whom he desired
to behold, was in his body; and he fell more miserably than he upon whose
fall that mighty noise was raised, which entered through his ears, and
unlocked his eyes, to make way for the striking and beating down of a soul,
bold rather than resolute, and the weaker, in that it had presumed on
itself, which ought to have relied on Thee. For so soon as he saw that
blood, he therewith drunk down savageness; nor turned away, but fixed his
eye, drinking in frenzy, unawares, and was delighted with that guilty fight,
and intoxicated with the bloody pastime. Nor was he now the man he came, but
one of the throng he came unto, yea, a true associate of theirs that brought
him thither. Why say more? He beheld, shouted, kindled, carried thence with
him the madness which should goad him to return not only with them who first
drew him thither, but also before them, yea and to draw in others. Yet
thence didst Thou with a most strong and most merciful hand pluck him, and
taughtest him to have confidence not in himself, but in Thee. But this was
after.
_________________________________________________________________

Chapter IX

But this was already being laid up in his memory to be a medicine hereafter.
So was that also, that when he was yet studying under me at Carthage, and
was thinking over at mid-day in the market-place what he was to say by heart
(as scholars use to practise), Thou sufferedst him to be apprehended by the
officers of the market-place for a thief. For no other cause, I deem, didst
Thou, our God, suffer it, but that he who was hereafter to prove so great a
man, should already begin to learn that in judging of causes, man was not
readily to be condemned by man out of a rash credulity. For as he was
walking up and down by himself before the judgment-seat, with his note-book
and pen, lo, a young man, a lawyer, the real thief, privily bringing a
hatchet, got in, unperceived by Alypius, as far as the leaden gratings which
fence in the silversmiths™ shops, and began to cut away the lead. But the
noise of the hatchet being heard, the silversmiths beneath began to make a
stir, and sent to apprehend whomever they should find. But he, hearing their
voices, ran away, leaving his hatchet, fearing to be taken with it. Alypius
now, who had not seen him enter, was aware of his going, and saw with what
speed he made away. And being desirous to know the matter, entered the
place; where finding the hatchet, he was standing, wondering and considering
it, when behold, those that had been sent, find him alone with the hatchet
in his hand, the noise whereof had startled and brought them thither. They
seize him, hale him away, and gathering the dwellers in the market-place
together, boast of having taken a notorious thief, and so he was being led
away to be taken before the judge.

But thus far was Alypius to be instructed. For forthwith, O Lord, Thou
succouredst his innocency, whereof Thou alone wert witness. For as he was
being led either to prison or to punishment, a certain architect met them,
who had the chief charge of the public buildings. Glad they were to meet him
especially, by whom they were wont to be suspected of stealing the goods
lost out of the marketplace, as though to show him at last by whom these
thefts were committed. He, however, had divers times seen Alypius at a
certain senator's house, to whom he often went to pay his respects; and
recognising him immediately, took him aside by the hand, and enquiring the
occasion of so great a calamity, heard the whole matter, and bade all
present, amid much uproar and threats, to go with him. So they came to the
house of the young man who had done the deed. There, before the door, was a
boy so young as to be likely, not apprehending any harm to his master, to
disclose the whole. For he had attended his master to the market-place. Whom
so soon as Alypius remembered, he told the architect: and he showing the
hatchet to the boy, asked himWhose that was?Ours, quoth he presently:
and being further questioned, he discovered every thing. Thus the crime
being transferred to that house, and the multitude ashamed, which had begun
to insult over Alypius, he who was to be a dispenser of Thy Word, and an
examiner of many causes in Thy Church, went away better experienced and
instructed.
_________________________________________________________________

Chapter X

Him then I had found at Rome, and he clave to me by a most strong tie, and
went with me to Milan, both that he might not leave me, and might practise
something of the law he had studied, more to please his parents than
himself. There he had thrice sat as Assessor, with an uncorruptness much
wondered at by others, he wondering at others rather who could prefer gold
to honesty. His character was tried besides, not only with the bait of
covetousness, but with the goad of fear. At Rome he was Assessor to the
count of the Italian Treasury. There was at that time a very powerful
senator, to whose favours many stood indebted, many much feared. He would
needs, by his usual power, have a thing allowed him which by the laws was
unallowed. Alypius resisted it: a bribe was promised; with all his heart he
scorned it: threats were held out; he trampled upon them: all wondering at
so unwonted a spirit, which neither desired the friendship, nor feared the
enmity of one so great and so mightily renowned for innumerable means of
doing good or evil. And the very judge, whose councillor Alypius was,
although also unwilling it should be, yet did not openly refuse, but put the
matter off upon Alypius, alleging that he would not allow him to do it: for
in truth had the judge done it, Alypius would have decided otherwise. With
this one thing in the way of learning was he well-nigh seduced, that he
might have books copied for him at Praetorian prices, but consulting
justice, he altered his deliberation for the better; esteeming equity
whereby he was hindered more gainful than the power whereby he were allowed.
These are slight things, but he that is faithful in little, is faithful also
in much. Nor can that any how be void, which proceeded out of the mouth of
Thy Truth: If ye have not been faithful in the unrighteous Mammon, who will
commit to your trust true riches? And if ye have not been faithful in that
which is another man's, who shall give you that which is your own? He being
such, did at that time cleave to me, and with me wavered in purpose, what
course of life was to be taken.

Nebridius also, who having left his native country near Carthage, yea and
Carthage itself, where he had much lived, leaving his excellent
family-estate and house, and a mother behind, who was not to follow him, had
come to Milan, for no other reason but that with me he might live in a most
ardent search after truth and wisdom. Like me he sighed, like me he wavered,
an ardent searcher after true life, and a most acute examiner of the most
difficult questions. Thus were there the mouths of three indigent persons,
sighing out their wants one to another, and waiting upon Thee that Thou
mightest give them their meat in due season. And in all the bitterness which
by Thy mercy followed our worldly affairs, as we looked towards the end, why
we should suffer all this, darkness met us; and we turned away groaning, and
saying, How long shall these things be? This too we often said; and so
saying forsook them not, for as yet there dawned nothing certain, which
these forsaken, we might embrace.
_________________________________________________________________

Chapter XI

And I, viewing and reviewing things, most wondered at the length of time
from that my nineteenth year, wherein I had begun to kindle with the desire
of wisdom, settling when I had found her, to abandon all the empty hopes and
lying frenzies of vain desires. And lo, I was now in my thirtieth year,
sticking in the same mire, greedy of enjoying things present, which passed
away and wasted my soul; while I said to myself,Tomorrow I shall find it;
it will appear manifestly and I shall grasp it; to, Faustus the Manichee
will come, and clear every thing! O you great men, ye Academicians, it is
true then, that no certainty can be attained for the ordering of life! Nay,
let us search the more diligently, and despair not. Lo, things in the
ecclesiastical books are not absurd to us now, which sometimes seemed
absurd, and may be otherwise taken, and in a good sense. I will take my
stand, where, as a child, my parents placed me, until the clear truth be
found out. But where shall it be sought or when? Ambrose has no leisure; we
have no leisure to read; where shall we find even the books? Whence, or when
procure them? from whom borrow them? Let set times be appointed, and certain
hours be ordered for the health of our soul. Great hope has dawned; the
Catholic Faith teaches not what we thought, and vainly accused it of; her
instructed members hold it profane to believe God to be bounded by the
figure of a human body: and do we doubt to˜knock,™ that the rest˜may be
opened™? The forenoons our scholars take up; what do we during the rest? Why
not this? But when then pay we court to our great friends, whose favour we
need? When compose what we may sell to scholars? When refresh ourselves,
unbending our minds from this intenseness of care?
Perish every thing, dismiss we these empty vanities, and betake ourselves
to the one search for truth! Life is vain, death uncertain; if it steals
upon us on a sudden, in what state shall we depart hence? and where shall we
learn what here we have neglected? and shall we not rather suffer the
punishment of this negligence? What, if death itself cut off and end all
care and feeling? Then must this be ascertained. But God forbid this! It is
no vain and empty thing, that the excellent dignity of the authority of the
Christian Faith hath overspread the whole world. Never would such and so
great things be by God wrought for us, if with the death of the body the
life of the soul came to an end. Wherefore delay then to abandon worldly
hopes, and give ourselves wholly to seek after God and the blessed life? But
wait! Even those things are pleasant; they have some, and no small
sweetness. We must not lightly abandon them, for it were a shame to return
again to them. See, it is no great matter now to obtain some station, and
then what should we more wish for? We have store of powerful friends; if
nothing else offer, and we be in much haste, at least a presidentship may be
given us: and a wife with some money, that she increase not our charges: and
this shall be the bound of desire. Many great men, and most worthy of
imitation, have given themselves to the study of wisdom in the state of
marriage.

While I went over these things, and these winds shifted and drove my heart
this way and that, time passed on, but I delayed to turn to the Lord; and
from day to day deferred to live in Thee, and deferred not daily to die in
myself. Loving a happy life, I feared it in its own abode, and sought it, by
fleeing from it. I thought I should be too miserable, unless folded in
female arms; and of the medicine of Thy mercy to cure that infirmity I
thought not, not having tried it. As for continency, I supposed it to be in
our own power (though in myself I did not find that power), being so foolish
as not to know what is written, None can be continent unless Thou give it;
and that Thou wouldest give it, if with inward groanings I did knock at
Thine ears, and with a settled faith did cast my care on Thee.
_________________________________________________________________

Chapter XII

Alypius indeed kept me from marrying; alleging that so could we by no means
with undistracted leisure live together in the love of wisdom, as we had
long desired. For himself was even then most pure in this point, so that it
was wonderful; and that the more, since in the outset of his youth he had
entered into that course, but had not stuck fast therein; rather had he felt
remorse and revolting at it, living thenceforth until now most continently.
But I opposed him with the examples of those who as married men had
cherished wisdom, and served God acceptably, and retained their friends, and
loved them faithfully. Of whose greatness of spirit I was far short; and
bound with the disease of the flesh, and its deadly sweetness, drew along my
chain, dreading to be loosed, and as if my wound had been fretted, put back
his good persuasions, as it were the hand of one that would unchain me.
Moreover, by me did the serpent speak unto Alypius himself, by my tongue
weaving and laying in his path pleasurable snares, wherein his virtuous and
free feet might be entangled.

For when he wondered that I, whom he esteemed not slightly, should stick so
fast in the birdlime of that pleasure, as to protest (so oft as we discussed
it) that I could never lead a single life; and urged in my defence when I
saw him wonder, that there was great difference between his momentary and
scarce-remembered knowledge of that life, which so he might easily despise,
and my continued acquaintance whereto if the honourable name of marriage
were added, he ought not to wonder why I could not contemn that course; he
began also to desire to be married; not as overcome with desire of such
pleasure, but out of curiosity. For he would fain know, he said, what that
should be, without which my life, to him so pleasing, would to me seem not
life but a punishment. For his mind, free from that chain, was amazed at my
thraldom; and through that amazement was going on to a desire of trying it,
thence to the trial itself, and thence perhaps to sink into that bondage
whereat he wondered, seeing he was willing to make a covenant with death;
and he that loves danger, shall fall into it. For whatever honour there be
in the office of well-ordering a married life, and a family, moved us but
slightly. But me for the most part the habit of satisfying an insatiable
appetite tormented, while it held me captive; him, an admiring wonder was
leading captive. So were we, until Thou, O Most High, not forsaking our
dust, commiserating us miserable, didst come to our help, by wondrous and
secret ways.
_________________________________________________________________

Chapter XIII

Continual effort was made to have me married. I wooed, I was promised,
chiefly through my mother's pains, that so once married, the health-giving
baptism might cleanse me, towards which she rejoiced that I was being daily
fitted, and observed that her prayers, and Thy promises, were being
fulfilled in my faith. At which time verily, both at my request and her own
longing, with strong cries of heart she daily begged of Thee, that Thou
wouldest by a vision discover unto her something concerning my future
marriage; Thou never wouldest. She saw indeed certain vain and fantastic
things, such as the energy of the human spirit, busied thereon, brought
together; and these she told me of, not with that confidence she was wont,
when Thou showedst her any thing, but slighting them. For she could, she
said, through a certain feeling, which in words she could not express,
discern betwixt Thy revelations, and the dreams of her own soul. Yet the
matter was pressed on, and a maiden asked in marriage, two years under the
fit age; and, as pleasing, was waited for.
_________________________________________________________________

Chapter XIV

And many of us friends conferring about, and detesting the turbulent
turmoils of human life, had debated and now almost resolved on living apart
from business and the bustle of men; and this was to be thus obtained; we
were to bring whatever we might severally procure, and make one household of
all; so that through the truth of our friendship nothing should belong
especially to any; but the whole thus derived from all, should as a whole
belong to each, and all to all. We thought there might be some often persons
in this society; some of whom were very rich, especially Romanianus our
townsman, from childhood a very familiar friend of mine, whom the grievous
perplexities of his affairs had brought up to court; who was the most
earnest for this project; and therein was his voice of great weight, because
his ample estate far exceeded any of the rest. We had settled also that two
annual officers, as it were, should provide all things necessary, the rest
being undisturbed. But when we began to consider whether the wives, which
some of us already had, others hoped to have, would allow this, all that
plan, which was being so well moulded, fell to pieces in our hands, was
utterly dashed and cast aside. Thence we betook us to sighs, and groans, and
our steps to follow the broad and beaten ways of the world; for many
thoughts were in our heart, but Thy counsel standeth for ever. Out of which
counsel Thou didst deride ours, and preparedst Thine own; purposing to give
us meat in due season, and to fill our souls with blessing.
_________________________________________________________________

Chapter XV

Meanwhile my sins were being multiplied, and my concubine being torn from my
side as a hindrance to my marriage, my heart which clave unto her was torn
and wounded and bleeding. And she returned to Afric, vowing unto Thee never
to know any other man, leaving with me my son by her. But unhappy I, who
could not imitate a very woman, impatient of delay, inasmuch as not till
after two years was I to obtain her I sought not being so much a lover of
marriage as a slave to lust, procured another, though no wife, that so by
the servitude of an enduring custom, the disease of my soul might be kept up
and carried on in its vigour, or even augmented, into the dominion of
marriage. Nor was that my wound cured, which had been made by the cutting
away of the former, but after inflammation and most acute pain, it
mortified, and my pains became less acute, but more desperate.
_________________________________________________________________

Chapter XVI

To Thee be praise, glory to Thee, Fountain of mercies. I was becoming more
miserable, and Thou nearer. Thy right hand was continually ready to pluck me
out of the mire, and to wash me thoroughly, and I knew it not; nor did
anything call me back from a yet deeper gulf of carnal pleasures, but the
fear of death, and of Thy judgment to come; which amid all my changes, never
departed from my breast. And in my disputes with my friends Alypius and
Nebridius of the nature of good and evil, I held that Epicurus had in my
mind won the palm, had I not believed that after death there remained a life
for the soul, and places of requital according to men's deserts, which
Epicurus would not believe. And I asked,were we immortal, and to live in
perpetual bodily pleasure, without fear of losing it, why should we not be
happy, or what else should we seek? not knowing that great misery was
involved in this very thing, that, being thus sunk and blinded, I could not
discern that light of excellence and beauty, to be embraced for its own
sake, which the eye of flesh cannot see, and is seen by the inner man. Nor
did I, unhappy, consider from what source it sprung, that even on these
things, foul as they were, I with pleasure discoursed with my friends, nor
could I, even according to the notions I then had of happiness, be happy
without friends, amid what abundance soever of carnal pleasures. And yet
these friends I loved for themselves only, and I felt that I was beloved of
them again for myself only.

O crooked paths! Woe to the audacious soul, which hoped, by forsaking Thee,
to gain some better thing! Turned it hath, and turned again, upon back,
sides, and belly, yet all was painful; and Thou alone rest. And behold, Thou
art at hand, and deliverest us from our wretched wanderings, and placest us
in Thy way, and dost comfort us, and say,Run; I will carry you; yea I will
bring you through; there also will I carry you.
_________________________________________________________________

Book VII
_________________________________________________________________

Chapter I

Deceased was now that my evil and abominable youth, and I was passing into
early manhood; the more defiled by vain things as I grew in years, who could
not imagine any substance, but such as is wont to be seen with these eyes. I
thought not of Thee, O God, under the figure of a human body; since I began
to hear aught of wisdom, I always avoided this; and rejoiced to have found
the same in the faith of our spiritual mother, Thy Catholic Church. But what
else to conceive of Thee I knew not. And I, a man, and such a man, sought to
conceive of Thee the sovereign, only, true God; and I did in my inmost soul
believe that Thou wert incorruptible, and uninjurable, and unchangeable;
because though not knowing whence or how, yet I saw plainly, and was sure,
that that which may be corrupted must be inferior to that which cannot; what
could not be injured I preferred unhesitatingly to what could receive
injury; the unchangeable to things subject to change. My heart passionately
cried out against all my phantoms, and with this one blow I sought to beat
away from the eye of my mind all that unclean troop which buzzed around it.
And to, being scarce put off, in the twinkling of an eye they gathered again
thick about me, flew against my face, and beclouded it; so that though not
under the form of the human body, yet was I constrained to conceive of Thee
(that incorruptible, uninjurable, and unchangeable, which I preferred before
the corruptible, and injurable, and changeable) as being in space, whether
infused into the world, or diffused infinitely without it. Because
whatsoever I conceived, deprived of this space, seemed to me nothing, yea
altogether nothing, not even a void, as if a body were taken out of its
place, and the place should remain empty of any body at all, of earth and
water, air and heaven, yet would it remain a void place, as it were a
spacious nothing.

I then being thus gross-hearted, nor clear even to myself, whatsoever was
not extended over certain spaces, nor diffused, nor condensed, nor swelled
out, or did not or could not receive some of these dimensions, I thought to
be altogether nothing. For over such forms as my eyes are wont to range, did
my heart then range: nor yet did I see that this same notion of the mind,
whereby I formed those very images, was not of this sort, and yet it could
not have formed them, had not itself been some great thing. So also did I
endeavour to conceive of Thee, Life of my life, as vast, through infinite
spaces on every side penetrating the whole mass of the universe, and beyond
it, every way, through unmeasurable boundless spaces; so that the earth
should have Thee, the heaven have Thee, all things have Thee, and they be
bounded in Thee, and Thou bounded nowhere. For that as the body of this air
which is above the earth, hindereth not the light of the sun from passing
through it, penetrating it, not by bursting or by cutting, but by filling it
wholly: so I thought the body not of heaven, air, and sea only, but of the
earth too, pervious to Thee, so that in all its parts, the greatest as the
smallest, it should admit Thy presence, by a secret inspiration, within and
without, directing all things which Thou hast created. So I guessed, only as
unable to conceive aught else, for it was false. For thus should a greater
part of the earth contain a greater portion of Thee, and a less, a lesser:
and all things should in such sort be full of Thee, that the body of an
elephant should contain more of Thee, than that of a sparrow, by how much
larger it is, and takes up more room; and thus shouldest Thou make the
several portions of Thyself present unto the several portions of the world,
in fragments, large to the large, petty to the petty. But such art not Thou.
But not as yet hadst Thou enlightened my darkness.
_________________________________________________________________

Chapter II

It was enough for me, Lord, to oppose to those deceived deceivers, and dumb
praters, since Thy word sounded not out of them;”that was enough which long
ago, while we were yet at Carthage, Nebridius used to propound, at which all
we that heard it were staggered:That said nation of darkness, which the
Manichees are wont to set as an opposing mass over against Thee, what could
it have done unto Thee, hadst Thou refused to fight with it? For, if they
answered,˜it would have done Thee some hurt,™ then shouldest Thou be
subject to injury and corruption: but if could do Thee no hurt,™ then was no
reason brought for Thy fighting with it; and fighting in such wise, as that
a certain portion or member of Thee, or offspring of Thy very Substance,
should he mingled with opposed powers, and natures not created by Thee, and
be by them so far corrupted and changed to the worse, as to be turned from
happiness into misery, and need assistance, whereby it might be extricated
and purified; and that this offspring of Thy Substance was the soul, which
being enthralled, defiled, corrupted, Thy Word, free, pure, and whole, might
relieve; that Word itself being still corruptible because it was of one and
the same Substance. So then, should they affirm Thee, whatsoever Thou art,
that is, Thy Substance whereby Thou art, to be incorruptible, then were all
these sayings false and execrable; but if corruptible, the very statement
showed it to be false and revolting. This argument then of Nebridius
sufficed against those who deserved wholly to be vomited out of the
overcharged stomach; for they had no escape, without horrible blasphemy of
heart and tongue, thus thinking and speaking of Thee.
_________________________________________________________________

Chapter III

But I also as yet, although I held and was firmly persuaded that Thou our
Lord the true God, who madest not only our souls, but our bodies, and not
only our souls and bodies, but all beings, and all things, wert undefilable
and unalterable, and in no degree mutable; yet understood I not, clearly and
without difficulty, the cause of evil. And yet whatever it were, I perceived
it was in such wise to be sought out, as should not constrain me to believe
the immutable God to be mutable, lest I should become that evil I was
seeking out. I sought it out then, thus far free from anxiety, certain of
the untruth of what these held, from whom I shrunk with my whole heart: for
I saw, that through enquiring the origin of evil, they were filled with
evil, in that they preferred to think that Thy substance did suffer ill than
their own did commit it.

And I strained to perceive what I now heard, that free-will was the cause of
our doing ill, and Thy just judgment of our suffering ill. But I was not
able clearly to discern it. So then endeavouring to draw my soul's vision
out of that deep pit, I was again plunged therein, and endeavouring often, I
was plunged back as often. But this raised me a little into Thy light, that
I knew as well that I had a will, as that I lived: when then I did will or
nill any thing, I was most sure that no other than myself did will and nill:
and I all but saw that there was the cause of my sin. But what I did against
my will, I saw that I suffered rather than did, and I judged not to be my
fault, but my punishment; whereby, however, holding Thee to be just, I
speedily confessed myself to be not unjustly punished. But again I said, Who
made me? Did not my God, Who is not only good, but goodness itself? Whence
then came I to will evil and nill good, so that I am thus justly punished?
who set this in me, and ingrated into me this plant of bitterness, seeing I
was wholly formed by my most sweet God? If the devil were the author, whence
is that same devil? And if he also by his own perverse will, of a good angel
became a devil, whence, again, came in him that evil will whereby he became
a devil, seeing the whole nature of angels was made by that most good
Creator? By these thoughts I was again sunk down and choked; yet not brought
down to that hell of error (where no man confesseth unto Thee), to think
rather that Thou dost suffer ill, than that man doth it.
_________________________________________________________________

Chapter IV

For I was in such wise striving to find out the rest, as one who had already
found that the incorruptible must needs be better than the corruptible: and
Thee therefore, whatsoever Thou wert, I confessed to be incorruptible. For
never soul was, nor shall be, able to conceive any thing which may be better
than Thou, who art the sovereign and the best good. But since most truly and
certainly, the incorruptible is preferable to the corruptible (as I did now
prefer it), then, wert Thou not incorruptible, I could in thought have
arrived at something better than my God. Where then I saw the incorruptible
to be preferable to the corruptible, there ought I to seek for Thee, and
there observewherein evil itself was; that is, whence corruption comes,
by which Thy substance can by no means be impaired. For corruption does no
ways impair our God; by no will, by no necessity, by no unlooked-for chance:
because He is God, and what He wills is good, and Himself is that good; but
to be corrupted is not good. Nor art Thou against Thy will constrained to
any thing, since Thy will is not greater than Thy power. But greater should
it be, were Thyself greater than Thyself. For the will and power of God is
God Himself. And what can be unlooked-for by Thee, Who knowest all things?
Nor is there any nature in things, but Thou knowest it. And what should we
more say,why that substance which God is should not be corruptible,
seeing if it were so, it should not be God?
_________________________________________________________________

Chapter V

And I soughtwhence is evil, and sought in an evil way; and saw not the
evil in my very search. I set now before the sight of my spirit the whole
creation, whatsoever we can see therein (as sea, earth, air, stars, trees,
mortal creatures); yea, and whatever in it we do not see, as the firmament
of heaven, all angels moreover, and all the spiritual inhabitants thereof.
But these very beings, as though they were bodies, did my fancy dispose in
place, and I made one great mass of Thy creation, distinguished as to the
kinds of bodies; some, real bodies, some, what myself had feigned for
spirits. And this mass I made huge, not as it was (which I could not know),
but as I thought convenient, 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, every where, and on every side, through
unmeasured space, one only boundless sea, and it contained within it some
sponge, huge, but bounded; that sponge must needs, in all its parts, be
filled from that unmeasurable sea: so conceived I Thy creation, itself
finite, full of Thee, the Infinite; and I said, Behold God, and behold what
God hath created; and God is good, yea, most mightily and incomparably
better than all these: but yet He, the Good, created them good; and see how
He environeth and fulfils them. Where is evil then, and whence, and how
crept it in hither? What is its root, and what its seed? Or hath it no
being? Why then fear we and avoid what is not? Or if we fear it idly, then
is that very fear evil, whereby the soul is thus idly goaded and racked.
Yea, and so much a greater evil, as we have nothing to fear, and yet do
fear. Therefore either is that evil which we fear, or else evil is, that we
fear. Whence is it then? seeing God, the Good, hath created all these things
good. He indeed, the greater and chiefest Good, hath created these lesser
goods; still both Creator and created, all are good. Whence is evil? Or, was
there some evil matter of which He made, and formed, and ordered it, yet
left something in it which He did not convert into good? Why so then? Had He
no might to turn and change the whole, so that no evil should remain in it,
seeing He is All-mighty? Lastly, why would He make any thing at all of it,
and not rather by the same All-mightiness cause it not to be at all? Or,
could it then be against His will? Or if it were from eternity, why suffered
He it so to be for infinite spaces of times past, and was pleased so long
after to make something out of it? Or if He were suddenly pleased now to
effect somewhat, this rather should the All-mighty have effected, that this
evil matter should not be, and He alone be, the whole, true, sovereign, and
infinite Good. Or if it was not good that He who was good should not also
frame and create something that were good, then, that evil matter being
taken away and brought to nothing, He might form good matter, whereof to
create all things. For He should not be All-mighty, if He might not create
something good without the aid of that matter which Himself had not created.
These thoughts I revolved in my miserable heart, overcharged with most
gnawing cares, lest I should die ere I had found the truth; yet was the
faith of Thy Christ, our Lord and Saviour, professed in the Church Catholic,
firmly fixed in my heart, in many points, indeed, as yet unformed, and
fluctuating from the rule of doctrine; yet did not my mind utterly leave it,
but rather daily took in more and more of it.
_________________________________________________________________

Chapter VI

But this time also had I rejected the lying divinations and impious dotages
of the astrologers. Let Thine own mercies, out of my very inmost soul,
confess unto Thee for this also, O my God. For Thou, Thou altogether (for
who else calls us back from the death of all errors, save the Life which
cannot die, and the Wisdom which needing no light enlightens the minds that
need it, whereby the universe is directed, down to the whirling leaves of
trees?)”Thou madest provision for my obstinacy wherewith I struggled against
Vindicianus, an acute old man, and Nebridius, a young man of admirable
talents; the first vehemently affirming, and the latter often (though with
some doubtfulness) saying,That there was no such art whereby to foresee
things to come, but that men's conjectures were a sort of lottery, and that
out of many things which they said should come to pass, some actually did,
unawares to them who spake it, who stumbled upon it, through their oft
speaking. Thou providedst then a friend for me, no negligent consulter of
the astrologers; nor yet well skilled in those arts, but (as I said) a
curious consulter with them, and yet knowing something, which he said he had
heard of his father, which how far it went to overthrow the estimation of
that art, he knew not. This man then, Firminus by name, having had a liberal
education, and well taught in Rhetoric, consulted me, as one very dear to
him, what, according to his socalled constellations, I thought on certain
affairs of his, wherein his worldly hopes had risen, and I, who had herein
now begun to incline towards Nebridius™ opinion, did not altogether refuse
to conjecture, and tell him what came into my unresolved mind; but added,
that I was now almost persuaded that these were but empty and ridiculous
follies. Thereupon he told me that his father had been very curious in such
books, and had a friend as earnest in them as himself, who with joint study
and conference fanned the flame of their affections to these toys, so that
they would observe the moments whereat the very dumb animals, which bred
about their houses, gave birth, and then observed the relative position of
the heavens, thereby to make fresh experiments in this so-called art. He
said then that he had heard of his father, that what time his mother was
about to give birth to him, Firminus, a woman-servant of that friend of his
father's was also with child, which could not escape her master, who took
care with most exact diligence to know the births of his very puppies. And
so it was that (the one for his wife, and the other for his servant, with
the most careful observation, reckoning days, hours, nay, the lesser
divisions of the hours) both were delivered at the same instant; so that
both were constrained to allow the same constellations, even to the minutest
points, the one for his son, the other for his new-born slave. For so soon
as the women began to be in labour, they each gave notice to the other what
was fallen out in their houses, and had messengers ready to send to one
another so soon as they had notice of the actual birth, of which they had
easily provided, each in his own province, to give instant intelligence.
Thus then the messengers of the respective parties met, he averred, at such
an equal distance from either house that neither of them could make out any
difference in the position of the stars, or any other minutest points; and
yet Firminus, born in a high estate in his parents™ house, ran his course
through the gilded paths of life, was increased in riches, raised to
honours; whereas that slave continued to serve his masters, without any
relaxation of his yoke, as Firminus, who knew him, told me.

Upon hearing and believing these things, told by one of such credibility,
all that my resistance gave way; and first I endeavoured to reclaim Firminus
himself from that curiosity, by telling him that upon inspecting his
constellations, I ought if I were to predict truly, to have seen in them
parents eminent among their neighbours, a noble family in its own city, high
birth, good education, liberal learning. But if that servant had consulted
me upon the same constellations, since they were his also, I ought again (to
tell him too truly) to see in them a lineage the most abject, a slavish
condition, and every thing else utterly at variance with the former. Whence
then, if I spake the truth, I should, from the same constellations, speak
diversely, or if I spake the same, speak falsely: thence it followed most
certainly that whatever, upon consideration of the constellations, was
spoken truly, was spoken not out of art, but chance; and whatever spoken
falsely, was not out of ignorance in the art, but the failure of the chance.

An opening thus made, ruminating with myself on the like things, that no one
of those dotards (who lived by such a trade, and whom I longed to attack,
and with derision to confute) might urge against me that Firminus had
informed me falsely, or his father him; I bent my thoughts on those that are
born twins, who for the most part come out of the womb so near one to other,
that the small interval (how much force soever in the nature of things folk
may pretend it to have) cannot be noted by human observation, or be at all
expressed in those figures which the astrologer is to inspect, that he may
pronounce truly. Yet they cannot be true: for looking into the same figures,
he must have predicted the same of Esau and Jacob, whereas the same happened
not to them. Therefore he must speak falsely; or if truly, then, looking
into the same figures, he must not give the same answer. Not by art, then,
but by chance, would he speak truly. For Thou, O Lord, most righteous Ruler
of the Universe, while consulters and consulted know it not, dost by Thy
hidden inspiration effect that the consulter should hear what, according to
the hidden deservings of souls, he ought to hear, out of the unsearchable
depth of Thy just judgment, to Whom let no man say, What is this? Why that?
Let him not so say, for he is man.
_________________________________________________________________

Chapter VII

Now then, O my Helper, hadst Thou loosed me from those fetters: and I sought
whence is evil, and found no way. But Thou sufferedst me not by any
fluctuations of thought to be carried away from the Faith whereby I believed
Thee both to be, and Thy substance to be unchangeable, and that Thou hast a
care of, and wouldest judge men, and that in Christ, Thy Son, Our Lord, and
the holy Scriptures, which the authority of Thy Catholic Church pressed upon
me, Thou hadst set the way of man's salvation, to that life which is to be
after this death. These things being safe and immovably settled in my mind,
I sought anxiouslywhence was evil? What were the pangs of my teeming
heart, what groans, O my God! yet even there were Thine ears open, and I
knew it not; and when in silence I vehemently sought, those silent
contritions of my soul were strong cries unto Thy mercy. Thou knewest what I
suffered, and no man. For, what was that which was thence through my tongue
distilled into the ears of my most familiar friends? Did the whole tumult of
my soul, for which neither time nor utterance sufficed, reach them? Yet went
up the whole to Thy hearing, all which I roared out from the groanings of my
heart; and my desire was before Thee, and the light of mine eyes was not
with me: for that was within, I without: nor was that confined to place, but
I was intent on things contained in place, but there found I no
resting-place, nor did they so receive me, that I could say,It is
enough,it is well: nor did they yet suffer me to turn back, where it
might be well enough with me. For to these things was I superior, but
inferior to Thee; and Thou art my true joy when subjected to Thee, and Thou
hadst subjected to me what Thou createdst below me. And this was the true
temperament, and middle region of my safety, to remain in Thy Image, and by
serving Thee, rule the body. But when I rose proudly against Thee, and ran
against the Lord with my neck, with the thick bosses of my buckler, even
these inferior things were set above me, and pressed me down, and no where
was there respite or space of breathing. They met my sight on all sides by
heaps and troops, and in thought the images thereof presented themselves
unsought, as I would return to Thee, as if they would say unto me,Whither
goest thou, unworthy and defiled? And these things had grown out of my
wound; for Thouhumbledst the proud like one that is wounded, and through
my own swelling was I separated from Thee; yea, my pride-swollen face closed
up mine eyes.
_________________________________________________________________

Chapter VIII

But Thou, Lord, abidest for ever, yet not for ever art Thou angry with us;
because Thou pitiest our dust and ashes, and it was pleasing in Thy sight to
reform my deformities; and by inward goads didst Thou rouse me, that I
should be ill at ease, until Thou wert manifested to my inward sight. Thus,
by the secret hand of Thy medicining was my swelling abated, and the
troubled and bedimmed eyesight of my mind, by the smarting anointings of
healthful sorrows, was from day to day healed.
_________________________________________________________________

Chapter IX

And Thou, willing first to show me how Thou resistest the proud, but givest
grace unto the humble, and by how great an act of Thy mercy Thou hadst
traced out to men the way of humility, in that Thy Word was made flesh, and
dwelt among men:”Thou procuredst for me, by means of one puffed up with most
unnatural pride, certain books of the Platonists, translated from Greek into
Latin. And therein I read, not indeed in the very words, but to the very
same purpose, enforced by many and divers reasons, that In the beginning was
the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God: the Same was in
the beginning with God: all things were made by Him, and without Him was
nothing made: that which was made by Him is life, and the life was the light
of men, and the light shineth in the darkness, and the darkness comprehended
it not. And that the soul of man, though it bears witness to the light, yet
itself is not that light; but 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, as many as believed in
His name; this I read not there.

Again I read there, that God the Word was born not of flesh nor of blood,
nor of the will of man, nor of the will of the flesh, but of God. But that
the Word was made flesh, and dwelt among us, I read not there. For I traced
in those books that it was 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,
taking the form of a servant, being made in the likeness of men, and found
in fashion as a man, humbled Himself, and became obedient unto death, and
that the death of the cross: wherefore God exalted Him from the dead, and
gave Him a name above every name, that at the name of Jesus every knee
should how, of things in heaven, and things in earth, and things under the
earth; and that every tongue should confess that the Lord Jesus Christ is in
the glory of God the Father; those books have not. For that before all times
and above all times Thy Only-Begotten Son remaineth unchangeable, co-eternal
with Thee, and that of His fulness souls receive, that they may be blessed;
and that by participation of wisdom abiding in them, they are renewed, so as
to be wise, is there. But that in due time He died for the ungodly; and that
Thou sparedst not Thine Only Son, but deliveredst Him for us all, is not
there. For Thou hiddest these things from the wise, and revealedst them to
babes; that they that labour and are heavy laden might come unto Him, and He
refresh them, because He is meek and lowly in heart; and the meek He
directeth in judgment, and the gentle He teacheth His ways, beholding our
lowliness and trouble, and forgiving all our sins. But such as are lifted up
in the lofty walk of some would-be sublimer learning, hear not Him, saying,
Learn of Me, for I am meek and lowly in heart, and ye shall find rest to
your souls. Although they knew God, yet they glorify Him not as God, nor are
thankful, but wax vain in their thoughts; and their foolish heart is
darkened; professing that they were wise, they became fools.

And therefore did I read there also, that they had changed the glory of Thy
incorruptible nature into idols and divers shapes, into the likeness of the
image of corruptible man, and birds, and beasts, and 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 in heart back towards Egypt; and bowing Thy image, their own
soul, before the image of a calf that eateth hay. These things found I here,
but I fed not on them. For it pleased Thee, O Lord, to take away the
reproach of diminution from Jacob, that the elder should serve the younger:
and Thou calledst the Gentiles into Thine inheritance. And I had come to
Thee from among the Gentiles; and I set my mind upon the gold which Thou
willedst Thy people to take from Egypt, seeing Thine it was, wheresoever it
were. And to the Athenians Thou saidst by Thy Apostle, that in Thee we live,
move, and have our being, as one of their own poets had said. And verily
these books came from thence. But I set not my mind on the idols of Egypt,
whom they served with Thy gold, who changed the truth of God into a lie, and
worshipped and served the creature more than the Creator.
_________________________________________________________________

Chapter X

And being thence admonished to return to myself, I entered even into my
inward self, Thou being my Guide: and able I was, for Thou wert become my
Helper. And I entered and beheld with the eye of my soul (such as it was),
above the same eye of my soul, above my mind, the Light Unchangeable. Not
this ordinary light, which all flesh may look upon, nor as it were a greater
of the same kind, as though the brightness of this should be manifold
brighter, and with its greatness take up all space. Not such was this light,
but other, yea, far other from these. Nor was it above my soul, as oil is
above water, nor yet as heaven above earth: but above to my soul, because It
made me; and I below It, because I was made by It. He that knows the Truth,
knows what that Light is; and he that knows It, knows eternity. Love knoweth
it. O Truth Who art Eternity! and Love Who art Truth! and Eternity Who art
Love! Thou art my God, to Thee do I sigh night and day. Thee when I first
knew, Thou liftedst me up, that I might see there was what I might see, and
that I was not yet such as to see. And Thou didst beat back the weakness of
my sight, streaming forth Thy beams of light upon me most strongly, and I
trembled with love and awe: and I perceived myself to be far off from Thee,
in the region of unlikeness, as if I heard this Thy voice from on high:I
am the food of grown men, grow, and thou shalt feed upon Me; nor shalt thou
convert Me, like the food of thy flesh into thee, but thou shalt be
converted into Me. And I learned, that Thou for iniquity chastenest man,
and Thou madest my soul to consume away like a spider. And I said,Is Truth
therefore nothing because it is not diffused through space finite or
infinite? And Thou criedst to me from afar:Yet verily, I AM that I AM.
And I heard, as the heart heareth, nor had I room to doubt, and I should
sooner doubt that I live than that Truth is not, which is clearly seen,
being understood by those things which are made. And I beheld the other
things below Thee, and I perceived that they neither altogether are, nor
altogether are not, for they are, since they are from Thee, but are not,
because they are not what Thou art. For that truly is which remains
unchangeably. It is good then for me to hold fast unto God; for if I remain
not in Him, I cannot in myself; but He remaining in Himself, reneweth all
things. And Thou art the Lord my God, since Thou standest not in need of my
goodness.
_________________________________________________________________

Chapter XI

And I viewed the other things below Thee, and perceived that they neither
altogether are, nor altogether are not. They are, indeed, because thay are
from Thee; but are not, because they are not what Thou art. For that truly
is which remains immutably.2 It is good then, for me to cleave unto God,3
for if I remain not in Him, neither shall I in myself; but He, remaining in
Himself, reneweth all things.4 And Thou art the Lord my God, since Thou
standest not in need of my gooodness.5
_________________________________________________________________

Chapter XII

And it was manifested unto me, that those things be good which yet are
corrupted; which neither were they sovereignly good, nor unless they were
good could he corrupted: for if sovereignly good, they were incorruptible,
if not good at all, there were nothing in them to be corrupted. For
corruption injures, but unless it diminished goodness, it could not injure.
Either then corruption injures not, which cannot be; or which is most
certain, all which is corrupted is deprived of good. But if they he deprived
of all good, they shall cease to be. For if they shall be, and can now no
longer he corrupted, they shall be better than before, because they shall
abide incorruptibly. And what more monstrous than to affirm things to become
better by losing all their good? Therefore, if they shall be deprived of all
good, they shall no longer be. So long therefore as they are, they are good:
therefore whatsoever is, is good. That evil then which I sought, whence it
is, is not any substance: for were it a substance, it should be good. For
either it should be an incorruptible substance, and so a chief good: or a
corruptible substance; which unless it were good, could not be corrupted. I
perceived therefore, and it was manifested to me that Thou madest all things
good, nor is there any substance at all, which Thou madest not; and for that
Thou madest not all things equal, therefore are all things; because each is
good, and altogether very good, because our God made all things very good.
_________________________________________________________________

Chapter XIII

And to Thee is nothing whatsoever evil: yea, not only to Thee, but also to
Thy creation as a whole, because there is nothing without, which may break
in, and corrupt that order which Thou hast appointed it. But in the parts
thereof some things, because unharmonising with other some, are accounted
evil: whereas those very things harmonise with others, and are good; and in
themselves are good. And all these things which harmonise not together, do
yet with the inferior part, which we call Earth, having its own cloudy and
windy sky harmonising with it. Far be it then that I should say,These
things should not be: for should I see nought but these, I should indeed
long for the better; but still must even for these alone praise Thee; for
that Thou art to be praised, do show from the earth, dragons, and all deeps,
fire, hail, snow, ice, and stormy wind, which fulfil Thy word; mountains,
and all hills, fruitful trees, and all cedars; beasts, and all cattle,
creeping things, and flying fowls; kings of the earth, and all people,
princes, and all judges of the earth; young men and maidens, old men and
young, praise Thy Name. But when, from heaven, these praise Thee, praise
Thee, our God, in the heights all Thy angels, all Thy hosts, sun and moon,
all the stars and light, the Heaven of heavens, and the waters that be above
the heavens, praise Thy Name; I did not now long for things better, because
I conceived of all: and with a sounder judgment I apprehended that the
things above were better than these below, but altogether better than those
above by themselves.
_________________________________________________________________

Chapter XIV

There is no soundness in them, whom aught of Thy creation displeaseth: as
neither in me, when much which Thou hast made, displeased me. And because my
soul durst not be displeased at my God, it would fain not account that
Thine, which displeased it. Hence it had gone into the opinion of two
substances, and had no rest, but talked idly. And returning thence, it had
made to itself a God, through infinite measures of all space; and thought it
to be Thee, and placed it in its heart; and had again become the temple of
its own idol, to Thee abominable. But after Thou hadst soothed my head,
unknown to me, and closed mine eyes that they should not behold vanity, I
ceased somewhat of my former self, and my frenzy was lulled to sleep; and I
awoke in Thee, and saw Thee infinite, but in another way, and this sight was
not derived from the flesh.
_________________________________________________________________

Chapter XV

And I looked back on other things; and I saw that they owed their being to
Thee; and were all bounded in Thee: but in a different way; not as being in
space; but because Thou containest all things in Thine hand in Thy Truth;
and all things are true so far as they nor is there any falsehood, unless
when that is thought to be, which is not. And I saw that all things did
harmonise, not with their places only, but with their seasons. And that
Thou, who only art Eternal, didst not begin to work after innumerable spaces
of times spent; for that all spaces of times, both which have passed, and
which shall pass, neither go nor come, but through Thee, working and
abiding.
_________________________________________________________________

Chapter XVI

And I perceived and found it nothing strange, that bread which is pleasant
to a healthy palate is loathsome to one distempered: and to sore eyes light
is offensive, which to the sound is delightful. And Thy righteousness
displeaseth the wicked; much more the viper and reptiles, which Thou hast
created good, fitting in with the inferior portions of Thy Creation, with
which the very wicked also fit in; and that the more, by how much they be
unlike Thee; but with the superior creatures, by how much they become more
like to Thee. And I enquired what iniquity was, and found it to be
substance, but the perversion of the will, turned aside from Thee, O God,
the Supreme, towards these lower things, and casting out its bowels, and
puffed up outwardly.
_________________________________________________________________

Chapter XVII

And I wondered that I now loved Thee, and no phantasm for Thee. And yet did
I not press on to enjoy my God; but was borne up to Thee by Thy beauty, and
soon borne down from Thee by mine own weight, sinking with sorrow into these
inferior things. This weight was carnal custom. Yet dwelt there with me a
remembrance of Thee; nor did I any way doubt that there was One to whom I
might cleave, but that I was not yet such as to cleave to Thee: for that the
body which is corrupted presseth down the soul, and the earthly tabernacle
weigheth down the mind that museth upon many things. And most certain I was,
that Thy invisible works from the creation of the world are clearly seen,
being understood by the things that are made, even Thy eternal power and
Godhead. For examining whence it was that I admired the beauty of bodies
celestial or terrestrial; and what aided me in judging soundly on things
mutable, and pronouncing,This ought to be thus, this not; examining, I
say, whence it was that I so judged, seeing I did so judge, I had found the
unchangeable and true Eternity of Truth above my changeable mind. And thus
by degrees I passed from bodies to the soul, which through the bodily senses
perceives; and thence to its inward faculty, to which the bodily senses
represent things external, whitherto reach the faculties of beasts; and
thence again to the reasoning faculty, to which what is received from the
senses of the body is referred to be judged. Which finding itself also to be
in me a thing variable, raised itself up to its own understanding, and drew
away my thoughts from the power of habit, withdrawing itself from those
troops of contradictory phantasms; that so it might find what that light was
whereby it was bedewed, when, without all doubting, it cried out,That the
unchangeable was to be preferred to the changeable; whence also it knew
That Unchangeable, which, unless it had in some way known, it had had no
sure ground to prefer it to the changeable. And thus with the flash of one
trembling glance it arrived at THAT WHICH IS. And then I saw Thy invisible
things understood by the things which are made. But I could not fix my gaze
thereon; and my infirmity being struck back, I was thrown again on my wonted
habits, carrying along with me only a loving memory thereof, and a longing
for what I had, as it were, perceived the odour of, but was not yet able to
feed on.
_________________________________________________________________

Chapter XVIII

Then I sought a way of obtaining strength sufficient to enjoy Thee; and
found it not, until I embraced that Mediator betwixt God and men, the Man
Christ Jesus, who is over all, God blessed for evermore, calling unto me,
and saying, I am the way, the truth, and the life, and mingling that food
which I was unable to receive, with our flesh. For, the Word was made flesh,
that Thy wisdom, whereby Thou createdst all things, might provide milk for
our infant state. For I did not hold to my Lord Jesus Christ, I, humbled, to
the Humble; nor knew I yet whereto His infirmity would guide us. For Thy
Word, the Eternal Truth, far above the higher parts of Thy Creation, raises
up the subdued unto Itself: but in this lower world built for Itself a lowly
habitation of our clay, whereby to abase from themselves such as would be
subdued, and bring them over to Himself; allaying their swelling, and
tomenting their love; to the end they might go on no further in
self-confidence, but rather consent to become weak, seeing before their feet
the Divinity weak by taking our coats of skin; and wearied, might cast
themselves down upon It, and It rising, might lift them up.
_________________________________________________________________

Chapter XIX

But I thought otherwise; conceiving only of my Lord Christ as of a man of
excellent wisdom, whom no one could be equalled unto; especially, for that
being wonderfully born of a Virgin, He seemed, in conformity therewith,
through the Divine care for us, to have attained that great eminence of
authority, for an ensample of despising things temporal for the obtaining of
immortality. But what mystery there lay inThe 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, and drink, sleep, walk, rejoiced in spirit,
was sorrowful, discoursed; that flesh did not cleave by itself unto Thy
Word, but with the human soul and mind. All know this who know the
unchangeableness of Thy Word, which I now knew, as far as I could, nor did I
at all doubt thereof. For, now to move the limbs of the body by will, now
not, now to be moved by some affection, now not, now to deliver wise sayings
through human signs, now to keep silence, belong to soul and mind subject to
variation. And should these things be falsely written of Him, all the rest
also would risk the charge, nor would there remain in those books any saving
faith for mankind. Since then they were written truly, I acknowledged a
perfect man to be in Christ; not the body of a man only, nor, with the body,
a sensitive soul without a rational, but very man; whom, not only as being a
form of Truth, but for a certain great excellence of human nature and a more
perfect participation of wisdom, I judged to be preferred before others. But
Alypius imagined the Catholics to believe God to be so clothed with flesh,
that besides God and flesh, there was no soul at all in Christ, and did not
think that a human mind was ascribed to Him. And because he was well
persuaded that the actions recorded of Him could only be performed by a
vital and a rational creature, he moved the more slowly towards the
Christian Faith. But understanding afterwards that this was the error of the
Apollinarian heretics, he joyed in and was conformed to the Catholic Faith.
But somewhat later, I confess, did I learn how in that saying, The Word was
made flesh, the Catholic truth is distinguished from the falsehood of
Photinus. For the rejection of heretics makes the tenets of Thy Church and
sound doctrine to stand out more clearly. For there must also be heresies,
that the approved may be made manifest among the weak.
_________________________________________________________________

Chapter XX

But having then read those books of the Platonists, and thence been taught
to search for incorporeal truth, I saw Thy invisible things, understood by
those things which are made; and though cast back, I perceived what that was
which through the darkness of my mind I was hindered from contemplating,
being assuredThat Thou wert, and wert infinite, and yet not diffused in
space, finite or infinite; and that Thou truly art Who art the same ever, in
no part nor motion varying; and that all other things are from Thee, on this
most sure ground alone, that they are. Of these things I was assured, yet
too unsure to enjoy Thee. I prated as one well skilled; but had I not sought
Thy way in Christ our Saviour, I had proved to be, not skilled, but killed.
For now I had begun to wish to seem wise, being filled with mine own
punishment, yet I did not mourn, but rather scorn, puffed up with knowledge.
For where was that charity building upon the foundation of humility, which
is Christ Jesus? or when should these books teach me it? Upon these, I
believe, Thou therefore willedst that I should fall, before I studied Thy
Scriptures, that it might be imprinted on my memory how I was affected by
them; and that afterwards when my spirits were tamed through Thy books, and
my wounds touched by Thy healing fingers, I might discern and distinguish
between presumption and confession; between those who saw whither they were
to go, yet saw not the way, and the way that leadeth not to behold only but
to dwell in the beatific country. For had I first been formed in Thy Holy
Scriptures, and hadst Thou in the familiar use of them grown sweet unto me,
and had I then fallen upon those other volumes, they might perhaps have
withdrawn me from the solid ground of piety, or, had I continued in that
healthful frame which I had thence imbibed, I might have thought that it
might have been obtained by the study of those books alone.
_________________________________________________________________

Chapter XXI

Most eagerly then did I seize that venerable writing of Thy Spirit; and
chiefly the Apostle Paul. Whereupon those difficulties vanished away,
wherein he once seemed to me to contradict himself, and the text of his
discourse not to agree with the testimonies of the Law and the Prophets. And
the face of that pure word appeared to me one and the same; and I learned to
rejoice with trembling. So I began; and whatsoever truth I had read in those
other books, I found here amid the praise of Thy Grace; that whoso sees, may
not so glory as if he had not received, not only what he sees, but also that
he sees (for what hath he, which he hath not received?), and that he may be
not only admonished to behold Thee, who art ever the same, but also healed,
to hold Thee; and that he who cannot see afar off, may yet walk on the way,
whereby he may arrive, and behold, and hold Thee. For, though a man be
delighted with the law of God after the inner 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 king of death; because he
persuaded our will to be like his will whereby he abode not in Thy truth.
What shall wretched man do? who shall deliver him from the body of his
death, but only Thy Grace, through Jesus Christ our Lord, whom Thou hast
begotten co-eternal, and formedst 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 present not the image of this piety, the
tears of confession, Thy sacrifice, a troubled spirit, a broken and a
contrite heart, the salvation of the people, the Bridal City, the earnest of
the Holy Ghost, the Cup of our Redemption. No man sings there, Shall not my
soul be submitted unto God? for of Him cometh my salvation. For He is my God
and my salvation, my guardian, I shall no more be moved. No one there hears
Him call, Come unto Me, all ye that labour. They scorn to learn of Him,
because He is meek and lowly in heart; for these things hast Thou hid from
the wise and prudent, and hast revealed them unto babes. For it is one
thing, from the mountain's shaggy top to see the land of peace, and to find
no way thither; and in vain to essay through ways unpassable, opposed and
beset by fugitives and deserters, under their captain the lion and the
dragon: and another to keep on the way that leads thither, guarded by the
host of the heavenly General; where they spoil not who have deserted the
heavenly army; for they avoid it, as very torment. These things did
wonderfully sink into my bowels, when I read that least of Thy Apostles, and
had meditated upon Thy works, and trembled exceedingly.
_________________________________________________________________

Book VIII
_________________________________________________________________

Chapter I

O my God, let me, with thanksgiving, remember, and confess unto Thee Thy
mercies on me. Let my bones be bedewed with Thy love, and let them say unto
Thee, Who is like unto Thee, O Lord? Thou hast broken my bonds in sunder, I
will offer unto Thee the sacrifice of thanksgiving. And how Thou hast broken
them, I will declare; and all who worship Thee, when they hear this, shall
say,Blessed be the Lord, in heaven and in earth, great and wonderful is
his name. Thy words had stuck fast in my heart, and I was hedged round
about on all sides by Thee. Of Thy eternal life I was now certain, though I
saw it in a figure and as through a glass. Yet I had ceased to doubt that
there was an incorruptible substance, whence was all other substance; nor
did I now desire to be more certain of Thee, but more steadfast in Thee. But
for my temporal life, all was wavering, and my heart had to be purged from
the old leaven. The Way, the Saviour Himself, well pleased me, but as yet I
shrunk from going through its straitness. And Thou didst put into my mind,
and it seemed good in my eyes, to go to Simplicianus, who seemed to me a
good servant of Thine; and Thy grace shone in him. I had heard also that
from his very youth he had lived most devoted unto Thee. Now he was grown
into years; and by reason of so great age spent in such zealous following of
Thy ways, he seemed to me likely to have learned much experience; and so he
had. Out of which store I wished that he would tell me (setting before him
my anxieties) which were the fittest way for one in my case to walk in Thy
paths.

For, I saw the church full; and one went this way, and another that way. But
I was displeased that I led a secular life; yea now that my desires no
longer inflamed me, as of old, with hopes of honour and profit, a very
grievous burden it was to undergo so heavy a bondage. For, in comparison of
Thy sweetness, and the beauty of Thy house which I loved, those things
delighted me no longer. But still I was enthralled with the love of woman;
nor did the Apostle forbid me to marry, although he advised me to something
better, chiefly wishing that all men were as himself was. But I being weak,
chose the more indulgent place; and because of this alone, was tossed up and
down in all beside, faint and wasted with withering cares, because in other
matters I was constrained against my will to conform myself to a married
life, to which I was given up and enthralled. I had heard from the mouth of
the Truth, that there were some eunuchs which had made themselves eunuchs
for the kingdom of heaven's sake: but, saith He, let him who can receive it,
receive it. Surely vain are all men who are ignorant of God, and 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 common witness of
all Thy creatures had found Thee our Creator, and Thy Word, God with Thee,
and together with Thee one God, by whom Thou createdst all things. There is
yet another kind of ungodly, who knowing God, glorified Him not as God,
neither were thankful. Into this also had I fallen, but Thy right hand
upheld me, and took me thence, and Thou placedst me where I might recover.
For Thou hast said unto man, Behold, the fear of the Lord is wisdom, and,
Desire not to seem wise; because they who affirmed themselves to be wise,
became fools. But I had now found the goodly pearl, which, selling all that
I had, I ought to have bought, and I hesitated.
_________________________________________________________________

Chapter II

To Simplicianus then I went, the father of Ambrose (a Bishop now) in
receiving Thy grace, and whom Ambrose truly loved as a father. To him I
related the mazes of my wanderings. But when I mentioned that I had read
certain books of the Platonists, which Victorinus, sometime Rhetoric
Professor of Rome (who had died a Christian, as I had heard), had translated
into Latin, he testified his joy that I had not fallen upon the writings of
other philosophers, full of fallacies and deceits, after the rudiments of
this world, whereas the Platonists 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 while at
Rome he had most intimately known: and of him he related what I will not
conceal. For it contains great praise of Thy grace, to be confessed unto
Thee, how that aged man, most learned and skilled in the liberal sciences,
and who had read, and weighed so many works of the philosophers; the
instructor of so many noble Senators, who also, as a monument of his
excellent discharge of his office, had (which men of this world esteem a
high honour) both deserved and obtained a statue in the Roman Forum; he, to
that age a worshipper of idols, and a partaker of the sacrilegious rites, to
which almost all the nobility of Rome were given up, and had inspired the
people with the love of


Anubis, barking Deity, and all

The monster Gods of every kind, who fought
˜Gainst Neptune, Venus, and Minerva:

whom Rome once conquered, now adored, all which the aged Victorinus had with
thundering eloquence so many years defended;”he now blushed not to be the
child of Thy Christ, and the new-born babe of Thy fountain; submitting his
neck to the yoke of humility, and subduing his forehead to the reproach of
the Cross.

O Lord, Lord, Which hast bowed the heavens and come down, touched the
mountains and they did smoke, by what means didst Thou convey Thyself into
that breast? He used to read (as Simplicianus said) the holy Scripture, most
studiously sought and searched into all the Christian writings, and said to
Simplicianus (not openly, but privately and as a friend),Understand that I
am already a Christian. Whereto he answered,I will not believe it, nor
will I rank you among Christians, unless I see you in the Church of
Christ. The other, in banter, replied,Do walls then make Christians? And
this he often said, that he was already a Christian; and Simplicianus as
often made the same answer, and the conceit of thewalls was by the other
as often renewed. For he feared to offend his friends, proud
daemon-worshippers, from the height of whose Babylonian dignity, as from
cedars of Libanus, which the Lord had not yet broken down, he supposed the
weight of enmity would fall upon him. But after that by reading and earnest
thought he had gathered firmness, and feared to be denied by Christ before
the holy angels, should he now be afraid to confess Him before men, and
appeared to himself guilty of a heavy offence, in being ashamed of the
Sacraments of the humility of Thy Word, and not being ashamed of the
sacrilegious rites of those proud daemons, whose pride he had imitated and
their rites adopted, he became bold-faced against vanity, and shame-faced
towards the truth, and suddenly and unexpectedly said to Simplicianus (as
himself told me),Go we to the Church; I wish to be made a Christian. But
he, not containing himself for joy, went with him. And having been admitted
to the first Sacrament and become a Catechumen, not long after he further
gave in his name, that he might be regenerated by baptism, Rome wondering,
the Church rejoicing. The proud saw, and were wroth; 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.

To conclude, when the hour was come for making profession of his faith
(which at Rome they, who are about to approach to Thy grace, deliver, from
an elevated place, in the sight of all the faithful, in a set form of words
committed to memory), the presbyters, he said, offered Victorinus (as was
done to such as seemed likely through bashfulness to be alarmed) to make his
profession more privately: but he chose rather to profess his salvation in
the presence of the holy multitude.For it was not salvation that he taught
in rhetoric, and yet that he had publicly professed: how much less then
ought he, when pronouncing Thy word, to dread Thy meek flock, who, when
delivering his own words, had not feared a mad multitude! When, then, he
went up to make his profession, all, as they knew him, whispered his name
one to another with the voice of congratulation. And who there knew him not?
and there ran a low murmur through all the mouths of the rejoicing
multitude, Victorinus! Victorinus! Sudden was the burst of rapture, that
they saw him; suddenly were they hushed that they might hear him. He
pronounced the true faith with an excellent boldness, and all wished to draw
him into their very heart; yea by their love and joy they drew him thither,
such were the hands wherewith they drew him.
_________________________________________________________________

Chapter III

Good God! what takes place in man, that he should more rejoice at the
salvation of a soul despaired of, and freed from greater peril, than if
there had always been hope of him, or the danger had been less? For so Thou
also, merciful Father, dost more rejoice over one penitent than over
ninety-nine just persons that need no repentance. And with much joyfulness
do we hear, so often as we hear with what joy the sheep which had strayed is
brought back upon the shepherd's shoulder, and the groat is restored to Thy
treasury, the neighbours rejoicing with the woman who found it; and the joy
of the solemn service of Thy house forceth to tears, when in Thy house it is
read of Thy younger son, that he was dead, and liveth again; had been lost,
and is found. For Thou rejoicest in us, and in Thy holy angels, holy through
holy charity. For Thou art ever the same; for all things which abide not the
same nor for ever, Thou for ever knowest in the same way.

What then takes place in the soul, when it is more delighted at finding or
recovering the things it loves, than if it had ever had them? yea, and other
things witness hereunto; and all things are full of witnesses, crying out,
So is it. The conquering commander triumpheth; yet had he not conquered
unless he had fought; and the more peril there was in the battle, so much
the more joy is there in the triumph. The storm tosses the sailors,
threatens shipwreck; all wax pale at approaching death; sky and sea are
calmed, and they are exceeding joyed, as having been exceeding afraid. A
friend is sick, and his pulse threatens danger; all who long for his
recovery are sick in mind with him. He is restored, though as yet he walks
not with his former strength; yet there is such joy, as was not, when before
he walked sound and strong. Yea, the very pleasures of human life men
acquire by difficulties, not those only which fall upon us unlooked for, and
against our wills, but even by self-chosen, and pleasure-seeking trouble.
Eating and drinking have no pleasure, unless there precede the pinching of
hunger and thirst. Men, given to drink, eat certain salt meats, to procure a
troublesome heat, which the drink allaying, causes pleasure. It is also
ordered that the affianced bride should not at once be given, lest as a
husband he should hold cheap whom, as betrothed, he sighed not after.

This law holds in foul and accursed joy; this in permitted and lawful joy;
this in the very purest perfection of friendship; this, in him who was dead,
and lived again; had been lost and was found. Every where the greater joy is
ushered in by the greater pain. What means this, O Lord my God, whereas Thou
art everlastingly joy to Thyself, and some things around Thee evermore
rejoice in Thee? What means this, that this portion of things thus ebbs and
flows alternately displeased and reconciled? Is this their allotted measure?
Is this all Thou hast assigned to them, whereas from the highest heavens to
the lowest earth, from the beginning of the world to the end of ages, from
the angel to the worm, from the first motion to the last, Thou settest each
in its place, and realisest each in their season, every thing good after its
kind? Woe is me! how high art Thou in the highest, and how deep in the
deepest! and Thou never departest, and we scarcely return to Thee.
_________________________________________________________________

Chapter IV

Up, Lord, and do; stir us up, and recall us; kindle and draw us; inflame,
grow sweet unto us, let us now love, let us run. Do not many, out of a
deeper hell of blindness than Victorinus, return to Thee, approach, and are
enlightened, receiving that Light, which they who receive, receive power
from Thee to become Thy sons? But if they be less known to the nations, even
they that know them, joy less for them. For when many joy together, each
also has more exuberant joy for that they are kindled and inflamed one by
the other. Again, because those known to many, influence the more towards
salvation, and lead the way with many to follow. And therefore do they also
who preceded them much rejoice in them, because they rejoice not in them
alone. For far be it, that in Thy tabernacle the persons of the rich should
be accepted before the poor, or the noble before the ignoble; seeing rather
Thou hast chosen the weak things of the world to confound the strong; and
the base things of this world, and the things despised hast Thou chosen, and
those things which are not, that Thou mightest bring to nought things that
are. And yet even that least of Thy apostles, by whose tongue Thou soundedst
forth these words, when through his warfare, Paulus the Proconsul, his pride
conquered, was made to pass under the easy yoke of Thy Christ, and became a
provincial of the great King; he also for his former name Saul, was pleased
to be called Paul, in testimony of so great a victory. For the enemy is more
overcome in one, of whom he hath more hold; by whom he hath hold of more.
But the proud he hath more hold of, through their nobility; and by them, of
more through their authority. By how much the more welcome then the heart of
Victorinus was esteemed, which the devil had held as an impregnable
possession, the tongue of Victorinus, with which mighty and keen weapon he
had slain many; so much the more abundantly ought Thy sons to rejoice, for
that our King hath bound the strong man, 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.
_________________________________________________________________

Chapter V

But when that man of Thine, Simplicianus, related to me this of Victorinus,
I was on fire to imitate him; for for this very end had he related it. But
when he had subjoined also, how in the days of the Emperor Julian a law was
made, whereby Christians were forbidden to teach the liberal sciences or
oratory; and how he, obeying this law, chose rather to give over the wordy
school than Thy Word, by which Thou makest eloquent the tongues of the dumb;
he seemed to me not more resolute than blessed, in having thus found
opportunity to wait on Thee only. Which thing I was sighing for, bound as I
was, not with another's irons, but by my own iron will. My will the enemy
held, and thence had made a chain for me, and bound me. For of a forward
will, was a lust made; and a lust served, became custom; and custom not
resisted, became necessity. By which links, as it were, joined together
(whence I called it a chain) a hard bondage held me enthralled. But that new
will which had begun to be in me, freely to serve Thee, and to wish to enjoy
Thee, O God, the only assured pleasantness, was not yet able to overcome my
former wilfulness, strengthened by age. Thus did my two wills, one new, and
the other old, one carnal, the other spiritual, struggle within me; and by
their discord, undid my soul.

Thus, I understood, by my own experience, what I had read, how the flesh
lusteth against the spirit and the spirit against the flesh. Myself verily
either way; yet more myself, in that which I approved in myself, than in
that which in myself I disapproved. For in this last, it was now for the
more part not myself, because in much I rather endured against my will, than
acted willingly. And yet it was through me that custom had obtained this
power of warring against me, because I had come willingly, whither I willed
not. And who has any right to speak against it, if just punishment follow
the sinner? Nor had I now any longer my former plea, that I therefore as yet
hesitated to be above the world and serve Thee, for that the truth was not
altogether ascertained to me; for now it too was. But I still under service
to the earth, refused to fight under Thy banner, and feared as much to be
freed of all incumbrances, as we should fear to be encumbered with it. Thus
with the baggage of this present world was I held down pleasantly, as in
sleep: and the thoughts wherein I meditated on Thee were like the efforts of
such as would awake, who yet overcome with a heavy drowsiness, are again
drenched therein. And as no one would sleep for ever, and in all men's sober
judgment waking is better, yet a man for the most part, feeling a heavy
lethargy in all his limbs, defers to shake off sleep, and though half
displeased, yet, even after it is time to rise, with pleasure yields to it,
so was I assured that much better were it for me to give myself up to Thy
charity, than to give myself over to mine own cupidity; but though the
former course satisfied me and gained the mastery, the latter pleased me and
held me mastered. Nor had I any thing to answer Thee calling to me, Awake,
thou that sleepest, and arise from the dead, and Christ shall give thee
light. And when Thou didst on all sides show me that what Thou saidst was
true, I, convicted by the truth, had nothing at all to answer, but only
those dull and drowsy words,Anon, anon,presently,leave me but a
little. Butpresently, presently, had no present, and mylittle while
went on for a long while; in vain I delighted in Thy law according to the
inner man, when another law in my members rebelled against the law of my
mind, and led me captive under the law of sin which was in my members. For
the law of sin is the violence of custom, whereby the mind is drawn and
holden, even against its will; but deservedly, for that it willingly fell
into it. Who then should deliver me thus wretched from the body of this
death, but Thy grace only, through Jesus Christ our Lord?
_________________________________________________________________

Chapter VI

And how Thou didst deliver me out of the bonds of desire, wherewith I was
bound most straitly to carnal concupiscence, and out of the drudgery of
worldly things, I will now declare, and confess unto Thy name, O Lord, my
helper and my redeemer. Amid increasing anxiety, I was doing my wonted
business, and daily sighing unto Thee. I attended Thy Church, whenever free
from the business under the burden of which I groaned. Alypius was with me,
now after the third sitting released from his law business, and awaiting to
whom to sell his counsel, as I sold the skill of speaking, if indeed
teaching can impart it. Nebridius had now, in consideration of our
friendship, consented to teach under Verecundus, a citizen and a grammarian
of Milan, and a very intimate friend of us all; who urgently desired, and by
the right of friendship challenged from our company, such faithful aid as he
greatly needed. Nebridius then was not drawn to this by any desire of
advantage (for he might have made much more of his learning had he so
willed), but as a most kind and gentle friend, he would not be wanting to a
good office, and slight our request. But he acted herein very discreetly,
shunning to become known to personages great according to this world,
avoiding the distraction of mind thence ensuing, and desiring to have it
free and at leisure, as many hours as might be, to seek, or read, or hear
something concerning wisdom.

Upon a day then, Nebridius being absent (I recollect not why), to, there
came to see me and Alypius, one Pontitianus, our countryman so far as being
an African, in high office in the Emperor's court. What he would with us, I
know not, but we sat down to converse, and it happened that upon a table for
some game, before us, he observed a book, took, opened it, and contrary to
his expectation, found it the Apostle Paul; for he thought it some of those
books which I was wearing myself in teaching. Whereat smiling, and looking
at me, he expressed his joy and wonder that he had on a sudden found this
book, and this only before my eyes. For he was a Christian, and baptised,
and often bowed himself before Thee our God in the Church, in frequent and
continued prayers. When then I had told him that I bestowed very great pains
upon those Scriptures, a conversation arose (suggested by his account) on
Antony the Egyptian monk: whose name was in high reputation among Thy
servants, though to that hour unknown to us. Which when he discovered, he
dwelt the more upon that subject, informing and wondering at our ignorance
of one so eminent. But we stood amazed, hearing Thy wonderful works most
fully attested, in times so recent, and almost in our own, wrought in the
true Faith and Church Catholic. We all wondered; we, that they were so
great, and he, that they had not reached us.

Thence his discourse turned to the flocks in the monasteries, and their holy
ways, a sweet-smelling savour unto Thee, and the fruitful deserts of the
wilderness, whereof we knew nothing. And there was a monastery at Milan,
full of good brethren, without the city walls, under the fostering care of
Ambrose, and we knew it not. He went on with his discourse, and we listened
in intent silence. He told us then how one afternoon at Triers, when the
Emperor was taken up with the Circensian games, he and three others, his
companions, went out to walk in gardens near the city walls, and there as
they happened to walk in pairs, one went apart with him, and the other two
wandered by themselves; and these, in their wanderings, lighted upon a
certain cottage, inhabited by certain of Thy servants, poor in spirit, of
whom is the kingdom of heaven, and there they found a little book containing
the life of Antony. This one of them began to read, admire, and kindle at
it; and as he read, to meditate on taking up such a life, and giving over
his secular service to serve Thee. And these two were of those whom they
style agents for the public affairs. Then suddenly, filled with a holy love,
and a sober shame, in anger with himself cast his eyes upon his friend,
saying,Tell me, I pray thee, what would we attain by all these labours of
ours? what aim we at? what serve we for? Can our hopes in court rise higher
than to be the Emperor's favourites? and in this, what is there not brittle,
and full of perils? and by how many perils arrive we at a greater peril? and
when arrive we thither? But a friend of God, if I wish it, I become now at
once. So spake he. And in pain with the travail of a new life, he turned
his eyes again upon the book, and read on, and was changed inwardly, where
Thou sawest, and his mind was stripped of the world, as soon appeared. For
as he read, and rolled up and down the waves of his heart, he stormed at
himself a while, then discerned, and determined on a better course; and now
being Thine, said to his friend,Now have I broken loose from those our
hopes, and am resolved to serve God; and this, from this hour, in this
place, I begin upon. If thou likest not to imitate me, oppose not. The
other answered, he would cleave to him, to partake so glorious a reward, so
glorious a service. Thus both being now Thine, were building the tower at
the necessary cost, the forsaking all that they had, and following Thee.
Then Pontitianus and the other with him, that had walked in other parts of
the garden, came in search of them to the same place; and finding them,
reminded them to return, for the day was now far spent. But they relating
their resolution and purpose, and how that will was begun and settled in
them, begged them, if they would not join, not to molest them. But the
others, though nothing altered from their former selves, did yet bewail
themselves (as he affirmed), and piously congratulated them, recommending
themselves to their prayers; and so, with hearts lingering on the earth,
went away to the palace. But the other two, fixing their heart on heaven,
remained in the cottage. And both had affianced brides, who when they heard
hereof, also dedicated their virginity unto God.
_________________________________________________________________

Chapter VII

Such was the story of Pontitianus; but Thou, O Lord, while he was speaking,
didst turn me round towards myself, taking me from behind my back where I
had placed me, unwilling to observe myself; and setting me before my face,
that I might see how foul I was, how crooked and defiled, bespotted and
ulcerous. And I beheld and stood aghast; and whither to flee from myself I
found not. And if I sought to turn mine eye from off myself, he went on with
his relation, and Thou again didst set me over against myself, and
thrustedst me before my eyes, that I might find out mine iniquity, and hate
it. I had known it, but made as though I saw it not, winked at it, and
forgot it.

But now, the more ardently I loved those whose healthful affections I heard
of, that they had resigned themselves wholly to Thee to be cured, the more
did I abhor myself, when compared with them. For many of my years (some
twelve) had now run out with me since my nineteenth, when, upon the reading
of Cicero's Hortensius, I was stirred to an earnest love of wisdom; and
still I was deferring to reject mere earthly felicity, and give myself to
search out that, whereof not the finding only, but the very search, was to
be preferred to the treasures and kingdoms of the world, though already
found, and to the pleasures of the body, though spread around me at my will.
But I wretched, most wretched, in the very commencement of my early youth,
had begged chastity of Thee, and said,Give me chastity and continency,
only not yet. For I feared lest Thou shouldest hear me soon, and soon cure
me of the disease of concupiscence, which I wished to have satisfied, rather
than extinguished. And I had wandered through crooked ways in a sacrilegious
superstition, not indeed assured thereof, but as preferring it to the others
which I did not seek religiously, but opposed maliciously.

And I had thought that I therefore deferred from day to day to reject the
hopes of this world, and follow Thee only, because there did not appear
aught certain, whither to direct my course. And now was the day come wherein
I was to be laid bare to myself, and my conscience was to upbraid me.Where
art thou now, my tongue? Thou saidst that for an uncertain truth thou
likedst not to cast off the baggage of vanity; now, it is certain, and yet
that burden still oppresseth thee, while they who neither have so worn
themselves out with seeking it, nor for often years and more have been
thinking thereon, have had their shoulders lightened, and received wings to
fly away. Thus was I gnawed within, and exceedingly confounded with a
horrible shame, while Pontitianus was so speaking. And he having brought to
a close his tale and the business he came for, went his way; and I into
myself. What said I not against myself? with what scourges of condemnation
lashed I not my soul, that it might follow me, striving to go after Thee!
Yet it drew back; refused, but excused not itself. All arguments were spent
and confuted; there remained a mute shrinking; and she feared, as she would
death, to be restrained from the flux of that custom, whereby she was
wasting to death.
_________________________________________________________________

Chapter VIII

Then in this great contention of my inward dwelling, which I had strongly
raised against my soul, in the chamber of my heart, troubled in mind and
countenance, I turned upon Alypius.What ails us? I exclaim:what is it?
what heardest thou? The unlearned start up and take heaven by force, and we
with our learning, and without heart, to, where we wallow in flesh and
blood! Are we ashamed to follow, because others are gone before, and not
ashamed not even to follow? Some such words I uttered, and my fever of mind
tore me away from him, while he, gazing on me in astonishment, kept silence.
For it was not my wonted tone; and my forehead, cheeks, eyes, colour, tone
of voice, spake my mind more than the words I uttered. A little garden there
was to our lodging, which we had the use of, as of the whole house; for the
master of the house, our host, was not living there. Thither had the tumult
of my breast hurried me, where no man might hinder the hot contention
wherein I had engaged with myself, until it should end as Thou knewest, I
knew not. Only I was healthfully distracted and dying, to live; knowing what
evil thing I was, and not knowing what good thing I was shortly to become. I
retired then into the garden, and Alypius, on my steps. For his presence did
not lessen my privacy; or how could he forsake me so disturbed? We sate down
as far removed as might be from the house. I was troubled in spirit, most
vehemently indignant that I entered not into Thy will and covenant, O my
God, which all my bones cried out unto me to enter, and praised it to the
skies. And therein we enter not by ships, or chariots, or feet, no, move not
so far as I had come from the house to that place where we were sitting.
For, not to go only, but to go in thither was nothing else but to will to
go, but to will resolutely and thoroughly; not to turn and toss, this way
and that, a maimed and half-divided will, struggling, with one part sinking
as another rose.

Lastly, in the very fever of my irresoluteness, I made with my body many
such motions as men sometimes would, but cannot, if either they have not the
limbs, or these be bound with bands, weakened with infirmity, or any other
way hindered. Thus, if I tore my hair, beat my forehead, if locking my
fingers I clasped my knee; I willed, I did it. But I might have willed, and
not done it; if the power of motion in my limbs had not obeyed. So many
things then I did, whento will was not in itselfto be able; and I did
not what both I longed incomparably more to do, and which soon after, when I
should will, I should be able to do; because soon after, when I should will,
I should will thoroughly. For in these things the ability was one with the
will, and to will was to do; and yet was it not done: and more easily did my
body obey the weakest willing of my soul, in moving its limbs at its nod,
than the soul obeyed itself to accomplish in the will alone this its
momentous will.
_________________________________________________________________

Chapter IX

Whence is this monstrousness? and to what end? Let Thy mercy gleam that I
may ask, if so be the secret penalties of men, and those darkest pangs of
the sons of Adam, may perhaps answer me. Whence is this monstrousness? and
to what end? The mind commands the body, and it obeys instantly; the mind
commands itself, and is resisted. The mind commands the hand to be moved;
and such readiness is there, that command is scarce distinct from obedience.
Yet the mind is mind, the hand is body. The mind commands the mind, its own
self, to will, and yet it doth not. Whence this monstrousness? and to what
end? It commands itself, I say, to will, and would not command, unless it
willed, and what it commands is not done. But it willeth not entirely:
therefore doth it not command 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 what it commandeth, is
not. For were the will entire, it would not even command it to be, because
it would already be. It is therefore no monstrousness partly to will, partly
to nill, but a disease of the mind, that it doth not wholly rise, by truth
upborne, borne down by custom. And therefore are there two wills, for that
one of them is not entire: and what the one lacketh, the other hath.
_________________________________________________________________

Chapter X

Let them perish from Thy presence, O God, as perish vain talkers and
seducers of the soul: who observing that in deliberating there were two
wills, affirm that there are two minds in us of two kinds, one good, the
other evil. Themselves are truly evil, when they hold these evil things; and
themselves shall become good when they hold the truth and assent unto the
truth, that Thy Apostle may say to them, Ye were sometimes darkness, but now
light in the Lord. But they, wishing to be light, not in the Lord, but in
themselves, imagining the nature of the soul to be that which God is, are
made more gross darkness through a dreadful arrogancy; for that they went
back farther from Thee, the true Light that enlightened every man that
cometh into the world. Take heed what you say, and blush for shame: draw
near unto Him and be enlightened, and your faces shall not be ashamed.
Myself when I was deliberating upon serving the Lord my God now, as I had
long purposed, it was I who willed, I who nilled, I, I myself. I neither
willed entirely, nor nilled entirely. Therefore was I at strife with myself,
and rent asunder by myself. And this rent befell me against my will, and yet
indicated, not the presence of another mind, but the punishment of my own.
Therefore it was no more I that wrought it, but sin that dwelt in me; the
punishment of a sin more freely committed, in that I was a son of Adam.

For if there he so many contrary natures as there be conflicting wills,
there shall now be not two only, but many. If a man deliberate whether he
should go to their conventicle or to the theatre, these Manichees cry out,
Behold, here are two natures: one good, draws this way; another bad, draws
back that way. For whence else is this hesitation between conflicting wills?
But I say that both be bad: that which draws to them, as that which draws
back to the theatre. But they believe not that will to be other than good,
which draws to them. What then if one of us should deliberate, and amid the
strife of his two wills be in a strait, whether he should go to the theatre
or to our church? would not these Manichees also be in a strait what to
answer? For either they must confess (which they fain would not) that the
will which leads to our church is good, as well as theirs, who have received
and are held by the mysteries of theirs: or they must suppose two evil
natures, and two evil souls conflicting in one man, and it 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 more deny that where one deliberates, one
soul fluctuates between contrary wills.

Let them no more say then, when they perceive two conflicting wills in one
man, that the conflict is between two contrary souls, of two contrary
substances, from two contrary principles, one good, and the other bad. For
Thou, O true God, dost disprove, check, and convict them; as when, both
wills being bad, one deliberates whether he should kill a man by poison or
by the sword; whether he should seize this or that estate of another's, when
he cannot both; whether he should purchase pleasure by luxury, or keep his
money by covetousness; whether he go to the circus or the theatre, if both
be open on one day; or thirdly, to rob another's house, if he have the
opportunity; or, fourthly, to commit adultery, if at the same time he have
the means thereof also; all these meeting together in the same juncture of
time, and all being equally desired, which cannot at one time be acted: for
they rend the mind amid four, or even (amid the vast variety of things
desired) more, conflicting wills, nor do they yet allege that there are so
many divers substances. So also in wills which are good. For I ask them, is
it good to take pleasure in reading the Apostle? or good to take pleasure in
a sober Psalm? or good to discourse on the Gospel? They will answer to each,
it is good. What then if all give equal pleasure, and all at once? Do not
divers wills distract the mind, while he deliberates which he should rather
choose? yet are they all good, and are at variance till one be chosen,
whither the one entire will may be borne, which before was divided into
many. Thus also, when, above, eternity delights us, and the pleasure of
temporal good holds us down below, it is the same soul which willeth not
this or that with an entire will; and therefore is rent asunder with
grievous perplexities, while out of truth it sets this first, but out of
habit sets not that aside.
_________________________________________________________________

Chapter XI

Thus soul-sick was I, and tormented, accusing myself much more severely than
my wont, rolling and turning me in my chain, till that were wholly broken,
whereby I now was but just, 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 not bursting that same slight
remaining tie, it should recover strength, and bind me the faster. For I
said with myself,Be it done now, be it done now. And as I spake, I all
but enacted it: I all but did it, and did it not: yet sunk not back to my
former state, but kept my stand hard by, and took breath. And I essayed
again, and wanted somewhat less of it, and somewhat less, and all but
touched, and laid hold of it; and yet came not at it, nor touched nor laid
hold of it; hesitating to die to death and to live to life: and the worse
whereto I was inured, prevailed more with me than the better whereto I was
unused: and the very moment wherein I was to become other than I was, the
nearer it approached me, the greater horror did it strike into me; yet did
it not strike me back, nor turned me away, but held me in suspense.

The very toys of toys, and vanities of vanities, my ancient mistresses,
still held me; they plucked my fleshy garment, and whispered softly,Dost
thou cast us off? and from that moment shall we no more be with thee for
ever? and from that moment shall not this or that be lawful for thee for
ever? And what was it which they suggested in that I said,this or
that, what did they suggest, O my God? Let Thy mercy turn it away from the
soul of Thy servant. What defilements did they suggest! what shame! And now
I much less than half heard them, and not openly showing themselves and
contradicting me, but muttering as it were behind my back, and privily
plucking me, as I was departing, but to look back on them. Yet they did
retard me, so that I hesitated to burst and shake myself free from them, and
to spring over whither I was called; a violent habit saying to me,Thinkest
thou, thou canst live without them?

But now it spake very faintly. For on that side whither I had set my face,
and whither I trembled to go, there appeared unto me the chaste dignity of
Continency, serene, yet not relaxedly, gay, honestly alluring me to come and
doubt not; and stretching forth to receive and embrace me, her holy hands
full of multitudes of good examples: there were so many young men and
maidens here, a multitude of youth and every age, grave widows and aged
virgins; and Continence herself in all, not barren, but a fruitful mother of
children of joys, by Thee her Husband, O Lord. And she smiled on me with a
persuasive mockery, as would she say,Canst not thou what these youths,
what these maidens can? or can they either in themselves, and not rather in
the Lord their God? The Lord their God gave me unto them. Why standest thou
in thyself, and so standest not? cast thyself upon Him, fear not He will not
withdraw Himself that thou shouldest fall; cast thyself fearlessly upon Him,
He will receive, and will heal thee. And I blushed exceedingly, for that I
yet heard the muttering of those toys, and hung in suspense. And she again
seemed to say,Stop thine ears against those thy unclean members on the
earth, that they may be mortified. They tell thee of delights, but not as
doth the law of the Lord thy God. This controversy in my heart was self
against self only. But Alypius sitting close by my side, in silence waited
the issue of my unwonted emotion.
_________________________________________________________________

Chapter XII

But when a deep consideration had from the secret bottom of my soul drawn
together and heaped up all my misery in the sight of my heart; there arose a
mighty storm, bringing a mighty shower of tears. Which that I might pour
forth wholly, in its natural expressions, I rose from Alypius: solitude was
suggested to me as fitter for the business of weeping; so I retired so far
that even his presence could not be a burden to me. Thus was it then with
me, and he perceived something of it; for something I suppose I had spoken,
wherein the tones of my voice appeared choked with weeping, and so had risen
up. He then remained where we were sitting, most extremely astonished. I
cast myself down I know not how, under a certain fig-tree, giving full vent
to my tears; and the floods of mine eyes gushed out an acceptable sacrifice
to Thee. And, not indeed in these words, yet to this purpose, spake I much
unto Thee: and Thou, O Lord, how long? how long, Lord, wilt Thou be angry
for ever? Remember not our former iniquities, for I felt that I was held by
them. I sent up these sorrowful words: How long, how long,to-morrow, and
tomorrow? Why not now? why not is there this hour an end to my uncleanness?

So was I speaking and weeping in the most bitter contrition of my heart,
when, lo! I heard from a neighbouring house a voice, as of boy or girl, I
know not, chanting, and oft repeating,Take up and read; Take up and read.
Instantly, my countenance altered, I began to think most intently whether
children were wont in any kind of play to sing such words: nor could I
remember ever to have heard the like. So checking the torrent of my tears, I
arose; interpreting it to be no other than a command from God to open the
book, and read the first chapter I should find. For I had heard of Antony,
that coming in during the reading of the Gospel, he received the admonition,
as if what was being read was spoken to him: Go, sell all that thou hast,
and give to the poor, and thou shalt have treasure in heaven, and come and
follow me: and by such oracle he was forthwith converted unto Thee. Eagerly
then I returned to the place where Alypius was sitting; for there had I laid
the volume of the Apostle when I arose thence. I seized, opened, and in
silence read that section 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,
in concupiscence. No further would I read; nor needed I: for instantly at
the end of this sentence, by a light as it were of serenity infused into my
heart, all the darkness of doubt vanished away.

Then putting my finger between, or some other mark, I shut the volume, and
with a calmed countenance made it known to Alypius. And what was wrought in
him, which I knew not, he thus showed me. He asked to see what I had read: I
showed him; and he looked even further than I had read, and I knew not what
followed. This followed, him that is weak in the faith, receive; which he
applied to himself, and disclosed to me. And by this admonition was he
strengthened; and by a good resolution and purpose, and most corresponding
to his character, wherein he did always very far differ from me, for the
better, without any turbulent delay he joined me. Thence we go in to my
mother; we tell her; she rejoiceth: we relate in order how it took place;
she leaps for joy, and triumpheth, and blesseth Thee, Who are able to do
above that which we ask or think; for she perceived that Thou hadst given
her more for me, than she was wont to beg by her pitiful and most sorrowful
groanings. For thou convertedst me unto Thyself, so that I sought neither
wife, nor any hope of this world, standing in that rule of faith, where Thou
hadst showed me unto her in a vision, so many years before. And Thou didst
convert her mourning into joy, much more plentiful than she had desired, and
in a much more precious and purer way than she erst required, by having
grandchildren of my body.
_________________________________________________________________

Book IX
_________________________________________________________________

Chapter I

O Lord, I am Thy servant; I am Thy servant, and the son of Thy handmaid:
Thou hast broken my bonds in sunder. I will offer to Thee the sacrifice of
Let my heart and my tongue praise Thee; yea, let all my bones say, O Lord,
who is like unto Thee? Let them say, and answer Thou me, and say unto my
soul, I am thy salvation. Who am I, and what am I? What evil have not been
either my deeds, or if not my deeds, my words, or if not my words, my will?
But Thou, O Lord, are good and merciful, and Thy right hand had respect unto
the depth of my death, and from the bottom of my heart emptied that abyss of
corruption. And this Thy whole gift was, to nill what I willed, and to will
what Thou willedst. But where through all those years, and out of what low
and deep recess was my free-will called forth in a moment, whereby to submit
my neck to Thy easy yoke, and my shoulders unto Thy light burden, O Christ
Jesus, my Helper and my Redeemer? How sweet did it at once become to me, to
want the sweetnesses of those toys! and what I feared to be parted from, was
now a joy to part with. For Thou didst cast them forth from me, Thou true
and highest sweetness. Thou castest them forth, and for them enteredst in
Thyself, sweeter than all pleasure, though not to flesh and blood; brighter
than all light, but more hidden than all depths, higher than all honour, but
not to the high in their own conceits. Now was my soul free from the biting
cares of canvassing and getting, and weltering in filth, and scratching off
the itch of lust. And my infant tongue spake freely to Thee, my brightness,
and my riches, and my health, the Lord my God.
_________________________________________________________________

Chapter II

And I resolved in Thy sight, not tumultuously to tear, but gently to
withdraw, the service of my tongue from the marts of lip-labour: that the
young, no students in Thy law, nor in Thy peace, but in lying dotages and
law-skirmishes, should no longer buy at my mouth arms for their madness. And
very seasonably, it now wanted but very few days unto the Vacation of the
Vintage, and I resolved to endure them, then in a regular way to take my
leave, and having been purchased by Thee, no more to return for sale. Our
purpose then was known to Thee; but to men, other than our own friends, was
it not known. For we had agreed among ourselves not to let it out abroad to
any: although to us, now ascending from the valley of tears, and singing
that song of degrees, Thou hadst given sharp arrows, and destroying coals
against the subtle tongue, which as though advising for us, would thwart,
and would out of love devour us, as it doth its meat.

Thou hadst pierced our hearts with Thy charity, and we carried Thy words as
it were fixed in our entrails: and the examples of Thy servants, whom for
black Thou hadst made bright, and for dead, alive, being piled together in
the receptacle of our thoughts, kindled and burned up that our heavy torpor,
that we should not sink down to the abyss; and they fired us so vehemently,
that all the blasts of subtle tongues from gainsayers might only inflame us
the more fiercely, not extinguish us. Nevertheless, because for Thy Name's
sake which Thou hast hallowed throughout the earth, this our vow and purpose
might also find some to commend it, it seemed like ostentation not to wait
for the vacation now so near, but to quit beforehand a public profession,
which was before the eyes of all; so that all looking on this act of mine,
and observing how near was the time of vintage which I wished to anticipate,
would talk much of me, as if I had desired to appear some great one. And
what end had it served me, that people should repute and dispute upon my
purpose, and that our good should be evil spoken of.

Moreover, it had at first troubled me that in this very summer my lungs
began to give way, amid too great literary labour, and to breathe deeply
with difficulty, and by the pain in my chest to show that they were injured,
and to refuse any full or lengthened speaking; this had troubled me, for it
almost constrained me of necessity to lay down that burden of teaching, or,
if I could be cured and recover, at least to intermit it. But when the full
wish for leisure, that I might see how that Thou art the Lord, arose, and
was fixed, in me; my God, Thou knowest, I began even to rejoice that I had
this secondary, and that no feigned, excuse, which might something moderate
the offence taken by those who, for their sons™ sake, wished me never to
have the freedom of Thy sons. Full then of such joy, I endured till that
interval of time were run; it may have been some twenty days, yet they were
endured manfully; endured, for the covetousness which aforetime bore a part
of this heavy business, had left me, and I remained alone, and had been
overwhelmed, had not patience taken its place. Perchance, some of Thy
servants, my brethren, may say that I sinned in this, that with a heart
fully set on Thy service, I suffered myself to sit even one hour in the
chair of lies. Nor would I be contentious. But hast not Thou, O most
merciful Lord, pardoned and remitted this sin also, with my other most
horrible and deadly sins, in the holy water?
_________________________________________________________________

Chapter III

Verecundus was worn down with care about this our blessedness, for that
being held back by bonds, whereby he was most straitly bound, he saw that he
should be severed from us. For himself was not yet a Christian, his wife one
of the faithful; and yet hereby, more rigidly than by any other chain, was
he let and hindered from the journey which we had now essayed. For he would
not, he said, be a Christian on any other terms than on those he could not.
However, he offered us courteously to remain at his country-house so long as
we should stay there. Thou, O Lord, shalt reward him in the resurrection of
the just, seeing Thou hast already given him the lot of the righteous. For
although, in our absence, being now at Rome, he was seized with bodily
sickness, and therein being made a Christian, and one of the faithful, he
departed this life; yet hadst Thou mercy not on him only, but on us also:
lest remembering the exceeding kindness of our friend towards us, yet unable
to number him among Thy flock, we should be agonised with intolerable
sorrow. Thanks unto Thee, our God, we are Thine: Thy suggestions and
consolations tell us, Faithful in promises, Thou now requitest Verecundus
for his country-house of Cassiacum, where from the fever of the world we
reposed in Thee, with the eternal freshness of Thy Paradise: for that Thou
hast forgiven him his sins upon earth, in that rich mountain, that mountain
which yieldeth milk, Thine own mountain.

He then had at that time sorrow, but Nebridius joy. For although he also,
not being yet a Christian, had fallen into the pit of that most pernicious
error, believing the flesh of Thy Son to be a phantom: yet emerging thence,
he believed as we did; not as yet endued with any Sacraments of Thy Church,
but a most ardent searcher out of truth. Whom, not long after our conversion
and regeneration by Thy Baptism, being also a faithful member of the Church
Catholic, and serving Thee in perfect chastity and continence amongst his
people in Africa, his whole house having through him first been made
Christian, didst Thou release from the flesh; and now he lives in Abraham's
bosom. Whatever that be, which is signified by that bosom, there lives my
Nebridius, my sweet friend, and Thy child, O Lord, adopted of a freed man:
there he liveth. For what other place is there for such a soul? There he
liveth, whereof he asked much of me, a poor inexperienced man. Now lays he
not his ear to my mouth, but his spiritual mouth unto Thy fountain, and
drinketh as much as he can receive, wisdom in proportion to his thirst,
endlessly happy. Nor do I think that he is so inebriated therewith, as to
forget me; seeing Thou, Lord, Whom he drinketh, art mindful of us. So were
we then, comforting Verecundus, who sorrowed, as far as friendship
permitted, that our conversion was of such sort; and exhorting him to become
faithful, according to his measure, namely, of a married estate; and
awaiting Nebridius to follow us, which, being so near, he was all but doing:
and so, lo! those days rolled by at length; for long and many they seemed,
for the love I bare to the easeful liberty, that I might sing to Thee, from
my inmost marrow, My heart hath said unto Thee, I have sought Thy face: Thy
face, Lord, will I seek.
_________________________________________________________________

Chapter IV

Now was the day come wherein I was in deed to be freed of my Rhetoric
Professorship, whereof in thought I was already freed. And it was done. Thou
didst rescue my tongue, whence Thou hadst before rescued my heart. And I
blessed Thee, rejoicing; retiring with all mine to the villa. What I there
did in writing, which was now enlisted in Thy service, though still, in this
breathing-time as it were, panting from the school of pride, my books may
witness, as well what I debated with others, as what with myself alone,
before Thee: what with Nebridius, who was absent, my Epistles bear witness.
And when shall I have time to rehearse all Thy great benefits towards us at
that time, especially when hasting on to yet greater mercies? For my
remembrance recalls me, and pleasant is it to me, O Lord, to confess to
Thee, by what inward goads Thou tamedst me; and how Thou hast evened me,
lowering the mountains and hills of my high imaginations, straightening my
crookedness, and smoothing my rough ways; and how Thou also subduedst the
brother of my heart, Alypius, unto the name of Thy Only Begotten, our Lord
and Saviour Jesus Christ, which he would not at first vouchsafe to have
inserted in our writings. For rather would he have them savour of the lofty
cedars of the Schools, which the Lord hath now broken down, than of the
wholesome herbs of the Church, the antidote against serpents.

Oh, in what accents spake I unto Thee, my God, when I read the Psalms of
David, those faithful songs, and sounds of devotion, which allow of no
swelling spirit, as yet a Catechumen, and a novice in Thy real love, resting
in that villa, with Alypius a Catechumen, my mother cleaving to us, in
female garb with masculine faith, with the tranquillity of age, motherly
love, Christian piety! Oh, what accents did I utter unto Thee in those
Psalms, and how was I by them kindled towards Thee, and on fire to rehearse
them, if possible, through the whole world, against the pride of mankind!
And yet they are sung through the whole world, nor can any hide himself from
Thy heat. With what vehement and bitter sorrow was I angered at the
Manichees! and again I pitied them, for they knew not those Sacraments,
those medicines, and were mad against the antidote which might have
recovered them of their madness. How I would they had then been somewhere
near me, and without my knowing that they were there, could have beheld my
countenance, and heard my words, when I read the fourth Psalm in that time
of my rest, and how that Psalm wrought upon me: When I called, the God of my
righteousness heard me; in tribulation Thou enlargedst me. Have mercy upon
me, O Lord, and hear my prayer. Would that what I uttered on these words,
they could hear, without my knowing whether they heard, lest they should
think I spake it for their sakes! Because in truth neither should I speak
the same things, nor in the same way, if I perceived that they heard and saw
me; nor if I spake them would they so receive them, as when I spake by and
for myself before Thee, out of the natural feelings of my soul.

I trembled for fear, and again kindled with hope, and with rejoicing in Thy
mercy, O Father; and all issued forth both by mine eyes and voice, when Thy
good Spirit turning unto us, said, O ye sons of men, how long slow of heart?
why do ye love vanity, and seek after leasing? For I had loved vanity, and
sought after leasing. And Thou, 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 Comforter, the Spirit of truth.
And He had already sent Him, but I knew it not; He had sent Him, because He
was now magnified, rising again from the dead, and ascending into heaven.
For till then, the Spirit was not yet given, because Jesus was not yet
glorified. And the prophet cries out, How long, slow of heart? why do 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, not knowing, loved vanity, and sought after leasing: and therefore I
heard and trembled, because it was spoken unto such as I remembered myself
to have been. For in those phantoms which I had held for truths, was there
vanity and leasing; and I spake aloud many things earnestly and forcibly, in
the bitterness of my remembrance. Which would they had heard, who yet love
vanity and seek after leasing! They would perchance have been troubled, and
have vomited it up; and Thou wouldest hear them when they cried unto Thee;
for by a true death in the flesh did He die for us, who now intercedeth unto
Thee for us.

I further read, Be angry, and sin not. And how was I moved, O my God, who
had now learned to be angry at myself for things past, that I might not sin
in time to come! Yea, to be justly angry; for that it was not another nature
of a people of darkness which sinned for me, as they say who are not angry
at themselves, and treasure up wrath against the day of wrath, and of the
revelation of Thy just judgment. Nor were my good things now without, nor
sought with the eyes of flesh in that earthly sun; for they that would have
joy from without soon become vain, and waste themselves on the things seen
and temporal, and in their famished thoughts do lick their very shadows. Oh
that they were wearied out with their famine, and said, Who will show us
good things? And we would say, and they hear, The light of Thy countenance
is sealed upon us. For we are not that light which enlighteneth every man,
but we are enlightened by Thee; that having been sometimes darkness, we may
be light in Thee. Oh that they could see the eternal Internal, which having
tasted, I was grieved that I could not show It them, so long as they brought
me their heart in their eyes roving abroad from Thee, while they said, Who
will show us good things? For there, where I was angry within myself in my
chamber, where I was inwardly pricked, where I had sacrificed, slaying my
old man and commencing the purpose of a new life, putting my trust in
Thee,”there hadst Thou begun to grow sweet unto me, and hadst put gladness
in my heart. And I cried out, as I read this outwardly, finding it inwardly.
Nor would I be multiplied with worldly goods; wasting away time, and wasted
by time; whereas I had in Thy eternal Simple Essence other corn, and wine,
and oil.

And with a loud cry of my heart I cried out in the next verse, O in peace, O
for The Self-same! O what said he, I will lay me down and sleep, for who
shall hinder us, when cometh to pass that saying which is written, Death is
swallowed up in victory? And Thou surpassingly art the Self-same, Who art
not changed; and in Thee is rest which forgetteth all toil, for there is
none other with Thee, nor are we to seek those many other things, which are
not what Thou art: but Thou, Lord, alone hast made me dwell in hope. I read,
and kindled; nor found I what to do to those deaf and dead, of whom myself
had been, a pestilent person, a bitter and a blind bawler against those
writings, which are honied with the honey of heaven, and lightsome with
Thine own light: and I was consumed with zeal at the enemies of this
Scripture.

When shall I recall all which passed in those holy-days? Yet neither have I
forgotten, nor will I pass over the severity of Thy scourge, and the
wonderful swiftness of Thy mercy. Thou didst then torment me with pain in my
teeth; which when it had come to such height that I could not speak, it came
into my heart to desire all my friends present to pray for me to Thee, the
God of all manner of health. And this I wrote on wax, and gave it them to
read. Presently so soon as with humble devotion we had bowed our knees, that
pain went away. But what pain? or how went it away? I was affrighted, O my
Lord, my God; for from infancy I had never experienced the like. And the
power of Thy Nod was deeply conveyed to me, and rejoicing in faith, I
praised Thy Name. And that faith suffered me not to be at ease about my past
sins, which were not yet forgiven me by Thy baptism.
_________________________________________________________________

Chapter V

The vintage-vacation ended, I gave notice to the Milanese to provide their
scholars with another master to sell words to them; for that I had both made
choice to serve Thee, and through my difficulty of breathing and pain in my
chest was not equal to the Professorship. And by letters I signified to Thy
Prelate, the holy man Ambrose, my former errors and present desires, begging
his advice what of Thy Scriptures I had best read, to become readier and
fitter for receiving so great grace. He recommended Isaiah the Prophet: I
believe, because he above the rest is a more clear foreshower of the Gospel
and of the calling of the Gentiles. But I, not understanding the first
lesson in him, and imagining the whole to be like it, laid it by, to be
resumed when better practised in our Lord's own words.
_________________________________________________________________

Chapter VI

Thence, when the time was come wherein I was to give in my name, we left the
country and returned to Milan. It pleased Alypius also to be with me born
again in Thee, being already clothed with the humility befitting Thy
Sacraments; and a most valiant tamer of the body, so as, with unwonted
venture, to wear the frozen ground of Italy with his bare feet. We joined
with us the boy Adeodatus, born after the flesh, of my sin. Excellently
hadst Thou made him. He was not quite fifteen, and in wit surpassed many
grave and learned men. I confess unto Thee Thy gifts, O Lord my God, Creator
of all, and abundantly able to reform our deformities: for I had no part in
that boy, but the sin. For that we brought him up in Thy discipline, it was
Thou, none else, had inspired us with it. I confess unto Thee Thy gifts.
There is a book of ours entitled The Master; it is a dialogue between him
and me. Thou knowest that all there ascribed to the person conversing with
me were his ideas, in his sixteenth year. Much besides, and yet more
admirable, I found in him. That talent struck awe into me. And who but Thou
could be the workmaster of such wonders? Soon didst Thou take his life from
the earth: and I now remember him without anxiety, fearing nothing for his
childhood or youth, or his whole self. Him we joined with us, our
contemporary in grace, to he brought up in Thy discipline: and we were
baptised, and anxiety for our past life vanished from us. Nor was I sated in
those days with the wondrous sweetness of considering the depth of Thy
counsels concerning the salvation of mankind. How did I weep, in Thy Hymns
and Canticles, touched to the quick by the voices of Thy sweet-attuned
Church! The voices flowed into mine ears, and the Truth distilled into my
heart, whence the affections of my devotion overflowed, and tears ran down,
and happy was I therein.
_________________________________________________________________

Chapter VII

Not long had the Church of Milan begun to use this kind of consolation and
exhortation, the brethren zealously joining with harmony of voice and
hearts. For it was a year, or not much more, that Justina, mother to the
Emperor Valentinian, a child, persecuted Thy servant Ambrose, in favour of
her heresy, to which she was seduced by the Arians. The devout people kept
watch in the Church, ready to die with their Bishop Thy servant. There my
mother Thy handmaid, bearing a chief part of those anxieties and watchings,
lived for prayer. We, yet unwarmed by the heat of Thy Spirit, still were
stirred up by the sight of the amazed and disquieted city. Then it was first
instituted that after the manner of the Eastern Churches, Hymns and Psalms
should be sung, lest the people should wax faint through the tediousness of
sorrow: and from that day to this the custom is retained, divers (yea,
almost all) Thy congregations, throughout other parts of the world following
herein.

Then didst Thou by a vision discover to Thy forenamed Bishop where the
bodies of Gervasius and Protasius the martyrs lay hid (whom Thou hadst in
Thy secret treasury stored uncorrupted so many years), whence Thou mightest
seasonably produce them to repress the fury of a woman, but an Empress. For
when they were discovered and dug up, and with due honour translated to the
Ambrosian Basilica, not only they who were vexed with unclean spirits (the
devils confessing themselves) were cured, but a certain man who had for many
years been blind, a citizen, and well known to the city, asking and hearing
the reason of the people's confused joy, sprang forth desiring his guide to
lead him thither. Led thither, he begged to be allowed to touch with his
handkerchief the bier of Thy saints, whose death is precious in Thy sight.
Which when he had done, and put to his eyes, they were forthwith opened.
Thence did the fame spread, thence Thy praises glowed, shone; thence the
mind of that enemy, though not turned to the soundness of believing, was yet
turned back from her fury of persecuting. Thanks to Thee, O my God. Whence
and whither hast Thou thus led my remembrance, that I should confess these
things also unto Thee? which great though they be, I had passed by in
forgetfulness. And yet then, when the odour of Thy ointments was so
fragrant, did we not run after Thee. Therefore did I more weep among the
singing of Thy Hymns, formerly sighing after Thee, and at length breathing
in Thee, as far as the breath may enter into this our house of grass.
_________________________________________________________________

Chapter VIII

Thou that makest men to dwell of one mind in one house, didst join with us
Euodius also, a young man of our own city. Who being an officer of Court,
was before us converted to Thee and baptised: and quitting his secular
warfare, girded himself to Thine. We were together, about to dwell together
in our devout purpose. We sought where we might serve Thee most usefully,
and were together returning to Africa: whitherward being as far as Ostia, my
mother departed this life. Much I omit, as hastening much. Receive my
confessions and thanksgivings, O my God, for innumerable things whereof I am
silent. But I will not omit whatsoever my soul would bring forth concerning
that Thy handmaid, who brought me forth, both in the flesh, that I might be
born to this temporal light, and in heart, that I might be born to Light
eternal. Not her gifts, but Thine in her, would I speak of; for neither did
she make nor educate herself. Thou createdst her; nor did her father and
mother know what a one should come from them. And the sceptre of Thy Christ,
the discipline of Thine only Son, in a Christian house, a good member of Thy
Church, educated her in Thy fear. Yet for her good discipline was she wont
to commend not so much her mother's diligence, as that of a certain decrepit
maid-servant, who had carried her father when a child, as little ones used
to be carried at the backs of elder girls. For which reason, and for her
great age, and excellent conversation, was she, in that Christian family,
well respected by its heads. Whence also the charge of her master's
daughters was entrusted to her, to which she gave diligent heed, restraining
them earnestly, when necessary, with a holy severity, and teaching them with
a grave discretion. For, except at those hours wherein they were most
temporately fed at their parents™ table, she would not suffer them, though
parched with thirst, to drink even water; preventing an evil custom, and
adding this wholesome advice:Ye drink water now, because you have not wine
in your power; but when you come to be married, and be made mistresses of
cellars and cupboards, you will scorn water, but the custom of drinking will
abide. By this method of instruction, and the authority she had, she
refrained the greediness of childhood, and moulded their very thirst to such
an excellent moderation that what they should not, that they would not.

And yet (as Thy handmaid told me her son) there had crept upon her a love of
wine. For when (as the manner was) she, as though a sober maiden, was bidden
by her parents to draw wine out of the hogshed, holding the vessel under the
opening, before she poured the wine into the flagon, she sipped a little
with the tip of her lips; for more her instinctive feelings refused. For
this she did, not out of any desire of drink, but out of the exuberance of
youth, whereby it boils over in mirthful freaks, which in youthful spirits
are wont to be kept under by the gravity of their elders. And thus by adding
to that little, daily littles (for whoso despiseth little things shall fall
by little and little), she had fallen into such a habit as greedily to drink
off her little cup brim-full almost of wine. Where was then that discreet
old woman, and that her earnest countermanding? Would aught avail against a
secret disease, if Thy healing hand, O Lord, watched not over us? Father,
mother, and governors absent, Thou present, who createdst, who callest, who
also by those set over us, workest something towards the salvation of our
souls, what didst Thou then, O my God? how didst Thou cure her? how heal
her? didst Thou not out of another soul bring forth a hard and a sharp
taunt, like a lancet out of Thy secret store, and with one touch remove all
that foul stuff? For a maid-servant with whom she used to go to the cellar,
falling to words (as it happens) with her little mistress, when alone with
her, taunted her with this fault, with most bitter insult, calling her
wine-bibber. With which taunt she, stung to the quick, saw the foulness of
her fault, and instantly condemned and forsook it. As flattering friends
pervert, so reproachful enemies mostly correct. Yet not what by them Thou
doest, but what themselves purposed, dost Thou repay them. For she in her
anger sought to vex her young mistress, not to amend her; and did it in
private, either for that the time and place of the quarrel so found them; or
lest herself also should have anger, for discovering it thus late. But Thou,
Lord, Governor of all in heaven and earth, who turnest to Thy purposes the
deepest currents, and the ruled turbulence of the tide of times, didst by
the very unhealthiness of one soul heal another; lest any, when he observes
this, should ascribe it to his own power, even when another, whom he wished
to be reformed, is reformed through words of his.
_________________________________________________________________

Chapter IX

Brought up thus modestly and soberly, and made subject rather by Thee to her
parents, than by her parents to Thee, so soon as she was of marriageable
age, being bestowed upon a husband, she served him as her lord; and did her
diligence to win him unto Thee, preaching Thee unto him by her conversation;
by which Thou ornamentedst her, making her reverently amiable, and admirable
unto her husband. And she so endured the wronging of her bed as never to
have any quarrel with her husband thereon. For she looked for Thy mercy upon
him, that believing in Thee, he might be made chaste. But besides this, he
was fervid, as in his affections, so in anger: but she had learnt not to
resist an angry husband, not in deed only, but not even in word. Only when
he was smoothed and tranquil, and in a temper to receive it, she would give
an account of her actions, if haply he had overhastily taken offence. In a
word, while many matrons, who had milder husbands, yet bore even in their
faces marks of shame, would in familiar talk blame their husbands™ lives,
she would blame their tongues, giving them, as in jest, earnest advice:
That from the time they heard the marriage writings read to them, they
should account them as indentures, whereby they were made servants; and so,
remembering their condition, ought not to set themselves up against their
lords. And when they, knowing what a choleric husband she endured,
marvelled that it had never been heard, nor by any token perceived, that
Patricius had beaten his wife, or that there had been any domestic
difference between them, even for one day, and confidentially asking the
reason, she taught them her practice above mentioned. Those wives who
observed it found the good, and returned thanks; those who observed it not,
found no relief, and suffered.

Her mother-in-law also, at first by whisperings of evil servants incensed
against her, she so overcame by observance and persevering endurance and
meekness, that she of her own accord discovered to her son the meddling
tongues whereby the domestic peace betwixt her and her daughter-in-law had
been disturbed, asking him to correct them. Then, when in compliance with
his mother, and for the well-ordering of the family, he had with stripes
corrected those discovered, at her will who had discovered them, she
promised the like reward to any who, to please her, should speak ill of her
daughter-in-law to her: and none now venturing, they lived together with a
remarkable sweetness of mutual kindness.

This great gift also thou bestowedst, O my God, my mercy, upon that good
handmaid of Thine, in whose womb Thou createdst me, that between any
disagreeing and discordant parties where she was able, she showed herself
such a peacemaker, that hearing on both sides most bitter things, such as
swelling and indigested choler uses to break out into, when the crudities of
enmities are breathed out in sour discourses to a present friend against an
absent enemy, she never would disclose aught of the one unto the other, but
what might tend to their reconcilement. A small good this might appear to
me, did I not to my grief know numberless persons, who through some horrible
and wide-spreading contagion of sin, not only disclose to persons mutually
angered things said in anger, but add withal things never spoken, whereas to
humane humanity, it ought to seem a light thing not to toment or increase
ill will by ill words, unless one study withal by good words to quench it.
Such was she, Thyself, her most inward Instructor, teaching her in the
school of the heart.

Finally, her own husband, towards the very end of his earthly life, did she
gain unto Thee; nor had she to complain of that in him as a believer, which
before he was a believer she had borne from him. She was also the servant of
Thy servants; whosoever of them knew her, did in her much praise and honour
and love Thee; for that through the witness of the fruits of a holy
conversation they perceived Thy presence in her heart. For she had been the
wife of one man, had requited her parents, had govemed her house piously,
was well reported of for good works, had brought up children, so often
travailing in birth of them, as she saw them swerving from Thee. Lastly, of
all of us Thy servants, O Lord (whom on occasion of Thy own gift Thou
sufferest to speak), us, who before her sleeping in Thee lived united
together, having received the grace of Thy baptism, did she so take care of,
as though she had been mother of us all; so served us, as though she had
been child to us all.
_________________________________________________________________

Chapter X

The day now approaching whereon she was to depart this life (which day Thou
well knewest, we knew not), it came to pass, Thyself, as I believe, by Thy
secret ways so ordering it, that she and I stood alone, leaning in a certain
window, which looked into the garden of the house where we now lay, at
Ostia; where removed from the din of men, we were recruiting from the
fatigues of a long journey, for the voyage. We were discoursing then
together, alone, very sweetly; and forgetting those things which are behind,
and reaching forth unto those things which are before, we were enquiring
between ourselves in the presence of the Truth, which Thou art, of what sort
the eternal life of the saints was to be, which eye hath not seen, nor ear
heard, nor hath it entered into the heart of man. But yet we gasped with the
mouth of our heart, after those heavenly streams of Thy fountain, the
fountain of life, which is with Thee; that being bedewed thence according to
our capacity, we might in some sort meditate upon so high a mystery.

And when our discourse was brought to that point, that the very highest
delight of the earthly senses, in the very purest material light, was, in
respect of the sweetness of that life, not only not worthy of comparison,
but not even of mention; we raising up ourselves with a more glowing
affection towards theSelf-same, did by degrees pass through all things
bodily, even the very heaven whence sun and moon and stars shine upon the
earth; yea, we were soaring higher yet, by inward musing, and discourse, and
admiring of Thy works; and we came to our own minds, and went beyond them,
that we might arrive at that region of never-failing plenty, where Thou
feedest Israel for ever with the food of truth, and where life is the Wisdom
by whom all these things are made, and what have been, and what shall be,
and she is not made, but is, as she hath been, and so shall she be ever; yea
rather, tohave been, andhereafter to be, are not in her, but onlyto
be, seeing she is eternal. For tohave been, and tobe hereafter, are
not eternal. And while we were discoursing and panting after her, we
slightly touched on her with the whole effort of our heart; and we sighed,
and there we leave bound the first fruits of the Spirit; and returned to
vocal expressions of our mouth, where the word spoken has beginning and end.
And what is like unto Thy Word, our Lord, who endureth in Himself without
becoming old, and maketh all things new?

We were saying then: If to any the tumult of the flesh were hushed, hushed
the images of earth, and waters, and air, hushed also the pole of heaven,
yea the very soul be hushed to herself, and by not thinking on self surmount
self, hushed all dreams and imaginary revelations, every tongue and every
sign, and whatsoever exists only in transition, since if any could hear, all
these say, We made not ourselves, but He made us that abideth for ever”If
then having uttered this, they too should be hushed, having roused only our
ears to Him who made them, and He alone speak, not by them but by Himself,
that we may hear His Word, not through any tongue of flesh, nor Angel's
voice, nor sound of thunder, nor in the dark riddle of a similitude, but
might hear Whom in these things we love, might hear His Very Self without
these (as we two now strained ourselves, and in swift thought touched on
that Eternal Wisdom which abideth over all);”could this be continued on, and
other visions of kind far unlike be withdrawn, and this one ravish, and
absorb, and wrap up its beholder amid these inward joys, so that life might
be for ever like that one moment of understanding which now we sighed after;
were not this, Enter into thy Master's joy? And when shall that be? When we
shall all rise again, though we shall not all be changed?

Such things was I speaking, and even if not in this very manner, and these
same words, yet, Lord, Thou knowest that in that day when we were speaking
of these things, and this world with all its delights became, as we spake,
contemptible to us, my mother said,Son, for mine own part I have no
further delight in any thing in this life. What I do here any longer, and to
what I am here, I know not, now that my hopes in this world are
accomplished. One thing there was for which I desired to linger for a while
in this life, that I might see thee a Catholic Christian before I died. My
God hath done this for me more abundantly, that I should now see thee
withal, despising earthly happiness, become His servant: what do I here?
_________________________________________________________________

Chapter XI

What answer I made her unto these things, I remember not. For scarce five
days after, or not much more, she fell sick of a fever; and in that sickness
one day she fell into a swoon, and was for a while withdrawn from these
visible things. We hastened round her; but she was soon brought back to her
senses; and looking on me and my brother standing by her, said to us
enquiringly,Where was I? And then looking fixedly on us, with grief
amazed:Here, saith she,shall you bury your mother. I held my peace and
refrained weeping; but my brother spake something, wishing for her, as the
happier lot, that she might die, not in a strange place, but in her own
land. Whereat, she with anxious look, checking him with her eyes, for that
he still savoured such things, and then looking upon me:Behold, saith
she,what he saith: and soon after to us both,Lay, she saith,this
body any where; let not the care for that any way disquiet you: this only I
request, that you would remember me at the Lord's altar, wherever you be.
And having delivered this sentiment in what words she could, she held her
peace, being exercised by her growing sickness.

But I, considering Thy gifts, Thou unseen God, which Thou instillest into
the hearts of Thy faithful ones, whence wondrous fruits do spring, did
rejoice and give thanks to Thee, recalling what I before knew, how careful
and anxious she had ever been as to her place of burial, which she had
provided and prepared for herself by the body of her husband. For because
they had lived in great harmony together, she also wished (so little can the
human mind embrace things divine) to have this addition to that happiness,
and to have it remembered among men, that after her pilgrimage beyond the
seas, what was earthly of this united pair had been permitted to be united
beneath the same earth. But when this emptiness had through the fulness of
Thy goodness begun to cease in her heart, I knew not, and rejoiced admiring
what she had so disclosed to me; though indeed in that our discourse also in
the window, when she said,What do I here any longer? there appeared no
desire of dying in her own country. I heard afterwards also, that when we
were now at Ostia, she with a mother's confidence, when I was absent, one
day discoursed with certain of my friends about the contempt of this life,
and the blessing of death: and when they were amazed at such courage which
Thou hadst given to a woman, and asked,Whether she were not afraid to
leave her body so far from her own city? she replied,Nothing is far to
God; nor was it to be feared lest at the end of the world, He should not
recognise whence He were to raise me up. On the ninth day then of her
sickness, and the fifty-sixth year of her age, and the three-and-thirtieth
of mine, was that religious and holy soul freed from the body.
_________________________________________________________________

Chapter XII

I closed her eyes; and there flowed withal a mighty sorrow into my heart,
which was overflowing into tears; mine eyes at the same time, by the violent
command of my mind, drank up their fountain wholly dry; and woe was me in
such a strife! But when she breathed her last, the boy Adeodatus burst out
into a loud lament; then, checked by us all, held his peace. In like manner
also a childish feeling in me, which was, through my heart's youthful voice,
finding its vent in weeping, was checked and silenced. For we thought it not
fitting to solemnise that funeral with tearful lament, and groanings; for
thereby do they for the most part express grief for the departed, as though
unhappy, or altogether dead; whereas she was neither unhappy in her death,
nor altogether dead. Of this we were assured on good grounds, the testimony
of her good conversation and her faith unfeigned.

What then was it which did grievously pain me within, but a fresh wound
wrought through the sudden wrench of that most sweet and dear custom of
living together? I joyed indeed in her testimony, when, in that her last
sickness, mingling her endearments with my acts of duty, she called me
dutiful, and mentioned, with great affection of love, that she never had
heard any harsh or reproachful sound uttered by my mouth against her. But
yet, O my God, Who madest us, what comparison is there betwixt that honour
that I paid to her, and her slavery for me? Being then forsaken of so great
comfort in her, my soul was wounded, and that life rent asunder as it were,
which, of hers and mine together, had been made but one.

The boy then being stilled from weeping, Euodius took up the Psalter, and
began to sing, our whole house answering him, the Psalm, I will sing of
mercy and judgments to Thee, O Lord. But hearing what we were doing, many
brethren and religious women came together; and whilst they (whose office it
was) made ready for the burial, as the manner is, I (in a part of the house,
where I might properly), together with those who thought not fit to leave
me, discoursed upon something fitting the time; and by this balm of truth
assuaged that torment, known to Thee, they unknowing and listening intently,
and conceiving me to be without all sense of sorrow. But in Thy ears, where
none of them heard, I blamed the weakness of my feelings, and refrained my
flood of grief, which gave way a little unto me; but again came, as with a
tide, yet not so as to burst out into tears, nor to change of countenance;
still I knew what I was keeping down in my heart. And being very much
displeased that these human things had such power over me, which in the due
order and appointment of our natural condition must needs come to pass, with
a new grief I grieved for my grief, and was thus worn by a double sorrow.

And behold, the corpse was carried to the burial; we went and returned
without tears. For neither in those prayers which we poured forth unto Thee,
when the Sacrifice of our ransom was offered for her, when now the corpse
was by the grave's side, as the manner there is, previous to its being laid
therein, did I weep even during those prayers; yet was I the whole day in
secret heavily sad, and with troubled mind prayed Thee, as I could, to heal
my sorrow, yet Thou didst not; impressing, I believe, upon my memory by this
one instance, how strong is the bond of all habit, even upon a soul, which
now feeds upon no deceiving Word. It seemed also good to me to go and bathe,
having heard that the bath had its name (balneum) from the Greek Balaneion
for that it drives sadness from the mind. And this also I confess unto Thy
mercy, Father of the fatherless, that I bathed, and was the same as before I
bathed. For the bitterness of sorrow could not exude out of my heart. Then I
slept, and woke up again, and found my grief not a little softened; and as I
was alone in my bed, I remembered those true verses of Thy Ambrose. For Thou
art the
Maker of all, the Lord,

And Ruler of the height,

Who, robing day in light, hast poured

Soft slumbers o'er the night,

That to our limbs the power

Of toil may be renew'd,

And hearts be rais'd that sink and cower,

And sorrows be subdu'd.

And then by little and little I recovered my former thoughts of Thy
handmaid, her holy conversation towards Thee, her holy tenderness and
observance towards us, whereof I was suddenly deprived: and I was minded to
weep in Thy sight, for her and for myself, in her behalf and in my own. And
I gave way to the tears which I before restrained, to overflow as much as
they desired; reposing my heart upon them; and it found rest in them, for it
was in Thy ears, not in those of man, who would have scornfully interpreted
my weeping. And now, Lord, in writing I confess it unto Thee. Read it, who
will, and interpret it, how he will: and if he finds sin therein, that I
wept my mother for a small portion of an hour (the mother who for the time
was dead to mine eyes, who had for many years wept for me that I might live
in Thine eyes), let him not deride me; but rather, if he be one of large
charity, let him weep himself for my sins unto Thee, the Father of all the
brethren of Thy Christ.
_________________________________________________________________

Chapter XIII

But now, with a heart cured of that wound, wherein it might seem blameworthy
for an earthly feeling, I pour out unto Thee, our God, in behalf of that Thy
handmaid, a far different kind of tears, flowing from a spirit shaken by the
thoughts of the dangers of every soul that dieth in Adam. And although she
having been quickened in Christ, even before her release from the flesh, had
lived to the praise of Thy name for her faith and conversation; yet dare I
not say that from what time Thou regeneratedst her by baptism, no word
issued from her mouth against Thy Commandment. Thy Son, the Truth, hath
said, Whosoever shall say unto his brother, Thou fool, shall be in danger of
hell fire. And woe be even unto the commendable life of men, if, laying
aside mercy, Thou shouldest examine it. But because Thou art not extreme in
enquiring after sins, we confidently hope to find some place with Thee. But
whosoever reckons up his real merits to Thee, what reckons he up to Thee but
Thine own gifts? O that men would know themselves to be men; and that he
that glorieth would glory in the Lord.

I therefore, O my Praise and my Life, God of my heart, laying aside for a
while her good deeds, for which I give thanks to Thee with joy, do now
beseech Thee for the sins of my mother. Hearken unto me, I entreat Thee, by
the Medicine of our wounds, Who hung upon the tree, and now sitting at Thy
right hand maketh intercession to Thee for us. I know that she dealt
mercifully, and from her heart forgave her debtors their debts; do Thou also
forgive her debts, whatever she may have contracted in so many years, since
the water of salvation. Forgive her, Lord, forgive, I beseech Thee; enter
not into judgment with her. Let Thy mercy be exalted above Thy justice,
since Thy words are true, and Thou hast promised mercy unto the merciful;
which Thou gavest them to be, who wilt have mercy on whom Thou wilt have
mercy; and wilt have compassion on whom Thou hast had compassion.

And, I believe, Thou hast already done what I ask; but accept, O Lord, the
free-will offerings of my mouth. For she, the day of her dissolution now at
hand, took no thought to have her body sumptuously wound up, or embalmed
with spices; nor desired she a choice monument, or to be buried in her own
land. These things she enjoined us not; but desired only to have her name
commemorated at Thy Altar, which she had served without intermission of one
day: whence she knew the holy Sacrifice to be dispensed, by which the
hand-writing that was against us is blotted out; through which the enemy was
triumphed over, who summing up our offences, and seeking what to lay to our
charge, found nothing in Him, in Whom we conquer. Who shall restore to Him
the innocent blood? Who repay Him the price wherewith He bought us, and so
take us from Him? Unto the Sacrament of which our ransom, Thy handmaid bound
her soul by the bond of faith. Let none sever her from Thy protection: let
neither the lion nor the dragon interpose himself by force or fraud. For she
will not answer that she owes nothing, lest she be convicted and seized by
the crafty accuser: but she will answer that her sins are forgiven her by
Him, to Whom none can repay that price which He, Who owed nothing, paid for
us.

May she rest then in peace with the husband before and after whom she had
never any; whom she obeyed, with patience bringing forth fruit unto Thee,
that she might win him also unto Thee. And inspire, O Lord my God, inspire
Thy servants my brethren, Thy sons my masters, whom with voice, and heart,
and pen I serve, that so many as shall read these Confessions, may at Thy
Altar remember Monnica Thy handmaid, with Patricius, her sometimes husband,
by whose bodies Thou broughtest me into this life, how I know not. May they
with devout affection remember my parents in this transitory light, my
brethren under Thee our Father in our Catholic Mother, and my
fellow-citizens in that eternal Jerusalem which Thy pilgrim people sigheth
after from their Exodus, even unto their return thither. That so my mother's
last request of me, may through my confessions, more than through my
prayers, be, through the prayers of many, more abundantly fulfilled to her.
_________________________________________________________________

Book X
_________________________________________________________________

Chapter I

Let me know Thee, O Lord, who knowest me: let me know Thee, as I am known.
Power of my soul, enter into it, and fit it for Thee, that Thou mayest have
and hold it without spot or wrinkle. This is my hope, therefore do I speak;
and in this hope do I rejoice, when I rejoice healthfully. Other things of
this life are the less to be sorrowed for, the more they are sorrowed for;
and the more to be sorrowed for, the less men sorrow for them. For behold,
Thou lovest the truth, and he that doth it, cometh to the light. This would
I do in my heart before Thee in confession: and in my writing, before many
witnesses.
_________________________________________________________________

Chapter II

And from Thee, O Lord, unto whose eyes the abyss of man's conscience is
naked, what could be hidden in me though I would not confess it? For I
should hide Thee from me, not me from Thee. But now, for that my groaning is
witness, that I am displeased with myself, Thou shinest out, and art
pleasing, and beloved, and longed for; that I may be ashamed of myself, and
renounce myself, and choose Thee, and neither please Thee nor myself, but in
Thee. To Thee therefore, O Lord, am I open, whatever I am; and with what
fruit I confess unto Thee, I have said. Nor do I it with words and sounds of
the flesh, but with the words of my soul, and the cry of the thought which
Thy ear knoweth. For when I am evil, then to confess to Thee is nothing else
than to be displeased with myself; but when holy, nothing else than not to
ascribe it to myself: because Thou, O Lord, blessest the godly, but first
Thou justifieth him when ungodly. My confession then, O my God, in Thy
sight, is made silently, and not silently. For in sound, it is silent; in
affection, it cries aloud. For neither do I utter any thing right unto men,
which Thou hast not before heard from me; nor dost Thou hear any such thing
from me, which Thou hast not first said unto me.
_________________________________________________________________

Chapter III

What then have I to do with men, that they should hear my confessions”as if
they could heal all my infirmities”a race, curious to know the lives of
others, slothful to amend their own? Why seek they to hear from me what I
am; who will not hear from Thee what themselves are? And how know they, when
from myself they hear of myself, whether I say true; seeing no man knows
what is in man, but the spirit of man which is in him? But if they hear from
Thee of themselves, they cannot say,The Lord lieth. For what is it to
hear from Thee of themselves, but to know themselves? and who knoweth and
saith,It is false, unless himself lieth? But because charity believeth
all things (that is, among those whom knitting unto itself it maketh one), I
also, O Lord, will in such wise confess unto Thee, that men may hear, to
whom I cannot demonstrate whether I confess truly; yet they believe me,
whose ears charity openeth unto me.

But do Thou, my inmost Physician, make plain unto me what fruit I may reap
by doing it. For the confessions of my past sins, which Thou hast forgiven
and covered, that Thou mightest bless me in Thee, changing my soul by Faith
and Thy Sacrament, when read and heard, stir up the heart, that it sleep not
in despair and sayI cannot, but awake in the love of Thy mercy and the
sweetness of Thy grace, whereby whoso is weak, is strong, when by it he
became conscious of his own weakness. And the good delight to hear of the
past evils of such as are now freed from them, not because they are evils,
but because they have been and are not. With what fruit then, O Lord my God,
to Whom my conscience daily confesseth, trusting more in the hope of Thy
mercy than in her own innocency, with what fruit, I pray, do I by this book
confess to men also in Thy presence what I now am, not what I have been? For
that other fruit I have seen and spoken of. But what I now am, at the very
time of making these confessions, divers desire to know, who have or have
not known me, who have heard from me or of me; but their ear is not at my
heart where I am, whatever I am. They wish then to hear me confess what I am
within; whither neither their eye, nor ear, nor understanding can reach;
they wish it, as ready to believe”but will they know? For charity, whereby
they are good, telleth them that in my confessions I lie not; and she in
them, believeth me.
_________________________________________________________________

Chapter IV

But for what fruit would they hear this? Do they desire to joy with me, when
they hear how near, by Thy gift, I approach unto Thee? and to pray for me,
when they shall hear how much I am held back by my own weight? To such will
I discover myself For it is no mean fruit, O Lord my God, that by many
thanks should be given to Thee on our behalf, and Thou be by many entreated
for us. Let the brotherly mind love in me what Thou teachest is to be loved,
and lament in me what Thou teachest is to be lamented. Let a brotherly, not
a stranger, mind, not that of the strange children, whose mouth talketh of
vanity, and their right hand is a right hand of iniquity, but that brotherly
mind which when it approveth, rejoiceth for me, and when it disapproveth me,
is sorry for me; because whether it approveth or disapproveth, it loveth me.
To such will I discover myself: they will breathe freely at my good deeds,
sigh for my ill. My good deeds are Thine appointments, and Thy gifts; my
evil ones are my offences, and Thy judgments. Let them breathe freely at the
one, sigh at the other; and let hymns and weeping go up into Thy sight, out
of the hearts of my brethren, Thy censers. And do Thou, O Lord, he pleased
with the incense of Thy holy temple, have mercy upon me according to Thy
great mercy for Thine own name's sake; and no ways forsaking what Thou hast
begun, perfect my imperfections.

This is the fruit of my confessions of what I am, not of what I have been,
to confess this, not before Thee only, in a secret exultation with
trembling, and a secret sorrow with hope; but in the ears also of the
believing sons of men, sharers of my joy, and partners in my mortality, my
fellow-citizens, and fellow-pilgrims, who are gone before, or are to follow
on, companions of my way. These are Thy servants, my brethren, whom Thou
willest to be Thy sons; my masters, whom Thou commandest me to serve, if I
would live with Thee, of Thee. But this Thy Word were little did it only
command by speaking, and not go before in performing. This then I do in deed
and word, this I do under Thy wings; in over great peril, were not my soul
subdued unto Thee under Thy wings, and my infirmity known unto Thee. I am a
little one, but my Father ever liveth, and my Guardian is sufficient for me.
For He is the same who begat me, and defends me: and Thou Thyself art all my
good; Thou, Almighty, Who are with me, yea, before I am with Thee. To such
then whom Thou commandest me to serve will I discover, not what I have been,
but what I now am and what I yet am. But neither do I judge myself. Thus
therefore I would be heard.
_________________________________________________________________

Chapter V

For Thou, Lord, dost judge me: because, although no man knoweth the things
of a man, but the spirit of a man which is in him, yet is there something of
man, which neither the spirit of man that is in him, itself knoweth. But
Thou, Lord, knowest all of him, Who hast made him. Yet I, though in Thy
sight I despise myself, and account myself dust and ashes; yet know I
something of Thee, which I know not of myself. And truly, now we see through
a glass darkly, not face to face as yet. So long therefore as I be absent
from Thee, I am more present with myself than with Thee; and yet know I Thee
that Thou art in no ways passible; but I, what temptations I can resist,
what I cannot, I know not. And there is hope, because Thou art faithful, Who
wilt not suffer us to be tempted above that we are able; but wilt with the
temptation also make a way to escape, that we may be able to bear it. I will
confess then what I know of myself, I will confess also what I know not of
myself. And that because what I do know of myself, I know by Thy shining
upon me; and what I know not of myself, so long know I not it, until my
darkness be made as the noon-day in Thy countenance.
_________________________________________________________________

Chapter VI

Not with doubting, but with assured consciousness, do I love Thee, Lord.
Thou hast stricken my heart with Thy word, and I loved Thee. Yea also
heaven, and earth, and all that therein is, behold, on every side they bid
me love Thee; nor cease to say so unto all, that they may be without excuse.
But more deeply wilt Thou have mercy on whom Thou wilt have mercy, and wilt
have compassion on whom Thou hast had compassion: else in deaf ears do the
heaven and the earth speak Thy praises. But what do I love, when I love
Thee? not beauty of bodies, nor the fair harmony of time, nor the brightness
of the light, so gladsome to our eyes, nor sweet melodies of varied songs,
nor the fragrant smell of flowers, and ointments, and spices, not manna and
honey, not limbs acceptable to embracements of flesh. None of these I love,
when I love my God; and yet I love a kind of light, and melody, and
fragrance, and meat, and embracement when I love my God, the light, melody,
fragrance, meat, embracement of my inner man: where there shineth unto my
soul what space cannot contain, and there soundeth what time beareth not
away, and there smelleth what breathing disperseth not, and there tasteth
what eating diminisheth not, and there clingeth what satiety divorceth not.
This is it which I love when I love my God.

And what is this? I asked the earth, and it answered me,I am not He; and
whatsoever are in it confessed the same. I asked the sea and the deeps, and
the living creeping things, and they answered,We are not thy God, seek
above us. I asked the moving air; and the whole air with his inhabitants
answered,Anaximenes was deceived, I am not God. I asked the heavens,
sun, moon, stars,Nor (say they) are we the God whom thou seekest. And I
replied unto all the things which encompass the door of my flesh:Ye have
told me of my God, that ye are not He; tell me something of Him. And they
cried out with a loud voice,He made us. My questioning them, was my
thoughts on them: and their form of beauty gave the answer. And I turned
myself unto myself, and said to myself,Who art thou? And I answered,A
man. And behold, in me there present themselves to me soul, and body, one
without, the other within. By which of these ought I to seek my God? I had
sought Him in the body from earth to heaven, so far as I could send
messengers, the beams of mine eyes. But the better is the inner, for to it
as presiding and judging, all the bodily messengers reported the answers of
heaven and earth, and all things therein, who said,We are not God, but He
made us. These things did my inner man know by the ministry of the outer: I
the inner knew them; I, the mind, through the senses of my body. I asked the
whole frame of the world about my God; and it answered me,I am not He, but
He made me.

Is not this corporeal figure apparent to all whose senses are perfect? why
then speaks it not the same to all? Animals small and great see it, but they
cannot ask it: because no reason is set over their senses to judge on what
they report. But men can ask, so that the invisible things of God are
clearly seen, being understood by the things that are made; but by love of
them, they are made subject unto them: and subjects cannot judge. Nor yet do
the creatures answer such as ask, unless they can judge; nor yet do they
change their voice (i.e., their appearance), if one man only sees, another
seeing asks, so as to appear one way to this man, another way to that, but
appearing the same way to both, it is dumb to this, speaks to that; yea
rather it speaks to all; but they only understand, who compare its voice
received from without, with the truth within. For truth saith unto me,
Neither heaven, nor earth, nor any other body is thy God. This, their very
nature saith to him that seeth them:They are a mass; a mass is less in a
part thereof than in the whole. Now to thee I speak, O my soul, thou art my
better part: for thou quickenest the mass of my body, giving it life, which
no body can give to a body: but thy God is even unto thee the Life of thy
life.
_________________________________________________________________

Chapter VII

What then do I love, when I love my God? who is He above the head of my
soul? By my very soul will I ascend to Him. I will pass beyond that power
whereby I am united to my body, and fill its whole frame with life. Nor can
I by that power find my God; for so horse and mule that have no
understanding might find Him; seeing it is the same power, whereby even
their bodies live. But another power there is, not that only whereby I
animate, but that too whereby I imbue with sense my flesh, which the Lord
hath framed for me: commanding the eye not to hear, and the ear not to see;
but the eye, that through it I should see, and the ear, that through it I
should hear; and to the other senses severally, what is to each their own
peculiar seats and offices; which, being divers, I the one mind, do through
them enact. I will pass beyond this power of mine also; for this also have
the horse, and mule, for they also perceive through the body.
_________________________________________________________________

Chapter VIII

I will pass then beyond this power of my nature also, rising by degrees unto
Him Who made me. And I come to the fields and spacious palaces of my memory,
where are the treasures of innumerable images, brought into it from things
of all sorts perceived by the senses. There is stored up, whatsoever besides
we think, either by enlarging or diminishing, or any other way varying those
things which the sense hath come to; and whatever else hath been committed
and laid up, which forgetfulness hath not yet swallowed up and buried. When
I enter there, I require what I will to be brought forth, and something
instantly comes; others must be longer sought after, which are fetched, as
it were, out of some inner receptacle; others rush out in troops, and while
one thing is desired and required, they start forth, as who should say,Is
it perchance I? These I drive away with the hand of my heart, from the face
of my remembrance; until what I wish for be unveiled, and appear in sight,
out of its secret place. Other things come up readily, in unbroken order, as
they are called for; those in front making way for the following; and as
they make way, they are hidden from sight, ready to come when I will. All
which takes place when I repeat a thing by heart.

There are all things preserved distinctly and under general heads, each
having entered by its own avenue: as light, and all colours and forms of
bodies by the eyes; by the ears all sorts of sounds; all smells by the
avenue of the nostrils; all tastes by the mouth; and by the sensation of the
whole body, what is hard or soft; hot or cold; or rugged; heavy or light;
either outwardly or inwardly to the body. All these doth that great harbour
of the memory receive in her numberless secret and inexpressible windings,
to be forthcoming, and brought out at need; each entering in by his own
gate, and there laid up. Nor yet do the things themselves enter in; only the
images of the things perceived are there in readiness, for thought to
recall. Which images, how they are formed, who can tell, though it doth
plainly appear by which sense each hath been brought in and stored up? For
even while I dwell in darkness and silence, in my memory I can produce
colours, if I will, and discern betwixt black and white, and what others I
will: nor yet do sounds break in and disturb the image drawn in by my eyes,
which I am reviewing, though they also are there, lying dormant, and laid
up, as it were, apart. For these too I call for, and forthwith they appear.
And though my tongue be still, and my throat mute, so can I sing as much as
I will; nor do those images of colours, which notwithstanding be there,
intrude themselves and interrupt, when another store is called for, which
flowed in by the ears. So the other things, piled in and up by the other
senses, I recall at my pleasure. Yea, I discern the breath of lilies from
violets, though smelling nothing; and I prefer honey to sweet wine, smooth
before rugged, at the time neither tasting nor handling, but remembering
only.

These things do I within, in that vast court of my memory. For there are
present with me, heaven, earth, sea, and whatever I could think on therein,
besides what I have forgotten. There also meet I with myself, and recall
myself, and when, where, and what I have done, and under what feelings.
There be all which I remember, either on my own experience, or other's
credit. Out of the same store do I myself with the past continually combine
fresh and fresh likenesses of things which I have experienced, or, from what
I have experienced, have believed: and thence again infer future actions,
events and hopes, and all these again I reflect on, as present.I will do
this or that, say I to myself, in that great receptacle of my mind, stored
with the images of things so many and so great,and this or that will
follow.O that this or that might be!God avert this or that! So speak
I to myself: and when I speak, the images of all I speak of are present, out
of the same treasury of memory; nor would I speak of any thereof, were the
images wanting.

Great is this force of memory, excessive great, O my God; a large and
boundless chamber! who ever sounded the bottom thereof? yet is this a power
of mine, and belongs unto my nature; nor do I myself comprehend all that I
am. Therefore is the mind too strait to contain itself. And where should
that be, which it containeth not of itself? Is it without it, and not
within? how then doth it not comprehend itself? A wonderful admiration
surprises me, amazement seizes me upon this. And men go abroad to admire the
heights of mountains, the mighty billows of the sea, the broad tides of
rivers, the compass of the ocean, and the circuits of the stars, and pass
themselves by; nor wonder that when I spake of all these things, I did not
see them with mine eyes, yet could not have spoken of them, unless I then
actually saw the mountains, billows, rivers, stars which I had seen, and
that ocean which I believe to be, inwardly in my memory, and that, with the
same vast spaces between, as if I saw them abroad. Yet did not I by seeing
draw them into myself, when with mine eyes I beheld them; nor are they
themselves with me, but their images only. And I know by what sense of the
body each was impressed upon me.
_________________________________________________________________

Chapter IX

Yet not these alone does the unmeasurable capacity of my memory retain. Here
also is all, learnt of the liberal sciences and as yet unforgotten; removed
as it were to some inner place, which is yet no place: nor are they the
images thereof, but the things themselves. For, what is literature, what the
art of disputing, how many kinds of questions there be, whatsoever of these
I know, in such manner exists in my memory, as that I have not taken in the
image, and left out the thing, or that it should have sounded and passed
away like a voice fixed on the ear by that impress, whereby it might be
recalled, as if it sounded, when it no longer sounded; or as a smell while
it passes and evaporates into air affects the sense of smell, whence it
conveys into the memory an image of itself, which remembering, we renew, or
as meat, which verily in the belly hath now no taste, and yet in the memory
still in a manner tasteth; or as any thing which the body by touch
perceiveth, and which when removed from us, the memory still conceives. For
those things are not transmitted into the memory, but their images only are
with an admirable swiftness caught up, and stored as it were in wondrous
cabinets, and thence wonderfully by the act of remembering, brought forth.
_________________________________________________________________

Chapter X

But now when I hear that there be three kinds of questions,Whether the
thing be? what it is? of what kind it is? I do indeed hold the images of the
sounds of which those words be composed, and that those sounds, with a noise
passed through the air, and now are not. But the things themselves which are
signified by those sounds, I never reached with any sense of my body, nor
ever discerned them otherwise than in my mind; yet in my memory have I laid
up not their images, but themselves. Which how they entered into me, let
them say if they can; for I have gone over all the avenues of my flesh, but
cannot find by which they entered. For the eyes say,If those images were
coloured, we reported of them. The ears say,If they sound, we gave
knowledge of them. The nostrils say,If they smell, they passed by us.
The taste says,Unless they have a savour, ask me not. The touch says,If
it have not size, I handled it not; if I handled it not, I gave no notice of
it. Whence and how entered these things into my memory? I know not how. For
when I learned them, I gave not credit to another man's mind, but recognised
them in mine; and approving them for true, I commended them to it, laying
them up as it were, whence I might bring them forth when I willed. In my
heart then they were, even before I learned them, but in my memory they were
not. Where then? or wherefore, when they were spoken, did I acknowledge
them, and said,So is it, it is true, unless that they were already in the
memory, but so thrown back and buried as it were in deeper recesses, that
had not the suggestion of another drawn them forth I had perchance been
unable to conceive of them?
_________________________________________________________________

Chapter XI

Wherefore we find, that to learn these things whereof we imbibe nor the
images by our senses, but perceive within by themselves, without images, as
they are, is nothing else, but by conception, to receive, and by marking to
take heed that those things which the memory did before contain at random
and unarranged, be laid up at hand as it were in that same memory where
before they lay unknown, scattered and neglected, and so readily occur to
the mind familiarised to them. And how many things of this kind does my
memory bear which have been already found out, and as I said, placed as it
were at hand, which we are said to have learned and come to know which were
I for some short space of time to cease to call to mind, they are again so
buried, and glide back, as it were, into the deeper recesses, that they must
again, as if new, he thought out thence, for other abode they have none: but
they must be drawn together again, that they may be known; that is to say,
they must as it were be collected together from their dispersion: whence the
wordcogitation is derived. For cogo (collect) and cogito (re-collect)
have the same relation to each other as ago and agito, facio and factito.
But the mind hath appropriated to itself this word (cogitation), so that,
not what iscollected any how, but what isrecollected, i.e., brought
together, in the mind, is properly said to be cogitated, or thought upon.
_________________________________________________________________

Chapter XII

The memory containeth also reasons and laws innumerable of numbers and
dimensions, none of which hath any bodily sense impressed; seeing they have
neither colour, nor sound, nor taste, nor smell, nor touch. I have heard the
sound of the words whereby when discussed they are denoted: but the sounds
are other than the things. For the sounds are other in Greek than in Latin;
but the things are neither Greek, nor Latin, nor any other language. I have
seen the lines of architects, the very finest, like a spider's thread; but
those are still different, they are not the images of those lines which the
eye of flesh showed me: he knoweth them, whosoever without any conception
whatsoever of a body, recognises them within himself. I have perceived also
the numbers of the things with which we number all the senses of my body;
but those numbers wherewith we number are different, nor are they the images
of these, and therefore they indeed are. Let him who seeth them not, deride
me for saying these things, and I will pity him, while he derides me.
_________________________________________________________________

Chapter XIII

All these things I remember, and how I learnt them I remember. Many things
also most falsely objected against them have I heard, and remember; which
though they be false, yet is it not false that I remember them; and I
remember also that I have discerned betwixt those truths and these
falsehoods objected to them. And I perceive that the present discerning of
these things is different from remembering that I oftentimes discerned them,
when I often thought upon them. I both remember then to have often
understood these things; and what I now discern and understand, I lay up in
my memory, that hereafter I may remember that I understand it now. So then I
remember also to have remembered; as if hereafter I shall call to
remembrance, that I have now been able to remember these things, by the
force of memory shall I call it to remembrance.
_________________________________________________________________

Chapter XIV

The same memory contains also the affections of my mind, not in the same
manner that my mind itself contains them, when it feels them; but far
otherwise, according to a power of its own. For without rejoicing I remember
myself to have joyed; and without sorrow do I recollect my past sorrow. And
that I once feared, I review without fear; and without desire call to mind a
past desire. Sometimes, on the contrary, with joy do I remember my fore-past
sorrow, and with sorrow, joy. Which is not wonderful, as to the body; for
mind is one thing, body another. If I therefore with joy remember some past
pain of body, it is not so wonderful. But now seeing this very memory itself
is mind (for when we give a thing in charge, to be kept in memory, we say,
See that you keep it in mind; and when we forget, we say,It did not come
to my mind, and,It slipped out of my mind, calling the memory itself the
mind); this being so, how is it that when with joy I remember my past
sorrow, the mind hath joy, the memory hath sorrow; the mind upon the
joyfulness which is in it, is joyful, yet the memory upon the sadness which
is in it, is not sad? Does the memory perchance not belong to the mind? Who
will say so? The memory then is, as it were, the belly of the mind, and joy
and sadness, like sweet and bitter food; which, when committed to the
memory, are as it were passed into the belly, where they may be stowed, but
cannot taste. Ridiculous it is to imagine these to be alike; and yet are
they not utterly unlike.

But, behold, out of my memory I bring it, when I say there be four
perturbations of the mind, desire, joy, fear, sorrow; and whatsoever I can
dispute thereon, by dividing each into its subordinate species, and by
defining it, in my memory find I what to say, and thence do I bring it: yet
am I not disturbed by any of these perturbations, when by calling them to
mind, I remember them; yea, and before I recalled and brought them back,
they were there; and therefore could they, by recollection, thence be
brought. Perchance, then, as meat is by chewing the cud brought up out of
the belly, so by recollection these out of the memory. Why then does not the
disputer, thus recollecting, taste in the mouth of his musing the sweetness
of joy, or the bitterness of sorrow? Is the comparison unlike in this,
because not in all respects like? For who would willingly speak thereof, if
so oft as we name grief or fear, we should be compelled to be sad or
fearful? And yet could we not speak of them, did we not find in our memory,
not only the sounds of the names according to the images impressed by the
senses of the body, but notions of the very things themselves which we never
received by any avenue of the body, but which the mind itself perceiving by
the experience of its own passions, committed to the memory, or the memory
of itself retained, without being committed unto it.
_________________________________________________________________

Chapter XV

But whether by images or no, who can readily say? Thus, I name a stone, I
name the sun, the things themselves not being present to my senses, but
their images to my memory. I name a bodily pain, yet it is not present with
me, when nothing aches: yet unless its image were present to my memory, I
should not know what to say thereof, nor in discoursing discern pain from
pleasure. I name bodily health; being sound in body, the thing itself is
present with me; yet, unless its image also were present in my memory, I
could by no means recall what the sound of this name should signify. Nor
would the sick, when health were named, recognise what were spoken, unless
the same image were by the force of memory retained, although the thing
itself were absent from the body. I name numbers whereby we number; and not
their images, but themselves are present in my memory. I name the image of
the sun, and that image is present in my memory. For I recall not the image
of its image, but the image itself is present to me, calling it to mind. I
name memory, and I recognise what I name. And where do I recognise it, but
in the memory itself? Is it also present to itself by its image, and not by
itself?
_________________________________________________________________

Chapter XVI

What, when I name forgetfulness, and withal recognise what I name? whence
should I recognise it, did I not remember it? I speak not of the sound of
the name, but of the thing which it signifies: which if I had forgotten, I
could not recognise what that sound signifies. When then I remember memory,
memory itself is, through itself, present with itself: but when I remember
forgetfulness, there are present both memory and forgetfulness; memory
whereby I remember, forgetfulness which I remember. But what is
forgetfulness, but the privation of memory? How then is it present that I
remember it, since when present I cannot remember? But if what we remember
we hold it in memory, yet, unless we did remember forgetfulness, we could
never at the hearing of the name recognise the thing thereby signified, then
forgetfulness is retained by memory. Present then it is, that we forget not,
and being so, we forget. It is to be understood from this that forgetfulness
when we remember it, is not present to the memory by itself but by its
image: because if it were present by itself, it would not cause us to
remember, but to forget. Who now shall search out this? who shall comprehend
how it is?

Lord, I, truly, toil therein, yea and toil in myself; I am become a heavy
soil requiring over much sweat of the brow. For we are not now searching out
the regions of heaven, or measuring the distances of the stars, or enquiring
the balancings of the earth. It is I myself who remember, I the mind. It is
not so wonderful, if what I myself am not, be far from me. But what is
nearer to me than myself? And to, the force of mine own memory is not
understood by me; though I cannot so much as name myself without it. For
what shall I say, when it is clear to me that I remember forgetfulness?
Shall I say that that is not in my memory, which I remember? or shall I say
that forgetfulness is for this purpose in my memory, that I might not
forget? Both were most absurd. What third way is there? How can I say that
the image of forgetfulness is retained by my memory, not forgetfulness
itself, when I remember it? How could I say this either, seeing that when
the image of any thing is impressed on the memory, the thing itself must
needs be first present, whence that image may be impressed? For thus do I
remember Carthage, thus all places where I have been, thus men's faces whom
I have seen, and things reported by the other senses; thus the health or
sickness of the body. For when these things were present, my memory received
from them images, which being present with me, I might look on and bring
back in my mind, when I remembered them in their absence. If then this
forgetfulness is retained in the memory through its image, not through
itself, then plainly itself was once present, that its image might be taken.
But when it was present, how did it write its image in the memory, seeing
that forgetfulness by its presence effaces even what it finds already noted?
And yet, in whatever way, although that way be past conceiving and
explaining, yet certain am I that I remember forgetfulness itself also,
whereby what we remember is effaced.
_________________________________________________________________

Chapter XVII

Great is the power of memory, a fearful thing, O my God, a deep and
boundless manifoldness; and this thing is the mind, and this am I myself.
What am I then, O my God? What nature am I? A life various and manifold, and
exceeding immense. Behold in the plains, and caves, and caverns of my
memory, innumerable and innumerably full of innumerable kinds of things,
either through images, as all bodies; or by actual presence, as the arts; or
by certain notions or impressions, as the affections of the mind, which,
even when the mind doth not feel, the memory retaineth, while yet whatsoever
is in the memory is also in the mind”over all these do I run, I fly; I dive
on this side and on that, as far as I can, and there is no end. So great is
the force of memory, so great the force of life, even in the mortal life of
man. What shall I do then, O Thou my true life, my God? I will pass even
beyond this power of mine which is called memory: yea, I will pass beyond
it, that I may approach unto Thee, O sweet Light. What sayest Thou to me?
See, I am mounting up through my mind towards Thee who abidest above me.
Yea, I now will pass beyond this power of mine which is called memory,
desirous to arrive at Thee, whence Thou mayest be arrived at; and to cleave
unto Thee, whence one may cleave unto Thee. For even beasts and birds have
memory; else could they not return to their dens and nests, nor many other
things they are used unto: nor indeed could they be used to any thing, but
by memory. I will pass then beyond memory also, that I may arrive at Him who
hath separated me from the four-footed beasts and made me wiser than the
fowls of the air, I will pass beyond memory also, and where shall I find
Thee, Thou truly good and certain sweetness? And where shall I find Thee? If
I find Thee without my memory, then do I not retain Thee in my memory. And
how shall I find Thee, if I remember Thee not?
_________________________________________________________________

Chapter XVIII

For the woman that had lost her groat, and sought it with a light; unless
she had remembered it, she had never found it. For when it was found, whence
should she know whether it were the same, unless she remembered it? I
remember to have sought and found many a thing; and this I thereby know,
that when I was seeking any of them, and was asked,Is this it?Is that
it? so long said INo, until that were offered me which I sought. Which
had I not remembered (whatever it were) though it were offered me, yet
should I not find it, because I could not recognise it. And so it ever is,
when we seek and find any lost thing. Notwithstanding, when any thing is by
chance lost from the sight, not from the memory (as any visible body), yet
its image is still retained within, and it is sought until it be restored to
sight; and when it is found, it is recognised by the image which is within:
nor do we say that we have found what was lost, unless we recognise it; nor
can we recognise it, unless we remember it. But this was lost to the eyes,
but retained in the memory.
_________________________________________________________________

Chapter XIX

But what when the memory itself loses any thing, as falls out when we forget
and seek that we may recollect? Where in the end do we search, but in the
memory itself? and there, if one thing be perchance offered instead of
another, we reject it, until what we seek meets us; and when it doth, we
say,This is it; which we should not unless we recognised it, nor
recognise it unless we remembered it. Certainly then we had forgotten it.
Or, had not the whole escaped us, but by the part whereof we had hold, was
the lost part sought for; in that the memory felt that it did not carry on
together all which it was wont, and maimed, as it were, by the curtailment
of its ancient habit, demanded the restoration of what it missed? For
instance, if we see or think of some one known to us, and having forgotten
his name, try to recover it; whatever else occurs, connects itself not
therewith; because it was not wont to be thought upon together with him, and
therefore is rejected, until that present itself, whereon the knowledge
reposes equably as its wonted object. And whence does that present itself,
but out of the memory itself? for even when we recognise it, on being
reminded by another, it is thence it comes. For we do not believe it as
something new, but, upon recollection, allow what was named to be right. But
were it utterly blotted out of the mind, we should not remember it, even
when reminded. For we have not as yet utterly forgotten that, which we
remember ourselves to have forgotten. What then we have utterly forgotten,
though lost, we cannot even seek after.
_________________________________________________________________

Chapter XX

How then do I seek Thee, O Lord? For when I seek Thee, my God, I seek a
happy life. I will seek Thee, that my soul may live. For my body liveth by
my soul; and my soul by Thee. How then do I seek a happy life, seeing I have
it not, until I can say, where I ought to say it,It is enough? How seek I
it? By remembrance, as though I had forgotten it, remembering that I had
forgotten it? Or, desiring to learn it as a thing unknown, either never
having known, or so forgotten it, as not even to remember that I had
forgotten it? is not a happy life what all will, and no one altogether wills
it not? where have they known it, that they so will it? where seen it, that
they so love it? Truly we have it, how, I know not. Yea, there is another
way, wherein when one hath it, then is he happy; and there are, who are
blessed, in hope. These have it in a lower kind, than they who have it in
very deed; yet are they better off than such as are happy neither in deed
nor in hope. Yet even these, had they it not in some sort, would not so will
to be happy, which that they do will, is most certain. They have known it
then, I know not how, and so have it by some sort of knowledge, what, I know
not, and am perplexed whether it be in the memory, which if it be, then we
have been happy once; whether all severally, or in that man who first
sinned, in whom also we all died, and from whom we are all born with misery,
I now enquire not; but only, whether the happy life be in the memory? For
neither should we love it, did we not know it. We hear the name, and we all
confess that we desire the thing; for we are not delighted with the mere
sound. For when a Greek hears it in Latin, he is not delighted, not knowing
what is spoken; but we Latins are delighted, as would he too, if he heard it
in Greek; because the thing itself is neither Greek nor Latin, which Greeks
and Latins, and men of all other tongues, long for so earnestly. Known
therefore it is to all, for they with one voice be asked,would they be
happy? they would answer without doubt,they would. And this could not
be, unless the thing itself whereof it is the name were retained in their
memory.
_________________________________________________________________

Chapter XXi

But is it so, as one remembers Carthage who hath seen it? No. For a happy
life is not seen with the eye, because it is not a body. As we remember
numbers then? No. For these, he that hath in his knowledge, seeks not
further to attain unto; but a happy life we have in our knowledge, and
therefore love it, and yet still desire to attain it, that we may be happy.
As we remember eloquence then? No. For although upon hearing this name also,
some call to mind the thing, who still are not yet eloquent, and many who
desire to be so, whence it appears that it is in their knowledge; yet these
have by their bodily senses observed others to be eloquent, and been
delighted, and desire to be the like (though indeed they would not be
delighted but for some inward knowledge thereof, nor wish to be the like,
unless they were thus delighted); whereas a happy life, we do by no bodily
sense experience in others. As then we remember joy? Perchance; for my joy I
remember, even when sad, as a happy life, when unhappy; nor did I ever with
bodily sense see, hear, smell, taste, or touch my joy; but I experienced it
in my mind, when I rejoiced; and the knowledge of it clave to my memory, so
that I can recall it with disgust sometimes, at others with longing,
according to the nature of the things, wherein I remember myself to have
joyed. For even from foul things have I been immersed in a sort of joy;
which now recalling, I detest and execrate; otherwhiles in good and honest
things, which I recall with longing, although perchance no longer present;
and therefore with sadness I recall former joy.

Where then and when did I experience my happy life, that I should remember,
and love, and long for it? Nor is it I alone, or some few besides, but we
all would fain be happy; which, unless by some certain knowledge we knew, we
should not with so certain a will desire. But how is this, that if two men
be asked whether they would go to the wars, one, perchance, would answer
that he would, the other, that he would not; but if they were asked whether
they would be happy, both would instantly without any doubting say they
would; and for no other reason would the one go to the wars, and the other
not, but to be happy. Is it perchance that as one looks for his joy in this
thing, another in that, all agree in their desire of being happy, as they
would (if they were asked) that they wished to have joy, and this joy they
call a happy life? Although then one obtains this joy by one means, another
by another, all have one end, which they strive to attain, namely, joy.
Which being a thing which all must say they have experienced, it is
therefore found in the memory, and recognised whenever the name of a happy
life is mentioned.
_________________________________________________________________

Chapter XXII

Far be it, Lord, far be it from the heart of Thy servant who here confesseth
unto Thee, far be it, that, be the joy what it may, I should therefore think
myself happy. For there is a joy which is not given to the ungodly, but to
those who love Thee for Thine own sake, whose joy Thou Thyself art. And this
is the happy life, to rejoice to Thee, of Thee, for Thee; this is it, and
there is no other. For they who think there is another, pursue some other
and not the true joy. Yet is not their will turned away from some semblance
of joy.
_________________________________________________________________

Chapter XXIII

It is not certain then that all wish to be happy, inasmuch as they who wish
not to joy in Thee, which is the only happy life, do not truly desire the
happy life. Or do all men desire this, but because the flesh lusteth against
the Spirit, and the Spirit against the flesh, that they cannot do what they
would, they fall upon that which they can, and are content therewith;
because, what they are not able to do, they do not will so strongly as would
suffice to make them able? For I ask any one, had he rather joy in truth, or
in falsehood? They will as little hesitate to sayin the truth, as to say
that they desire to be happy, for a happy life is joy in the truth: for
this is a joying in Thee, Who art the Truth, O God my light, health of my
countenance, my God. This is the happy life which all desire; this life
which alone is happy, all desire; to joy in the truth all desire. I have met
with many that would deceive; who would be deceived, no one. Where then did
they know this happy life, save where they know the truth also? For they
love it also, since they would not be deceived. And when they love a happy
life, which is no other than joying in the truth, then also do they love the
truth; which yet they would not love, were there not some notice of it in
their memory. Why then joy they not in it? why are they not happy? because
they are more strongly taken up with other things which have more power to
make them miserable, than that which they so faintly remember to make them
happy. For there is yet a little light in men; let them walk, let them walk,
that the darkness overtake them not.

But why dothtruth generate hatred, and the man of Thine, preaching the
truth, become an enemy to them? whereas a happy life is loved, which is
nothing else but joying in the truth; unless that truth is in that kind
loved, that they who love anything else would gladly have that which they
love to be the truth: and because they would not be deceived, would not be
convinced that they are so? Therefore do they hate the truth for that
thing's sake which they loved instead of the truth. They love truth when she
enlightens, they hate her when she reproves. For since they would not be
deceived, and would deceive, they love her when she discovers herself unto
them, and hate her when she discovers them. Whence she shall so repay them,
that they who would not be made manifest by her, she both against their will
makes manifest, and herself becometh not manifest unto them. Thus, thus, yea
thus doth the mind of man, thus blind and sick, foul and ill-favoured, wish
to be hidden, but that aught should be hidden from it, it wills not. But the
contrary is requited it, that itself should not be hidden from the Truth;
but the Truth is hid from it. Yet even thus miserable, it had rather joy in
truths than in falsehoods. Happy then will it be, when, no distraction
interposing, it shall joy in that only Truth, by Whom all things are true.
_________________________________________________________________

Chapter XXIV

See what a space I have gone over in my memory seeking Thee, O Lord; and I
have not found Thee, without it. Nor have I found any thing concerning Thee,
but what I have kept in memory, ever since I learnt Thee. For since I learnt
Thee, I have not forgotten Thee. For where I found Truth, there found I my
God, the Truth itself; which since I learnt, I have not forgotten. Since
then I learnt Thee, Thou residest in my memory; and there do I find Thee,
when I call Thee to remembrance, and delight in Thee. These be my holy
delights, which Thou hast given me in Thy mercy, having regard to my
poverty.
_________________________________________________________________

Chapter XXV

But where in my memory residest Thou, O Lord, where residest Thou there?
what manner of lodging hast Thou framed for Thee? what manner of sanctuary
hast Thou builded for Thee? Thou hast given this honour to my memory, to
reside in it; but in what quarter of it Thou residest, that am I
considering. For in thinking on Thee, I passed beyond such parts of it as
the beasts also have, for I found Thee not there among the images of
corporeal things: and I came to those parts to which I committed the
affections of my mind, nor found Thee there. And I entered into the very
seat of my mind (which it hath in my memory, inasmuch as the mind remembers
itself also), neither wert Thou there: for as Thou art not a corporeal
image, nor the affection of a living being (as when we rejoice, condole,
desire, fear, remember, forget, or the like); so neither art Thou the mind
itself; because Thou art the Lord God of the mind; and all these are
changed, but Thou remainest unchangeable over all, and yet hast vouchsafed
to dwell in my memory, since I learnt Thee. And why seek I now in what place
thereof Thou dwellest, as if there were places therein? Sure I am, that in
it Thou dwellest, since I have remembered Thee ever since I learnt Thee, and
there I find Thee, when I call Thee to remembrance.
_________________________________________________________________

Chapter XXVI

Where then did I find Thee, that I might learn Thee? For in my memory Thou
wert not, before I learned Thee. Where then did I find Thee, that I might
learn Thee, but in Thee above me? Place there is none; we go backward and
forward, and there is no place. Every where, O Truth, dost Thou give
audience to all who ask counsel of Thee, and at once answerest all, though
on manifold matters they ask Thy counsel. Clearly dost Thou answer, though
all do not clearly hear. All consult Thee on what they will, though they
hear not always what they will. He is Thy best servant who looks not so much
to hear that from Thee which himself willeth, as rather to will that, which
from Thee he heareth.
_________________________________________________________________

Chapter XXVII

Too late loved I Thee, O Thou Beauty of ancient days, yet ever new! too late
I loved Thee! And behold, Thou wert within, and I abroad, and there I
searched for Thee; deformed I, plunging amid those fair forms which Thou
hadst made. Thou wert with me, but I was not with Thee. Things held me far
from Thee, which, unless they were in Thee, were not at all. Thou calledst,
and shoutedst, and burstest my deafness. Thou flashedst, shonest, and
scatteredst my blindness. Thou breathedst odours, and I drew in breath and
panted for Thee. I tasted, and hunger and thirst. Thou touchedst me, and I
burned for Thy peace.
_________________________________________________________________

Chapter XXVIII

When I shall with my whole self cleave to Thee, I shall no where have sorrow
or labour; and my life shall wholly live, as wholly full of Thee. But now
since whom Thou fillest, Thou liftest up, because I am not full of Thee I am
a burden to myself. Lamentable joys strive with joyous sorrows: and on which
side is the victory, I know not. Woe is me! Lord, have pity on me. My evil
sorrows strive with my good joys; and on which side is the victory, I know
not. Woe is me! Lord, have pity on me. Woe is me! lo! I hide not my wounds;
Thou art the Physician, I the sick; Thou merciful, I miserable. Is not the
life of man upon earth all trial? Who wishes for troubles and difficulties?
Thou commandest them to be endured, not to be loved. No man loves what he
endures, though he love to endure. For though he rejoices that he endures,
he had rather there were nothing for him to endure. In adversity I long for
prosperity, in prosperity I fear adversity. What middle place is there
betwixt these two, where the life of man is not all trial? Woe to the
prosperities of the world, once and again, through fear of adversity, and
corruption of joy! Woe to the adversities of the world, once and again, and
the third time, from the longing for prosperity, and because adversity
itself is a hard thing, and lest it shatter endurance. Is not the life of
man upon earth all trial: without any interval?
_________________________________________________________________

Chapter XXIX

And all my hope is no where but in Thy exceeding great mercy. Give what Thou
enjoinest, and enjoin what Thou wilt. Thou enjoinest us continency; and when
I knew, saith one, that no man can be continent, unless God give it, this
also was a part of wisdom to know whose gift she is. By continency verily
are we bound up and brought back into One, whence we were dissipated into
many. For too little doth he love Thee, who loves any thing with Thee, which
he loveth not for Thee. O love, who ever burnest and never consumest! O
charity, my God, kindle me. Thou enjoinest continency: give me what Thou
enjoinest, and enjoin what Thou wilt.
_________________________________________________________________

Chapter XXX

Verily Thou enjoinest me continency from the lust of the flesh, the lust of
the eyes, and the ambition of the world. Thou enjoinest continency from
concubinage; and for wedlock itself, Thou hast counselled something better
than what Thou hast permitted. And since Thou gavest it, it was done, even
before I became a dispenser of Thy Sacrament. But there yet live in my
memory (whereof I have much spoken) the images of such things as my ill
custom there fixed; which haunt me, strengthless when I am awake: but in
sleep, not only so as to give pleasure, but even to obtain assent, and what
is very like reality. Yea, so far prevails the illusion of the image, in my
soul and in my flesh, that, when asleep, false visions persuade to that
which when waking, the true cannot. Am I not then myself, O Lord my God? And
yet there is so much difference betwixt myself and myself, within that
moment wherein I pass from waking to sleeping, or return from sleeping to
waking! Where is reason then, which, awake, resisteth such suggestions? And
should the things themselves be urged on it, it remaineth unshaken. Is it
clasped up with the eyes? is it lulled asleep with the senses of the body?
And whence is it that often even in sleep we resist, and mindful of our
purpose, and abiding most chastely in it, yield no assent to such
enticements? And yet so much difference there is, that when it happeneth
otherwise, upon waking we return to peace of conscience: and by this very
difference discover that we did not, what yet we be sorry that in some way
it was done in us.

Art Thou not mighty, God Almighty, so as to heal all the diseases of my
soul, and by Thy more abundant grace to quench even the impure motions of my
sleep! Thou wilt increase, Lord, Thy gifts more and more in me, that my soul
may follow me to Thee, disentangled from the birdlime of concupiscence; that
it rebel not against itself, and even in dreams not only not, through images
of sense, commit those debasing corruptions, even to pollution of the flesh,
but not even to consent unto them. For that nothing of this sort should
have, over the pure affections even of a sleeper, the very least influence,
not even such as a thought would restrain,”to work this, not only during
life, but even at my present age, is not hard for the Almighty, Who art able
to do above all that we ask or think. But what I yet am in this kind of my
evil, have I confessed unto my good Lord; rejoicing with trembling, in that
which Thou hast given me, and bemoaning that wherein I am still imperfect;
hoping that Thou wilt perfect Thy mercies in me, even to perfect peace,
which my outward and inward man shall have with Thee, when death shall be
swallowed up in victory.
_________________________________________________________________

Chapter XXXI

There is another evil of the day, which I would were sufficient for it. For
by eating and drinking we repair the daily decays of our body, until Thou
destroy both belly and meat, when Thou shalt slay my emptiness with a
wonderful fulness, and clothe this incorruptible with an eternal
incorruption. But now the necessity is sweet unto me, against which
sweetness I fight, that I be not taken captive; and carry on a daily war by
fastings; often bringing my body into subjection; and my pains are removed
by pleasure. For hunger and thirst are in a manner pains; they burn and kill
like a fever, unless the medicine of nourishments come to our aid. Which
since it is at hand through the consolations of Thy gifts, with which land,
and water, and air serve our weakness, our calamity is termed gratification.

This hast Thou taught me, that I should set myself to take food as physic.
But while I am passing from the discomfort of emptiness to the content of
replenishing, in the very passage the snare of concupiscence besets me. For
that passing, is pleasure, nor is there any other way to pass thither,
whither we needs must pass. And health being the cause of eating and
drinking, there joineth itself as an attendant a dangerous pleasure, which
mostly endeavours to go before it, so that I may for her sake do what I say
I do, or wish to do, for health's sake. Nor have each the same measure; for
what is enough for health, is too little for pleasure. And oft it is
uncertain, whether it be the necessary care of the body which is yet asking
for sustenance, or whether a voluptuous deceivableness of greediness is
proffering its services. In this uncertainty the unhappy soul rejoiceth, and
therein prepares an excuse to shield itself, glad that it appeareth not what
sufficeth for the moderation of health, that under the cloak of health, it
may disguise the matter of gratification. These temptations I daily
endeavour to resist, and I call on Thy right hand, and to Thee do I refer my
perplexities; because I have as yet no settled counsel herein.

I hear the voice of my God commanding, Let not your hearts be overcharged
with surfeiting and drunkenness. Drunkenness is far from me; Thou wilt have
mercy, that it come not near me. But full feeding sometimes creepeth upon
Thy servant; Thou wilt have mercy, that it may be far from me. For no one
can be continent unless Thou give it. Many things Thou givest us, praying
for them; and what good soever we have received before we prayed, from Thee
we received it; yea to the end we might afterwards know this, did we before
receive it. Drunkard was I never, but drunkards have I known made sober by
Thee. From Thee then it was, that they who never were such, should not so
be, as from Thee it was, that they who have been, should not ever so be; and
from Thee it was, that both might know from Whom it was. I heard another
voice of Thine, Go not after thy lusts, and from thy pleasure turn away. Yea
by Thy favour have I heard that which I have much loved; neither if we eat,
shall we abound; neither if we eat not, shall we lack; which is to say,
neither shall the one make me plenteous, nor the other miserable. I heard
also another, for I have learned in whatsoever state I am, therewith to be
content; I know how to abound, and how to suffer need. I can do all things
through Christ that strengtheneth me. Behold a soldier of the heavenly camp,
not the dust which we are. But remember, Lord, that we are dust, and that of
dust Thou hast made man; and he was lost and is found. Nor could he of
himself do this, because he whom I so loved, saying this through the
in-breathing of Thy inspiration, was of the same dust. I can do all things
(saith he) through Him that strengtheneth me. Strengthen me, that I can.
Give what Thou enjoinest, and enjoin what Thou wilt. He confesses to have
received, and when he glorieth, in the Lord he glorieth. Another have I
heard begging that he might receive. Take from me (saith he) the desires of
the belly; whence it appeareth, O my holy God, that Thou givest, when that
is done which Thou commandest to be done.

Thou hast taught me, good Father, that to the pure, all things are pure; but
that it is evil unto the man that eateth with offence; and, that every
creature of Thine is good, and nothing to be refused, which is received with
thanksgiving; and that meat commendeth us not to God; and, that no man
should judge us in meat or drink; and, that he which eateth, let him not
despise him that eateth not; and let not him that eateth not, judge him that
eateth. These things have I learned, thanks be to Thee, praise to Thee, my
God, my Master, knocking at my ears, enlightening my heart; deliver me out
of all temptation. I fear not uncleanness of meat, but the uncleanness of
lusting. I know; that Noah was permitted to eat all kind of flesh that was
good for food; that Elijah was fed with flesh; that endued with an admirable
abstinence, was not polluted by feeding on living creatures, locusts. I know
also that Esau was deceived by lusting for lentiles; and that David blamed
himself for desiring a draught of water; and that our King was tempted, not
concerning flesh, but bread. And therefore the people in the wilderness also
deserved to be reproved, not for desiring flesh, but because, in the desire
of food, they murmured against the Lord.

Placed then amid these temptations, I strive daily against concupiscence in
eating and drinking. For it is not of such nature that I can settle on
cutting it off once for all, and never touching it afterward, as I could of
concubinage. The bridle of the throat then is to be held attempered between
slackness and stiffness. And who is he, O Lord, who is not some whit
transported beyond the limits of necessity? whoever he is, he is a great
one; let him make Thy Name great. But I am not such, for I am a sinful man.
Yet do I too magnify Thy name; and He maketh intercession to Thee for my
sins who hath overcome the world; numbering me among the weak members of His
body; because Thine eyes have seen that of Him which is imperfect, and in
Thy book shall all be written.
_________________________________________________________________

Chapter XXXII
<