St. Augustine Confessions Book 4 Book 5
4.1.1
For this space of nine years (from my nineteenth year to my eight--
and-twentieth) we lived seduced and seducing, deceived and deceiving,
in divers lusts; openly, by sciences which they call liberal; secretly,
with a false-named religion; here proud, there superstitious, every
where vain. Here, hunting after the emptiness of popular praise, down
even to theatrical applauses, and poetic prizes, and strifes for grassy
garlands, and the follies of shows, and the intemperance of desires.
There, desiring to be cleansed from these defilements, by carrying
food to those who were called "elect" and "holy," out of which, in
the workhouse of their stomachs, they should forge for us Angels and
Gods, by whom we might be cleansed. These things did I follow, and
practise with my friends, deceived by me, and with me. Let the arrogant
mock me, and such as have not been, to their soul's health, stricken
and cast down by Thee, O my God; but I would still confess to Thee
mine own shame in Thy praise. Suffer me, I beseech Thee, and give
me grace to go over in my present remembrance the wanderings of my
forepassed time, and to offer unto Thee the sacrifice of thanksgiving.
For what am I to myself without Thee, but a guide to mine own downfall?
or what am I even at the best, but an infant sucking the milk Thou
givest, and feeding upon Thee, the food that perisheth not? But what
sort of man is any man, seeing he is but a man? Let now the strong
and the mighty laugh at us, but let us poor and needy confess unto
Thee.
4.2.2
In those years I taught rhetoric, and, overcome by cupidity,
made sale of a loquacity to overcome by. Yet I preferred (Lord, Thou
knowest) honest scholars (as they are accounted), and these I, without
artifice, taught artifices, not to be practised against the life of
the guiltless, though sometimes for the life of the guilty. And Thou,
O God, from afar perceivedst me stumbling in that slippery course,
and amid much smoke sending out some sparks of faithfulness, which
I showed in that my guidance of such as loved vanity, and sought after
leasing, myself their companion. In those years I had one, -not in
that which is called lawful marriage, but whom I had found out in
a wayward passion, void of understanding; yet but one, remaining faithful
even to her; in whom I in my own case experienced what difference
there is betwixt the self-restraint of the marriage-covenant, for
the sake of issue, and the bargain of a lustful love, where children
are born against their parents' will, although, once born, they constrain
love.
4.2.3
I remember also, that when I had settled to enter the lists for
a theatrical prize, some wizard asked me what I would give him to
win; but I, detesting and abhorring such foul mysteries, answered,
"Though the garland were of imperishable gold, I would not suffer
a fly to be killed to gain me it. " For he was to kill some living
creatures in his sacrifices, and by those honours to invite the devils
to favour me. But this ill also I rejected, not out of a pure love
for Thee, O God of my heart; for I knew not how to love Thee, who
knew not how to conceive aught beyond a material brightness. And doth
not a soul, sighing after such fictions, commit fornication against
Thee, trust in things unreal, and feed the wind? Still I would not
forsooth have sacrifices offered to devils for me, to whom I was sacrificing
myself by that superstition. For what else is it to feed the wind,
but to feed them, that is by going astray to become their pleasure
and derision?
4.3.4
Those impostors then, whom they style Mathematicians, I consulted
without scruple; because they seemed to use no sacrifice, nor to pray
to any spirit for their divinations: which art, however, Christian
and true piety consistently rejects and condemns. For, it is a good
thing to confess unto Thee, and to say, Have mercy upon me, heal my
soul, for I have sinned against Thee; and not to abuse Thy mercy for
a licence to sin, but to remember the Lord's words, Behold, thou art
made whole, sin no more, lest a worse thing come unto thee. All which
wholesome advice they labour to destroy, saying, "The cause of thy
sin is inevitably determined in heaven"; and "This did Venus, or Saturn,
or Mars": that man, forsooth, flesh and blood, and proud corruption,
might be blameless; while the Creator and Ordainer of heaven and the
stars is to bear the blame. And who is He but our God? the very sweetness
and well-spring of righteousness, who renderest to every man according
to his works: and a broken and contrite heart wilt Thou not despise.
4.3.5
There was in those days a wise man, very skilful in physic, and
renowned therein, who had with his own proconsular hand put the Agonistic
garland upon my distempered head, but not as a physician: for this
disease Thou only curest, who resistest the proud, and givest grace
to the humble. But didst Thou fail me even by that old man, or forbear
to heal my soul? For having become more acquainted with him, and hanging
assiduously and fixedly on his speech (for though in simple terms,
it was vivid, lively, and earnest), when he had gathered by my discourse
that I was given to the books of nativity-casters, he kindly and fatherly
advised me to cast them away, and not fruitlessly bestow a care and
diligence, necessary for useful things, upon these vanities; saying,
that he had in his earliest years studied that art, so as to make
it the profession whereby he should live, and that, understanding
Hippocrates, he could soon have understood such a study as this; and
yet he had given it over, and taken to physic, for no other reason
but that he found it utterly false; and he, a grave man, would not
get his living by deluding people. "But thou," saith he, "hast rhetoric
to maintain thyself by, so that thou followest this of free choice,
not of necessity: the more then oughtest thou to give me credit herein,
who laboured to acquire it so perfectly as to get my living by it
alone." Of whom when I had demanded, how then could many true things
be foretold by it, he answered me (as he could) "that the force of
chance, diffused throughout the whole order of things, brought this
about. For if when a man by haphazard opens the pages of some poet,
who sang and thought of something wholly different, a verse oftentimes
fell out, wondrously agreeable to the present business: it were not
to be wondered at, if out of the soul of man, unconscious what takes
place in it, by some higher instinct an answer should be given, by
hap, not by art, corresponding to the business and actions of the
demander."
4.3.6
And thus much, either from or through him, Thou conveyedst to
me, and tracedst in my memory, what I might hereafter examine for
myself. But at that time neither he, nor my dearest Nebridius, a youth
singularly good and of a holy fear, who derided the whole body of
divination, could persuade me to cast it aside, the authority of the
authors swaying me yet more, and as yet I had found no certain proof
(such as I sought) whereby it might without all doubt appear, that
what had been truly foretold by those consulted was the result of
haphazard, not of the art of the star-gazers.
4.4.7
In those years when I first began to teach rhetoric in my native
town, I had made one my friend, but too dear to me, from a community
of pursuits, of mine own age, and, as myself, in the first opening
flower of youth. He had grown up of a child with me, and we had been
both school-fellows and play-fellows. But he was not yet my friend
as afterwards, nor even then, as true friendship is; for true it cannot
be, unless in such as Thou cementest together, cleaving unto Thee,
by that love which is shed abroad in our hearts by the Holy Ghost,
which is given unto us. Yet was it but too sweet, ripened by the warmth
of kindred studies: for, from the true faith (which he as a youth
had not soundly and thoroughly imbibed), I had warped him also to
those superstitious and pernicious fables, for which my mother bewailed
me. With me he now erred in mind, nor could my soul be without him.
But behold Thou wert close on the steps of Thy fugitives, at once
God of vengeance, and Fountain of mercies, turning us to Thyself by
wonderful means; Thou tookest that man out of this life, when he had
scarce filled up one whole year of my friendship, sweet to me above
all sweetness of that my life.
4.4.8
Who can recount all Thy praises, which he hath felt in his one
self? What diddest Thou then, my God, and how unsearchable is the
abyss of Thy judgments? For long, sore sick of a fever, he lay senseless
in a death-sweat; and his recovery being despaired of, he was baptised,
unknowing; myself meanwhile little regarding, and presuming that his
soul would retain rather what it had received of me, not what was
wrought on his unconscious body. But it proved far otherwise: for
he was refreshed, and restored. Forthwith, as soon as I could speak
with him (and I could, so soon as he was able, for I never left him,
and we hung but too much upon each other), I essayed to jest with
him, as though he would jest with me at that baptism which he had
received, when utterly absent in mind and feeling, but had now understood
that he had received. But he so shrunk from me, as from an enemy;
and with a wonderful and sudden freedom bade me, as I would continue
his friend, forbear such language to him. I, all astonished and amazed,
suppressed all my emotions till he should grow well, and his health
were strong enough for me to deal with him as I would. But he was
taken away from my frenzy, that with Thee he might be preserved for
my comfort; a few days after in my absence, he was attacked again
by the fever, and so departed.
4.4.9
At this grief my heart was utterly darkened; and whatever I beheld
was death. My native country was a torment to me, and my father's
house a strange unhappiness; and whatever I had shared with him, wanting
him, became a distracting torture. Mine eyes sought him every where,
but he was not granted them; and I hated all places, for that they
had not him; nor could they now tell me, "he is coming," as when he
was alive and absent. I became a great riddle to myself, and I asked
my soul, why she was so sad, and why she disquieted me sorely: but
she knew not what to answer me. And if I said, Trust in God, she very
rightly obeyed me not; because that most dear friend, whom she had
lost, was, being man, both truer and better than that phantasm she
was bid to trust in. Only tears were sweet to me, for they succeeded
my friend, in the dearest of my affections.
4.5.10
And now, Lord, these things are passed by, and time hath assuaged
my wound. May I learn from Thee, who art Truth, and approach the ear
of my heart unto Thy mouth, that Thou mayest tell me why weeping is
sweet to the miserable? Hast Thou, although present every where, cast
away our misery far from Thee? And Thou abidest in Thyself, but we
are tossed about in divers trials. And yet unless we mourned in Thine
ears, we should have no hope left. Whence then is sweet fruit gathered
from the bitterness of life, from groaning, tears, sighs, and complaints?
Doth this sweeten it, that we hope Thou hearest? This is true of prayer,
for therein is a longing to approach unto Thee. But is it also in
grief for a thing lost, and the sorrow wherewith I was then overwhelmed?
For I neither hoped he should return to life nor did I desire this
with my tears; but I wept only and grieved. For I was miserable, and
had lost my joy. Or is weeping indeed a bitter thing, and for very
loathing of the things which we before enjoyed, does it then, when
we shrink from them, please us?
4.6.11
But what speak I of these things? for now is no time to question,
but to confess unto Thee. Wretched I was; and wretched is every soul
bound by the friendship of perishable things; he is torn asunder when
he loses them, and then he feels the wretchedness which he had ere
yet he lost them. So was it then with me; I wept most bitterly, and
found my repose in bitterness. Thus was I wretched, and that wretched
life I held dearer than my friend. For though I would willingly have
changed it, yet was I more unwilling to part with it than with him;
yea, I know not whether I would have parted with it even for him,
as is related (if not feigned) of Pylades and Orestes, that they would
gladly have died for each other or together, not to live together
being to them worse than death. But in me there had arisen some unexplained
feeling, too contrary to this, for at once I loathed exceedingly to
live and feared to die. I suppose, the more I loved him, the more
did I hate, and fear (as a most cruel enemy) death, which had bereaved
me of him: and I imagined it would speedily make an end of all men,
since it had power over him. Thus was it with me, I remember. Behold
my heart, O my God, behold and see into me; for well I remember it,
O my Hope, who cleansest me from the impurity of such affections,
directing mine eyes towards Thee, and plucking my feet out of the
snare. For I wondered that others, subject to death, did live, since
he whom I loved, as if he should never die, was dead; and I wondered
yet more that myself, who was to him a second self, could live, he
being dead. Well said one of his friend, "Thou half of my soul"; for
I felt that my soul and his soul were "one soul in two bodies": and
therefore was my life a horror to me, because I would not live halved.
And therefore perchance I feared to die, lest he whom I had much loved
should die wholly.
4.7.12
O madness, which knowest not how to love men, like men! O foolish
man that I then was, enduring impatiently the lot of man! I fretted
then, sighed, wept, was distracted; had neither rest nor counsel.
For I bore about a shattered and bleeding soul, impatient of being
borne by me, yet where to repose it, I found not. Not in calm groves,
not in games and music, nor in fragrant spots, nor in curious banquetings,
nor in the pleasures of the bed and the couch; nor (finally) in books
or poesy, found it repose. All things looked ghastly, yea, the very
light; whatsoever was not what he was, was revolting and hateful,
except groaning and tears. For in those alone found I a little refreshment.
But when my soul was withdrawn from them a huge load of misery weighed
me down. To Thee, O Lord, it ought to have been raised, for Thee to
lighten; I knew it; but neither could nor would; the more, since,
when I thought of Thee, Thou wert not to me any solid or substantial
thing. For Thou wert not Thyself, but a mere phantom, and my error
was my God. If I offered to discharge my load thereon, that it might
rest, it glided through the void, and came rushing down again on me;
and I had remained to myself a hapless spot, where I could neither
be, nor be from thence. For whither should my heart flee from my heart?
Whither should I flee from myself? Whither not follow myself? And
yet I fled out of my country; for so should mine eyes less look for
him, where they were not wont to see him. And thus from Thagaste,
I came to Carthage.
4.8.13
Times lose no time; nor do they roll idly by; through our senses
they work strange operations on the mind. Behold, they went and came
day by day, and by coming and going, introduced into my mind other
imaginations and other remembrances; and little by little patched
me up again with my old kind of delights, unto which that my sorrow
gave way. And yet there succeeded, not indeed other griefs, yet the
causes of other griefs. For whence had that former grief so easily
reached my very inmost soul, but that I had poured out my soul upon
the dust, in loving one that must die, as if he would never die? For
what restored and refreshed me chiefly was the solaces of other friends,
with whom I did love, what instead of Thee I loved; and this was a
great fable, and protracted lie, by whose adulterous stimulus, our
soul, which lay itching in our ears, was being defiled. But that fable
would not die to me, so oft as any of my friends died. There were
other things which in them did more take my mind; to talk and jest
together, to do kind offices by turns; to read together honied books;
to play the fool or be earnest together; to dissent at times without
discontent, as a man might with his own self; and even with the seldomness
of these dissentings, to season our more frequent consentings; sometimes
to teach, and sometimes learn; long for the absent with impatience;
and welcome the coming with joy. These and the like expressions, proceeding
out of the hearts of those that loved and were loved again, by the
countenance, the tongue, the eyes, and a thousand pleasing gestures,
were so much fuel to melt our souls together, and out of many make
but one.
4.9.14
This is it that is loved in friends; and so loved, that a man's
conscience condemns itself, if he love not him that loves him again,
or love not again him that loves him, looking for nothing from his
person but indications of his love. Hence that mourning, if one die,
and darkenings of sorrows, that steeping of the heart in tears, all
sweetness turned to bitterness; and upon the loss of life of the dying,
the death of the living. Blessed whoso loveth Thee, and his friend
in Thee, and his enemy for Thee. For he alone loses none dear to him,
to whom all are dear in Him who cannot be lost. And who is this but
our God, the God that made heaven and earth, and filleth them, because
by filling them He created them? Thee none loseth, but who leaveth.
And who leaveth Thee, whither goeth or whither teeth he, but from
Thee well-pleased, to Thee displeased? For where doth he not find
Thy law in his own punishment? And Thy law is truth, and truth Thou.
4.10.15
Turn us, O God of Hosts, show us Thy countenance, and we shall
be whole. For whithersoever the soul of man turns itself, unless toward
Thee, it is riveted upon sorrows, yea though it is riveted on things
beautiful. And yet they, out of Thee, and out of the soul, were not,
unless they were from Thee. They rise, and set; and by rising, they
begin as it were to be; they grow, that they may be perfected; and
perfected, they wax old and wither; and all grow not old, but all
wither. So then when they rise and tend to be, the more quickly they
grow that they may be, so much the more they haste not to be. This
is the law of them. Thus much has Thou allotted them, because they
are portions of things, which exist not all at once, but by passing
away and succeeding, they together complete that universe, whereof
they are portions. And even thus is our speech completed by signs
giving forth a sound: but this again is not perfected unless one word
pass away when it hath sounded its part, that another may succeed.
Out of all these things let my soul praise Thee, O God, Creator of
all; yet let not my soul be riveted unto these things with the glue
of love, through the senses of the body. For they go whither they
were to go, that they might not be; and they rend her with pestilent
longings, because she longs to be, yet loves to repose in what she
loves. But in these things is no place of repose; they abide not,
they flee; and who can follow them with the senses of the flesh? yea,
who can grasp them, when they are hard by? For the sense of the flesh
is slow, because it is the sense of the flesh; and thereby is it bounded.
It sufficeth for that it was made for; but it sufficeth not to stay
things running their course from their appointed starting-place to
the end appointed. For in Thy Word, by which they are created, they
hear their decree, "hence and hitherto."
4.11.16
Be not foolish, O my soul, nor become deaf in the ear of thine
heart with the tumult of thy folly. Hearken thou too. The Word itself
calleth thee to return: and there is the place of rest imperturbable,
where love is not forsaken, if itself forsaketh not. Behold, these
things pass away, that others may replace them, and so this lower
universe be completed by all his parts. But do I depart any whither?
saith the Word of God. There fix thy dwelling, trust there whatsoever
thou hast thence, O my soul, at least now thou art tired out with
vanities. Entrust Truth, whatsoever thou hast from the Truth, and
thou shalt lose nothing; and thy decay shall bloom again, and all
thy diseases be healed, and thy mortal parts be reformed and renewed,
and bound around thee: nor shall they lay thee whither themselves
descend; but they shall stand fast with thee, and abide for ever before
God, Who abideth and standeth fast for ever.
4.11.17
Why then be perverted and follow thy flesh? Be it converted and
follow thee. Whatever by her thou hast sense of, is in part; and the
whole, whereof these are parts, thou knowest not; and yet they delight
thee. But had the sense of thy flesh a capacity for comprehending
the whole, and not itself also, for thy punishment, been justly restricted
to a part of the whole, thou wouldest, that whatsoever existeth at
this present, should pass away, that so the whole might better please
thee. For what we speak also, by the same sense of the flesh thou
hearest; yet wouldest not thou have the syllables stay, but fly away,
that others may come, and thou hear the whole. And so ever, when any
one thing is made up of many, all of which do not exist together,
all collectively would please more than they do severally, could all
be perceived collectively. But far better than these is He who made
all; and He is our God, nor doth He pass away, for neither doth aught
succeed Him.
4.12.18
If bodies please thee, praise God on occasion of them, and turn
back thy love upon their Maker; lest in these things which please
thee, thou displease. If souls please thee, be they loved in God:
for they too are mutable, but in Him are they firmly stablished; else
would they pass, and pass away. In Him then be they beloved; and carry
unto Him along with thee what souls thou canst, and say to them, "Him
let us love, Him let us love: He made these, nor is He far off. For
He did not make them, and so depart, but they are of Him, and in Him.
See there He is, where truth is loved. He is within the very heart,
yet hath the heart strayed from Him. Go back into your heart, ye transgressors,
and cleave fast to Him that made you. Stand with Him, and ye shall
stand fast. Rest in Him, and ye shall be at rest. Whither go ye in
rough ways? Whither go ye? The good that you love is from Him; but
it is good and pleasant through reference to Him, and justly shall
it be embittered, because unjustly is any thing loved which is from
Him, if He be forsaken for it. To what end then would ye still and
still walk these difficult and toilsome ways? There is no rest, where
ye seek it. Seek what ye seek; but it is not there where ye seek.
Ye seek a blessed life in the land of death; it is not there. For
how should there be a blessed life where life itself is not?
4.12.19
"But our true Life came down hither, and bore our death, and
slew him, out of the abundance of His own life: and He thundered,
calling aloud to us to return hence to Him into that secret place,
whence He came forth to us, first into the Virgin's womb, wherein
He espoused the human creation, our mortal flesh, that it might not
be for ever mortal, and thence like a bridegroom coming out of his
chamber, rejoicing as a giant to run his course. For He lingered not,
but ran, calling aloud by words, deeds, death, life, descent, ascension;
crying aloud to us to return unto Him. And He departed from our eyes,
that we might return into our heart, and there find Him. For He departed,
and to, He is here. He would not be long with us, yet left us not;
for He departed thither, whence He never parted, because the world
was made by Him. And in this world He was, and into this world He
came to save sinners, unto whom my soul confesseth, and He healeth
it, for it hath sinned against Him. O ye sons of men, how long so
slow of heart? Even now, after the descent of Life to you, will ye
not ascend and live? But whither ascend ye, when ye are on high, and
set your mouth against the heavens? Descend, that ye may ascend, and
ascend to God. For ye have fallen, by ascending against Him." Tell
them this, that they may weep in the valley of tears, and so carry
them up with thee unto God; because out of His spirit thou speakest
thus unto them, if thou speakest, burning with the fire of charity.
4.13.20
These things I then knew not, and I loved these lower beauties,
and I was sinking to the very depths, and to my friends I said, "Do
we love any thing but the beautiful? What then is the beautiful? and
what is beauty? What is it that attracts and wins us to the things
we love? for unless there were in them a grace and beauty, they could
by no means draw us unto them." And I marked and perceived that in
bodies themselves, there was a beauty, from their forming a sort of
whole, and again, another from apt and mutual correspondence, as of
a part of the body with its whole, or a shoe with a foot, and the
like. And this consideration sprang up in my mind, out of my inmost
heart, and I wrote "on the fair and fit," I think, two or three books.
Thou knowest, O Lord, for it is gone from me; for I have them not,
but they are strayed from me, I know not how.
4.14.21
But what moved me, O Lord my God, to dedicate these books unto
Hierius, an orator of Rome, whom I knew not by face, but loved for
the fame of his learning which was eminent in him, and some words
of his I had heard, which pleased me? But more did he please me, for
that he pleased others, who highly extolled him, amazed that out of
a Syrian, first instructed in Greek eloquence, should afterwards be
formed a wonderful Latin orator, and one most learned in things pertaining
unto philosophy. One is commended, and, unseen, he is loved: doth
this love enter the heart of the hearer from the mouth of the commender?
Not so. But by one who loveth is another kindled. For hence he is
loved who is commended, when the commender is believed to extol him
with an unfeigned heart; that is, when one that loves him, praises
him.
4.14.22
For so did I then love men, upon the judgment of men, not Thine,
O my God, in Whom no man is deceived. But yet why not for qualities,
like those of a famous charioteer, or fighter with beasts in the theatre,
known far and wide by a vulgar popularity, but far otherwise, and
earnestly, and so as I would be myself commended? For I would not
be commended or loved, as actors are (though I myself did commend
and love them), but had rather be unknown, than so known; and even
hated, than so loved. Where now are the impulses to such various and
divers kinds of loves laid up in one soul? Why, since we are equally
men, do I love in another what, if I did not hate, I should not spurn
and cast from myself? For it holds not, that as a good horse is loved
by him, who would not, though he might, be that horse, therefore the
same may be said of an actor, who shares our nature. Do I then love
in a man, what I hate to be, who am a man? Man himself is a great
deep, whose very hairs Thou numberest, O Lord, and they fall not to
the ground without Thee. And yet are the hairs of his head easier
to be numbered than his feelings, and the beatings of his heart.
4.14.23
But that orator was of that sort whom I loved, as wishing to
be myself such; and I erred through a swelling pride, and was tossed
about with every wind, but yet was steered by Thee, though very secretly.
And whence do I know, and whence do I confidently confess unto Thee,
that I had loved him more for the love of his commenders, than for
the very things for which he was commended? Because, had he been unpraised,
and these self-same men had dispraised him, and with dispraise and
contempt told the very same things of him, I had never been so kindled
and excited to love him. And yet the things had not been other, nor
he himself other; but only the feelings of the relators. See where
the impotent soul lies along, that is not yet stayed up by the solidity
of truth! Just as the gales of tongues blow from the breast of the
opinionative, so is it carried this way and that, driven forward and
backward, and the light is overclouded to it, and the truth unseen.
And to, it is before us. And it was to me a great matter, that my
discourse and labours should be known to that man: which should he
approve, I were the more kindled; but if he disapproved, my empty
heart, void of Thy solidity, had been wounded. And yet the "fair and
fit," whereon I wrote to him, I dwelt on with pleasure, and surveyed
it, and admired it, though none joined therein.
4.15.24
But I saw not yet, whereon this weighty matter turned in Thy
wisdom, O Thou Omnipotent, who only doest wonders; and my mind ranged
through corporeal forms; and "fair," I defined and distinguished what
is so in itself, and "fit," whose beauty is in correspondence to some
other thing: and this I supported by corporeal examples. And I turned
to the nature of the mind, but the false notion which I had of spiritual
things, let me not see the truth. Yet the force of truth did of itself
flash into mine eyes, and I turned away my panting soul from incorporeal
substance to lineaments, and colours, and bulky magnitudes. And not
being able to see these in the mind, I thought I could not see my
mind. And whereas in virtue I loved peace, and in viciousness I abhorred
discord; in the first I observed a unity, but in the other, a sort
of division. And in that unity I conceived the rational soul, and
the nature of truth and of the chief good to consist; but in this
division I miserably imagined there to be some unknown substance of
irrational life, and the nature of the chief evil, which should not
only be a substance, but real life also, and yet not derived from
Thee, O my God, of whom are all things. And yet that first I called
a Monad, as it had been a soul without sex; but the latter a Duad;
-anger, in deeds of violence, and in flagitiousness, lust; not knowing
whereof I spake. For I had not known or learned that neither was evil
a substance, nor our soul that chief and unchangeable good.
4.15.25
For as deeds of violence arise, if that emotion of the soul be
corrupted, whence vehement action springs, stirring itself insolently
and unrulily; and lusts, when that affection of the soul is ungoverned,
whereby carnal pleasures are drunk in, so do errors and false opinions
defile the conversation, if the reasonable soul itself be corrupted;
as it was then in me, who knew not that it must be enlightened by
another light, that it may be partaker of truth, seeing itself is
not that nature of truth. For Thou shalt light my candle, O Lord my
God, Thou shalt enlighten my darkness: and of Thy fulness have we
all received, for Thou art the true light that lighteth every man
that cometh into the world; for in Thee there is no variableness,
neither shadow of change.
4.15.26
But I pressed towards Thee, and was thrust from Thee, that I
might taste of death: for thou resistest the proud. But what prouder,
than for me with a strange madness to maintain myself to be that by
nature which Thou art? For whereas I was subject to change (so much
being manifest to me, my very desire to become wise, being the wish,
of worse to become better), yet chose I rather to imagine Thee subject
to change, and myself not to be that which Thou art. Therefore I was
repelled by Thee, and Thou resistedst my vain stiffneckedness, and
I imagined corporeal forms, and, myself flesh, I accused flesh; and,
a wind that passeth away, I returned not to Thee, but I passed on
and on to things which have no being, neither in Thee, nor in me,
nor in the body. Neither were they created for me by Thy truth, but
by my vanity devised out of things corporeal. And I was wont to ask
Thy faithful little ones, my fellow-citizens (from whom, unknown to
myself, I stood exiled), I was wont, prating and foolishly, to ask
them, "Why then doth the soul err which God created?" But I would
not be asked, "Why then doth God err?" And I maintained that Thy
unchangeable substance did err upon constraint, rather than confess
that my changeable substance had gone astray voluntarily, and now,
in punishment, lay in error.
4.15.27
I was then some six or seven and twenty years old when I wrote
those volumes; revolving within me corporeal fictions, buzzing in
the ears of my heart, which I turned, O sweet truth, to thy inward
melody, meditating on the "fair and fit," and longing to stand and
hearken to Thee, and to rejoice greatly at the Bridegroom's voice,
but could not; for by the voices of mine own errors, I was hurried
abroad, and through the weight of my own pride, I was sinking into
the lowest pit. For Thou didst not make me to hear joy and gladness,
nor did the bones exult which were not yet humbled.
4.16.28
And what did it profit me, that scarce twenty years old, a book of
Aristotle, which they call the often Predicaments, falling into my hands
(on whose very name I hung, as on something great and divine, so often as
my rhetoric master of Carthage, and others, accounted learned, mouthed it
with cheeks bursting with pride), I read and understood it unaided? And on
my conferring with others, who said that they scarcely understood it with
very able tutors, not only orally explaining it, but drawing many things
in sand, they could tell me no more of it than I had learned, reading it
by myself. And the book appeared to me to speak very clearly of
substances, such as "man," and of their qualities, as the figure of a man,
of what sort it is; and stature, how many feet high; and his
relationship, whose brother he is; or where placed; or when born; or
whether he stands or sits; or be shod or armed; or does, or suffers
anything; and all the innumerable things which might be ranged under these
nine Predicaments, of which I have given some specimens, or under that
chief Predicament of Substance.
4.16.29
What did all this further me, seeing it even hindered me? when,
imagining whatever was, was comprehended under those often Predicaments,
I essayed in such wise to understand, O my God, Thy wonderful and
unchangeable Unity also, as if Thou also hadst been subjected to Thine
own greatness or beauty; so that (as in bodies) they should exist
in Thee, as their subject: whereas Thou Thyself art Thy greatness
and beauty; but a body is not great or fair in that it is a body,
seeing that, though it were less great or fair, it should notwithstanding
be a body. But it was falsehood which of Thee I conceived, not truth,
fictions of my misery, not the realities of Thy blessedness. For Thou
hadst commanded, and it was done in me, that the earth should bring
forth briars and thorns to me, and that in the sweat of my brows I
should eat my bread.
4.16.30
And what did it profit me, that all the books I could procure
of the so-called liberal arts, I, the vile slave of vile affections,
read by myself, and understood? And I delighted in them, but knew
not whence came all, that therein was true or certain. For I had my
back to the light, and my face to the things enlightened; whence my
face, with which I discerned the things enlightened, itself was not
enlightened. Whatever was written, either on rhetoric, or logic, geometry,
music, and arithmetic, by myself without much difficulty or any instructor,
I understood, Thou knowest, O Lord my God; because both quickness
of understanding, and acuteness in discerning, is Thy gift: yet did
I not thence sacrifice to Thee. So then it served not to my use, but
rather to my perdition, since I went about to get so good a portion
of my substance into my own keeping; and I kept not my strength for
Thee, but wandered from Thee into a far country, to spend it upon
harlotries. For what profited me good abilities, not employed to good
uses? For I felt not that those arts were attained with great difficulty,
even by the studious and talented, until I attempted to explain them
to such; when he most excelled in them who followed me not altogether
slowly.
4.16.31
But what did this further me, imagining that Thou, O Lord God,
the Truth, wert a vast and bright body, and I a fragment of that body?
Perverseness too great! But such was I. Nor do I blush, O my God,
to confess to Thee Thy mercies towards me, and to call upon Thee,
who blushed not then to profess to men my blasphemies, and to bark
against Thee. What profited me then my nimble wit in those sciences
and all those most knotty volumes, unravelied by me, without aid from
human instruction; seeing I erred so foully, and with such sacrilegious
shamefulness, in the doctrine of piety? Or what hindrance was a far
slower wit to Thy little ones, since they departed not far from Thee,
that in the nest of Thy Church they might securely be fledged, and
nourish the wings of charity, by the food of a sound faith. O Lord
our God, under the shadow of Thy wings let us hope; protect us, and
carry us. Thou wilt carry us both when little, and even to hoar hairs
wilt Thou carry us; for our firmness, when it is Thou, then is it
firmness; but when our own, it is infirmity. Our good ever lives with
Thee; from which when we turn away, we are turned aside. Let us now,
O Lord, return, that we may not be overturned, because with Thee our
good lives without any decay, which good art Thou; nor need we fear,
lest there be no place whither to return, because we fell from it:
for through our absence, our mansion fell not- Thy eternity.
