HAVING MANIFESTED WHAT
HE WAS AND WHAT HE IS, HE SHOWS THE GREAT FRUIT OF HIS
CONFESSION; AND BEING ABOUT TO EXAMINE BY WHAT METHOD GOD AND THE
HAPPY LIFE MAY BE FOUND, HE ENLARGES ON THE NATURE AND POWER OF
MEMORY. THEN HE EXAMINES HIS OWN ACTS, THOUGHTS AND AFFECTIONS,
VIEWED UNDER THE THREEFOLD DIVISION OF TEMPTATION; AND
COMMEMORATES THE LORD, THE ONE MEDIATOR OF GOD AND MEN.
CHAP. I. IN GOD ALONE IS THE
HOPE AND JOY OF MAN.
1. LET me know Thee, O Thou
who knowest me; let me know Thee, as I am known. O Thou strength
of my soul, enter into it, and prepare it for Thyself, that Thou
mayest have and hold it without "spot or wrinkle." (2) This is
my hope, "therefore have I spoken;" (8) and in this hope do I
rejoice, when I rejoice soberly. Other things of this life ought
the less to be sorrowed for, the more they are sorrowed for; and
ought the more to be sorrowed for, the less men do sorrow for
them. For behold, "Thou desirest truth,"(4) seeing that he who
does it "cometh to the light."(5) This wish I to do in confession
in my heart before Thee, and in my writing before many witnesses.
CHAP. II. THAT ALL THINGS ARE
MANIFEST TO GOD. THAT CONFESSION UNTO HIM IS NOT MADE BY THE
WORDS OF THE FLESH, BUT OF! THE SOUL, AND THE CRY OF
REFLECTION.
2. And from Thee, O Lord, unto whose eyes the depths of
man's conscience are naked,(6) what in me could be hidden though
I were unwilling to confess to Thee ? For so should I hide Thee
from myself, not myself from Thee. But now, because my groaning
witnesseth that I am dissatisfied with myself, Thou shinest
forth, and satisfiest, and art beloved and desired; that I may
blush for myself, and renounce myself, and choose Thee, and may
neither please Thee nor myself, except in Thee. To Thee, then, O
Lord, am I manifest, whatever I am, and with what fruit I may
confess unto Thee I have spoken. Nor do I it with words and
sounds of the flesh, but with the words of the soul, and that cry
of reflection which Thine ear knoweth. For when I am wicked, to
confess to Thee is naught but to be dissatisfied with myself; but
when I am truly devout, it is naught but not to attribute it to
myself, because Thou, O Lord, dost "bless the righteous; (7) but
first Thou justifiest him "ungodly." (8) My confession,
therefore, O my God, in Thy sight, is made unto Thee silently,
and yet not silently. For m noise it is silent, in affection it
cries aloud. For neither do I give utterance to anything that is
right unto men which Thou hast not heard from me before, nor dost
Thou hear anything of the kind from me which Thyself saidst not
first unto me.
CHAP. III. HE WHO CONFESSETH
RIGHTLY UNTO GOD BEST KNOWETH HIMSELF.
3. What then
have I to do with men, that they should hear my confessions, as
if they were going to cure all my diseases? (9) A people curious
to know the lives of others, but slow to correct their own. Why
do they desire to hear from me what I am, who are unwilling to
hear from Thee what they are ? And how can they tell, when they
hear from me of myself, whether I speak the truth, seeing that no
man knoweth what is in man, "save the spirit of man which is in
him "?,o But if they hear from Thee aught concerning themselves,
they will not be able to say, "The Lord lieth." For what is it
to hear from Thee of themselves, but to know themselves ? And who
is he that knoweth himself and saith, "It is false," unless he
himself lieth? But because "charity believeth all things" n
(amongst those at all events whom by union with itself it maketh
one), I too, O Lord, also so confess unto Thee that men may hear,
to whom I cannot prove whether I confess the truth, yet do they
believe me whose ears charity openeth unto me.
4. But yet
do Thou, my most secret Physician, make clear to me what fruit I
may reap by doing it. For the confessions of my past sins,
which Thou hast "forgiven" and "covered," that Thou mightest make
me happy in Thee, changing my soul by faith and Thy sacrament,
when they are read and heard, stir up the heart, that it sleep
not in despair and say, "I cannot ;" but that it may awake in the
love of Thy mercy and the sweetness of Thy grace, by which he
that is weak is strong? if by it he is made conscious of his own
weakness. As for the good, they take delight in hearing of the
past errors of such as are now freed from them; and they delight,
not because they are errors, but because they have been and are
so no longer. For what fruit, then, O Lord my God, to whom my
conscience maketh her daily confession, more confident in the
hope of Thy mercy than in her own innocency, for what fruit, I
beseech Thee, do I confess even to men in Thy presence by this
book what I am at this time, not what I have been ? For that
fruit I have both seen and spoken of, but what I am at this time,
at the very moment of making my confessions, divers people desire
to know, both who knew me and who knew me not, who have heard of
or from me, but their ear is not at my heart, where I am
whatsoever I am. They are desirous, then, of hearing me confess
what I am within, where they can neither stretch eye, nor ear,
nor mind; they desire it as those willing to believe, but will
they understand ? For charity, by which they are good, says unto
them that I do not lie in my confessions, and she in them
believes me.
CHAP. IV. THAT IN HIS
CONFESSIONS HE MAY DO GOOD, HE CONSIDERS OTHERS.
5. But for what fruit do they desire this ? Do they wish me
happiness when they learn how near, by Thy gift, I come unto
Thee; and to pray for me, when they learn how much I am kept back
by my own weight ? To such will I declare myself. For it is no
small fruit, O Lord my God, that by many thanks should be given
to Thee on our behalf,(3) and that by many Thou shouldest be
entreated for us. Let the fraternal soul love that in me which
Thou teachest should be loved, and lament that in me which Thou
teachest should be lamented. Let a fraternal and not an alien
soul do this, nor that "of strange children, whose mouth speaketh
vanity, and their right hand is a right hand of falsehood,"(4)
but that fraternal one which, when it approves me, rejoices for
me, but when it disapproves me, is sorry for me; because whether
it approves or disapproves it loves me. To such will I declare
myself; let them breathe freely at my good deeds, and sigh over
my evil ones. My good deeds are Thy institutions and Thy gifts,
my evil ones are my delinquencies and Thy judgments? Let them
breathe freely at the one, and sigh over the other; and let hymns
and tears ascend into Thy sight out of the fraternal hearts Thy
censers.(6) And do Thou, O Lord, who takest delight in the
incense of Thy holy temple, have mercy upon me according to Thy
great mercy, (7) "for Thy name's sake ;" (8) and on no account
leaving what Thou hast begun in me, do Thou complete what is
imperfect in me.
6. This is the fruit of my confessions,
not of what I was, but of what I am, that I may confess this not
before Thee only, in a secret exultation with trembling,(9) and a
secret sorrow with hope, but in the ears also of the believing
sons of men, partakers of my joy, and sharers of my mortality,
my fellow-citizens and the companions of my pilgrimage, those who
are gone before, and those that are to follow after, and the
comrades of my way. These are Thy servants, my brethren, those
whom Thou wish-est to be Thy sons; my masters, whom Thou hast
commanded me to serve, if I desire to live with and of Thee. But
this Thy word were little to me did it command in speaking,
without going before in acting. This then do I both in deed and
word, this I do under Thy wings, in too great danger, were it not
that my soul, under Thy wings, is subject unto Thee, and my
weakness known unto Thee. I am a little one, but my Father
liveth for ever, and my Defender is "sufficient (10) for me. For
He is the same who begat me and who defends me; and Thou Thyself
art all my good; even Thou, the Omnipotent, who art with me, and
that before I am with Thee. To such, therefore, whom Thou
commandest me to serve will I declare, not what I was, but what I
now am, and what I still am. But neither do I judge myself.(11)
Thus then I would be heard.
CHAP. V. THAT MAN KNOWETH NOT
HIMSELF WHOLLY.
7. For it is Thou, Lord, that
judgest me;" for although no "man knoweth the things of a man,
save the spirit of man which is in him,"(1) yet is there
something of man which "the spirit of man which is in him" itself
knoweth not. But Thou, Lord, who hast made him, knowest him
wholly. I indeed, though in Thy sight I despise myself, and
reckon "myself but dust and ashes," yet know something concerning
Thee, which I know not concerning myself. And assuredly "now we
see through a glass darkly," not yet "face to face." (8) So
long, therefore, as I be "absent" from Thee, I am more "present"
with myself than with Thee; and yet know I that Thou canst not
suffer violence; but for myself I know not what temptations I am
able to resist, and what I am not able. But there is hope,
because Thou art faithful, who wilt not suffer us to be tempted
above that we are able, but wilt with the temptation also make a
way to escape, that we may be able to bear it.(7) I would
therefore confess what I know concerning myself; I will confess
also what I know not concerning myself. And because what I do
know of myself, I know by Thee enlightening me; and what I know
not of myself, so long I know not until the time when my
"darkness be as the noonday" in Thy sight.
CHAP. VI. THE LOVE OF GOD, IN
HIS NATURE SUPERIOR TO ALL CREATURES, IS ACQUIRED BY THE
KNOWLEDGE OF THE SENSES AND THE EXERCISE OF REASON.
8. Not with uncertain, but with assured consciousness do I
love Thee, O Lord. Thou hast stricken my heart with Thy word,
and I loved Thee. And also the heaven, and earth, and all that
is therein, behold, on every side 1;hey say that I should love
Thee; nor do they cease to speak unto all, "so that they are
without excuse." (9) But more profoundly wilt Thou have mercy on
whom Thou wilt have mercy, and compassion on whom Thou wilt have
compassion,(10) otherwise do both heaven and earth tell forth Thy
praises to deaf ears. But what is it that I love in loving Thee?
Not corporeal beauty, nor the splendour of time, nor the radiance
of the light, so pleasant to our eyes, nor the sweet melodies of
songs of all kinds, nor the flagrant smell of flowers, and
ointments, and spices, not manna and honey, not limbs pleasant to
the embracements of flesh. I love not these things when I love
my God; and yet I love a certain kind of light, and sound, and
fragrance, and food, and embracement in loving my God, who is the
light, sound, fragrance, food, and embracement of my inner man
where that light shineth unto my soul which no place can contain,
where that soundeth which time snatcheth not away, where there is
a fragrance which no breeze disperseth, where there is a food
which no eating can diminish, and where that clingeth which no
satiety can sunder. This is what I love, when I love my God.
9. And what is this? I asked the earth; and it answered, "I
am not He;" and whatsoever are therein made the same confession.
I asked the sea and the deeps, and the creeping things that
lived, and they replied, "We are not thy God, seek higher than
we." I asked the breezy air, and the universal air with its
inhabitants answered, "Anaximenes (11) was deceived, I am not
God." I asked the heavens, the sun, moon, and stars: "Neither,"
say they, "are we the God whom thou seekest." And I answered
unto all these things which stand about the door of my flesh, "Ye
have told me concerning my God, that ye are not He; tell me
something about Him." And with a loud voice they exclaimed, "He
made us." My question-mg was my observing of them; and their
beauty was their reply? And I directed my thoughts to myself,
and said, "Who art thou?" And I answered, "A man." And lo, in
me there appear both body and soul, the one without, the other
within. By which of these should I seek my God, whom I had
sought through the body from earth to heaven, as far as I was
able to send messengers the beams of mine eyes ? But the better
part is that which is inner; for to it, as both president and
judge, did all these my corporeal messengers render the answers
of heaven and earth and all things therein, who said, "We are not
God, but He made us." These things was my inner man cognizant of
by the ministry of the outer; I, the inner man, knew all this I,
the soul, through the senses of my body. I asked the vast bulk
of the earth of my God, and it answered me, "I am not He, but He
made me."
10. Is not this beauty visible to all whose
senses are unimpaired ? Why then doth it not speak the same
things unto all ? Animals, the very small and the great, see it,
but they are unable to question it, because their senses are not
endowed with reason to enable them to judge on what they report.
But men can question it, so that "the invisible things of Him . .
. are clearly seen, being understood by the things that are
made;" but by loving them, they are brought into subjection to
them; and subjects are not able to judge. Neither do the
creatures reply to such as question them, unless they can judge;
nor will they alter their voice (that is, their beauty), (2) if
so be one man only sees, another both sees and questions, so as
to appear one way to this man, and another to that; but appearing
the same way to both, it is mute to this, it speaks to that yea,
verily, it speaks unto all i but they only understand it who
compare that voice received from without with the truth within.
For the truth declareth unto me, "Neither heaven, nor earth, nor
any body is: thy God." This, their nature declareth unto him
that beholdeth them. "They are a mass; a mass is less in part
than in the whole." Now, O my soul, thou art my better part,
unto thee I speak; for thou animatest the mass of thy body,
giving it life, which no body furnishes to a body but thy God is
even unto thee the Life of life.
CHAP. VII. THAT GOD IS TO BE
FOUND NEITHER FROM THE POWERS OF THE BODY NOR OF THE SOUL.
11. What then is it that I love when I love my God ? Who is
He that is above the head of my soul ? By my soul itself will I
mount up unto Him. I will soar beyond that power of mine whereby
I cling to the body, and fill the whole structure of it with
life. Not by that power do I find my God; for then the horse and
the mule, "which have no understanding," a might find Him, since
it is the same power by which their bodies also live. But there
is another power, not that only by which I quicken, but that also
by which I endow with sense my flesh, which the Lord hath made
for me; bidding the eye not to hear, and the ear not to see; but
that, for me to see by, and this, for me to hear by; and to each
of the other senses its own proper seat and office, which being
different, I, the single mind, do through them govern. I will
soar also beyond this power of mine; for this the horse and mule
possess, for they too discern through the body.
CHAP. VIII. OF THE NATURE AND THE AMAZING POWER OF MEMORY.
12. I will soar,
then, beyond this power of my nature also, ascending by degrees
unto Him who made me. And I enter the fields and roomy chambers
of memory, where are the treasures of countless images, imported
into it from all manner of things by the senses. There is
treasured up whatsoever likewise we think, either by enlarging or
diminishing, or by varying in any way whatever those things which
the sense hath arrived at; yea, and whatever else hath been
entrusted to it and stored up, which oblivion hath not yet
engulfed and buried. When I am in this storehouse, I demand that
what I wish should be brought forth, and some things immediately
appear; others require to be longer sought after, and are
dragged, as it were, out of some hidden receptacle; others,
again, hurry forth in crowds, and while another thing is sought
and inquired for, they leap into view, as if to say, "Is it not
we, perchance?" These I drive away with the hand of my heart
from before the face of my remembrance, until what I wish be
discovered making its appearance out of its secret cell. Other
things suggest themselves without effort, and in continuous
order, just as they are called for, those in front giving place
to those that follow, and in giving place are treasured up again
to be forthcoming when I wish it. All of which takes place when
I repeat a thing from memory.
13. All these things, each of
which entered by its own avenue, are distinctly and under general
heads there laid up: as, for example, light, and all colours and
forms of bodies, by the eyes; sounds of all kinds by the ears;
all smells by the passage of the nostrils; all flavours by that
of the mouth; and by the sensation of the whole body is brought
in what is hard or soft, hot or cold, smooth or rough, heavy or
light, whether external or internal to the body. All these doth
that great receptacle of memory, with its many and indescribable
departments, receive, to be recalled and brought forth when
required; each, entering by its own door, is hid up in it. And
yet the things themselves do not enter it, but only the images of
the things perceived are there ready at hand for thought to,
recall. And who can tell how these images formed,
notwithstanding that it is evident which of the senses each has
been fetched and treasured up? For even while I live in darkness
and silence, I can bring out colours in memory if I wish, and
discern between black and white, and what others I wish; nor yet
do sounds break in and disturb what is drawn in by mine eyes, and
which I am considering, seeing that they also are there, and are
concealed,laid up, as it were, apart. For these too I can summon
if I please, and immediately they appear. And though my tongue
be at rest, and my throat silent, yet can I sing as much as I
will; and those images of colours, which notwithstanding are
there, do not interpose themselves and interrupt when another
treasure is under consideration which flowed in through the ears.
So the remaining things carried in and heaped up by the other
senses, I recall at my pleasure. And I discern the scent of
lilies from that of violets while smelling nothing; and I prefer
honey to grape-syrup, a smooth thing to a rough, though then I
neither taste nor handle, but only remember.
14. These
things do I within, in that vast chamber of my memory. For there
are nigh me heaven, earth, sea, and whatever I can think upon in
them, besides those which I have forgotten. There also do I meet
with myself, and recall myself, what, when, or where I did a
thing, and how I was affected when I did it. There are all which
I remember, either by personal experience or on the faith of
others. Out of the same supply do I myself with the past
construct now this, now that likeness of things, which either I
have experienced, or, from having experienced, have believed; and
thence again future actions, events, and hopes, and upon all
these again do I meditate as if they were present. "I will do
this or that," say I to myself in that vast womb of my mind,
filled with the images of things so many and so great, "and this
or that shall follow upon it." "Oh that this or that might come
to pass!" "God avert this or that !" Thus speak I to myself; and
when I speak, the images of all I speak about are present, out of
the same treasury of memory; nor could I say anything at all
about them were the images absent.
15. Great is this power
of memory, exceeding great, O my God, an inner chamber large and
boundless ! Who has plumbed the depths! thereof? Yet it is a
power of mine, and appertains unto my nature; nor do I myself
grasp l all that I am. Therefore is the mind too narrow to
contain itself. And where should that be which it doth not
contain of itself? Is it outside and not in itself? How is it,
then, that it doth not grasp itself? A great admiration rises
upon me; astonishment seizes me. And men go forth to wonder at
the heights of mountains, the huge waves of the sea, the broad
flow of the rivers, the extent of the ocean, and the courses of
the stars, and omit to wonder at themselves; nor do they marvel
that when I spoke of all these things, I was not looking on them
with my eyes, and yet could not speak of them unless those
mountains, and waves, and rivers, and stars which I saw, and that
ocean which I believe in, I saw inwardly in my memory, and with
the same vast spaces between as when I saw them abroad. But I
did not by seeing appropriate them when I looked on them with my
eyes; nor are the things themselves with me, but their images.
And I knew by what corporeal sense each made impression on me.
CHAP. IX. NOT ONLY THINGS,
BUT ALSO LITERATURE AND IMAGES, ARE TAKEN FROM THE MEMORY, AND
ARE BROUGHT FORTH BY THE ACT OF REMEMBERING.
16.
And yet are not these all that the illimitable capacity of my
memory retains. Here also is all that is apprehended of the
liberal sciences, and not yet forgotten removed as it were into
an inner place, which is not a place; nor are they the images
which am retained, but the things themselves. For what is
literature, what skill in disputation, whatsoever I know of all
the many kinds of questions there are, is so m my memory, as that
I have not taken in the image and left the thing without, or that
it should have sounded and passed away like a voice imprinted on
the ear by that trace, whereby it might be recorded, as though it
sounded when it no longer did so; or as an odour while it passes
away, and vanishes into wind, affects the sense of smell, whence
it conveys the image of itself into the memory, which we realize
in recollecting; or like food, which assuredly in the belly hath
now no taste, and yet hath a kind of taste in the memory, or like
anything that is by touching felt by the body, and which even
when removed from us is imagined by the memory. For these things
themselves are not put into it, but the images of them only are
caught up, with a marvellous quickness, and laid up, as it were,
in most wonderful garners, and wonderfully brought forth when we
remember.
CHAP. X. LITERATURE IS NOT
INTRODUCED TO THE MEMORY THROUGH THE SENSES, BUT IS BROUGHT FORTH
FROM ITS MORE SECRET PLACES.
17. But truly when I hear that there are three kinds of
questions, "Whether a thing is?what it is ? of what kind it is
?" I do indeed hold fast the images of the sounds of which these
words are composed, and I know that those sounds passed through
the air with a noise, and now are not. But the things themselves
which are signified by these sounds I never arrived at by any
sense of the body, nor ever perceived them otherwise than by my
mind; and in my memory have I laid up not their images, but
themselves, which, how they entered into me, let them tell if
they are able. For I examine all the gates of my flesh, but find
not by which of them they entered. For the eyes say, "If they
were coloured, we announced them." The ears say, "If they
sounded, we gave notice of them." The nostrils say, "If they
smell, they passed in by us." The sense of taste says, "If they
have no flavour, ask not me." The touch says, "If it have not
body, I handled it not, and if I never handled it, I gave no
notice of it." Whence and how did these things enter into my
memory ? I know not how. For when I learned them, I gave not
credit to the heart of another man, but perceived them in my own;
and I approved them as true, and committed them to it, laying
them up, as it were, whence I might fetch them when I willed.
There, then, they were, even before I learned them, but were not
in my memory. Where were they, then, or wherefore, when they
were spoken, did I acknowledge them, and say, "So it is, it is
true," unless as being already in the memory, though so put back
and concealed, as it were, in more secret caverns, that had they
not been drawn forth by the advice of another I would not,
perchance, have been able to conceive of them ?
CHAP. XI. WHAT IT IS TO LEARN
AND TO THINK.
18. Wherefore we find that to learn these things, whose
images we drink not in by our senses, but perceive within as they
axe by themselves, without images, is nothing else but by
meditation as it were to concentrate, and by observing to take
care that those notions which the memory did before contain
scattered and confused, be laid up at hand, as it were, in that
same memory, where before they lay concealed, scattered and
neglected, and so the more easily present themselves to the mind
well accustomed to observe them. And how many things of this
sort does my memory retain which have been found out already,
and, as I said, are, as it were, laid up ready to hand, which we
are said to have learned and to have known; which, should we for
small. intervals of time cease to recall, they are again so
submerged and slide back, as it were, into the more remote
chambers, that they must be evolved thence again as if new (for
other sphere they have none), and must be marshalled [cogenda]
again that they may become known; that is to say, they must be
collected [calligenda], as it were, from their dispersion; whence
we have the word cagitare. For cogo [lit. collect] and cogira
[I re-collect] have the same relation to each other as ago and
agito, lucia and factira. But the mind has appropriated to
itself this word [cogitation], so that not that which is
collected anywhere, but what is collected,x that is marshalled,
(2) in the mind, is properly said to be "cogitated."'
CHAP. XII. ON THE
RECOLLECTION OF THINGS MATHEMATICAL.
19. The memory
containeth also the reasons and innumerable laws of numbers and
dimensions, none of which hath any sense of the body impressed,
seeing they have neither colour, nor sound, nor taste, nor smell,
nor sense of touch. I have heard the sound of the words by which
these things are signified when they are discussed; but the
sounds are one thing, the things another. For the sounds are one
thing in Greek, another in Latin; but the things themselves are
neither Greek, nor Latin, nor any other language. I have seen
the lines of the craftsmen, even the finest, like a spider's web;
but these are of another kind, they are not the images of those
which the eye of my flesh showed me; he knoweth them who, without
any idea whatsoever of a body, perceives them within himself. I
have also observed the numbers of the things with which we number
all the senses of the body; but those by which we number are of
another kind, nor are they the images of these, and therefore
they certainly are. Let him who sees not these things mock me
for saying them; and I will pity him, whilst he mocks me.
CHAP. XIII. MEMORY RETAINS
ALL THINGS.
20. All these things I retain in my memory,
and how I learnt them I retain. I retain also many. things
which I have heard most falsely objected against them, which
though they be false, yet is it not false that I have remembered
them; and I remember, too, that I have distinguished between
those truths and these falsehoods uttered against them; and I now
see that it is one thing to distinguish these things, another to
remember that I often distinguished I them, when I often
reflected upon them. I both remember, then, that I have often
understood these things, and what I now distinguish and
comprehend I store away in my memory, that hereafter I may
remember that I understood it now. Therefore also I remember
that I have remembered; so that if afterwards I shall call to
mind that I have been able to remember these things, it will be
through the power of memory that I shall call it to mind.
CHAP. XIV. CONCERNING THE MANNER IN WHICH JOY AND SADNESS MAY BE BROUGHT
BACK TO THE MIND AND MEMORY.
21. This same memory contains also the affections of my
mind; not in the manner in which the mind itself contains them
when it suffers them, but very differently according to a power
peculiar to memory. For without being joyous, I remember myself
to have had joy; and without being sad, I call to mind my past
sadness; and that of which I was once afraid, I remember without
fear; and without desire recall a former desire. Again, on the
contrary, I at times remember when joyous my past sadness, and
when sad my joy. Which is not to be wondered at as regards the
body; for the mind is one thing, the body another. If I,
therefore, when happy, recall some past bodily pain, it is not so
strange a thing. But now, as this very memory itself is mind
(for when we give orders to have a thing kept in memory, we say,
"See that you bear this in mind;" and when we forget a thing, we
say, "It did not enter my mind," and, "It slipped from my mind,"
thus calling the memory itself mind), as this is so, how comes it
to pass that when being joyful I remember my past sorrow, the
mind has joy, the memory sorrow, the mind, from the joy than is
in it, is joyful, .yet the memory, from the sadness that is in
it, is not sad? Does not the memory perchance belong unto the
mind ? Who will say so ? The memory doubtless is, so to say, the
belly of the mind, and joy and sadness like sweet and bitter
food, which, when entrusted to the memory, are, as it were,
passed into the belly, where they can be reposited, but cannot
taste. It is ridiculous to imagine these to be alike; and yet
they are not utterly unlike.
22. But behold, out of my
memory I educe it, when I affirm that there be four perturbations
of the mind, desire, joy, fear, sorrow; and whatsoever I shall
be able to dispute on these, by dividing each into its peculiar
species, and by defining it, there I find what I may say, and
thence I educe it; yet am I not disturbed by any of these
perturbations when by remembering them I call them to mind; and
before I! recollected and reviewed them, they were there;
wherefore by remembrance could they be brought thence.
Perchance, then, even as meat is in ruminating brought up out of
the belly, so by calling to mind are these educed from the
memory. Why, then, does not the disputant, thus recollecting,
perceive in the mouth of his meditation the sweetness of joy or
the bitterness of sorrow? Is the comparison unlike in this
because not like in all points ? For who would willingly
discourse on these subjects, if, as often as we name sorrow or
fear, we should be compelled to be sorrowful or fearful ? And yet
we could never speak of them, did we not find in our memory not
merely the sounds of the names, according to the images imprinted
on it by the senses of the body, but the notions of the things
themselves, which we never received by any door of the flesh, but
which the mind itself, recognising by the experience of its own
passions, entrusted to the memory, or else which the memory
itself retained without their being entrusted to it.
CHAP. XV. IN MEMORY THERE ARE
ALSO IMAGES OF THINGS WHICH ARE ABSENT.
23. But
whether by images or no, who can well affirm ? For I name a
stone, I name the sun, and the things themselves are not present
to my senses, but their images are near to my memory. I name
some pain of the body, yet it is not present when there is no
pain; yet if its image were not in my memory, I should be
Ignorant what to say concerning it, nor in arguing be able to
distinguish it from pleasure. I name bodily health when sound in
body; the thing itself is indeed present with me, but unless its
image also were in my memory, I could by no means call to mind
what the sound of this name signified. Nor would sick people
know, when health was named, what was said, unless the same image
were retained by the power of memory, although the thing itself
were absent from the body. I name numbers whereby we enumerate;
and not their images, but they themselves are in my memory. I
name the image of the sun, and this, too, is in my memory. For I
do not recall the image of that image, but itself, for the image
itself is present when I remember it. I name memory, and I know
what I name. But where do I know it, except in the memory
itself? Is it also present to itself by its image, and not by
itself?
CHAP. XVI. THE PRIVATION OF
MEMORY IS FORGETFULNESS.
24. When I name
forgetfulness, and know, too, what I name, whence should I know
it if I did not remember it ? I do not say the sound of the name,
but the thing which it signifies i which, had I forgotten, I
could not know what that sound signified. When, therefore, I
remember memory, then is memory present with itself, through
itself. But when I remember forgetfulness, there are present
both memory and forgetfulness, memory, whereby I remember,
forgetfulness, which I remember. But what is forgetfulness but
the privation of memory ? How, then, is that present for me to
remember, since, when it is so, I cannot remember ? But if what
we remember we retain in memory, yet, unless we remembered
forgetfulness, we could never at the hearing of the name know the
thing meant by it, then is forgetfulness retained by memory.
Present, therefore, it is, lest we should forget it; and being
so, we do forget. Is it to be inferred from this that
forgetfulness, when we remember it, is not present to the memory
through itself, but through its image; because, were
forgetfulness present through itself, it would not lead us to
remember, but to forget ? Who will now investigate this ? Who
shall understand how it is ?
25. Truly, O Lord, I labour
therein, and labour in myself. I am become a troublesome soil
that requires overmuch labour. For we are not now searching out
the tracts of heaven, or measuring the distances of the stars, or
inquiring about the weight of the earth. It is I my-self I, the
mind who remember. It is not much to be wondered at, if what I
myself am not be far from me. But what is nearer to me than
myself? And, behold, I am not able to comprehend the force of my
own memory, though I cannot name myself without it. For what
shall I say when it is plain to me that I remember forgetfulness?
Shall I affirm that which I remember is not in my memory? Or
shall I say that forgetfulness is in my memory with the view of
my not forgetting ? Both of these are most absurd. What third
view is there ? How can I assert that the image of forgetfulness
is retained by my memory, and not forgetfulness itself, when I
remember it ? And how can I assert this, seeing that when the
image of anything is imprinted on the memory, the thing itself
must of necessity be present first by which that image may be
imprinted ? For thus do I remember Carthage; thus, all the places
to which I have been; thus, the faces of men whom I have seen,
and things reported by the other senses; thus, the health or
sickness of the body. For when these objects were present, my
memory received images from them, which, when they were present,
I might gaze on and reconsider in my mind, as I remembered them
when they were absent. If, therefore, forgetfulness is retained
in the memory through its image, and not through itself, then
itself was once present, that its image might be taken. But when
it was present, how did it write its image on the memory, seeing
that forgetfulness by its presence blots out even what it finds
already noted ? And yet, in whatever way, though it be
incomprehensible and inexplicable, yet most certain I am that I
remember also forgetfulness itself, whereby what we do remember
is blotted out.
CHAP. XVII. GOD CANNOT BE
ATTAINED UNTO BY THE POWER OF MEMORY, WHICH BEASTS AND BIRDS
POSSESS.
26. Great is the power of memory; very wonderful is it, O my
God, a profound and infinite manifoldness; and this thing is the
mind, and this I myself am. What then am I, O my God ? Of what
nature am I ? A life various and manifold, and exceeding vast.
Behold, in the numberless fields, and caves, and caverns of my
memory, full without number of numberless kinds of things, either
through images, as all bodies are; or by the presence of the
things themselves, as are the arts; or by some notion or
observation, as the affections of the mind are, which, even
though the mind doth not suffer, the memory retains, while
whatsoever is in the memory is also in the mind: through all
these do I run to and fro, and fly; I penetrate on this side and
that, as far as I am able, and nowhere is there an end. So great
is the i power of memory, so great the power of life in man,
whose life is mortal. What then shall I do, O Thou my true life,
my God ? I will pass even beyond this power of mine which is
called memory I will pass beyond it, that I may proceed to Thee,
O Thou sweet Light. What sayest Thou to me ? Behold, I am
soaring by my mind towards Thee who remainest above me. I will
also pass beyond this power of mine which is called memory,
wishful to reach Thee whence Thou canst be reached, and to cleave
unto Thee whence it is possible to cleave unto Thee. For even
beasts and birds possess memory, else could they never find their
lairs and nests again, nor many other things to which they are
used; neither indeed could they become used to anything, but by
their memory. I will pass, then, beyond memory also, that I may
reach Him who has separated me from the four-footed beasts and
the fowls of the air, making me wiser than they. I will pass
beyond memory also, but where shall I find Thee, O Thou truly
good and assured sweetness ? But where shall I find Thee ? If I
find Thee without memory, then am I unmindful of Thee. And how
now shall I find Thee, if I do not remember Thee ?
CHAP. XVIII. A THING WHEN LOST COULD NOT BE FOUND UNLESS IT WERE RETAINED
IN THE MEMORY.
27. For the woman who lost her drachma, and searched for it
with a lamp,(1) unless she had remembered it, would never have
found it. For when it was found, whence could she know whether
it were the same, had she not remembered it ? I remember to have
lost and found many things; and this I know thereby, that when I
was searching for any of them, and was asked, "Is this it?" "Is
that it?" I answered "No," until such time as that which I
sought were offered to me. Which had I not remembered,
whatever it were, though it were offered me, yet would I not
find it, because I could not recognise it. And thus it is
always, when we search for and find anything that is lost.
Notwithstanding, if anything be by accident lost from the sight,
not from the memory, as any visible body, the image of it is
retained within, and is searched for 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 we had lost
unless we recognise it; nor can we recognise it unless we
remember it. But this, though lost to the sight, was retained in
the memory.
CHAP. XIX. WHAT IT IS TO
REMEMBER.
28. But how is it when the memory itself
loses anything, as it happens when we forget anything and try to
recall it ? Where finally do we search, but in the memory itself?
And there, if perchance one thing be offered for another, we
refuse it, until we meet with what we seek; and when we do, we
exclaim, "This is it !" which we should not do unless we knew it
again, nor should we recognise it unless we remembered it.
Assuredly, therefore, we had forgotten it. Or, had not the whole
of it slipped our memory, but by the part by which we had hold
was the other part sought for; since the memory perceived that it
did not revolve together as much as it was accustomed to do, and
halting, as if from the mutilation of its old habit, demanded the
restoration of that which was wanting. For example, if we see or
think of some man known to us, and, having forgotten his name,
endeavour to recover it, whatsoever other thing presents itself
is not connected with it; because it was not used to be thought
of in connection with him, and is consequently rejected, until
that is present whereon the knowledge reposes fittingly as its
accustomed object. And whence, save from the memory itself, does
the present itself? For even when we recognise it as put in mind
of it by another, it is thence it comes. For we do not believe
it as something new, but, as we recall it, admit what was said to
be correct. But if it were entirely blotted out of the mind, we
should not, even when put in mind of it, recollect it. For we
have not as yet entirely forgotten what we remember that we have
forgotten. A lost notion, then, which we have entirely
forgotten, we cannot even search for.
CHAP. XX. WE SHOULD NOT SEEK
FOR GOD AND THE HAPPY LIFE UNLESS WE HAD KNOWN IT.
29. How, then, do I seek Thee, O Lord? For when I seek Thee, my
God, I seek a happy life. (1) I will seek Thee, that my soul may
live. For my body liveth by my soul, and my soul liveth by Thee.
How, then, do I seek a happy life, seeing that it is not mine
till I can say, "It is enough!" in that place where I ought to
say it ? How do I seek it ? Is it by remembrance, as though I had
forgotten it, knowing too that I had forgotten it ? or, longing
to learn it as a thing unknown, which either I had never known,
or had so forgotten it as not even to remember that I had
forgotten it ? Is not a happy life the thing that all desire, and
is there any one who altogether desires it not? But where did
they acquire the knowledge of it, that they so desire it ? Where
have they seen it, that they so love it ? Truly we have it, but
how I know not. Yea, there is another way in which, when any one
hath it, he is happy; and some there be that are happy in hope.
These have it in an inferior kind to those that are happy in
fact; and yet are they better off than they who are happy neither
in fact nor in hope. And even these, had they it not in some
way, would not so much desire to be happy, which that they do
desire is most certain. How they come to know it, I cannot tell,
but they have it by some kind of knowledge unknown to me, who am
in much doubt as to whether it be in the memory; for if it be
there, then have we been happy once; whether all individually, or
as in that man who first sinned, in whom also we all died? and
from whom we are all born with misery, I do not now ask; but I
ask whether the happy life be in the memory ? For did we not know
it, we should not love it. We hear the name, and we all
acknowledge that we desire the thing; for we are not delighted
with the sound only. For when a Greek hears it spoken in Latin,
he does not feel delighted, for he knows not what is spoken; but
we are delighted, (4) as he too would be 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 so earnestly to
obtain. It is then known unto all, and could they with one voice
be asked whether they wished to be happy, without doubt they
would all answer that they would. And this could not be unless
the thing itself, of which it is the name, were retained in their
memory.
CHAP. XXI. HOW A HAPPY LIFE
MAY BE RETAINED IN THE MEMORY.
30. But is it so as
one who has seen Carthage remembers it ? No. For a happy life is
not visible to the eye, because it is not a body. Is it, then,
as we remember numbers? No. For . he that hath these in his
knowledge strives not to attain further; but a happy life we have
in our knowledge, and, therefore, do we love it, while yet we
wish further to attain it that we may be happy. Is it, then, as
we remember eloquence? No. For although some, when they hear
this name, call the thing to mind, who, indeed, are not yet
eloquent, and many who wish to be so, whence it appears to be in,
their knowledge; yet have these by their bodily perceptions
noticed that others are eloquent, and been delighted with it, and
long to be so, although they would not be delighted save for
some interior knowledge, nor desire to be so unless they were
delighted, but a happy life we can by no bodily perception make
experience of in others. Is it, then, as we remember joy ? It
may be so; for my joy I remember, even when sad, like as I do a
happy life when I am miserable. Nor did I ever with perception
of the body either see, hear, smell, taste, or touch my joy; but
I experienced it in my mind when I rejoiced; and the knowledge of
it clung to my memory, so that I can call it to mind sometimes
with disdain and at others with desire, according to the
difference of the things wherein I now remember that I rejoiced.
For even from unclean things have I been bathed with a certain
joy, which now calling to mind, I detest and execrate; at other
times, from good and honest things, which, with longing, I call
to mind, though perchance they be not nigh at hand, and then with
sadness do I call to mind a former joy.
31. Where and when,
then, did I experience my happy life, that I should call it to
mind, and love and long for it ? Nor is it I alone or e a few
others who wish to be happy, but truly l all; which, unless by
certain knowledge we knew, we should not wish with so certain a
will. But how is this, that if two men be asked whether they
would wish to serve as soldiers one, it may be, would reply that
he would, the other that he would not; but if they were asked
whether they would wish to be happy, both of them would
unhesitatingly say that they would; and this one would wish to
serve, and the other not, from no other motive but to be happy ?
Is it, perchance, that as one joys in this, and another in that,
so do all men agree in their wish for happiness, as they would
agree, were they asked, in wishing to have joy, and this joy
they call a happy life? Although, then, one pursues joy in this
way, and another in that, all have one goal, which they strive to
attain, namely, to have joy. This life, being a thing which no
one can say he has not experienced, it is on that account found
in the memory, and recognised whenever the name of a happy life
is heard.
CHAP. XXII. A HAPPY LIFE IS
TO REJOICE IN GOD, AND FOR GOD.
32. Let it be far,
O Lord,Met it be far from the heart of Thy servant who confesseth
unto Thee; let it be far from me to think myself happy, be the
joy what it may. For there is a joy which is not granted to the
"wicked,"(1) but to those who worship Thee thankfully, whose joy
Thou Thyself art. And the happy life is this, to rejoice unto
Thee, in Thee, and for Thee; this it is, and there is no other?
But those who think there is another follow after another joy,
and that not the true one. Their will, however, is not turned
away from some shadow of joy.
CHAP. XXIII. ALL WISH TO
REJOICE IN THE TRUTH.
33. It is not, then, certain
that all men wish to be happy, since those who wish not to
rejoice in Thee, which is the only happy life, do not verily
desire the happy life. Or do all desire this, but because "the
flesh lusteth against the spirit, and the spirit against the
flesh," so that they "cannot do the things that they would," they
fall upon that which they are able to do, and with that are
content'; because that which they are not able to do, they do not
so will as to make them able?(4) For I ask of every man, whether
he would rather rejoice in truth or in falsehood. They will no
more hesitate to say, "in truth," than to say, "that they wish to
be happy." For a happy life is joy in the truth. For this is
joy in Thee, who art "the truth,"(5) O God, "my light," * "the
health of my countenance, and my God." (7) All wish for this
happy life; this life do all wish for, which is the only happy
one; joy in the truth do all wish for? I have had experience of
many who wished to deceive, but not one who wished to be
deceived. Where, then, did they know this happy life, save where
they knew also the truth ? For they love it, too, Since they
would not be deceived. And when they love a happy life, which is
naught else but joy in the truth, assuredly they love also the
truth; which yet they would not love were there not some
knowledge of it in the memory. Wherefore, then, do they not
rejoice in it ? Why are they not happy ? Because they are more
entirely occupied with other things which rather make them
miserable, than that which would make them happy, which they
remember so little of. For there is yet a little light in men;
let them walk let them "walk," that the "darkness" seize them
not?
34. Why, then, doth truth beget hatred/ and that man of
thine, preaching the truth become an enemy unto them, whereas a
happy life is loved, which is naught else but joy in the truth;
unless that truth is loved in such a sort as that those who love
aught else wish that to be the truth which they love, and, as
they are willing to be deceived, are unwilling to be convinced
that they are so ? Therefore do they hate the truth for the sake
of that thing which they love instead of the truth. They love
truth when she shines on them, and hate her when she rebukes
them. For, because they are not willing to be deceived, and wish
to deceive, they love her when she reveals herself, : and hate
her when she reveals them. On that account shall she so requite
them, that those who were unwilling to be discovered by her she
both discovers against their will, and discovers not herself unto
them. Thus, thus, truly thus doth the human mind, so blind and
sick, so base and unseemly, desire to lie concealed, but wishes
not that anything should be concealed from it. But the opposite
is rendered unto it, that itself is not concealed from the
truth, but the truth is concealed from it. Yet, even while thus
wretched, it prefers to rejoice in truth rather than in
falsehood. Happy then will it be, when, no trouble intervening,
it shall rejoice in that only truth by whom all things else are
true.
CHAP. XXIV. HE WHO FINDS
TRUTH, FINDS GOD.
35. Behold how I have enlarged in
my memory seeking Thee, O Lord; and out of it have I not found
Thee. Nor have I found aught concerning Thee, but what I have
retained in memory from the time I learned Thee. For from the
time I learned Thee have I never forgotten Thee. For where I
found truth, there found I my God, who is the Truth itself, which
from the time I learned it have I not forgotten. And thus since
the time I learned Thee, Thou abidest in my memory; and there do
I find Thee whensoever I call Thee to remembrance, and delight in
Thee. These are my holy delights, which Thou hast bestowed upon
me in Thy mercy, having respect unto my poverty.
CHAP. XXV. HE IS GLAD THAT
GOD DWELLS IN HIS MEMORY.
36. But where in my
memory abidest Thou, O Lord, where dost Thou there abide ? What
manner of chamber hast Thou there formed far Thyself? What sort
of sanctuary hast Thou erected for Thyself? Thou hast granted
this honour to my memory, to take up Thy abode in it; but in what
quarter of it Thou abidest, I am considering. For in calling
Thee to mind, (4) I soared beyond those parts of it which the
beasts also possess, since I found Thee not there amongst the
images of corporeal things; and I arrived at those parts where I
had committed the affections of my mind, nor there did I find
Thee. And I entered into the very seat of my mind, which it has
in my memory, since the mind remembers itself also nor wert Thou
there. For as Thou art not a bodily image, nor the affection of
a living creature, as when we rejoice, condole, desire, fear,
remember, forget, or aught of the kind; so neither art Thou the
mind itself, because Thou art the Lord God of the mind; and all
these things are changed, but Thou remainest unchangeable over
all, yet vouchsafest to dwell in my memory, from the time I
learned Thee. But why do I now seek in what part of it Thou
dwellest, as if truly there were places in it ? Thou dost dwell
in it assuredly, since I have remembered Thee from the time I
learned Thee, and I find Thee in it when I call Thee to mind.
CHAP. XXVI. GOD EVERYWHERE ANSWERS THOSE WHO TAKE COUNSEL OF HIM.
37. Where,
then, did I find Thee, so as to be able to learn Thee ? For Thou
weft not in my memory before I learned Thee. Where, then, did I
find Thee, so as to be able to learn Thee, but in Thee above me ?
Place there is none; we go both "backward" and "forward,"(5) and
there is no place. Everywhere, O Truth, dost Thou direct all who
consult Thee, and dost at once answer all, though they consult
Thee on divers things. Clearly dost Thou answer, though all do
not with clearness hear. All consult Thee upon whatever they
wish, though they hear not always that which they wish. He is
Thy best servant who does not so much look to hear that from Thee
which he himself wisheth, as to wish that which he heareth from
Thee.
CHAP. XXVII. HE GRIEVES
THAT HE WAS SO LONG WITHOUT GOD.
38. Too late did I
love Thee, O Fairness, so ancient, and yet so new ! Too late did
I love Thee For behold, Thou wert within, and I without, and
there did I seek Thee; I, unlovely, rushed heedlessly among the
things of beauty :Thou madest.(6) Thou weft with me, but I was
not with Thee. Those things kept me far from Thee, which, unless
they were in Thee, were not. Thou calledst, and criedst aloud,
and forcedst open my deafness. Thou didst gleam and shine, and
chase away my blindness. Thou didst exhale odours, and I drew in
my breath and do pant after Thee. I tasted, and do hunger and
thirst. Thou didst touch me, and I burned for Thy peace.
CHAP. XXVIII. ON THE MISERY OF HUMAN LIFE.
39. When I shall cleave unto Thee with all my being, then
shall I in nothing have pain and labour; and my life shall be a
real life, being wholly full of Thee. But now since he whom Thou
fillest is the one Thou liftest up, I am a burden to myself, as
not being full of Thee. Joys of sorrow contend with sorrows of
joy; and on which side the victory may be I know not. Woe is me
! Lord, have pity on me. My evil sorrows contend with my good
joys; and on which side the victory may be 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 a temptation ? Who is he that
wishes for vexations and difficulties? Thou commandest them to
be endured, not to be loved. For no man loves what he endures,
though he may love to endure. For notwithstanding he rejoices to
endure, he would rather there were naught for him to endure. In
adversity, I desire prosperity; in prosperity, I fear adversity.
What middle place, then, is there between these, where human life
is not a temptation ? Woe unto the prosperity of this world, once
and again, from fear of misfortune and a corruption of joy ! Woe
unto the adversities of this world, once and again, and for the
third time, from the desire of prosperity; and because adversity
itself is a hard thing, and makes shipwreck of endurance ! Is not
the life of man upon earth a temptation, and that without
intermission ?s
CHAP. XXIX. ALL HOPE IS IN
THE MERCY OF GOD
40. And my whole hope is only in
Thy exceeding great mercy. Give what Thou commandest, and
command what Thou wilt. Thou imposest continency upon us, (4)
"nevertheless, I when I perceived," saith one, "that I could [not
otherwise obtain her, except God gave her me; ... that was a
point of wisdom also to . know whose gift she was."(5) For by
continency are we bound up and brought into one, whence we were
scattered abroad into many. For he loves Thee too little who
loves aught with Thee, which he loves not for Thee, O love, who
ever burnest, and art never quenched ! O charity, my God, kindle
me I Thou commandest continency; give what Thou commandest, and
command what Thou wilt.
CHAP. XXX. OF THE PERVERSE
IMAGES OF DREAMS, WHICH HE WISHES TO HAVE TAKEN AWAY.
41. Verily, Thou commandest that I should be continent from
the "lust of the flesh, and the lust of the eyes, and the pride
of life." T Thou hast commanded me to abstain from concubinage;
and as to marriage itself, Thou hast advised something better
than Thou hast allowed. And because Thou didst give it, it was
done; and that before I became a dispenser l of Thy sacrament.
But there still exist in my memory of which I have spoken much
the i images of such things as my habits had fixed there; and
these rush into my thoughts, though strengthless, when I am
awake; but in sleep they do so not only so as to give pleasure,
but even to obtain consent, and what very nearly resembles
reality? Yea, to such an extent prevails the illusion of the
image, both in my soul and in my flesh, that the false persuade
me, when sleeping, unto that which the true are not able when
waking. Am I not myself at that time, O Lord my God ? And them
is yet so much difference between myself and myself, in that
instant wherein I pass back from waking to sleeping, or return
from sleeping to waking ! Where, then, is the reason which when
waking resists such suggestions? And if the things themselves be
forced on it, I remain unmoved. Is it shut up with the eyes? Or
is it put to sleep with the bodily senses? But whence, then,
comes it to pass, that even in slumber we often resist, and,
bearing our purpose in mind, and continuing most chastely in it,
yield no assent to such allurements? And there is yet so much
difference that, when it happeneth otherwise, upon awaking we
return to peace of conscience; and by this same diversity do we
discover that it was not we that did it, while we still feel
sorry that in some way it was done in us.
42. Is not Thy
hand able, O Almighty God, to heal all the diseases of my soul,x
and by Thy more abundant grace to quench even the lascivious
motions of my sleep ? Thou wilt increase in me, O Lord, Thy gifts
more and more, that my soul may follow me to Thee, disengaged
from the bird-lime of concupiscence; that it may not be in
rebellion against itself, and even in dreams not simply not,
through sensual images, commit those deformities of corruption,
even to the pollution of the flesh, but that it may not even
consent unto them. For it is no great thing for the Almighty,
who is "able to do . . . above all that we ask or think,"(2) to
bring it about that no such influence not even so slight a one
as a sign might restrain should afford gratification to the
chaste affection even of one sleeping; and that not only in this
life, but at my present age. But what I still am in this species
of my ill, have I confessed unto my good Lord; rejoicing with
tremblings in that which Thou hast given me, and bewailing myself
for that wherein I am still imperfect; trusting that Thou wilt
perfect Thy mercies in me, even to the fulness of peace, which
both that which is within and that which is without (4) shall
have with Thee, when death is swallowed up in victory?
CHAP. XXXI. ABOUT TO SPEAK
OF THE TEMPTATIONS OF THE LUST OF THE FLESH, HE FIRST COMPLAINS
OF THE LUST OF EATING AND DRINKING.
43. There is another evil of the day that I would were
"sufficient" unto it. For by eating and drinking we repair the
daily decays of the body, until Thou destroyest both food and
stomach, when Thou shall destroy my want with an amazing satiety,
and shalt clothe this corruptible with an eternal
incorruption.(7) But now is necessity sweet unto me, and against
this sweetness do I fight, lest I be enthralled; and I carry on a
daily war by fasting, (8) oftentimes "bringing my body into
subjection," (9) and my pains are expelled by pleasure. For
hunger and thirst are in some sort pains; they consume and
destroy like unto a fever, unless the medicine of nourishment
relieve us. The which, since it is at hand through the comfort
we receive of Thy gifts, with which land and water and air serve
our infirmity, our calamity is called pleasure.
44. This
much hast Thou taught me, that I should bring myself to take food
as medicine. But during the time that I am passing from the
uneasiness of want to the calmness of satiety, even in the very
passage doth that snare of concupiscence lie in wait for me. For
the passage itself is pleasure, nor is there any other way of
passing thither, whither necessity compels us to pass. And
whereas health is the reason of eating and drinking, there
joineth itself as an hand-maid a perilous delight, which mostly
tries to precede it, in order that I may do for her sake what I
say I do, or desire to do, for health's sake. Nor have both the
same limit; for what is sufficient for health is too little for
pleasure. And oftentimes it is doubtful whether it be the
necessary care of the body which still asks nourishment, or
whether a sensual snare of desire offers its ministry. In this
uncertainty does my unhappy soul rejoice, and therein prepares an
excuse as a defence, glad that it doth not appear what may be
Sufficient for the moderation of health, that so under the
pretence of health it may conceal the business of pleasure.
These temptations do I daily endeavour to resist, and I summon
Thy right hand. to my help, and refer my excitements to Thee,
because as yet I have no resolve in this matter.
45. I hear
the voice of my God commanding, let not "your hearts be
overcharged with surfeiting and drunkenness."(10) "Drunkenness,"
it is far from me; Thou wilt have mercy, that it approach not
near unto me. But "surfeiting" sometimes creepeth upon Thy
servant; Thou wilt have mercy, that it may be far from me. For
no man can be continent unless Thou give it. (11) Many things
which we pray for dost Thou give us; and what good soever we
receive before we prayed for it, do we receive from Thee, and
that we might afterwards know this did we receive it from Thee.
Drunkard was I never, but I have known drunkards to be made sober
men by Thee. Thy doing, then, was it, that they who never were
such might not be so, as from Thee it was that they who have been
so heretofore might not remain so always; and from Thee, too was
it, that both might know from whom it was. I heard another voice
of Thine, "Go not after thy lusts, but refrain thyself from thine
appetites."(1) And by Thy favour have I heard this saying
likewise, which I have much delighted in, "Neither if we eat, are
we the better; neither if we eat not, are we the worse ;" (2)
which is to say, that neither shall the one make me to abound,
nor the other to be wretched. I heard also another voice, "For I
have learned, in whatsoever state I am, therewith to be content,
I know both how to be abased, and I know how to abound .... I can
do all things through Christ which strengtheneth me."(3) Lo ! a
soldier of the celestial camp -not dust as we are. But remember,
O Lord, "that we are dust,"(4) and that of dust Thou hast created
man; (5) and he "was lost, and is found." (8) Nor could he do
this of his own power, seeing that he whom I so loved, saying
these things through the afflatus of Thy inspiration, was of that
same dust. "I can," saith he, "do all things through Him which
strengtheneth me."(7) Strengthen me, that I may be able. Give
what Thou commandest, and command what Thou wilt. He confesses
to have received, and when he glorieth, he glorieth in the Lord.
(9) Another have I heard entreating that he might receive, "
Take from me," saith he, "the greediness of the belly;"(10) by
which it appeareth, O my holy God, that Thou givest when what
Thou commandest to be done is done.
46. Thou hast taught
me, good Father, that "unto the pure all things are pure;"(11)
but "it is evil for that man who eateth with offence; "(12) "and
that every creature of Thine is good, and nothing to be refused,
if it be received with, thanksgiving;"(13) and that "meat
commendeth us not to God;"(14) and that no man should "judge us
in meat or in drink;"(15) and that he that eateth, let him not
despise him that eateth not; and let not him that eateth not
judge him that eateth.(16) These things have I learned, thanks
and praise be unto Thee, O my God and Master, who dost knock at
my ears and enlighten my heart; deliver me out of all temptation.
It is not the uncleanness of meat that I fear, but the
uncleanness of lusting. I know that permission was granted unto
Noah to eat every kind of flesh (17)that was good for food;(18)
that Elias was fed with flesh;(19) that John, endued with a
wonderful abstinence, was not polluted by the living creatures
(that is, the locusts(20) which he fed on. I know, too, that
Esau was deceived by a longing for lentiles,(21) and that David
took blame to himself for desiring water,(22) and that our King
was tempted not by flesh but bread.(23) And the people in the
wilderness, therefore, also deserved reproof, not because they
desired flesh, but because, in their desire for food, they
murmured against the Lord.24
47. Placed, then, in the midst
of these temptations, I strive daily against longing for food and
drink. For it is not of such a nature as that I am able to
resolve to cut it off once for all, and not touch it afterwards,
as I was able to do with concubinage. The bridle of the throat,
therefore, is to be held in the mean of slackness and tightness.
(25) And who, O Lord, is he who is not in some degree carried
away beyond the bounds of necessity ? Whoever he is, he is great;
let him magnify Thy name. But I am not such a one, "for I am a
sinful man."(26) Yet do I also magnify Thy name; and He who hath
"overcome the world"(27) maketh intercession to Thee for my
sins,(28) accounting me among the "feeble members" of His
body,(29) because Thine eyes saw that of him which was imperfect;
and in Thy book all shall be written?
CHAP. XXXII. OF THE CHARMS OF PERFUMES WHICH ARE MORE EASILY OVERCOME.
48. With
the attractions of odours I am not much troubled. When absent I
do not seek them; when present I do not refuse them; and am
prepared ever to be without them. At any rate thus I appear to
myself; perchance I am deceived. For that also is a lamentable
darkness wherein my capacity that is in me is concealed, so that
my mind, making inquiry into herself concerning her own powers,
ventures not readily to credit herself; because that which is
already in it is, for the most part, concealed, unless experience
reveal it. And no man ought to feel secure (1) in this life, the
whole of which is called a temptation, (2) that he, who could be
made better from worse, may not also from better be made worse.
Our sole hope, our sole confidence, our sole assured promise, is
Thy mercy.
CHAP. XXXIII. HE OVERCAME
THE PLEASURES OF THE EAR, ALTHOUGH IN THE CHURCH HE FREQUENTLY
DELIGHTED IN THE SONG, NOT IN THE THING SUNG.
49. The delights of the ear had more powerfully inveigled
and conquered me, but Thou didst unbind and liberate me. Now, in
those airs which Thy words breathe soul into, when sung with a
sweet and trained voice, do I somewhat repose; yet not so as to
cling to them, but so as to free myself when I wish. But with
the words which are their life do they, that they may gain
admission into me, strive after a place of some honour in my
heart; and I can hardly assign them a fitting one. Sometimes I
appear to myself to give them more respect than, is fitting, as I
perceive that our minds are more devoutly and earnestly elevated
into a flame of piety by the holy words themselves when they are
thus sung, than when they are not; and that all affections of our
spirit, by their own diversity, have their appropriate measures
in the voice and singing, wherewith by I know not what secret
relationship they are stimulated. But the gratification of my
flesh, to which the mind ought never to be given over to be
enervated, often beguiles me, while the sense does not so attend
on reason as to follow her patiently; but having gained admission
merely for her sake, it strives even to run on before her, and be
her leader. Thus in these things do I sin unknowing, but
afterwards do I know it.
50. Sometimes, again, avoiding
very earnestly this same deception, I err out of too great
preciseness; and sometimes so much as to desire that every air of
the pleasant songs to which David's Psalter is often used, be
banished both from my ears and those of the Church itself; and
that way seemed unto me safer which I remembered to have been
often related to me of Athanasius, Bishop of Alexandria, who
obliged the reader of the psalm to give utterance to it with so
slight an inflection of voice, that it was more like speaking
than singing. Notwithstanding, when I call to mind the tears I
shed at the songs of Thy Church, at the outset of my recovered
faith, and how even now I am moved not by the singing but by what
is sung, when they are sung with a clear and skilfully modulated
voice, I then acknowledge the great utility of this custom. Thus
vacillate I between dangerous pleasure and tried soundness; being
inclined rather (though I pronounce no irrevocable opinion upon
the subject) to approve of the use of singing in the church, that
so by the delights of the ear the weaker minds may be stimulated
to a devotional frame. Yet when it happens to me to be more
moved by the singing than by what is sung, I confess myself to
have sinned criminally, and then I would rather not have heard
the singing. See now the condition I am in ! Weep with me, and
weep for me, 0you who so control your inward feelings as that
good results ensue. As for you who do not thus act, these things
concern you not. But Thou, O Lord my God, give ear, behold and
see, and have mercy upon me, and heal me,a Thou, in whose sight
I am become a puzzle to myself; and "this is my infirmity."(4)
CHAP. XXXIV. OF THE VERY DANGEROUS ALLUREMENTS OF THE EYES; ON ACCOUNT
OF BEAUTY OF FORM, GOD, THE CREATOR, IS TO BE PRAISED.
51. There remain the delights of these eyes of my flesh,
concerning which to make my confessions in the hearing of the
ears of Thy temple, those fraternal and devout ears; and so to
conclude the temptations of "the lust of the flesh" which still
assail me, groaning and desiring to be clothed upon with my house
from heaven. The eyes delight in fair and varied forms, and
bright and pleasing colours. Suffer not these to take possession
of my soul; let God rather possess it, He who made these things
"very good"(1) indeed; yet is He my good, not these. And these
move me while awake, during the day; nor is rest from them
granted me, as there is from the voices of melody, sometimes, in
silence, from them all. For that queen of colours, the light,
flooding all that we look upon, wherever I be during the day,
gliding past me in manifold forms, doth soothe me when busied
about other things, and not noticing it. And so strongly doth it
insinuate itself, that if it be suddenly withdrawn it is looked
for longingly, and if long absent doth sadden the mind.
52.
O Thou Light, which Tobias saw, when, his eyes being closed, he
taught his son the way of life; himself going before with the
feet of charity, never going astray. Or that which Isaac saw,
when his fleshly "eyes were dim, so that he could not see" by
reason of old age; it was permitted him, not knowingly to bless
his sons, but in blessing them to know them. Or that which Jacob
saw, when he too, blind through-great age, with an enlightened
heart, in the persons of his own sons, threw light upon the races
of the future people, presignified in them; and laid his hands,
mystically crossed, upon his grandchildren by Joseph, not as
their father, looking outwardly, corrected them, but as he
himself distinguished them.(4) This is the light, the only one,
and all those who see and love it are one. But that corporeal
light of which I was speaking seasoneth the life of the world for
her blind lovers, with a tempting and fatal sweetness. But they
who know how to praise Thee for it, "O God, the world's great
Architect," (5) take it up in Thy hymn, and are not taken up with
it (6) in their sleep. Such desire I to be. I resist seductions
of the eyes, lest my feet with which I advance on Thy way be
entangled; and I raise my invisible eyes to. Thee, that Thou
wouldst be pleased to "pluck my feet out of the net."(7) Thou
dost continually pluck them out, for they are ensnared., Thou
never ceasest to pluck them out, but I, constantly remain fast in
the snares set all around me; because Thou "that keepest Israel
shall neither slumber nor sleep." s,
53. What numberless things, made by divers arts and
manufactures, both in our apparel, shoes, vessels, and every kind
of work, in pictures, too, and sundry images, and these going far
beyond necessary and moderate use and holy signification, have
men added for the enthralment of the eyes; following outwardly
what they make, forsaking inwardly Him by whom they were made,
yea, and destroying that which they themselves were made ! But I,
O my God and my Joy, do hence also sing a hymn unto Thee, and
offer a sacrifice of praise unto my Sanctifier,(9) because those
beautiful patterns, which through the medium of men's souls are
conveyed into their artistic hands,(10) emanate from that Beauty
which is above our souls, which my soul sigheth after day and
night. But as for the makers and followers of those outward
beauties, they from thence derive the way of approving them, but
not of using them. And though they see Him not, yet is He there,
that they might not go astray, but keep their strength for
Thee,(12) and not dissipate it upon delicious lassitudes. And I,
though I both say and perceive this, impede my course with such
beauties, but Thou dost rescue me, O Lord, Thou dost rescue me;
"for Thy loving-kindness is before mine eyes."(13) For I am taken
miserably, and Thou rescuest me mercifully; sometimes not
perceiving it, in that I had come upon them hesitatingly; at
other times with pain, because I was held fast by them.
CHAP. XXXV. ANOTHER KIND OF
TEMPTATION IS CURIOSITY, WHICH IS STIMULATED BY THE LUST OF THE
EYES.
54. In addition to this there is another form of temptation,
more complex in its peril. For besides that concupiscence of the
flesh which lieth in the gratification of all senses and
pleasures, wherein its slaves who "are far from Thee perish,"(14)
there pertaineth to the soul, through the same senses of the
body, a certain vain and curious longing, cloaked under the name
of knowledge and learning, not of having pleasure in the flesh,
but of making experiments through the flesh. This longing, since
it originates in an appetite for knowledge, and the sight being
the chief amongst the senses in the acquisition of knowledge, is
called in divine language, "the lust of the eyes." xs For seeing
belongeth properly to the eyes; yet we apply this word to the
other senses also, when we exercise them in the search after
knowledge. For we do not say, Listen how it glows, smell how it
glistens, taste how it shines, or feel how it flashes, since all
these are said to be seen. And yet we say not only, See how it
shineth, which the eyes alone can perceive; but also, See how it
soundeth, see how it smelleth, see how it tasteth, see how hard
it is. And thus the general experience of the senses, as was
said before, is termed "the lust of the eyes," because the
function of seeing, wherein the eyes hold the pre-eminence, the
other senses by way of similitude take possession of, whensoever
they seek out any knowledge.
55. But by this is it more
clearly discerned, when pleasure and when curiosity is pursued by
the senses; for pleasure follows after objects that are
beautiful, melodious, fragrant, savoury, soft; but curiosity, for
experiment's sake, seeks the contrary of these, not with a view
of undergoing uneasiness, but from the passion of experimenting
upon and knowing them. For what pleasure is there to see, in a
lacerated corpse, that which makes you shudder? And yet if it
lie near, we flock thither, to be made sad, and to turn pale.
Even in sleep they fear lest they should see it. Just as if when
awake any one compelled them to go and see it, or any report of
its beauty had attracted them! Thus also is it with the other
senses, which it were tedious to pursue. From this malady of
curiosity are all those strange sights exhibited in the theatre.
Hence do we proceed to search out the secret powers of nature
(which is beside our end), which to know profits not,(1) and
wherein men desire nothing but to know. Hence, too, with that
same end of perverted knowledge we consult magical arts. Hence,
again, even in religion itself, is God tempted, when signs and
wonders are eagerly asked of Him, not desired for any saving
end, but to make trial only.
56. In this so vast a
wilderness, replete with snares and dangers, lo, many of them
have I lopped off, and expelled from my heart, as Thou, O God of
my salvation, hast enabled me to do. And yet when dare I say,
since so many things of this kind buzz around our daily life,
when dare I say that no such thing makes me intent to see it, or
creates in me vain solicitude ? It is true that the theatres
never now carry me away, nor do I now care to know the courses of
the stars, nor hath my soul at any time consulted departed
spirits; all sacrilegious oaths I abhor. O Lord my God, to whom
I owe all humble and single-hearted service, with what subtlety
of suggestion does the enemy influence me to require some sign
from Thee ! But by our King, and by our pure land chaste country
Jerusalem, I beseech Thee, that as any consenting unto such
thoughts is far from me, so may it always be farther and farther.
But when I entreat Thee for the salvation of any, the end I aim
at is far otherwise, and Thou who doest :what Thou wilt, givest
and wilt give me willingly to "follow" Thee?
57.
Nevertheless, in how many most minute and contemptible things is
our curiosity daily tempted, and who can number how o/ten we
succumb ? How often, when people are narrating idle tales, do we
begin by tolerating them, lest we should give offence unto the
weak; and then gradually we listen willingly! I do not now-a-
days go to the circus to see a dog chasing a hare; but if by
chance I pass such a coursing in the fields, it possibly
distracts me even from some serious thought, and draws me after
it, not that I turn the body of my beast aside, but the
inclination of my mind. And except Thou, by demonstrating to me
my weakness, dost speedily warn me, either through the sight
itself, by some reflection to rise to Thee, or wholly to despise
and pass it by, I, vain one, am absorbed by it. How is it, when
sitting at home, a lizard catching flies, or a spider entangling
them as they rush into her nets, oftentimes arrests me ? Is the
feeling of curiosity not the same because these are such tiny
creatures ? From them I proceed to praise Thee, the wonderful
Creator and Disposer of all things; but it is not this that first
attracts my attention. It is one thing to get up quickly, and
another not to fall, and of such things is my life full; and my
only hope is in Thy exceeding great mercy. For when this heart
of ours is made the receptacle of such things, and bears crowds
of this abounding vanity, then are our prayers often interrupted
and disturbed thereby; and whilst in Thy presence we direct the
voice of our heart to Thine ears, this so great a matter is
broken off by the influx of I know not what idle thoughts.
CHAP. XXXVI. A THIRD KIND
IS "PRIDE" WHICH IS PLEASING TO MAN, NOT TO GOD.
58.
Shall we, then, account this too amongst such things as are to be
lightly esteemed, or shall anything restore us to hope, save Thy
complete mercy, since Thou hast begun to change us? And Thou
knowest to what extent Thou hast already changed me, Thou who
first healest me of the lust of vindicating myself, that so Thou
mightest forgive all my remaining "iniquities," and heal all my
"diseases," and redeem my life from corruption, and crown me with
"loving-kindness and tender mercies," and satisfy my desire with
"good things;" who didst restrain my pride with Thy fear, and
subdue my neck to Thy "yoke." And now I bear it, and it is
"light"(2) unto me, because so hast Thou promised, and made it,
and so in truth it was, though I knew it not, when I feared to
take it up. But, O Lord,-Thou who alone reignest without pride,
because Thou art the only true Lord, who hast no lord, hath
this third kind of temptation left me, or can it leave me during
this life ?
59. The desire to be feared and loved of men,
with no other view than that I may experience a joy therein which
is no joy, is a miserable life, and unseemly ostentation. Hence
especially it arises that we do not love Thee, nor devoutly fear
Thee. And therefore dost Thou resist the proud, but givest grace
unto the humble; (8) and Thou thunderest upon the ambitious
designs of the world, and "the foundations of the hills"
tremble.(4) Because now certain offices of human society render
it necessary to be loved and feared of men, the adversary of our
true blessedness presseth hard upon us, everywhere scattering his
snares of "well done, well done;" that while acquiring them
eagerly, we may be caught unawares, and disunite our joy from Thy
truth, and fix it on the deceits of men; and take pleasure in
being loved and feared, not for Thy sake, but in Thy stead, by
which means, being made like unto him, he may have them as his,
not in harmony of love, but in the fellowship of punishment; who
aspired to exalt his throne in the north, (8) that dark and cold
they might serve him, imitating Thee in perverse and distorted
ways. But we, O Lord, lo, we are Thy "little flock; "(6) do Thou
possess us, stretch Thy wings over us, and let us take refuge
under them. Be Thou our glory; let us be loved for Thy sake, and
Thy word feared in us. They who desire to be commended of men
when Thou blamest, will not be defended of men when Thou judgest;
nor will they be delivered when Thou condemnest. But when not
the sinner is praised in the desires of his soul, nor he blessed
who doeth unjustly, (7) but a man is praised for some gift that
Thou hast bestowed upon him, and he is more gratified at the
praise for himself, than that he possesses the gift for which he
is . praised, such a one is praised while Thou blamest. And
better truly is he who praised than the one who was praised. For
the gift of God in man was pleasing to the one, while the other
was better pleased with the gift of man than that of God.
CHAP. XXXVII. HE IS
FORCIBLY GOADED ON BY THE LOVE OF PRAISE.
60. By
these temptations, O Lord, are we daily tried; yea, unceasingly
are we tried. Our daily "furnace" (8) is the human tongue. And
in this respect also dost Thou command us to be continent. Give
what Thou commandest, and command what Thou wilt. Regarding this
matter, Thou knowest the groans of my heart, and the rivers (9)
of mine eyes. For I am not able to ascertain how far I am clean
of this plague, and I stand in great fear of my "secret faults,"
x° which Thine eyes perceive, though mine do not. For in other
kinds of temptations I have some sort of power of examining
myself; but in this, hardly any. For, both as regards the
pleasures of the flesh and an idle curiosity, I see how far I
have been able to hold my mind in check when I do without them,
either voluntarily or by reason of their not being at hand;(11)
for then I inquire of myself how much more or less troublesome it
is to me not to have them. Riches truly which are sought for in
order that they may minister to some one of these three
"lusts,"(12) or to two, or the whole of them, if the mind be not
able to see clearly whether, when it hath them, it despiseth
them, they may be cast on one side, that so it may prove itself.
But if we desire to test our power of doing without praise, need
we live ill, and that so flagitiously and immoderately as that
every one who knows us shall detest us? What greater madness
than this can be either said or conceived ? But if praise both is
wont and ought to be the companion of a good life and of good
works, we should as little forego its companionship as a good
life itself. But unless a thing be absent, I do not know whether
I shall be contented or troubled at being without it.
61.
What, then, do I confess unto Thee, O Lord, in this kind of
temptation? What, save that I am delighted with praise, but more
with the truth itself than with praise ? For were I to have my
choice, whether I had rather, being mad, or astray on all things,
be praised by all men, or, being firm and well-assured in the
truth, be blamed by all, I see which I should choose. Yet would
I be unwilling that the approval of another should even add to my
joy for any good I have. Yet I admit that it doth increase it,
and, more than that, that dispraise doth diminish it. And when I
am disquieted at this misery of mine, an excuse presents itself
to me, the value of which Thou, God, knowest, for it renders me
uncertain. For since it is not continency alone that Thou hast
enjoined upon us, that is, from what things to hold back our
love, but righteousness also, that is, upon what to bestow it,
and hast wished us to love not Thee only, but also our neighbour,
1 often, when gratified by intelligent praise, I appear to
myself to be gratified by the proficiency or towardliness of my
neighbour, and again to be sorry for evil in him when I hear him
dispraise either that which he understands not, or is good. For
I am sometimes grieved at mine own praise, either when those
things which I am displeased at in myself be praised in me, or
even lesser and trifling goods are more valued than they should
be. But, again, how do I know whether I am thus affected,
because I am unwilling that he who praiseth me should differ from
me concerning myself not as being moved with consideration for
him, but because the same good things which please me in myself
are more pleasing to me when they also please another ? For, in a
sort, I am not praised when my judgment of myself is not praised;
since either those things which are displeasing to me are
praised, or those more so which are less pleasing to me. Am I
then uncertain of myself in this matter ?
62. Behold, O
Truth, in Thee do I see that I ought not to be moved at my own
praises for my own sake, but for my neighbour's good. And
whether it be so, in truth I know not. For concerning this I
know less of myself than dost Thou. I beseech Thee now, O my
God, to reveal to me myself also, that I may confess unto my
brethren, who are to pray for me, what I find in myself weak.
Once again let me more diligently examine myself? If, in mine
own praise, I am moved with consideration for my neighbour, why
am I less moved if some other man be unjustly dispraised than if
it be myself? Why am I more irritated at that reproach which is
cast upon myself, than at that which is with equal injustice cast
upon another in my presence? Am I ignorant of this also? or
does it remain that I deceive myself, and do not the "truth"(4)
before Thee in my heart and tongue ? Put such madness far from
me, O Lord, lest my mouth be to me the oil of sinners, to anoint
my head?
CHAP. XXXVIII. VAIN-
GLORY IS THE HIGHEST DANGER.
63. "I am poor and
needy," (6) yet better am I while in secret groanings I displease
myself, and seek for Thy mercy, until what is lacking in me be
renewed and made complete, even up to that peace of which the eye
of the proud is ignorant. Yet the word which proceedeth out of
the mouth, and actions known to men, have a most dangerous
temptation from the love of praise, which, for the establishing
of a certain excellency of our own, gathers together solicited
suffrages. It tempts, even when within I reprove myself for it,
on the very ground that it is reproved; and often man glories
more vainly of the very scorn of vain-glory; wherefore it is not
any longer scorn of vain-glory whereof it glories, for he does
not truly contemn it when he inwardly glories.
CHAP. XXXIX. OF THE VICE OF THOSE WHO, WHILE PLEASING THEMSELVES, DISPLEASE
GOD.
64. Within also, within is another evil, arising out of the
same kind of temptation; whereby they become empty who please
themselves in themselves, although they please not, or displease,
or aim at pleasing others. But in pleasing themselves, they much
displease Thee, not merely taking pleasure in things not good as
if they were good, but in Thy good things as though they were
their own; or even as if in Thine, yet as though of their own
merits; or even as if though of Thy grace, yet not with friendly
rejoicings, but as envying that grace to others.(7) In all these
and similar perils and labours Thou perceivest the trembling of
my heart, and I rather feel my wounds to be cured by Thee than
not inflicted by me.
CHAP. XL. THE ONLY SAFE
RESTING-PLACE FOR THE SOUL IS TO BE FOUND IN GOD.
65. Where hast Thou not accompanied me, O Truth, teaching me
both what to avoid and what to desire, when I submitted to Thee
what I could perceive of sublunary things, and asked Thy counsel
? With my external senses, as I could, I viewed the world, and
noted the life which my body derives from me, and these my
senses. Thence I advanced inwardly into the recesses of my
memory, the manifold rooms, wondrously full of multitudinous
wealth; and I considered and was afraid, and could discern none
of these things without Thee, and found none of them to be Thee.
Nor was I myself the discoverer of these things, I, who went
over them all, and laboured to distinguish and to value
everything according to its dignity, accepting some things upon
the report of my senses, and questioning about others which I
felt to be mixed up with myself, distinguishing and numbering the
reporters themselves, and in the vast storehouse of my memory
investigating some things, laying up others, taking out others.
Neither was I myself when I did this (that is, that ability of
mine whereby I did it), nor was it Thou, for Thou art that never-
failing light which I took counsel of as to them all, whether
they were what they were, and what was their worth; and I heard
Thee teaching and commanding me. And this I do often; this is a
delight to me, and, as far as I can get relief from necessary
duties, to this gratification do I resort. Nor in all these
which I review when consulting Thee, find I a secure place for my
soul, save in Thee, into whom my scattered members may be
gathered together, and nothing of me depart from Thee. And
sometimes Thou dost introduce me to a most rare affection,
inwardly, to an inexplicable sweetness, which, if it should be
perfected in me, I know not to what point that life might not
arrive. But by these wretched weights (3) of mine do I relapse
into these things, and am sucked in by my old customs, and am
held, and sorrow much, yet am much held. To such an extent does
the burden of habit press us down. In this way I can be, but
will not; in that I will, but cannot, on both ways miserable.
CHAP. XLI. HAVING CONQUERED
HIS TRIPLE DESIRE, HE ARRIVES AT SALVATION.
66. And
thus have I reflected upon the wearinesses of my sins, in that
threefold "lust,"(4) and have invoked Thy right hand to my aid.
For with a wounded heart have I seen Thy brightness, and being
beaten back I exclaimed, "Who can attain unto it ?" "I am cut off
from before Thine eyes."(5) Thou art the Truth, who presidest
over all things, but I, through my covetousness, wished not to
lose Thee, but with Thee wished to possess a lie; as no one
wishes so to speak falsely as himself to be ignorant of the t
truth. So then I lost Thee, became Thou deignest not to be
enjoyed with a lie.
CHAP. XLII. IN WHAT MANNER
MANY SOUGHT THE MEDIATOR.
67. Whom could I find to
reconcile me to Thee ? Was I to solicit the angels ? By what
prayer ? By what sacraments ? Many striving to return unto Thee,
and not able of themselves, have, as I am told, tried this, and
have fallen into a longing for curious visions? and were held
worthy to be deceived. For they, being exalted, sought Thee by
the pride of learning, thrusting themselves forward rather than
beating their breasts, and so by correspondence of heart drew
unto themselves the princes of the air, (7) the conspirators and
companions in pride, by whom, through the power of magic, they
were deceived, seeking a mediator by whom they might be cleansed;
but none was there. For the devil it was, transforming himself
into an angel of light? And he much allured proud flesh, in that
he had no fleshly body. For they were mortal, and sinful; but
Thou, O Lord, to whom they arrogantly sought to be reconciled,
art immortal, and sinless. But a mediator between God and man
ought to have something like unto God, and something like unto
man; lest being in both like unto man, he should be far from God;
or if in both like unto God, he should be far from man, and so
should not be a mediator. That deceitful mediator, then, by whom
in Thy secret judgments pride deserved to be deceived, hath one
thing in common with man, that is, sin; another he would appear
to have with God, and, not being clothed with mortality of flesh,
would boast that he was immortal? But since "the wages of sin is
death,"(11) this hath he in common with men, that together with
them he should be condemned to death.
CHAP. XLIII. THAT JESUS
CHRIST, AT THE SAME TIME GOD AND MAN, IS THE TRUE AND MOST
EFFICACIOUS MEDIATOR.
68. But the true Mediator, whom in Thy secret mercy Thou
hast pointed out to the humble, and didst send, that by His
example (1) also they might learn the same humility that
"Mediator between God and men, the man Christ Jesus," (2)
appeared between mortal sinners and the immortal Just One mortal
with men, just with God; that because the reward of righteousness
is life and peace, He might, by righteousness conjoined with God,
cancel the death of justified sinners, which He willed to have in
common with them? Hence He was pointed out to holy men of .old;
to the intent that they, through faith in His Passion to come,
even as we through faith in that which is past, might be saved.
For as man He was Mediator; but as the Word He was not between,
(5) because equal to God, and God with God, and together with the
Holy Spirit (6) one God.
69. How hast Thou loved us, (70)
good Father, who sparedst not Thine only Son, but deliveredst Him
up for us wicked ones ! How hast Thou loved us, for whom He, who
thought it no robbery to be equal with Thee, "became obedient
unto death, even the death of the cross;(9) He alone "free among
the dead,"(10) that had power to lay down His life, and power to
take it again ;n for us was He unto Thee both Victor and Victim,
and the Victor as being the Victim; for us was He unto Thee both
Priest and Sacrifice, and Priest as being the Sacrifice; of
slaves making.us Thy sons, by being born of Thee, and serving us.
Rightly, then, is my hope strongly fixed on Him, that Thou wilt
heal all my diseases (12) by Him who sitteth at Thy right hand
and maketh intercession for us;(13) else should I utterly
despair? For numerous and great are my infirmities, yea,
numerous and great are they; but Thy medicine is greater. We
might think that Thy Word was removed from union with man, and
despair of ourselves had He not been "made flesh and dwelt among
us."(15)
70. Terrified by my sins and the load of my misery,
I had resolved in my heart, and meditated flight into the
wilderness; (16) but Thou didst forbid me, and didst strengthen
me, saying, therefore, Christ "died for all, that they which live
should not henceforth live unto themselves, but unto Him which
died for them." IT Behold, O Lord, I cast my care upon Thee,(18)
that I may live, and "behold wondrous things out of Thy law."(19)
Thou knowest my unskilfulness and my infirmities; teach me, and
heal me. Thine only Son He "in whom are hid all the treasures
of wisdom and knowledge"(20) hath redeemed me with His blood.
Let not the proud speak evil of me,(21) because I consider my
ransom, and eat and drink, and distribute; arid poor, desire to
be satisfied from Him, together with those who eat and are
satisfied, and they praise the Lord that seek him.
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