St. Augustine Confessions Book 6 Book 7
6.1.1
O Thou, my hope from my youth, where wert Thou to me, and whither
wert Thou gone? Hadst not Thou created me, and separated me from the
beasts of the field, and fowls of the air? Thou hadst made me wiser,
yet did I walk in darkness, and in slippery places, and sought Thee
abroad out of myself, and found not the God of my heart; and had come
into the depths of the sea, and distrusted and despaired of ever finding
truth. My mother had now come to me, resolute through piety, following
me over sea and land, in all perils confiding in Thee. For in perils
of the sea, she comforted the very mariners (by whom passengers unacquainted
with the deep, use rather to be comforted when troubled), assuring
them of a safe arrival, because Thou hadst by a vision assured her
thereof. She found me in grievous peril, through despair of ever finding
truth. But when I had discovered to her that I was now no longer a
Manichee, though not yet a Catholic Christian, she was not overjoyed,
as at something unexpected; although she was now assured concerning
that part of my misery, for which she bewailed me as one dead, though
to be reawakened by Thee, carrying me forth upon the bier of her thoughts,
that Thou mightest say to the son of the widow, Young man, I say unto
thee, Arise; and he should revive, and begin to speak, and Thou shouldest
deliver him to his mother. Her heart then was shaken with no tumultuous
exultation, when she heard that what she daily with tears desired
of Thee was already in so great part realised; in that, though I had
not yet attained the truth, I was rescued from falsehood; but, as
being assured, that Thou, Who hadst promised the whole, wouldest one
day give the rest, most calmly, and with a heart full of confidence,
she replied to me, "She believed in Christ, that before she departed
this life, she should see me a Catholic believer." Thus much to me.
But to Thee, Fountain of mercies, poured she forth more copious prayers
and tears, that Thou wouldest hasten Thy help, and enlighten my darkness;
and she hastened the more eagerly to the Church, and hung upon the
lips of Ambrose, praying for the fountain of that water, which springeth
up unto life everlasting. But that man she loved as an angel of God,
because she knew that by him I had been brought for the present to
that doubtful state of faith I now was in, through which she anticipated
most confidently that I should pass from sickness unto health, after
the access, as it were, of a sharper fit, which physicians call "the
crisis."
6.2.2
When then my mother had once, as she was wont in Afric, brought
to the Churches built in memory of the Saints, certain cakes, and
bread and wine, and was forbidden by the door-keeper; so soon as she
knew that the Bishop had forbidden this, she so piously and obediently
embraced his wishes, that I myself wondered how readily she censured
her own practice, rather than discuss his prohibition. For wine-bibbing
did not lay siege to her spirit, nor did love of wine provoke her
to hatred of the truth, as it doth too many (both men and women),
who revolt at a lesson of sobriety, as men well-drunk at a draught
mingled with water. But she, when she had brought her basket with
the accustomed festival-food, to be but tasted by herself, and then
given away, never joined therewith more than one small cup of wine,
diluted according to her own abstemious habits, which for courtesy
she would taste. And if there were many churches of the departed saints
that were to be honoured in that manner, she still carried round that
same one cup, to be used every where; and this, though not only made
very watery, but unpleasantly heated with carrying about, she would
distribute to those about her by small sips; for she sought there
devotion, not pleasure. So soon, then, as she found this custom to
be forbidden by that famous preacher and most pious prelate, even
to those that would use it soberly, lest so an occasion of excess
might be given to the drunken; and for these, as it were, anniversary
funeral solemnities did much resemble the superstition of the Gentiles,
she most willingly forbare it: and for a basket filled with fruits
of the earth, she had learned to bring to the Churches of the martyrs
a breast filled with more purified petitions, and to give what she
could to the poor; that so the communication of the Lord's Body might
be there rightly celebrated, where, after the example of His Passion,
the martyrs had been sacrificed and crowned. But yet it seems to me,
O Lord my God, and thus thinks my heart of it in Thy sight, that perhaps
she would not so readily have yielded to the cutting off of this custom,
had it been forbidden by another, whom she loved not as Ambrose, whom,
for my salvation, she loved most entirely; and he her again, for her
most religious conversation, whereby in good works, so fervent in
spirit, she was constant at church; so that, when he saw me, he often
burst forth into her praises; congratulating me that I had such a
mother; not knowing what a son she had in me, who doubted of all these
things, and imagined the way to life could not be found out.
6.3.3
Nor did I yet groan in my prayers, that Thou wouldest help me;
but my spirit was wholly intent on learning, and restless to dispute.
And Ambrose himself, as the world counts happy, I esteemed a happy
man, whom personages so great held in such honour; only his celibacy
seemed to me a painful course. But what hope he bore within him, what
struggles he had against the temptations which beset his very excellencies,
or what comfort in adversities, and what sweet joys Thy Bread had
for the hidden mouth of his spirit, when chewing the cud thereof,
I neither could conjecture, nor had experienced. Nor did he know the
tides of my feelings, or the abyss of my danger. For I could not ask
of him, what I would as I would, being shut out both from his ear
and speech by multitudes of busy people, whose weaknesses he served.
With whom when he was not taken up (which was but a little time),
he was either refreshing his body with the sustenance absolutely necessary,
or his mind with reading. But when he was reading, his eye glided
over the pages, and his heart searched out the sense, but his voice
and tongue were at rest. Ofttimes when we had come (for no man was
forbidden to enter, nor was it his wont that any who came should be
announced to him), we saw him thus reading to himself, and never otherwise;
and having long sat silent (for who durst intrude on one so intent?)
we were fain to depart, conjecturing that in the small interval which
he obtained, free from the din of others' business, for the recruiting
of his mind, he was loth to be taken off; and perchance he dreaded
lest if the author he read should deliver any thing obscurely, some
attentive or perplexed hearer should desire him to expound it, or
to discuss some of the harder questions; so that his time being thus
spent, he could not turn over so many volumes as he desired; although
the preserving of his voice (which a very little speaking would weaken)
might be the truer reason for his reading to himself. But with what
intent soever he did it, certainly in such a man it was good.
6.3.4
I however certainly had no opportunity of enquiring what I wished
of that so holy oracle of Thine, his breast, unless the thing might
be answered briefly. But those tides in me, to be poured out to him,
required his full leisure, and never found it. I heard him indeed
every Lord's day, rightly expounding the Word of truth among the people;
and I was more and more convinced that all the knots of those crafty
calumnies, which those our deceivers had knit against the Divine Books,
could be unravelled. But when I understood withal, that "man created
by Thee, after Thine own image," was not so understood by Thy spiritual
sons, whom of the Catholic Mother Thou hast born again through grace,
as though they believed and conceived of Thee as bounded by human
shape (although what a spiritual substance should be I had not even
a faint or shadowy notion); yet, with joy I blushed at having so many
years barked not against the Catholic faith, but against the fictions
of carnal imaginations. For so rash and impious had I been, that what
I ought by enquiring to have learned, I had pronounced on, condemning.
For Thou, Most High, and most near; most secret, and most present;
Who hast not limbs some larger, some smaller, but art wholly every
where, and no where in space, art not of such corporeal shape, yet
hast Thou made man after Thine own image; and behold, from head to
foot is he contained in space.
6.4.5
Ignorant then how this Thy image should subsist, I should have
knocked and proposed the doubt, how it was to be believed, not insultingly
opposed it, as if believed. Doubt, then, what to hold for certain,
the more sharply gnawed my heart, the more ashamed I was, that so
long deluded and deceived by the promise of certainties, I had with
childish error and vehemence, prated of so many uncertainties. For
that they were falsehoods became clear to me later. However I was
certain that they were uncertain, and that I had formerly accounted
them certain, when with a blind contentiousness, I accused Thy Catholic
Church, whom I now discovered, not indeed as yet to teach truly, but
at least not to teach that for which I had grievously censured her.
So I was confounded, and converted: and I joyed, O my God, that the
One Only Church, the body of Thine Only Son (wherein the name of Christ
had been put upon me as an infant), had no taste for infantine conceits;
nor in her sound doctrine maintained any tenet which should confine
Thee, the Creator of all, in space, however great and large, yet bounded
every where by the limits of a human form.
6.4.6
I joyed also that the old Scriptures of the law and the Prophets
were laid before me, not now to be perused with that eye to which
before they seemed absurd, when I reviled Thy holy ones for so thinking,
whereas indeed they thought not so: and with joy I heard Ambrose in
his sermons to the people, oftentimes most diligently recommend this
text for a rule, The letter killeth, but the Spirit giveth life; whilst
he drew aside the mystic veil, laying open spiritually what, according
to the letter, seemed to teach something unsound; teaching herein
nothing that offended me, though he taught what I knew not as yet,
whether it were true. For I kept my heart from assenting to any thing,
fearing to fall headlong; but by hanging in suspense I was the worse
killed. For I wished to be as assured of the things I saw not, as
I was that seven and three are ten. For I was not so mad as to think
that even this could not be comprehended; but I desired to have other
things as clear as this, whether things corporeal, which were not
present to my senses, or spiritual, whereof I knew not how to conceive,
except corporeally. And by believing might I have been cured, that
so the eyesight of my soul being cleared, might in some way be directed
to Thy truth, which abideth always, and in no part faileth. But as
it happens that one who has tried a bad physician, fears to trust
himself with a good one, so was it with the health of my soul, which
could not be healed but by believing, and lest it should believe falsehoods,
refused to be cured; resisting Thy hands, Who hast prepared the medicines
of faith, and hast applied them to the diseases of the whole world,
and given unto them so great authority.
6.5.7
Being led, however, from this to prefer the Catholic doctrine,
I felt that her proceeding was more unassuming and honest, in that
she required to be believed things not demonstrated (whether it was
that they could in themselves be demonstrated but not to certain persons,
or could not at all be), whereas among the Manichees our credulity
was mocked by a promise of certain knowledge, and then so many most
fabulous and absurd things were imposed to be believed, because they
could not be demonstrated. Then Thou, O Lord, little by little with
most tender and most merciful hand, touching and composing my heart,
didst persuade me- considering what innumerable things I believed,
which I saw not, nor was present while they were done, as so many
things in secular history, so many reports of places and of cities,
which I had not seen; so many of friends, so many of physicians, so
many continually of other men, which unless we should believe, we
should do nothing at all in this life; lastly, with how unshaken an
assurance I believed of what parents I was born, which I could not
know, had I not believed upon hearsay -considering all this, Thou
didst persuade me, that not they who believed Thy Books (which Thou
hast established in so great authority among almost all nations),
but they who believed them not, were to be blamed; and that they were
not to be heard, who should say to me, "How knowest thou those Scriptures
to have been imparted unto mankind by the Spirit of the one true and
most true God?" For this very thing was of all most to be believed,
since no contentiousness of blasphemous questionings, of all that
multitude which I had read in the self-contradicting philosophers,
could wring this belief from me, "That Thou art" whatsoever Thou wert
(what I knew not), and "That the government of human things belongs
to Thee."
6.5.8
This I believed, sometimes more strongly, more weakly otherwhiles;
yet I ever believed both that Thou wert, and hadst a care of us; though
I was ignorant, both what was to be thought of Thy substance, and
what way led or led back to Thee. Since then we were too weak by abstract
reasonings to find out truth: and for this very cause needed the authority
of Holy Writ; I had now begun to believe that Thou wouldest never
have given such excellency of authority to that Writ in all lands,
hadst Thou not willed thereby to be believed in, thereby sought. For
now what things, sounding strangely in the Scripture, were wont to
offend me, having heard divers of them expounded satisfactorily, I
referred to the depth of the mysteries, and its authority appeared
to me the more venerable, and more worthy of religious credence, in
that, while it lay open to all to read, it reserved the majesty of
its mysteries within its profounder meaning, stooping to all in the
great plainness of its words and lowliness of its style, yet calling
forth the intensest application of such as are not light of heart;
that so it might receive all in its open bosom, and through narrow
passages waft over towards Thee some few, yet many more than if it
stood not aloft on such a height of authority, nor drew multitudes
within its bosom by its holy lowliness. These things I thought on,
and Thou wert with me; I sighed, and Thou heardest me; I wavered,
and Thou didst guide me; I wandered through the broad way of the world,
and Thou didst not forsake me.
6.6.9
I panted after honours, gains, marriage; and thou deridedst me.
In these desires I underwent most bitter crosses, Thou being the more
gracious, the less Thou sufferedst aught to grow sweet to me, which
was not Thou. Behold my heart, O Lord, who wouldest I should remember
all this, and confess to Thee. Let my soul cleave unto Thee, now that
Thou hast freed it from that fast-holding birdlime of death. How wretched
was it! and Thou didst irritate the feeling of its wound, that forsaking
all else, it might be converted unto Thee, who art above all, and
without whom all things would be nothing; be converted, and be healed.
How miserable was I then, and how didst Thou deal with me, to make
me feel my misery on that day, when I was preparing to recite a panegyric
of the Emperor, wherein I was to utter many a lie, and lying, was
to be applauded by those who knew I lied, and my heart was panting
with these anxieties, and boiling with the feverishness of consuming
thoughts. For, passing through one of the streets of Milan, I observed
a poor beggar, then, I suppose, with a full belly, joking and joyous:
and I sighed, and spoke to the friends around me, of the many sorrows
of our frenzies; for that by all such efforts of ours, as those wherein
I then toiled dragging along, under the goading of desire, the burthen
of my own wretchedness, and, by dragging, augmenting it, we yet looked
to arrive only at that very joyousness whither that beggar-man had
arrived before us, who should never perchance attain it. For what
he had obtained by means of a few begged pence, the same was I plotting
for by many a toilsome turning and winding; the joy of a temporary
felicity. For he verily had not the true joy; but yet I with those
my ambitious designs was seeking one much less true. And certainly
he was joyous, I anxious; he void of care, I full of fears. But should
any ask me, had I rather be merry or fearful? I would answer merry.
Again, if he asked had I rather be such as he was, or what I then
was? I should choose to be myself, though worn with cares and fears;
but out of wrong judgment; for, was it the truth? For I ought not
to prefer myself to him, because more learned than he, seeing I had
no joy therein, but sought to please men by it; and that not to instruct,
but simply to please. Wherefore also Thou didst break my bones with
the staff of Thy correction.
6.6.10
Away with those then from my soul who say to her, "It makes a
difference whence a man's joy is. That beggar-man joyed in drunkenness;
Thou desiredst to joy in glory." What glory, Lord? That which is not
in Thee. For even as his was no true joy, so was that no true glory:
and it overthrew my soul more. He that very night should digest his
drunkenness; but I had slept and risen again with mine, and was to
sleep again, and again to rise with it, how many days, Thou, God,
knowest. But "it doth make a difference whence a man's joy is." I
know it, and the joy of a faithful hope lieth incomparably beyond
such vanity. Yea, and so was he then beyond me: for he verily was
the happier; not only for that he was thoroughly drenched in mirth,
I disembowelled with cares: but he, by fair wishes, had gotten wine;
I, by lying, was seeking for empty, swelling praise. Much to this
purpose said I then to my friends: and I often marked in them how
it fared with me; and I found it went ill with me, and grieved, and
doubled that very ill; and if any prosperity smiled on me, I was loth
to catch at it, for almost before I could grasp it, it flew away.
6.7.11
These things we, who were living as friends together, bemoaned
together, but chiefly and most familiarly did I speak thereof with
Alypius and Nebridius, of whom Alypius was born in the same town with
me, of persons of chief rank there, but younger than I. For he had
studied under me, both when I first lectured in our town, and afterwards
at Carthage, and he loved me much, because I seemed to him kind, and
learned; and I him, for his great towardliness to virtue, which was
eminent enough in one of no greater years. Yet the whirlpool of Carthaginian
habits (amongst whom those idle spectacles are hotly followed) had
drawn him into the madness of the Circus. But while he was miserably
tossed therein, and I, professing rhetoric there, had a public school,
as yet he used not my teaching, by reason of some unkindness risen
betwixt his father and me. I had found then how deadly he doted upon
the Circus, and was deeply grieved that he seemed likely, nay, or
had thrown away so great promise: yet had I no means of advising or
with a sort of constraint reclaiming him, either by the kindness of
a friend, or the authority of a master. For I supposed that he thought
of me as did his father; but he was not such; laying aside then his
father's mind in that matter, he began to greet me, come sometimes
into my lecture room, hear a little, and be gone.
6.7.12
I however had forgotten to deal with him, that he should not,
through a blind and headlong desire of vain pastimes, undo so good
a wit. But Thou, O Lord, who guidest the course of all Thou hast created,
hadst not forgotten him, who was one day to be among Thy children,
Priest and Dispenser of Thy Sacrament; and that his amendment might
plainly be attributed to Thyself, Thou effectedst it through me, unknowingly.
For as one day I sat in my accustomed place, with my scholars before
me, he entered, greeted me, sat down, and applied his mind to what
I then handled. I had by chance a passage in hand, which while I was
explaining, a likeness from the Circensian races occurred to me, as
likely to make what I would convey pleasanter and plainer, seasoned
with biting mockery of those whom that madness had enthralled; God,
Thou knowest that I then thought not of curing Alypius of that infection.
But he took it wholly to himself, and thought that I said it simply
for his sake. And whence another would have taken occasion of offence
with me, that right-minded youth took as a ground of being offended
at himself, and loving me more fervently. For Thou hadst said it long
ago, and put it into Thy book, Rebuke a wise man and he will love
Thee. But I had not rebuked him, but Thou, who employest all, knowing
or not knowing, in that order which Thyself knowest (and that order
is just), didst of my heart and tongue make burning coals, by which
to set on fire the hopeful mind, thus languishing, and so cure it.
Let him be silent in Thy praises, who considers not Thy mercies, which
confess unto Thee out of my inmost soul. For he upon that speech burst
out of that pit so deep, wherein he was wilfully plunged, and was
blinded with its wretched pastimes; and he shook his mind with a strong
self-command; whereupon all the filths of the Circensian pastimes
flew off from him, nor came he again thither. Upon this, he prevailed
with his unwilling father that he might be my scholar. He gave way,
and gave in. And Alypius beginning to be my hearer again, was involved
in the same superstition with me, loving in the Manichees that show
of continency which he supposed true and unfeigned. Whereas it was
a senseless and seducing continency, ensnaring precious souls, unable
as yet to reach the depth of virtue, yet readily beguiled with the
surface of what was but a shadowy and counterfeit virtue.
6.8.13
He, not forsaking that secular course which his parents had charmed
him to pursue, had gone before me to Rome, to study law, and there
he was carried away incredibly with an incredible eagerness after
the shows of gladiators. For being utterly averse to and detesting
spectacles, he was one day by chance met by divers of his acquaintance
and fellow-students coming from dinner, and they with a familiar violence
haled him, vehemently refusing and resisting, into the Amphitheatre,
during these cruel and deadly shows, he thus protesting: "Though you
hale my body to that place, and there set me, can you force me also
to turn my mind or my eyes to those shows? I shall then be absent
while present, and so shall overcome both you and them." They, hearing
this, led him on nevertheless, desirous perchance to try that very
thing, whether he could do as he said. When they were come thither,
and had taken their places as they could, the whole place kindled
with that savage pastime. But he, closing the passage of his eyes,
forbade his mind to range abroad after such evil; and would he had
stopped his ears also! For in the fight, when one fell, a mighty cry
of the whole people striking him strongly, overcome by curiosity,
and as if prepared to despise and be superior to it whatsoever it
were, even when seen, he opened his eyes, and was stricken with a
deeper wound in his soul than the other, whom he desired to behold,
was in his body; and he fell more miserably than he upon whose fall
that mighty noise was raised, which entered through his ears, and
unlocked his eyes, to make way for the striking and beating down of
a soul, bold rather than resolute, and the weaker, in that it had
presumed on itself, which ought to have relied on Thee. For so soon
as he saw that blood, he therewith drunk down savageness; nor turned
away, but fixed his eye, drinking in frenzy, unawares, and was delighted
with that guilty fight, and intoxicated with the bloody pastime. Nor
was he now the man he came, but one of the throng he came unto, yea,
a true associate of theirs that brought him thither. Why say more?
He beheld, shouted, kindled, carried thence with him the madness which
should goad him to return not only with them who first drew him thither,
but also before them, yea and to draw in others. Yet thence didst
Thou with a most strong and most merciful hand pluck him, and taughtest
him to have confidence not in himself, but in Thee. But this was after.
6.9.14
But this was already being laid up in his memory to be a medicine
hereafter. So was that also, that when he was yet studying under me
at Carthage, and was thinking over at mid-day in the market-place
what he was to say by heart (as scholars use to practise), Thou sufferedst
him to be apprehended by the officers of the market-place for a thief.
For no other cause, I deem, didst Thou, our God, suffer it, but that
he who was hereafter to prove so great a man, should already begin
to learn that in judging of causes, man was not readily to be condemned
by man out of a rash credulity. For as he was walking up and down
by himself before the judgment-seat, with his note-book and pen, lo,
a young man, a lawyer, the real thief, privily bringing a hatchet,
got in, unperceived by Alypius, as far as the leaden gratings which
fence in the silversmiths' shops, and began to cut away the lead.
But the noise of the hatchet being heard, the silversmiths beneath
began to make a stir, and sent to apprehend whomever they should find.
But he, hearing their voices, ran away, leaving his hatchet, fearing
to be taken with it. Alypius now, who had not seen him enter, was
aware of his going, and saw with what speed he made away. And being
desirous to know the matter, entered the place; where finding the
hatchet, he was standing, wondering and considering it, when behold,
those that had been sent, find him alone with the hatchet in his hand,
the noise whereof had startled and brought them thither. They seize
him, hale him away, and gathering the dwellers in the market-place
together, boast of having taken a notorious thief, and so he was being
led away to be taken before the judge.
6.9.15
But thus far was Alypius to be instructed. For forthwith, O Lord,
Thou succouredst his innocency, whereof Thou alone wert witness. For
as he was being led either to prison or to punishment, a certain architect
met them, who had the chief charge of the public buildings. Glad they
were to meet him especially, by whom they were wont to be suspected
of stealing the goods lost out of the marketplace, as though to show
him at last by whom these thefts were committed. He, however, had
divers times seen Alypius at a certain senator's house, to whom he
often went to pay his respects; and recognising him immediately, took
him aside by the hand, and enquiring the occasion of so great a calamity,
heard the whole matter, and bade all present, amid much uproar and
threats, to go with him. So they came to the house of the young man
who had done the deed. There, before the door, was a boy so young
as to be likely, not apprehending any harm to his master, to disclose
the whole. For he had attended his master to the market-place. Whom
so soon as Alypius remembered, he told the architect: and he showing
the hatchet to the boy, asked him "Whose that was?" "Ours," quoth
he presently: and being further questioned, he discovered every thing.
Thus the crime being transferred to that house, and the multitude
ashamed, which had begun to insult over Alypius, he who was to be
a dispenser of Thy Word, and an examiner of many causes in Thy Church,
went away better experienced and instructed.
6.10.16
Him then I had found at Rome, and he clave to me by a most strong
tie, and went with me to Milan, both that he might not leave me, and
might practise something of the law he had studied, more to please
his parents than himself. There he had thrice sat as Assessor, with
an uncorruptness much wondered at by others, he wondering at others
rather who could prefer gold to honesty. His character was tried besides,
not only with the bait of covetousness, but with the goad of fear.
At Rome he was Assessor to the count of the Italian Treasury. There
was at that time a very powerful senator, to whose favours many stood
indebted, many much feared. He would needs, by his usual power, have
a thing allowed him which by the laws was unallowed. Alypius resisted
it: a bribe was promised; with all his heart he scorned it: threats
were held out; he trampled upon them: all wondering at so unwonted
a spirit, which neither desired the friendship, nor feared the enmity
of one so great and so mightily renowned for innumerable means of
doing good or evil. And the very judge, whose councillor Alypius was,
although also unwilling it should be, yet did not openly refuse, but
put the matter off upon Alypius, alleging that he would not allow
him to do it: for in truth had the judge done it, Alypius would have
decided otherwise. With this one thing in the way of learning was
he well-nigh seduced, that he might have books copied for him at Praetorian
prices, but consulting justice, he altered his deliberation for the
better; esteeming equity whereby he was hindered more gainful than
the power whereby he were allowed. These are slight things, but he
that is faithful in little, is faithful also in much. Nor can that
any how be void, which proceeded out of the mouth of Thy Truth: If
ye have not been faithful in the unrighteous Mammon, who will commit
to your trust true riches? And if ye have not been faithful in that
which is another man's, who shall give you that which is your own?
He being such, did at that time cleave to me, and with me wavered
in purpose, what course of life was to be taken.
6.10.17
Nebridius also, who having left his native country near Carthage,
yea and Carthage itself, where he had much lived, leaving his excellent
family-estate and house, and a mother behind, who was not to follow
him, had come to Milan, for no other reason but that with me he might
live in a most ardent search after truth and wisdom. Like me he sighed,
like me he wavered, an ardent searcher after true life, and a most
acute examiner of the most difficult questions. Thus were there the
mouths of three indigent persons, sighing out their wants one to another,
and waiting upon Thee that Thou mightest give them their meat in due
season. And in all the bitterness which by Thy mercy followed our
worldly affairs, as we looked towards the end, why we should suffer
all this, darkness met us; and we turned away groaning, and saying,
How long shall these things be? This too we often said; and so saying
forsook them not, for as yet there dawned nothing certain, which these
forsaken, we might embrace.
6.11.18
And I, viewing and reviewing things, most wondered at the length
of time from that my nineteenth year, wherein I had begun to kindle
with the desire of wisdom, settling when I had found her, to abandon
all the empty hopes and lying frenzies of vain desires. And lo, I
was now in my thirtieth year, sticking in the same mire, greedy of
enjoying things present, which passed away and wasted my soul; while
I said to myself, "Tomorrow I shall find it; it will appear manifestly
and I shall grasp it; to, Faustus the Manichee will come, and clear
every thing! O you great men, ye Academicians, it is true then, that
no certainty can be attained for the ordering of life! Nay, let us
search the more diligently, and despair not. Lo, things in the ecclesiastical
books are not absurd to us now, which sometimes seemed absurd, and
may be otherwise taken, and in a good sense. I will take my stand,
where, as a child, my parents placed me, until the clear truth be
found out. But where shall it be sought or when? Ambrose has no leisure;
we have no leisure to read; where shall we find even the books? Whence,
or when procure them? from whom borrow them? Let set times be appointed,
and certain hours be ordered for the health of our soul. Great hope
has dawned; the Catholic Faith teaches not what we thought, and vainly
accused it of; her instructed members hold it profane to believe God
to be bounded by the figure of a human body: and do we doubt to 'knock,'
that the rest 'may be opened'? The forenoons our scholars take up;
what do we during the rest? Why not this? But when then pay we court
to our great friends, whose favour we need? When compose what we may
sell to scholars? When refresh ourselves, unbending our minds from
this intenseness of care?
6.11.19
"Perish every thing, dismiss we these empty vanities, and betake
ourselves to the one search for truth! Life is vain, death uncertain;
if it steals upon us on a sudden, in what state shall we depart hence?
and where shall we learn what here we have neglected? and shall we
not rather suffer the punishment of this negligence? What, if death
itself cut off and end all care and feeling? Then must this be ascertained.
But God forbid this! It is no vain and empty thing, that the excellent
dignity of the authority of the Christian Faith hath overspread the
whole world. Never would such and so great things be by God wrought
for us, if with the death of the body the life of the soul came to
an end. Wherefore delay then to abandon worldly hopes, and give ourselves
wholly to seek after God and the blessed life? But wait! Even those
things are pleasant; they have some, and no small sweetness. We must
not lightly abandon them, for it were a shame to return again to them.
See, it is no great matter now to obtain some station, and then what
should we more wish for? We have store of powerful friends; if nothing
else offer, and we be in much haste, at least a presidentship may
be given us: and a wife with some money, that she increase not our
charges: and this shall be the bound of desire. Many great men, and
most worthy of imitation, have given themselves to the study of wisdom
in the state of marriage.
6.11.20
While I went over these things, and these winds shifted and drove
my heart this way and that, time passed on, but I delayed to turn
to the Lord; and from day to day deferred to live in Thee, and deferred
not daily to die in myself. Loving a happy life, I feared it in its
own abode, and sought it, by fleeing from it. I thought I should be
too miserable, unless folded in female arms; and of the medicine of
Thy mercy to cure that infirmity I thought not, not having tried it.
As for continency, I supposed it to be in our own power (though in
myself I did not find that power), being so foolish as not to know
what is written, None can be continent unless Thou give it; and that
Thou wouldest give it, if with inward groanings I did knock at Thine
ears, and with a settled faith did cast my care on Thee.
6.12.21
Alypius indeed kept me from marrying; alleging that so could
we by no means with undistracted leisure live together in the love
of wisdom, as we had long desired. For himself was even then most
pure in this point, so that it was wonderful; and that the more, since
in the outset of his youth he had entered into that course, but had
not stuck fast therein; rather had he felt remorse and revolting at
it, living thenceforth until now most continently. But I opposed him
with the examples of those who as married men had cherished wisdom,
and served God acceptably, and retained their friends, and loved them
faithfully. Of whose greatness of spirit I was far short; and bound
with the disease of the flesh, and its deadly sweetness, drew along
my chain, dreading to be loosed, and as if my wound had been fretted,
put back his good persuasions, as it were the hand of one that would
unchain me. Moreover, by me did the serpent speak unto Alypius himself,
by my tongue weaving and laying in his path pleasurable snares, wherein
his virtuous and free feet might be entangled.
6.12.22
For when he wondered that I, whom he esteemed not slightly, should
stick so fast in the birdlime of that pleasure, as to protest (so
oft as we discussed it) that I could never lead a single life; and
urged in my defence when I saw him wonder, that there was great difference
between his momentary and scarce-remembered knowledge of that life,
which so he might easily despise, and my continued acquaintance whereto
if the honourable name of marriage were added, he ought not to wonder
why I could not contemn that course; he began also to desire to be
married; not as overcome with desire of such pleasure, but out of
curiosity. For he would fain know, he said, what that should be, without
which my life, to him so pleasing, would to me seem not life but a
punishment. For his mind, free from that chain, was amazed at my thraldom;
and through that amazement was going on to a desire of trying it,
thence to the trial itself, and thence perhaps to sink into that bondage
whereat he wondered, seeing he was willing to make a covenant with
death; and he that loves danger, shall fall into it. For whatever
honour there be in the office of well-ordering a married life, and
a family, moved us but slightly. But me for the most part the habit
of satisfying an insatiable appetite tormented, while it held me captive;
him, an admiring wonder was leading captive. So were we, until Thou,
O Most High, not forsaking our dust, commiserating us miserable, didst
come to our help, by wondrous and secret ways.
6.13.23
Continual effort was made to have me married. I wooed, I was
promised, chiefly through my mother's pains, that so once married,
the health-giving baptism might cleanse me, towards which she rejoiced
that I was being daily fitted, and observed that her prayers, and
Thy promises, were being fulfilled in my faith. At which time verily,
both at my request and her own longing, with strong cries of heart
she daily begged of Thee, that Thou wouldest by a vision discover
unto her something concerning my future marriage; Thou never wouldest.
She saw indeed certain vain and fantastic things, such as the energy
of the human spirit, busied thereon, brought together; and these she
told me of, not with that confidence she was wont, when Thou showedst
her any thing, but slighting them. For she could, she said, through
a certain feeling, which in words she could not express, discern betwixt
Thy revelations, and the dreams of her own soul. Yet the matter was
pressed on, and a maiden asked in marriage, two years under the fit
age; and, as pleasing, was waited for.
6.14.24
And many of us friends conferring about, and detesting the turbulent
turmoils of human life, had debated and now almost resolved on living
apart from business and the bustle of men; and this was to be thus
obtained; we were to bring whatever we might severally procure, and
make one household of all; so that through the truth of our friendship
nothing should belong especially to any; but the whole thus derived
from all, should as a whole belong to each, and all to all. We thought
there might be some often persons in this society; some of whom were
very rich, especially Romanianus our townsman, from childhood a very
familiar friend of mine, whom the grievous perplexities of his affairs
had brought up to court; who was the most earnest for this project;
and therein was his voice of great weight, because his ample estate
far exceeded any of the rest. We had settled also that two annual
officers, as it were, should provide all things necessary, the rest
being undisturbed. But when we began to consider whether the wives,
which some of us already had, others hoped to have, would allow this,
all that plan, which was being so well moulded, fell to pieces in
our hands, was utterly dashed and cast aside. Thence we betook us
to sighs, and groans, and our steps to follow the broad and beaten
ways of the world; for many thoughts were in our heart, but Thy counsel
standeth for ever. Out of which counsel Thou didst deride ours, and
preparedst Thine own; purposing to give us meat in due season, and
to fill our souls with blessing.
6.15.25
Meanwhile my sins were being multiplied, and my concubine being
torn from my side as a hindrance to my marriage, my heart which clave
unto her was torn and wounded and bleeding. And she returned to Afric,
vowing unto Thee never to know any other man, leaving with me my son
by her. But unhappy I, who could not imitate a very woman, impatient
of delay, inasmuch as not till after two years was I to obtain her
I sought not being so much a lover of marriage as a slave to lust,
procured another, though no wife, that so by the servitude of an enduring
custom, the disease of my soul might be kept up and carried on in
its vigour, or even augmented, into the dominion of marriage. Nor
was that my wound cured, which had been made by the cutting away of
the former, but after inflammation and most acute pain, it mortified,
and my pains became less acute, but more desperate.
6.16.26
To Thee be praise, glory to Thee, Fountain of mercies. I was
becoming more miserable, and Thou nearer. Thy right hand was continually
ready to pluck me out of the mire, and to wash me thoroughly, and
I knew it not; nor did anything call me back from a yet deeper gulf
of carnal pleasures, but the fear of death, and of Thy judgment to
come; which amid all my changes, never departed from my breast. And
in my disputes with my friends Alypius and Nebridius of the nature
of good and evil, I held that Epicurus had in my mind won the palm,
had I not believed that after death there remained a life for the
soul, and places of requital according to men's deserts, which Epicurus
would not believe. And I asked, "were we immortal, and to live in
perpetual bodily pleasure, without fear of losing it, why should we
not be happy, or what else should we seek?" not knowing that great
misery was involved in this very thing, that, being thus sunk and
blinded, I could not discern that light of excellence and beauty,
to be embraced for its own sake, which the eye of flesh cannot see,
and is seen by the inner man. Nor did I, unhappy, consider from what
source it sprung, that even on these things, foul as they were, I
with pleasure discoursed with my friends, nor could I, even according
to the notions I then had of happiness, be happy without friends,
amid what abundance soever of carnal pleasures. And yet these friends
I loved for themselves only, and I felt that I was beloved of them
again for myself only.
O crooked paths! Woe to the audacious soul, which hoped, by forsaking
Thee, to gain some better thing! Turned it hath, and turned again,
upon back, sides, and belly, yet all was painful; and Thou alone rest.
And behold, Thou art at hand, and deliverest us from our wretched
wanderings, and placest us in Thy way, and dost comfort us, and say,
"Run; I will carry you; yea I will bring you through; there also will
I carry you."
