The Confessions of St. Augustine
Bishop of Hippo
Previous
Book Next
Book
BOOK IV. Augustine the Manichee.
THEN FOLLOWS A PERIOD OF NINE YEARS FROM THE NINETEENTH YEAR OF HIS
AGE, DURING WHICH HAVING LOST A FRIEND, HE FOLLOWED THE MANICHAEANS
AND WROTE BOOKS ON THE FAIR AND FIT, AND PUBLISHED A WORK ON THE LIBERAL
ARTS, AND THE CATEGORIES OF ARISTOTLE.
CHAP. I. CONCERNING THAT MOST UNHAPPY TIME IN WHICH HE, BEING DECEIVED,
DECEIVED OTHERS; AND CONCERNING THE MOCKERS OF HIS CONFESSION.
1. DURING this space of nine years, then, from my nineteenth to my eight
and twentieth year, we went on seduced and seducing, deceived and deceiving,
in divers lusts; publicly, by sciences which they style "liberal" secretly,
with a falsity called religion. Here proud, there superstitious, everywhere
vain! Here, striving after the emptiness of popular fame, even to theatrical
applauses, and poetic contests, and strifes for grassy garlands, and the
follies of shows and the intemperance of desire. There, seeking to be
purged from these our corruptions by carrying food to those who were called
"elect" and "holy," out of which, in the laboratory of their stomachs,
they should make for us angels and gods, by whom we; might be delivered.
These things did I follow eagerly, and practise with my friends by
me and with me deceived. Let the arrogant, and such as have not been yet
savingly cast down and stricken by Thee, O my God, laugh at me; but notwithstanding
I would confess to Thee mine own shame in Thy praise. Bear with me, I
beseech Thee, and give me grace to retrace in my present remembrance the
circlings of my past errors, and to "offer to Thee the sacrifice of thanksgiving."(2)
For what am I to myself without Thee, but a guide to mine own downfall?
Or what am I even at the best, but one sucking Thy milk? and feeding upon
Thee, the meat that perisheth not?(4) But what kind of man is any man,
seeing that he is but a man? Let, then, the strong and the mighty laugh
at us, but let us who are "poor and needy" confess unto Thee.
CHAP. II. HE TEACHES RHETORIC, THE ONLY THING HE LOVED, AND SCORNS
THE SOOTHSAYER, WHO PROMISED HIM VICTORY.
2. In those years I taught the art of rhetoric, and, overcome by cupidity,
put to sale a loquacity by which to overcome. Yet I preferred Lord,
Thou knowest to have honest scholars (as they are esteemed); and these
I, without artifice, taught artifices, not to be put in practise against
the life of the guiltless, though sometimes for the life of the guilty.
And Thou, O God, from afar sawest me stumbling in that slippery path,
and amid much smoke (6) sending out some flashes of fidelity, which I
exhibited in that my guidance of such as loved vanity and sought after
leasing, I being their companion. In those years I had one (whom I knew
not in what is called lawful wedlock, but whom my wayward passion, void
of understanding, had discovered), yet one only, remaining faithful even
to her; in whom I found out truly by my own experience what difference
there is between the restraints of the marriage bonds, contracted for
the sake of issue, and the compact of a lustful love, where children are
born against the parents will, although, being born, they compel love.
3. I remember, too, that when I decided to compete for a theatrical
prize, a soothsayer demanded of me what I would give him to win; but I,
detesting and abominating such foul mysteries, answered, "That if the
garland were of imperishable gold, I would not suffer a fly to be destroyed
to secure it for me." For he was to slay certain living creatures in his
sacrifices, and by those honours to invite the devils to give me their
support. But this ill thing I also refused, not out of a pure love (1)
for Thee, O God of my heart; for I knew not how to love Thee, knowing
not how to conceive aught beyond corporeal brightness.(2) And doth not
a soul, sighing after such-like fictions, commit fornication against Thee,
trust in false things, and nourish the wind?(4) But I would not, forsooth,
have sacrifices offered to devils on my behalf, though I myself was offering
sacrifices to them by that superstition. For what else is nourishing the,
wind but nourishing them, that is, by our wanderings to become their enjoyment
and derision?
CHAP, III. NOT EVEN THE MOST EXPERIENCED MEN COULD PERSUADE HIM
OF THE VANITY OF ASTROLOGY TO WHICH HE WAS DEVOTED.
4. Those impostors, then, whom they designate Mathematicians, I consulted
without hesitation, because they used no sacrifices, and invoked the aid
of no spirit for their divinations, which art Christian and true piety
fitly rejects and condemns? For good it is to confess unto Thee, and to
say, "Be merciful unto me, heal my soul, for I have sinned against Thee;"(6)
and not to abuse Thy goodness for a license to sin, but to remember the
words of the Lord, "Behold, thou art made whole; sin no more, lest a worse
thing come unto thee." T All of which salutary advice they endeavour to
destroy when they say, "The cause of thy sin is inevitably determined
in heaven;" and, "This did Venus, or Saturn, or Mars;" in order that man,
forsooth, flesh and blood, and proud corruption, may be blameless, while
the Creator and Ordainer of heaven and stars is to bear the blame. And
who is this but Thee, our God, the sweetness and well -spring of righteousness,
who renderest "to every man according to his deeds," (8) and despisest
not "a broken and a contrite heart!"9
5. There was in those days a wise man, very skilful in medicine, and
much renowned therein, who had with his own proconsular hand put the Agonistic
garland upon my distempered head, not, though, as a physician; (10) for
this disease Thou alone healest, who resistest the proud, and givest grace
to the humble.u But didst Thou fail me even by that old man, or forbear
from healing my soul? For when I had become more familiar with him, and
hung assiduously and fixedly on his conversation (for though couched in
simple language, it was replete with vivacity, life, and earnestness),
when he had perceived from my discourse that I was given to books of the
horoscope-casters, he, in a kind and fatherly manner, advised me to throw
them away, and not vainly bestow the care and labour necessary for useful
things upon these vanities; saying that he himself in his earlier years
had studied that art with a view to gaining his living by following it
as a profession, and that, as he had understood Hippocrates, he would
soon have understood this, and yet he had given it up, and followed medicine,
for no other reason than that he discovered it to be utterly false, and
he, being a man of character, would not gain his living by beguiling people.
"But thou," saith he," who hast rhetoric to support thyself by, so that
thou followest this of free will, not of necessity all the more, then,
oughtest thou to give me credit herein, who laboured to attain it so perfectly,
as I wished to gain my living by it alone." When I asked him to account
for so many true things being foretold by it, he answered me (as he could)
"that the force of chance, diffused throughout the whole order of nature,
brought this about. For if when a man by accident opens the leaves of
some poet, who sang and intended something far different, a verse oftentimes
fell out wondrously apposite to the present business, it were not to be
wondered at," he continued, "if out of the soul of man, by some higher
instinct, not knowing what goes on within itself, an answer should be
given by chance, not art, which should coincide with the business and
actions of the questioner."
6. And thus truly, either by or through him, Thou didst look after me.
And Thou didst delineate in my memory what I might afterwards search out
for myself. But at that time neither he, nor my most dear Nebridius, a
youth most good and most circumspect, who scoffed at that whole stock
of divination, could persuade me to forsake it, the authority of the authors
influencing me still more; and as yet I had lighted upon no certain proof
such as I sought whereby it might without doubt appear that what
had been truly foretold by those consulted was by accident or chance,
not by the art of the star-gazers.
CHAP. IV. SORELY DISTRESSED BY WEEPING AT THE DEATH OF HIS FRIEND,
HE PROVIDES CONSOLATION FOR HIMSELF.
7. In those years, when I first began to teach rhetoric in my native
town, I had acquired a very dear friend, from association in our studies,
of mine own age, and, like myself, just rising up into the flower of youth.
He had grown up with me from childhood, and we had been both school-fellows
and play- fellows. But he was not then my friend, nor, indeed, afterwards,
as true friendship is; for true it is not but in such as Thou bindest
together, cleaving unto Thee by that love which is shed abroad in our
hearts by the Holy Ghost, which is given unto us.(1) But yet it was too
sweet, being ripened by the fervour of similar studies. For, from the
true a faith (which he, as a youth, had not soundly and t thoroughly become
master of), I had turned him aside towards those superstitious and pernicious
fables which my mother mourned in me. With me this man's mind now erred,
nor could my soul exist without him. But behold, Thou weft close behind
Thy fugitives at once God of vengeance and Fountain of mercies, who
turnest us to Thyself by wondrous means. Thou removedst that man from
this life when he had scarce completed one whole year of my t, friendship,
sweet to me above all the sweetness of that my life.
8. "Who can show forth all Thy praise"(3) which he hath experienced
in himself alone? What was it that Thou didst then, O my God, and how
unsearchable are the depths of Thy judgments! (4) For when, sore sick
of a fever, he long lay unconscious in a death-sweat, and all despaired
of his recovery, he was baptized without his knowledge; (5) myself meanwhile
little caring, presuming that his soul would retain rather what it had
imbibed from me, than what was done to his unconscious body. Far different,
however, was it, for he was revived and restored. Straightway, as soon
as I could talk to him (which I could as soon as he was able, for I never
left him, and we hung too much upon each other), I attempted to jest with
him, as if he also would jest with me at that baptism which he had received
when mind and senses were in abeyance, but had now learnt that he had
received. But he shuddered at me, as if I were his enemy; and, with a
remarkable and unexpected freedom, admonished me, if I desired to continue
his friend, to desist from speaking to him in such a way. I, confounded
and confused, concealed all my emotions, till he should get well, and
his health be strong enough to allow me to deal with him as I wished.
But he was withdrawn from my frenzy, that with Thee he might be preserved
for my comfort. A few days after, during my absence, he had a return of
the fever, and died.
9. At this sorrow
my heart was utterly darkened, and whatever I looked upon was
death. My native country was a torture to me, and my father's
house a wondrous unhappiness; and whatsoever I had participated
in with him, wanting him, turned into a frightful torture. Mine
eyes sought him everywhere, but he was not granted them; and I
hated all places because he was not in them; nor could they now
say to me, "Behold; he is coming," as they did when he was alive
and absent. I became a great puzzle to myself, and asked my soul
why she was so sad, and why she so exceedingly disquieted me;(1)
but she knew not what to answer me. And if I said, "Hope thou in
God,"(2) she very properly obeyed me not; because that most dear
friend whom she had lost was, being man, both truer and better
than that phantasms she was bid to hope in. Naught but tears
were sweet to me, and they succeeded my friend in the dearest of
my affections.">
CHAP. V. WHY WEEPING IS
PLEASANT TO THE WRETCHED.
10. And now, O Lord, these things are passed away, and time
hath healed my wound. May I learn from Thee, who art Truth, and
apply the ear of my heart unto Thy mouth, that Thou mayest tell
me why weeping should be so sweet to the unhappy.(4) Hast Thou
although present everywhere cast away far from Thee our
misery? And Thou abidest in Thyself, but we are disquieted with
divers trials; and yet, unless we wept in Thine ears, there would
be no hope for us remaining. Whence,. then, is it that such
sweet fruit is plucked from the bitterness of life, from groans,
tears, sighs, and lamentations? Is it the hope that Thou hearest
us that sweetens it? This is true of prayer, for therein is a
desire to approach unto Thee. But is it also in grief for a
thing lost, and the sorrow with which I was then overwhelmed?
For I had neither hope of his coming to life again, nor did I
seek this with my tears; but I grieved and wept only, for I was
miserable, and had lost my joy. Or is weeping a bitter thing,
and for distaste of the things which aforetime we enjoyed before,
and even then, when we are loathing them, does it cause us
pleasure?
CHAP. VI. HIS FRIEND BEING
SNATCHED AWAY BY DEATH, HE IMAGINES THAT HE REMAINS ONLY AS
HALF.
11. But why do I speak of these things? For this is not the
time to question, but rather to confess unto Thee. Miserable I
was, and miserable is every soul fetter. ed by the friendship of
perishable things he is torn to pieces when he loses them, and
then is sensible of the misery which he had before ever he lost
them. Thus was it at that time with me; I wept most bitterly,
and found rest in bitterness. Thus was I miserable, and that
life of misery I accounted dearer than my friend. For though I
would willingly have changed it, yet I was even more
unwilling to lose it than him; yea, I knew not whether I was
willing to lose it even for him, as is handed down to us (if not
an invention) of Pylades and Orestes, that they would gladly have
died one for another, or both together, it being worse than death
to them not to live together. But there had sprung up in me some
kind of feeling, too, contrary to this, for both exceedingly
wearisome was it to me to live, and dreadful to die, I suppose,
the more I loved him, so much the more did I hate and fear, as a
most cruel enemy, that death which had robbed me of him; and I
imagined it would suddenly annihilate all men, as it had power
over him. TItus, I remember, it was with me. Behold my heart, O
my God ! Behold and look into me, for I remember it well, O my
Hope ! who cleansest me from the uncleanness of such affections,
directing mine eyes towards Thee, and plucking my feet out of the
net. For I was astonished that other mortals lived, since he
!whom I loved, as if he would never die, was dead; and I wondered
still more that I, who was to him a second self, could live when
he was dead. Well did one say of his friend, "Thou half of my
soul,"(6) for I felt that my soul and his soul were but one soul
in two bodies; (7) and, consequently, my life was a horror to me,
because I would not live in half. And therefore, perchance, was
I afraid to die. lest he should die wholly (8) whom I had so
greatly loved.
CHAP. VII. TROUBLED BY
RESTLESSNESS AND GRIEF, HE LEAVES HIS COUNTRY A SECOND TIME FOR
CARTHAGE.
12. O madness, which knowest not how to love men as men
should be loved! O foolish man that I then was, enduring with so
much impatience the lot of man So I fretted, sighed, wept,
tormented myself, and took neither rest nor advice. For I bore
about with me a rent and polluted soul, impatient of being borne
by me, and where to repose it I found not. Not in pleasant
groves, not in sport or song, not in fragrant spots, nor in
magnificent banquetings, nor in the pleasures of the bed and the
couch, nor, finally, in books and songs did it find repose. All
things looked terrible, even the very light itself; and
whatsoever was not what he was, was repulsive and hateful, except
groans and tears, for in those alone found I a little repose.
But when my soul was withdrawn from them, a heavy burden of
misery weighed me down. To Thee, O Lord, should it have been
raised, for Thee to lighten and avert it. This I knew, but was
neither willing nor able; all the more since, in my thoughts of
Thee, Thou wert not any solid or substantial thing to me. For
Thou wert not Thyself, but an empty phantasm (2) and my error was
my god. If I attempted to discharge my burden thereon, that it
might find rest, it sank into emptiness, and came rushing down
again upon me, and I remained to myself an unhappy spot, where I
could neither stay nor depart from. For whither could my heart
fly from my heart? Whither could I fly from mine own self?
Whither not follow myself? And yet fled I from my country; for
so should my eyes look less for him where they were not
accustomed to see him. And thus I left the town of Thagaste, and
came to Carthage.
CHAP. VIII. THAT HIS
GRIEF CEASED BY TIME, AND THE CONSOLATION OF FRIENDS.
13. Times lose no time, nor do they idly roll through our
senses. They work strange operations on the mind? Behold, they
came and went from day to day, and by coming and going they
disseminated in my mind other ideas and other remembrances, and
by little and little patched me up again with the former kind of
delights, unto which that sorrow of mine yielded. But yet there
succeeded, not certainly other sorrows, yet the causes of other
sorrows. For whence had that former sorrow so easily penetrated
to the quick, but that I had poured out my soul upon the dust, in
loving one who must die as if he were never to die? But what
revived and refreshed me especially was the consolations of other
friends, with whom I did love what instead of Thee I loved. And
this was a monstrous fable and protracted lie, by whose
adulterous contact our soul, which lay itching in our ears, was
being polluted. But that fable would not die to me so oft as any
of my friends died. There were other things in them which did
more lay hold of my mind, to discourse and jest with them; to
indulge in an interchange of kindnesses; to read together
pleasant books; together to trifle, and together to be earnest;
to differ at times without ill-humour, as a man would do with his
own self; and even by the infrequency of these differences to
give zest to our more frequent consentings; sometimes teaching,
sometimes being taught; longing for the absent with impatience,
and welcoming the coming with joy. These and similar
expressions, emanating from the hearts of those who loved and
were beloved in return, by the countenance, the tongue, the
!eyes, and a thousand pleasing movements, were ! so much fuel to
melt our souls together, and out of many to make but one.
CHAP. IX. THAT THE LOVE OF
A HUMAN BEING, HOWEVER CONSTANT IN LOVING AND RETURNING LOVE,
PERISHES; WHILE HE WHO LOVES GOD NEVER LOSES A FRIEND.
14. This is it that is loved in friends; and so loved that a
man's conscience accuses itself if he love not him by whom he is
beloved, or love not again him that loves him, expecting nothing
from him but indications of his love. Hence that mourning if one
die, and gloom of sorrow, that steeping of the heart in tears,
all sweetness turned into bitterness, and upon the loss of the
life of the dying, the death of the living. Blessed be he who
loveth Thee, and his friend in Thee, and his enemy for Thy sake.
For he alone loses none dear to him to whom all are dear in Him
who cannot be lost. And who is this but our God, the God that
created heaven and earth,(6) and filleth them, (7) because by
filling them He created them? (8) None loseth Thee but he who
leaveth Thee. And he who leaveth Thee, whither goeth he, or
whither fleeth he, but from Thee well pleased to Thee angry? For
where doth not he find Thy law in his own punishment? "And Thy
law is the truth," and truth Thou?
CHAP. X. THAT ALL THINGS
EXIST THAT THEY MAY PERISH, AND THAT WE ARE NOT SAFE UNLESS GOD
WATCHES OVER US.
15. "Turn us again, O Lord God of Hosts, cause Thy face to
shine; and we shall be saved."(1) For whithersoever the soul of
man turns itself, unless towards Thee, it is affixed to sorrows,
(2) yea, though it is affixed to beauteous things without Thee
and without itself. And yet they were not unless they were from
Thee. They rise and set; and by rising, they begin as it were to
be; and they grow, that they may become perfect; and when
perfect, they wax old and perish; and all wax not old, but all
perish. Therefore when they rise and tend to be, the more
rapidly they grow that they may be, so much the more they hasten
not to be. This is the way of them. (8) Thus much hast Thou
given them, because they are parts of things, which exist not all
at the same time, but by departing and succeeding they together
make up the universe, of which they are parts. And even thus is
our speech accomplished by signs emitting a sound; but this,
again, is not perfected unless one word pass away when it has
sounded its part, in order that another may succeed it. Let my
soul praise Thee out of all these things, O God, the Creator of
all; but let not my soul be affixed to these things by the glue
of love, through the senses of the body. For they go whither
they were to go, that they might no longer be; and they rend her
with pestilent desires, because she longs to be, and yet loves to
rest in what she loves. But in these things no place is to be
found; they stay not they flee; and who is he that is able to
follow them with the senses of the flesh ? Or who can grasp them,
even when they are near? For tardy is the sense of the flesh,
because it is the sense of the flesh, and its boundary is itself.
It sufficeth for that for which it was made, but it is not
sufficient to stay things running their course from their
appointed starting-place to the end appointed. For in Thy word,
by which they were created, they hear the fiat, "Hence and
hitherto."
CHAP. XI. THAT PORTIONS OF
THE WORLD ARE NOT TO BE LOVED; BUT THAT GOD, THEIR AUTHOR, IS
IMMUTABLE, AND HIS WORD ETERNAL.
16. Be not foolish, O my soul, and deaden not the ear of
thine heart with the tumult of thy fully. Hearken thou also.
The word itself invokes thee to return; and there is the place of
rest imperturbable, where love is not abandoned if itself
abandoneth not. Behold, these things pass away, that others may
succeed them, and so this lower universe be made complete in all
its parts. But do I depart anywhere, saith the word of God?
There fix thy habitation. There commit whatsoever thou hast
thence, O my soul; at all events now thou art tired out with
deceits. Commit to truth whatsoever thou hast from the truth,
and nothing shall thou lose; and thy decay shall flourish again,
and all thy diseases be healed, (4) and thy perishable parts
shall be reformed and renovated, and drawn together to thee; nor
shall they put thee down where themselves descend, but they shall
abide with thee, and continue for ever before God, who abideth
and continueth for ever? 17. Why, then, be perverse and
follow thy flesh? Rather let it be converted and follow thee.
Whatever by her thou feelest, is but in part; and the whole, of
which these are portions, thou art ignorant of, and yet they
delight thee. But had the sense of thy flesh been capable of
comprehending the whole, and not itself also, for thy punishment,
been justly limited to a portion of the whole, thou wouldest that
whatsoever existeth at the present time should pass away, that so
the whole might please thee more.(6) For what we speak, also by
the same sense of the flesh thou hearest; and yet wouldest not
thou that the syllables should stay, but fly away, that others
may come, and the whole (7) be heard. Thus it is always, when
any single thing is composed of many, all of which exist not
together, all together would delight more than they do simply
could all be perceived at once. But far better than these is He
who made all; and He is our God, and He passeth not away, for
there is nothing to succeed Him. If bodies please thee, praise
God for them, and turn back thy love upon their Creator, lest in
those things which please thee thou displease.
CHAP. XII. LOVE IS NOT
CONDEMNED, BUT LOVE IN GOD, IN WHOM THERE IS REST THROUGH JESUS
CHRIST, IS TO BE PREFERRED.
18. If souls please thee, let them be loved in God; for they
also are mutable, but in Him are they firmly established, else
would they pass, and pass away. In Him, then, let them be
beloved; and draw unto Him along with thee as many souls as thou
canst, and say to them, "Him let us love, Him let us love; He
created these, nor is He far off. For He did not create them,
and then depart; but they are of Him, and in Him. Behold, there
is He wherever truth is known. He is within the very heart, but
yet hath the heart wandered from Him. Return to your heart,(1) O
ye transgressors, (2) and cleave fast unto Him that made you.
Stand with Him, and you shall stand fast. Rest in Him, and you
shall be at rest. Whither go ye in rugged paths? Whither go ye?
The good that you love is from Him; and as it has respect unto
Him it is both good and pleasant, and justly shall it be
embittered, because whatsoever cometh from Him is unjustly loved
if He be forsaken for it. Why, then, will ye wander farther and
farther in these difficult and toilsome ways? There is no rest
where ye seek it. Seek what ye seek; but it is not there where
ye seek. Ye seek a blessed life in the land of death; it is not
there. For could a blessed life be where life itself is not?"
19. But our very Life descended hither, and bore our death,
and slew it, out of the abundance of His own life; and thundering
He called loudly to us to return hence to Him into that secret
place whence He came forth to us first into the Virgin's womb,
where the human creature was married to Him, our mortal flesh,
that it might not be for ever mortal, and thence "as a
bridegroom coming out of his chamber, rejoicing as a strong man
to run a race."(4) For He tarried not, but ran crying out by
words, deeds, death, life, descent, ascension, crying aloud to us
to return to Him. And He departed from our sight, that we might
return to our heart, and there find Him. For He departed, and
behold, He is here. He would not be long with us, yet left us
not; for He departed thither, whence He never departed, because
"the world was made by Him." And in this world He was, and into
this world He came to save sinners,(6) unto whom my soul doth
confess, that He may heal it, for it hath sinned against Him.(7)
O ye sons of men, how long so slow of heart? (8) Even now, after
the Life is descended to you, will ye not ascend and live? (9)
But whither ascend ye, when ye are on high, and set your mouth
against the heavens?(10) Descend that ye may ascend,n and ascend
to God. For ye have fallen by" ascending against Him." Tell
them this, that they may weep in the valley of tears,(11) and so
draw them with thee to God, because it is by His Spirit that thou
speakest thus unto them, if thou speakest burning with the fire
of love.
CHAP. XIII. LOVE
ORIGINATES FROM GRACE AND BEAUTY ENTICING US. 20.
These things I knew not at that time, and I loved these lower
beauties, and I was sinking to the very depths; and I said to my
friends, "Do we love anything but the beautiful? What, then, is
the beautiful? And what is beauty? What is it that allures and
unites us to the things we love; for unless there were a grace
and beauty in them, they could by no means attract us to them?"
And I marked and perceived that in bodies themselves there was a
beauty from their forming a kind of whole, and another from
mutual fitness, as one part of the body with its whole, or a shoe
with a foot, and so on. And this consideration sprang up in my
mind out of the recesses of my heart, and I wrote books (two or
three, I think) "on the fair and fit." Thou knowest, O Lord, for
it has escaped me; for I have them not, but they have strayed
from me, I know not how.
CHAP. XIV. CONCERNING THE
BOOKS WHICH HE WROTE "ON THE FAIR AND FIT," DEDICATED TO
HIERIUS.
21. But what was it that prompted me, O Lord my God, to
dedicate these books to Hierius, an orator of Rome, whom I knew
not by sight, but loved the man for the fame of his learning, for
which he was renowned, and some words of his which I had heard,
and which had pleased me ? But the more did he please me in that
he pleased others, who highly extolled him, astonished that a
native of Syria, instructed first in Greek eloquence, should
afterwards become a wonderful Latin orator, and one so well
versed in studies pertaining unto wisdom. Thus a man is
commended and loved when absent. Doth this love enter into the
heart of the hearer from the mouth of the commender ? Not so.
But through one who loveth is another inflamed. For hence he is
loved who is commended when the commender is believed to praise
him with an unfeigned heart; that is, when he that loves him
praises him. 22. Thus, then, loved I men upon the judgment
of men, not upon Thine, O my God, in which no man is deceived.
But yet why not as the renowned charioteer, as the huntsman?(1)
known far and wide by a vulgar popularity but far otherwise,
and seriously, and so as I would desire to be myself commended ?
For I would not that they should commend and love me as actors
are, although I myself did commend and love them, but I
would prefer being unknown than so known, and even being hated
than so loved. Where now are these influences of such various
and divers kinds of loves distributed in one soul ? What is it
that I am in love with in another, which, if I did not hate, I
should not detest and repel from myself, seeing we are equally
men ? For it does not follow that because a good horse is loved
by him who would not, though he might, be that horse, the same
should therefore be affirmed by an actor, who partakes of our
nature. Do I then love in a man that which I, who am a man, hate
to be ? Man himself is a great deep, whose very hairs Thou
numberest, O Lord, and they fall not to the ground without Thee?
And yet are the hairs of his head more readily numbered than are
his affections and the movements of his heart. 23. But that
orator was of the kind that I so loved as I wished myself to be
such a one; and I erred through an inflated pride, and was
"carried about with every wind," (8) but yet was piloted by Thee,
though very secretly. And whence know I, and whence confidently
confess I unto Thee that I loved him more because of the love of
those who praised him, than for the very things for which they
praised him ? Because had he been upraised, and these self-same
men had dispraised him, and with dispraise and scorn told the
same things of him, I should never have been so inflamed and
provoked to love him. And yet the things had not been different,
nor he himself different, but only the affections of the
narrators. See where lieth the impotent soul that is not yet
sustained by the solidity of truth ! Just as the blasts of
tongues blow from the breasts of conjecturers, so is it tossed
this way and that, driven forward and backward, and the light is
obscured to it and the truth not perceived. And behold it is
before us. And to me it was a great matter that my style and
studies should be known to that man; the which if he approved, I
were the more stimulated, but if he disapproved, this vain heart
of mine, void of Thy solidity, had been offended. And yet that
"fair and fit," about which wrote to him, I reflected on with
pleasure, and contemplated it, and admired it, though none joined
me in doing so.
CHAP. XV. WHILE WRITING,
BEING BLINDED BY CORPOREAL IMAGES, HE FAILED TO RECOGNISE THE
SPIRITUAL NATURE OF GOD.
24. But not yet did I perceive the hinge on which this
impotent matter turned in Thy wisdom, O Thou Omnipotent, "who
alone doest great wonders ;"(4) and my mind ranged through
corporeal forms, and I defined and distinguished as "fair," that
which is so in itself, and "fit," that which is beautiful as it
corresponds to some other thing; and this I supported by
corporeal examples. And I turned my attention to the nature of
the mind, but the false opinions which I entertained of spiritual
things prevented me from seeing the truth. Yet the very power of
truth forced itself on my gaze, and I turned away my throbbing
soul from incorporeal substance, to lineaments, and colours, and
bulky magnitudes. And not being able to perceive these in the
mind, I thought I could not perceive my mind. And whereas in
virtue I loved peace, and in viciousness I hated discord, in the
former I distinguished unity, but in the latter a kind of
division. And in that unity I conceived the rational soul and
the nature of truth and of the chief good (5) to consist. But in
this division I, unfortunate one, imagined there was I know not
what substance of irrational life, and the nature of the chief
evil, which should not be a substance only, but real life also,
and yet not emanating from Thee, O my God, from whom are all
things. And yet the first I called a Monad, as if it had been a
soul without sex,(1) but the other a Duad, anger in deeds of
violence, in deeds of passion, lust, not knowing of what I
talked. For I had not known or learned that neither was evil a
substance, nor our soul that chief and unchangeable good.
25. For even as it is in the case of deeds of violence, if that
emotion of the soul from whence the stimulus comes be depraved,
and carry itself insolently and mutinously; and in acts of
passion, if that affection of the soul whereby carnal pleasures
are imbibed is unrestrained, so do errors and false opinions
contaminate the life, if the reasonable soul itself be depraved,
as it was at that time in me, who was ignorant that it must be
enlightened by another light that it may be partaker of truth,
seeing that itself is not that nature of truth. "For Thou wilt
light my candle; the Lord my God will enlighten my darkness; (2)
and "of His fulness have all we received," (8) for "that was the
true Light which lighted every man that cometh into the
world;"(4) for in Thee there is "no variableness, neither shadow
of turning."(5) 26. But I pressed towards Thee, and was
repelled by Thee that I might taste of death, for Thou "resistest
the proud."(6) But what prouder than for me, with a marvellous
madness, to assert myself to be that by nature which Thou art?
For whereas I was mutable, so much being clear to me, for my
very longing to become wise arose from the wish from worse to
become better, yet chose I rather to think Thee mutable, than
myself not to be that which Thou art. Therefore was I repelled
by Thee, and Thou resistedst my changeable stiffneckedness; and I
imagined corporeal forms, and, being flesh, I accused flesh, and,
being "a wind that passeth away,"(7) I returned not to Thee, but
went wandering and wandering on towards those things that have no
being, neither in Thee, nor in me, nor in the body. Neither were
they created for me by Thy truth, but conceived by my vain
conceit out of corporeal things. And I used to ask Thy faithful
little ones, my fellow-citizens, from whom I unconsciously
stood exiled, I used flippantly and foolishly to ask, "Why,
then, doth the soul which God created err ?" But I would not
permit any one to ask me, "Why, then, doth God err ?" And I
contended that Thy immutable substance erred of constraint,
rather than admit that my mutable substance had gone astray of
free will, and erred as a punishment? 27. I was about six
or seven and twenty years of age when I wrote those volumes
meditating upon corporeal fictions, which clamoured in the ears
of my heart. These I directed, O sweet Truth, to Thy inward
melody, pondering on the "fair and fit," and longing to stay and
listen to Thee, and to rejoice greatly at the Bridegroom's
voice,(1) and I could not; for by the voices of my own errors was
I driven forth, and by the weight of my own pride was I sinking
into the lowest pit. For Thou didst not "make me to hear joy and
gladness;" nor did the bones which were not yet humbled rejoice?
CHAP. XVI. HE VERY EASILY
UNDERSTOOD THE LIBERAL ARTS AND THE CATEGORIES OF ARISTOTLE, BUT
WITHOUT TRUE FRUIT.
28. And what did it profit me that, when scarce twenty years
old, a book of Aristotle's, entitled The Ten Predicaments, fell
into my hands, on whose very name I hung as on something great
and divine, when my rhetoric master of Carthage, and others who
were esteemed learned, referred to it with cheeks swelling with
pride, I read it alone and understood it ? And on my
conferring with others, who said that with the assistance of very
able masters who not only explained it orally, but drew many
things in the dust (3) they scarcely understood it, and could
tell me no more about it than I had acquired in reading it by
myself alone ? And the book appeared to me to speak plainly
enough of substances, such as man is, and of their qualities,
such as the figure of a man, of what kind it is; and his stature,
how many feet high; and his relationship, whose brother he is; or
where placed, or when born; or whether he stands or sits, or is
shod or armed, or does or suffers anything; and whatever
innumerable things might be classed under these nine categories,
(4) of which I have given some examples, or under that chief
category of substance. 29. What did all this profit me,
seeing it even hindered me, when, imagining that whatsoever
existed was comprehended in those ten categories, I tried so to
understand, O my God, Thy wonderful and unchangeable unity as if
Thou also hadst been subjected to Thine own greatness or beauty,
so that they should exist in Thee as their subject, like as in
bodies, whereas Thou Thyself art Thy greatness and beauty? But a
body is not great or fair because it is a body, seeing that,
though it were less great or fair, it should nevertheless be a
body. But that which I had conceived of Thee was falsehood, not
truth, fictions of my misery, not the supports of Thy
blessedness. For Thou hadst commanded, and it was done in me,
that the earth should bring forth briars and thorns to me, (5)
and that with labour I should get my bread.(6) 30. And what
did it profit me that I, the base slave of vile affections, read
unaided, and understood, all the books that I could get of the so
-called liberal arts? And I took delight in them, but knew not
whence came whatever in them was true and certain. For my back
then was to the light, and my face towards the things
enlightened; whence my face, with which I discerned the things
enlightened, was not itself enlightened. Whatever was written
either on rhetoric or logic, geometry, music, or arithmetic, did
I, without any great difficulty, and without the teaching of any
man, understand, as Thou knowest, O Lord my God, because both
quickness of comprehension and acuteness of perception are Thy
gifts. Yet did I not thereupon sacrifice to Thee. So, then, it
served not to my use, but rather to my destruction, since I went
about to get so good a portion of my substance into my own power;
and I kept not my strength for Thee, (8) but went away from Thee
into a far country, to waste it upon harlotries. (9) For what
did good abilities profit me, if I did not employ them to good
uses ? For I did not perceive that those arts were acquired with
great difficulty, even by the studious and those gifted with
genius, until I endeavoured to explain them to such; and he was
the most proficient in them who followed my explanations not too
slowly. 31. But what did this profit me, supposing that
Thou, O Lord God, the Truth, wert a bright and vast body,(10) and
I a piece of that body ? Perverseness too great ! But such was I.
Nor do I blush, O my God, to confess to Thee Thy mercies towards
me, and to call upon Thee I, who blushed not then to avow
before men my blasphemies, and to bark against Thee. What
profited me then my nimble wit in those sciences and all those
knotty volumes, disentangled by me without help from a human
master, seeing that I erred so odiously, and with such
sacrilegious baseness, in the doctrine of piety? Or what
impediment was it to Thy little ones to have a far slower wit,
seeing that they departed not far from Thee, that in the nest of
Thy Church they might safely become fledged, and nourish the
wings of charity by the food of a sound faith ? O Lord our God,
under the shadow of Thy wings let us hope,(1) defend us, and
carry us. Thou wilt carry us both when little, and even to grey
hairs wilt Thou carry us; (2) for our firmness, when it is Thou,
then is it firmness; but when it is our own, then it is
infirmity. Our good lives always with Thee, from which when we
are averted we are perverted. Let us now, O Lord, return, that
we be not overturned, because with Thee our good lives without
any eclipse, which good Thou Thyself art. (8) And we need not
fear lest we should find no place unto which to return because we
fell away from it; for when we were absent, our home Thy
Eternity fell not.
Previous
Book Next
Book
|