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The Confessions of S. Augustine 
 
The ^Confessions 
 of S. Augustine? 
 Books I to X ^ j2f 
 
 London: Griffith Farran Browne 
 & Co Limited 35 Bow Street 
 

 
 ^1 
 
 f^ 
 
TTo tbe 
 VENERABLE BROUGH MALTBY, 
 
 ARCHDEACON OF NOTTINGHAM, 
 
 AS TO ONE WHO KNOWS MANY BOOKS 
 
 AND LOVES THEM, 
 
 AND SEEKS THE BEST BOTH OF 
 
 OLD AND NEW, 
 
 THIS LIBRARY OF ANCIENT AND MODERN 
 
 THEOLOGICAL LITERATURE 
 
 50 IRespecttull^ 5nscrfbeD 
 
 BY HIS FAITHFUL SERVANT, 
 MINDFUL OF MANY KINDNESSES, 
 
 THE EDITOR. 
 
 Michaelmas. 18861 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 OAINT AUGUSTINE, the "Doctor of Grace," was 
 bom in the year 354, at Thagaste in Numidia, and 
 the incidents of his early life up to the thirty-third year of 
 his age form much of the matter of this book. After his 
 conversion, upon the interruption of his journey to Africa 
 by his mother's death, which is recorded in the ninth book 
 of the ** Confessions," he turned back for a while to Rome, 
 but returned to Thagaste about the year 390, where for 
 some time he lived a retired life in community with some 
 of his friends. At length, though very reluctantly, thinking 
 that the excesses of his youth were a disqualification for 
 holding office in the Church, in obedience to the great 
 desire of Valerius, Bishop of Hippo, and the Christian 
 Church in that place, he consented to be ordained to the 
 priesthood, and was soon raised to the Episcopate as 
 coadjutor with Valerius, at whose death he succeeded to 
 the Bishopric. 
 
 The three great heresies of the Manichaeans, Arians, and 
 Pelagians, and the Donatist schism, during the life-time of 
 S. Augustine, menaced the Catholic Faith : of his associa- 
 tion with the Manichaean heresy. Books III. to VIII. of the 
 " Confessions " contain the record. Upon his conversion 
 he became a most stout and valued champion of the 
 Catholic Faith, and had the happiness of seeing the 
 Donatist sect almost entirely reabsorbed within the Church, 
 and the Pelagian heresy utterly discredited. 
 
viii Preface. ^ 
 
 The "Confessions" of S. Augustine are exceedingly 
 interesting in the picture they present to us of the Church 
 in the fourth century, surrounded with paganism and heresy; 
 in conflict with both, as also with the moral degradation 
 which marks the decay of the Roman Empire. Clearly 
 manifest is the fact that " She was indeed the Salt of the 
 earth," which but for her must have continued to wallow 
 in corruption. The life which she at that time demanded 
 of her " Faithful " members was strict, severe, and ascetic ; 
 and to the calm contentment of such a life were drawn 
 those who were wearied with the turmoil and restless 
 activity which belonged to the secular life, with the pleasures 
 and pursuits of that day. It may possibly have been in 
 danger of becoming not only " not of the world," but almost 
 " not in the world." Verecundus, for example, long delays 
 his conversion, because he was a married man, and the 
 ascetic celibate life of the Church, which thus was rendered 
 impossible for him, was what most attracted him ; and if he 
 could not be a Christian of that type, he would not, he thought, 
 become a Christian at all. The fruit of this teaching and 
 practice, in souls such as that of S. Augustine, was an entire 
 renunciation of the joys of the world, and a complete 
 absorption in the religious life. 
 
 The temperament of the Saint was ardent, affectionate, 
 and excitable. Whether in early youth he is led by desire of 
 his companions' praise to rob a neighbour's orchard, or re- 
 cords the desolation of soul caused by the death of a friend, 
 whether later he dwells on the characters of Alypius and 
 Nebridius, or that of Adeodatus, the son of his sin, or whether 
 it is his converse with Monica his mother, and her loving and 
 tender care of him, or his sorrow for her death, that is his 
 theme, he reveals himself as a loving-hearted man, to whom 
 
Preface. ix 
 
 friendship and fellowship were absolutely essential, and 
 one in whom was no trace of paltry personal feeling. The 
 style of the "Confessions" bears many traces of his training 
 in rhetoric. It is often epigrammatic, and in a stately and 
 untranslatable way he plays on the sound of words, and 
 balances them with extraordinary care. His familiarity 
 with and common use of Scripture is remarkable. His 
 mind was thoroughly steeped in it, and its phrases had 
 become so much a part of his vocabulary that they are of 
 constant recurrence in his writings. The piety of his 
 purpose, which does not shrink from unveiling the darkest 
 recesses of his soul, cannot save the book in parts from 
 being terrible. The long struggle between his higher 
 spiritual impulses and his lower carnal habits ; the way in 
 which his moral character and conduct act an^ react upon 
 his mental clearness of vision, and his state of religious 
 doubt ; these things are set forth in a manner which cannot 
 fail to awaken deep interest, and to manifest the intimate con- 
 nection between moral habit and right faith. To the Agnostic 
 of the nineteenth century the " Confessions of S. Augustine " 
 are a warning; while the complete satisfaction and rest 
 which his keen and cultured intellect, after at the prompting 
 of his lower nature it had subtly sought many respites from 
 a faith which demanded a purer life than he was prepared 
 to live, found at length in the Creed of th^ "Catholic 
 Mother," may suffice to convince that the Religion of 
 Christ has in it depths which can afford to the most logical 
 and scientific minds a peace which will elsewhere be sought 
 in vain. 
 
 The translation is revised, and the issue of this edition is 
 made in the hope that the self-humiliation of S. Augustine, 
 in so baring his inmost soul to the criticism of a gainsaying 
 
X Preface. 
 
 world, may under God still bring forth its iruits in the 
 conversion of many, and the establishment of more in that 
 true life of Catholic Faith, sacramental in its origin, in its 
 course, and in its close, which he describes as being the life 
 of his mother Monica, and in which after his conversion he 
 lived most holily until his death in the year 430. 
 
 EDITOR. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 Booft J» 
 
 AFTER AN INVOCATION OF GOD, AUGUSTINE DECLARES THE 
 BEGINNINGS OF HIS LIFE ; HIS INFANCY AND BOYHOOD 
 UP TO HIS FIFTEENTH YEAR. HE CONFESSES THAT AT 
 THIS AGE HE WAS MORE FOND OF CHILDISH AMUSE- 
 MENTS AND FOLLIES THAN OF LEARNING. 
 
 CHAP. 
 
 1. He declares the greatness of God ; and by Him aroused 
 desires to seek and call upon Him . 
 II. That God, upon whom we call, is in us, and we in 
 Him. 
 
 III. God wholly fiUeth all things; but Him, nor heaven, 
 
 nor eaitn, containeth .... 
 
 IV. The Majesty of God is supreme ; and His perfections 
 
 caniibt be expressed ..... 
 
 V. He seeketh rest in God, and forgiveness of his sins 
 VI. He describes his infancy, and extols the protecting 
 
 cari 4ad eternal providence of God . 
 VII. He proves^ that even infancy is prone to sin 
 VIII. That a.diild learneth not to speak by rules, but from 
 the gesdares and words of his parents 
 IX. Concerning the hatred of lessons, the love of play, and 
 the fear of being whippeoi, noticeable in boys ; and 
 concerning the inconsistencies of their elders and 
 masters ...... 
 
 X. From love of sports and shows he neglects his studies, 
 
 and the precepts of his parents 
 XI. He is taken ill and desires to be baptised ; but his 
 mother defers it until his recovery, as his father is 
 not y«t a Christian ..... 
 
 XII. He was compelled to labour at his studies ; and con- 
 *— fesses m this that God is good 
 
 XIII. He used to hate the Greek grammar and language ; 
 
 but delip^hted in his Latin, and the empty tales of 
 the poets ...... 
 
 XIV. Why he disliked Greek, and easily learned Latin 
 
 XV. He prays that he may use in God's service what he 
 learned a<s a boy ..... 
 
 PAGR 
 
 12 
 
 13 
 
 13 
 16 
 
xii Contents, 
 
 CHAP. PACE 
 
 XVI. He blames the method in which the young are taught ; 
 
 and shows why the poets attribute vices to the gods i6 
 XVII. He continues the subject of the last chapter . . i8 
 
 XVIII. Men keep with care the rules of grammar ; but neglect ) 
 
 the eternal laws of lasting salvation . . j i8 
 
 XIX. He proves that infants are not without faults; and 
 
 details the guile and faults of boyhood 
 XX. He thanks G«i for benefits conferred on him in boy- 
 hood ....../ 21 
 
 3Booft 5?* 
 
 HE PASSES ON TO HIS YOUTH ; BEGINNING FROM HIS SIX- 
 TEENTH YEAR ; WHEN HAVING LAID ASIDE HIS STUDIES 
 HE INDULGED HIS APPETITES, AND WITH HIS COM- 
 PANIONS COMMITTED THEFT. 
 
 I. He deplores the sins of his youth . . .22 
 II. In the deepest grief he recalls the sensual indulgence of 
 
 his sixteenth year ..... 22 
 
 III. Concerning his father, a freedman of Thagaste, the helper 
 
 of his son's studies ; and his mother's counsels to chastity 24 
 
 IV. He joins his companions in an act of theft ; tempted not 
 
 by want, but by a certain loathing of righteousness . 26 
 V. That the motive to sin lies not in the mere love of evil, 
 
 but in the desire to acquire something , . 27 
 
 VI. What it was that he loved in his theft ; since all things 
 that prompt to sin by an appearance of goodness can 
 only be true and perfect in God alone . < , . . 28 
 
 VII. He renders thanks to God for the forgiveness of his sins, 
 and warns against pride any whom God has kept from 
 such grave offences . . . •." .. . 30 
 
 VIII. That in the theft it was the companionship of' his fellow 
 
 sinners that he liked . . , . 31 
 
 IX. There is pleasure in laughter, and in the deceiving of 
 
 others .... , . 31 
 
 X. With God is true rest, and life undisturbed , , 32 
 
 3Booft 335* 
 
 TREATS OF HIS SEVENTEENTH, EIGHTEENTH, AND NINETEENTH 
 YEARS SPENT AT CARTHAGE, WHERE IN ADDITION TO HIS 
 STUDIES HE WAS TAKEN IN THE SNARE OF LAWLESS LOVE, 
 AND PLUNGED INTO MANICHiEAN ERRORfi. 
 
 I. Captive to a lawless passion, a man base arid dishonour- 
 able would fain be fine and courtly . 1 . . 32 
 
 II. He arouses empty feelings of pity in himself by stage 
 
 plays . . . . . . .34 
 
"^ 
 
 Contents, xiil 
 
 CH/P. 'AGB 
 
 III. Not even in church does he govern his desires; in the 
 
 rhetoric school he abhors the doings of the ** Subver- 
 ters" ....... 35 
 
 IV. In his nineteenth year, two years after his father's death, 
 
 the *• Hortensius " of Cicero recalls his mind to philo- 
 sophy, to God, and to a better mood of thought . 36 
 V. He throws aside Holy Scripture as being too simple, and 
 _ by no means comparable with Cicero for dignity . 38 
 VI. By his own fault he fell into the errors of the Mani- 
 chseans, who boast of a true perception of God, and 
 thorough investigation of all things . . . 38 ^ 
 VII. He combats the Manichsean doctrine of evil, of God, and | 
 concerning the righteousness of the Patriarchs . 40 \ 
 VIII. He continues his argument against the Manichaeans, f" 
 concerning the nature of vices . . . 42 f 
 IX. God and men judge of human crimes by a different stan- 
 dard ....... 44 
 
 X. He rebukes the follies of the Manichseans, concerning 
 
 the fruits of the earth . . ... 45 
 
 XI. He relates the tears of his mother, and a dream she had 
 
 of heavenly comfort concerning her son . , 46 
 
 XII, The wise answer of a Bishop to his mother's entreaty that 
 
 he would convert her son . • , .47 
 
 3Booft JID* 
 
 HE DESCRIBES THE NINE YEARS WHICH FOLLOWED HIS NINE- 
 TEENTH YEAR. HOW HE LOST HIS FRIEND AND WROTE A 
 TREATISE ON THE " FAIR AND FITTING." HOW HE GAVE 
 SOME ATTENTION TO THE LIBERAL ARTS, AND TO THE 
 ARISTOTELIAN CATEGORIES. 
 
 I. Of the most unhappy time, in which, misled himself he 
 
 misled others ; and of those who scoff at his confession 49 
 II. How he taught rhetoric ; was true to one love j and 
 
 spumed the magician who promised success by his means 50 
 
 III. Not even the most learned men could persuade him to 
 
 abandon the folly of astrology to which he was devoted 51 
 
 IV. Being deeply sorrow-stricken upon the death of his friend 
 
 he found no consolation but in tears . . '53 
 
 V, Of weeping : why it is pleasant to the wretched . 54 
 
 VI. He holds that of his friend, though dead, in himself the 
 
 half remains alive . . . . • 55 
 
 VII. He is so greatly harassed by restlessness and sorrow that 
 
 he leaves his birthplace and returns to Carthage . 56 
 
 VIII. How his grief yielded to time, and to the consolations 
 
 of his friends . . . . -57 
 
 IX. That human friendship, which consists in interchange of 
 love, perishes, and that he alone who loves his friend 
 in God, loseth him never . , , ,58 
 
xiv Contents, 
 
 \ 
 
 CHAP. 
 
 X. That all things begin to hasten to their end ; and that » 
 we are not saved unless God have us in His keeping . 5 
 XI. That parts of the universe are not to be loved ; but the 
 changeless God that fashioneth them, and his Eternal 
 
 Word 5( 
 
 XII. Love is not condemned ; but love in God excelleth : in 
 
 which is rest, through Jesus Christ . . .6 
 
 XIII. Love hath its origin in the attraction exercised by grace 
 
 and beauty ..... 6: 
 
 XIV. Of the books he wrote upon «* The Fair and Fit," which 
 
 were dedicated to Hierius, the Roman . , 6 
 
 XV. In this treatise, being blinded by corporeal images, he 
 
 failed to discern the spiritual nature of God . . 6, 
 
 XVI. He understood with ease the liberal arts and Aristotle's 
 
 " Categories," but did not truly profit by them . 6 
 
 Booft 1D» 
 
 HE DESCRIBES HIS TWENTY-NINTH YEAR. HOW HE DIS 
 COVERED THE FALLACIES OF THE MANICH^ANS, BECAMl 
 A PROFESSOR OF RHETORIC IN ROME AND MILAN. H0\ 
 HE HEARD S. AMBROSE, AND BEGAN TO RETURN TO HII 
 RIGHT MIND. 
 
 I. That it becomes the soul to praise God and to confess to 
 
 Him 6 
 
 II. Of the vanity of them that would escape from God, 
 
 seeing He is everywhere present . . • 6 
 
 III. Having heard Faustus, the most learned bishop amongst 
 
 the Manichaeans, he understandeth that God the Creator 
 of things animate and inanimate, hath especial care 
 for the lowly ...... 7 
 
 IV. That no scientific acquaintance with things terrestrial or 
 
 celestial can give happiness, but only the knowledge of 
 God ....... 7 
 
 V. Concerning Manichaeus ; his pertinacity in teaching false- 
 hood, and his pride in claiming to be the Holy Spirit 7 
 - VI. Faustus was an eloquent disputant, but ignorant of the 
 
 liberal sciences ..... 7 
 
 " VII. By God's grace he departs from the falsehoods of the 
 
 Manichseans, now clearly perceived . . .7 
 
 VIII. He sets out for Rome, though his mother in vain dis- 
 suades him ...... 7 
 
 IX. He lies dangerously ill of a fever . . .8 
 
 X. After leaving the Manichseans he retained low opinions 
 
 concerning God, and sin, and the Incarnation . . 8 
 
 XI. Helpidius well argued with the Manichaeans, concerning 
 
 the authenticity of the New Testament . . 8 
 
 XII. He practises as a rhetorician at Rome, and experiences 
 
 the fraudulence of the students .... 8 
 
Contents. xv 
 
 II. He is sent to Milan to teach rhetoric, and becomes 
 
 acquainted with Ambrose . . . .85 
 
 .IV. After hearing the Bishop, he realises the power of the 
 Catholic Faith, nevertheless he is sceptical after the 
 manner of the later Academics . • • . S6 
 
 JBooft 1D5. 
 
 HE IS NOW THIRTY YEARS OF AGE, AND UNDER THE TEACH- 
 ING OF AMBROSE, PERCEIVED MORE AND MORE CLEARLY 
 THE TRUTH OF CATHOLIC DOCTRINE, AND DETERMINED 
 TO AMEND HIS LIFE. 
 
 I. His mother followed him to Milan, and prophesied that 
 she should not depart this life, until her son should 
 have embraced the Catholic Faith . . .88 
 
 II. She discontinues her habit of commemorating martyrs, on 
 
 account of the prohibition of Ambrose . . 89 
 
 III. On account of the pressure of business and study upon 
 
 Ambrose, Augustine had few opportunities of consult- 
 ing him concerning Holy Scripture . . .90 
 
 IV. He discovered the falsehood of his own opinions, and 
 
 committed to memory a saying of Ambrose . . 92 
 
 V. Faith is the foundation of human life ; and man cannot 
 
 discover the truth which the Sacred Scriptures reveal 94 
 
 VI. Concerning the origin and measure of true joy, which he 
 
 is brought to dwell on by the sight of a beggar's gaiety 95 
 
 VII. He reforms Alypius, his friend, who had been captivated 
 
 by a foolish passion for the shows of the circus . 97 
 
 VIII. The same Alypius is dragged by companions at Rome 
 to the Colisseum, and is delighted with the gladiatorial 
 games ....... 99 
 
 IX. Alypius, though innocent, was apprehended as a thief, 
 
 but set free by the skill of a certain architect . . 100 
 
 X. The extraordinary integrity of Alypius in judicial matters ; 
 and the firm friendship between Nebridius and Augus- 
 tine ....... 102 
 
 XL Troubled by most serious perplexities, Augustine de- 
 liberates upon beginning a new life . . . 103 
 XII. A discussion with Alypius concerning marriage and 
 
 celibacy . . . . . .105 
 
 XIII. He is advised by his mother to marry; and found a 
 
 maiden who pleased him . . . .106 
 
 Z , A plan of living in community with his friends soon comes 
 
 to naught .... . . 107 
 
 He dismisses his mistress, and obtains another . . 108 
 
 ^ The fear of death and judgment weighed upon him, 
 
 owing to his belief in the immortality of the soul . io8 
 
XVI Contents, 
 
 1500ft 1D55. 
 
 HE RECALLS THE BEGINNING OF HIS MANHOOD, TO WIT Tt 
 THIRTY-FIRST YEAR OF HIS AGE ; IN WHICH HAVING ABA! 
 DONED HIS MOST SERIOUS ERRORS CONCERNING Tt 
 NATURE OF GOD, AND THE ORIGIN OF EVIL, AND HAVIIS 
 MADE A MOST ACCURATE STUDY OF THE SACRED SCRI 
 TURES, HE ATTAINS AT LAST TO A TRUE KNOWLEDGE ( 
 GOD, THOUGH NOT YET RIGHTLY UNDERSTANDING TI 
 INCARNATION OF JESUS CHRIST. 
 
 I. His conception of God, not exactly in the form of a 
 human body, but as a corporeal substance, diffused 
 through space ..... 
 
 "II. An argument of Nebridius against the Manichaeans, 
 upon the question, "Whether God be or be not 
 corruptible?" . . . . . 
 
 III. That the freedom of the will is the cause of evil 
 
 IV. That God is not corruptible, or He would cease to be 
 
 God 
 
 V. Questions concerning the relation of evil to God : since 
 if He be the sovereign good, He cannot be the cause 
 of evil ...... 
 
 VI. He rejects astrological divinations 
 VII. He is terribly distressed about the origin of evil 
 VIII. By the help of God he little by little draws nigh to the 
 truth ...... 
 
 IX. He compares the Platonist teaching concerning the 
 Word, with the Christian doctrine, which latter he 
 finds by far more excellent .... 
 
 X. In the inmost recesses of his heart, things divine begin 
 to grow more clear ..... 
 
 XI. That creatures are subject to change j and God alone 
 unchangeable ..... 
 
 XII. Whatsoever things the most good God hath made, are 
 truly good ...... 
 
 XIII. Whatsoever is in heaven and earth, being made good, 
 
 ought to praise God ..... 
 
 XIV. They only invent the figment of two primary substances, 
 
 whom some creature displeaseth 
 XV. Whatsoever things exist owe their being to God 
 XVI. Evil originates, not from some substance, but from 
 perverseness of will ..... 
 XVII. Above the changing mind, he finds the unchanging 
 Author of Truth ..... 
 XVIII. Jesus Christ, the Mediator, is the one only way of 
 salvation * . . . , 
 
Contents, xvii 
 
 CHAF. FACE 
 
 XIX. He did not yet clearly understand that passage of S. 
 
 John, " The Word was made Flesh " . . 130 
 
 XX. He is glad that his journeying has been from Platonism 
 
 to the Holy Scriptures, instead of in the reverse 
 
 direction . . . . . .131 
 
 XXI. He finds in Holy Scripture many consolations and 
 
 helps not found in the writings of the Platonists . 132 
 
 Boofe \D53J* 
 
 AT LAST HE REACHES THE RECORD OF HIS THIRTY-SECOND 
 YEAR, BY FAR THE MOST MEMORABLE OF HIS WHOLE 
 LIFE, IN WHICH HAVING BEEN INSTRUCTED BY SIMPLI- 
 CIANUS, WITH REFERENCE TO THE CONVERSION OF 
 OTHERS, AND ON THE REASON FOR SUCH A COURSE 
 OF ACTION, AFTER A VIOLENT MENTAL STRUGGLE HIS 
 WHOLE SPIRIT IS RENEWED, AND HE IS CONVERTED TO 
 GOD. 
 
 I. In the struggle between his devotion to Divine things, 
 and his captivity to his passions, he consults Simpli- 
 cianus concerning spiritual Renewal . . .134 
 
 II. That holy veteran, Simplicianus, is glad that he has 
 read Plato and the Scriptures; and tells him how 
 Victorinus the Rhetorician read the Sacred Books, 
 and was converted to the faith . . .136 
 
 III. That God and the angels rejoice more over one sinner 
 
 that repenteth, than over many just persons . .138 
 
 IV. He shows by the example of Victorinus that there is 
 
 more joy in the conversion of nobles . .140 
 
 V. The conflict of will, which hindered his return to God 141 
 VI. Pontitianus relates how two of his companions were 
 converted by reading the life and miracles of S. 
 Anthony ...... 143 
 
 VII. The words of Pontitianus pierce his soul, which sullenly 
 
 y clings to its old habits .... 146 
 
 VIII. He retires into the garden, and is greatly agitated. 
 
 y Alypius accompanies him .... 147 
 
 j^ IX. Whence it happens that the body obeys the mind, but 
 
 the mind obeys not itself . . . . 149 
 
 ^Y X. He refutes the Manichaean doctrine that the conflict of 
 wills implies two conflicting natures and principles, 
 J one Good, the other Evil .... 149 
 
 XI. He describes the violence of his inward struggle as he 
 
 sought to resolve to renounce his old habits . .152 
 
 XII. The voice which came to him in the garden, and de- 
 cided his conversion ..... 153 
 
xviii Contents. 
 
 JSOOft 5f ♦ 
 
 AUGUSTINE DETERMINES TO ABANDON THE PROFESSION 01 
 RHETORIC, AND RETIRES TO CASSi ACUM TO PREPARE FOI 
 HOLY BAPTISM, WHICH HE RECEIVES AFTER THE VINTAGI 
 VACATION WITH ALYPIUS AND ADEODATUS. HE DETER 
 MINES WITH HIS FRIENDS TO RETURN TO AFRICA ; ANI 
 JOURNEYS AS FAR AS TO OSTIA WITH THEM AND WITi 
 HIS MOTHER MONICA., HE PF^CRIBES HER EARLY LIF] 
 AND CHARACTER ; HER INFLUENCE OVER HER HUSBAND 
 HER JOY IN HIS CONVERSION ; HER DEATH AND BURIA! 
 AT OSTIA, IN AUGUSTINE'S THIRTY-THIRD YEAR. 
 
 CHAP. FAG 
 
 I. He praises God for this goodness in effecting his con- 
 version . . . . . . 'IS 
 
 II. He resolves to abandon his Rhetoric Professorship after 
 
 the Vintage Vacation, which was at hand . • '5 
 
 III. Verecundus, though not yet a Christian, offers his country 
 house for a time, though sorry that the conversion 
 of Augustine and Alypius will deprive him of their 
 companionship ; Nebridius is glad to hear of it, though 
 himself not yet converted . . . • 'i 
 
 IV. At Cassiacum after resigning his professorship he finds 
 great comfort in the Psalms. He dwells much upon 
 Psalm iv. He experiences great pain, from which 
 God's mercy set him free . . . . l( 
 
 V. S. Ambrose advises him to study the prophecies of 
 
 Isaiah, which, as yet, were too hard for him . .if 
 
 VI. His baptism with Alypius and Adeodatus. The character 
 
 ofAdeodatus . . . . . . i( 
 
 VII. The rise of chanting at Milan. The Arian persecution 
 under Justina stayed upon the discovery of the bodies 
 mm» of SS. Gervasius and Protasius . . . l< 
 
 VIH. He relates the incidents of his mother's early life and 
 
 education . . . . . . l( 
 
 IX. The married life of Moni ca ; her discretion and wifely 
 
 duty . . . . - . I- 
 
 X. A conversation upon the happiness of the Saints with 
 
 Monica at Ostia . . . . ' K 
 
 XI. His mother's death . . . . • li 
 
 XII. His deep sorrow, and how he restrained it. His mother's 
 
 burial, and the offering for her of the Holy Sacrifice . 1 5 
 
 XIII. He prays for his mother, and requests for her the prayers 
 
 "~ of such as shall read " his Confessions " . • <3 
 
Contents, xix 
 
 S500ft f ♦ 
 
 IE DESCRIBES WHAT HE HAD BECOME SINCE HIS CONVERSION: 
 PROFESSING HIS LOVE TO GOD ; AND SEEKS AMONG THE 
 FACULTIES OF HIS SOUL THE MEANS BY WHICH WE KNOW 
 GOD. ESPECIALLY HE DISCUSSES THE NATURE OF THE 
 MEMORY WHEREIN GOD DWELLETH. HE EXAMINES 
 HIMSELF WITH REGARD TO THE TRIPLE LUST, OF THE 
 FLESH, OF THE EYES, AND OF THE PRIDE OF LIFE, AND 
 CONFESSES THAT HIS WHOLE TRUST LIES IN CHRIST 
 JESUS, THE MEDIATOR BETWEEN GOD AND MAN. 
 
 I. He desireth to know God . . . . i8i 
 
 II. Though God knoweth the depths of our nature, it is 
 
 good to make confession unto Him . . . l8i 
 
 III. With what intent he maketh confession before men of 
 
 his present condition . , . . .182 
 
 IV. He declares what results he hopeth for from his ** Con- 
 
 fessions " . . . . . .183 
 
 V. Our confessions cannot but be imperfect : for man 
 
 knoweth not himself as God knoweth . . 185 
 
 VL He searcheth throughout the material creation, wherein 
 
 he findeth not God ; though it speaketh of Him . 186 
 
 VII. Neither doth he find God in any vital or sentient faculty 
 
 within himself . . . . . .188 
 
 VIII. He seeketh Him in his memory; and describeth its, 
 
 wonderr ...... 188 
 
 IX. In what way the liberal sciences may be said to be 
 
 in the memory . . . . .191 
 
 X. Of the channels through which literature has access to 
 
 the memory ...... 191 
 
 XL How things are learnt by the memory . . .192 
 
 XII. Of the memory of numbers .... 193 
 
 XIII. Of the memory of remembrances ; and of the memory 
 
 of the emotions of the mind . . . .194 
 
 XIV. That the recollection of certain emotions doth not 
 
 awaken similar emotions . . . .194 
 
 XV. That images of things present, as well as absent, are 
 
 retained in the memory .... 196 
 
 XVI. Of the memory of forgetfulness .... 196 
 XVII. Though the power of memory be vast and wonderful, 
 
 he passeth beyond it in his search after God . .198 
 
 VIII. How what is lost must still remain in the memory, that 
 it may be found again ..... 199 
 
 XIX. That forgotten things are not wholly lost by the 
 
 memory ; or if wholly lost cannot be recovered . 200 
 I XX. With what manner of desire men seek the Blessed Life : 
 
 and what knowledge thev have of it . • . 200 
 
 m 
 
 f 
 
XX Contents. 
 
 CHAP. 
 
 XXI. Whence do we derive our memory of the Blessed 
 
 Life? 
 
 XXII. The true joy of the Blessed Life . 
 
 XXIII. That all desire joy in the truth 
 
 XXIV. He delighteth that he hath found God abiding in 
 
 his memory .... 
 
 XXV. Where and how God dwelleth in his memory 
 XXVI. That God is not in any place ; and who is His best 
 
 servant ..... 
 XXVII. Absent from God, he is attracted by His beauty 
 XXVIII. That the life on earth is full of trials 
 XXIX. He putteth his hope in the mercy of God . 
 XXX. Concerning fleshly desire, and the extent to which 
 
 it still can influence him 
 XXXI. Concerning greed and drunkenness 
 XXXII. Concerning the attractions of pleasant odours 
 
 XXXIII. Concerning temptations arising from love of sweet 
 
 music ..... 
 
 XXXIV. Concerning pleasures of the eyes . 
 XXXV. Concerning the temptation of curiosity 
 
 XXXVI. Concerning the love of praise, and fear of blame 
 XXXVII. He confesseth that he loveth praise ; but suggests 
 
 that there may be a right use of it 
 XXXVIII. That vain-glory sometimes hideth beneath an 
 appearance of contempt of itself 
 XXXIX. Of self-complacency . . 
 
 XL. He summeth up his former description of his search 
 after God, and declares the sweetness of complete 
 communion with God, sometimes vouchsafed to 
 him ...... 
 
 XLI. He summeth up his confession with regard to the 
 triple lust ..... 
 
 XLII. Of the deceits of the Devil, which overtake them 
 
 who seek for Angelic mediation . 
 XLIII. The Man Christ Jesus, the only Mediator between 
 God and Man. In Him his soul is satisfied 
 
THE 
 
 CONFESSIONS OF S. AUGUSTINE. 
 
 BISHOP OF HIPPO. 
 
 :Boofi 5. 
 
 After an Invocation of God, Augustine declares the be- 
 ginnings OF HIS LIFE ; HIS INFANCY AND BOYHOOD UP TO HIS 
 FIFTEENTH YEAR. He CONFESSES THAT AT THIS AGE HE WAS 
 MORE FOND OF CHILDISH AMUSEMENTS AND FOLLIES THAN OF 
 LEARNING. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 He declares the greatness of God: and by Him aroused desires to seek and 
 call upon Him. 
 
 " r^ REAT art Thou, O Lord, and greatly to be praised" 
 
 vJ (Ps. cxlv. 3) ; " great is Thy power, and Thy wis-. 
 
 dom is infinite" (Ps. cxlvii. 5). And Thee would man 
 
 praise, though but a fragment of Thy creation ; man, that 
 
 bears about him his mortality, that bears about him the 
 
 witness of his sin, even the witness, that " Thou resistest 
 
 the proud" (i S. Pet. v. 5) ; yet would man praise Thee 
 
 though but a fragment of Thy creation. Thou dost arouse 
 
 us to delight in praising Thee ; for Thou hast made us for 
 
 Thyself, and our heart is restless, until it find rest in Thee. 
 
 ^j^nt me, Lord, to know and understand whether to call on 
 
 *;e be the first thing, or to praise Thee? and again, whether 
 
 XV. mow Thee or to call on Thee ? for who can call on 
 
 ^Vlae, that knoweth not Thee ? for he that knoweth not 
 
2 , ' The Confessions of S. Augustine. 
 
 Thee may call on Thee as other than Thou art. Or, is it 
 rather, that we call on Thee that we may know Thee ? but 
 " how shall they call on Him in whom they have not 
 believed ? or how shall they believe without a preacher ? " 
 (Rom. X. 14) ; and *' they shall praise the Lord that seek 
 Him " (Ps. xxii 26); for "they that seek shall find Him" (S. 
 Matt. vii. 7) ; and they that find shall praise Him. Calling 
 upon Thee, Lord, will I seek Thee ; and believing in fhee 
 will I call upon Thee ; for to us hast Thou been preached. 
 My faith. Lord, calls on Thee, which Thou hast given me, 
 wherewith Thou hast inspired me, through the Incarnation 
 of Thy Son, through the ministry of the Preacher [/. ^., S. 
 Ambrose, Bp. of Milan. — Ed.]. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 That Godf upon whom we colly is in us, and we in Him, 
 
 AND how shall I call upon God, my God and Lord ? 
 For when I shall call for Him, I shall be calling Him 
 to myself ! and what room is there within me, whither my 
 God may come to me? whither may God come to me, God 
 who made heaven and earth ? is there, indeed, O Lord my 
 God, aught in me that can contain Thee ? do even heaven 
 and earth, which Thou hast made, and wherein Thou hast 
 made me, contain Thee ? or, since without Thee, not any- 
 thing that is, could be, does it follow that anything that is 
 doth contain Thee? Since, then, I too am of such a 
 nature, why do I crave that Thou shouldest come to me, 
 who were not, wert Thou not in me ? For not yet am I 
 gone down to hell, and yet Thou art there also. For " if I 
 go down into hell, Thou art there also" (Ps. cxxxix. 7). I 
 could not then be, O my God, I could not be at all, wert 
 Thou not in me ; or is it not rather that I could not be 
 unless I were in Thee, " of whom are all things, by whom 
 are all things, in whom are all things " ? (Rom. xi. 36.) 
 Even so, Lord, even so. Whither do I call Thee, since 
 I am in Thee ? or whence canst Thou come to me ? for 
 whither can I go away beyond heaven and earth, that 
 thence my God should come to me, who hath said, " I fill 
 heaven and earth " (Jer. xxiii. 24). 
 
The Confessions of S. Augustine. 3 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 God wholly filletk all things : but Him, nor Heaven, nor Earth 
 containeth. 
 
 DO heaven and earth then contain Thee, since Thou 
 fillest them ? or dost Thou fill them and yet more 
 of Thee remaineth, since they do not contain Thee? or 
 whether pourest Thou forth what remaineth of Thyself when 
 the heaven and the earth are full ? or hast Thou no need 
 that Thou by aught shouldest be contained, since Thou 
 containest all things, for what Thou dost fill by containing 
 Thou dost fill ? for the vessels which are full of Thee up- 
 hold Thee not, since, though they were broken, Thou wert 
 not poured out. And when Thou art " poured out upon us " 
 (Joel ii. 28), Thou art not Thyself cast down, but Thou 
 upliftest us ; neither art Thou scattered, but Thou gatherest 
 us. But Thou who fillest all things, fillest Thou them with 
 Thy whole self? or, since all things cannot contain Thee 
 wholly, do they contain a part of Thee? and all at once 
 the same part? or does each contain its own part, the 
 greater more, the smaller less ? And is, then, one part of 
 Thee greater, another less ? or, art Thou wholly everywhere, 
 though naught contains Thee wholly ? 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 The Majesty of God is supreme : and His perfections cannot be expressed, 
 
 WHAT art Thou then, my God ? what, I ask, but the 
 Lord God ? " For who is Lord but the Lord ? or 
 who is God except our God ? " (Ps. xviii. 31, Vulg.). O Thou 
 Most highest, most good, most potent, most omnipotent ; 
 most merciful, yet most just ; most hidden, yet most 
 present; fairest, yet most strong; firm firmed, yet incom- 
 prehensible; who changest not, yet changest all things; 
 never new, never old; yet who makest all things new, 
 and " bringest age upon the proud, and they know it not ; " 
 ever working, ever at rest; that gatherest, yet lackest 
 nothing; that bearest, and fillest, and coverest; that 
 Greatest, and nourishest, and makest perfect ; that seekest, 
 and yet possessest all things. Thou dost love without 
 
4 The Confessions of S. Augustine. 
 
 passion ; Thou art jealous, without anxiety ; Thou repentest 
 without grief; Thou art angry without disquiet; Thou 
 changest Thy works, without changing Thy purpose ; Thou 
 receivest again what Thou dost find, yet didst never lose ; 
 never in need, yet Thou rejoicest in gains ; never covetous, 
 yet Thou demandest usury. Thou receivest over and above, 
 that Thou mayest owe ; and who hath aught that is not 
 Thine? Thou payest debts, that owest none; Thou for- 
 givest debts, yet losest nothing. And what have I yet said, 
 my God, my life, my holy joy ? or what saith any when he 
 speaks of Thee? Yet woe to them that speak not of 
 Thee, since they that speak most are even as the dumb. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 He seeketk rest in God^ and forgiveness of his sins, 
 
 OH ! that I might find rest in Thee ! Oh ! that Thou 
 wouldest enter into my heart, and saturate it, that I 
 may forget my own ills, and embrace Thee, my only good ! 
 What art Thou to me ? In Thy pity, teach me to utter it. 
 Or what am I to Thee that Thou demandest love from me, 
 and, if I comply not, art wroth with me, and dost menace 
 me with grievous woes ? Is it then but a slight woe to love 
 Thee not ? Ah me ! by Thy compassions tell me, O Lord 
 my God, what Thou art to me. " Say unto my soul, I am 
 thy salvation " (Ps. xxxv. 3). So say it, that I may hear. 
 Behold, Lord, the ears of my heart are before Thee ; open 
 Thou them and " say unto my soul, I am thy salvation." 
 After this word let me hasten and lay hold on Thee. Hide 
 not Thy face from me. Let me die (that I die not) that I 
 may see Thy face. 
 
 Narrow is the dwelling-place within my soul; enlarge 
 Thou it, that Thou mayest enter in. It is ruinous ; do 
 Thou repair it. It has that within which must offend Thine 
 eyes ; I confess and know it. But who shall cleanse it ? 
 or to whom should I cry, save Thee ? " Lord, cleanse me 
 from my secret faults ; keep Thy servant also from pre- 
 sumptuous sins" (Ps. xix. 12, 13). "I believe, and there- 
 fore do I speak" (Ps. cxvi. 10). Lord, Thou knowest. 
 * Have I not confessed my sins unto the Lord : and so 
 
The Confessions of S. Augustine, 5 
 
 Thou hast forgiven the wickedness of my sin " (Ps. xxxii. 
 6). " I contend not in judgment with Thee " (Job ix. 2), 
 who art the truth; I seek not to deceive myself; "lest 
 mine iniquity lie unto itself" (Ps. xxvi. 12, Vulg.). There- 
 fore I contend not in judgment with Thee ; " for if Thou, 
 Lord, art extreme to mark what is done amiss, O Lord, who 
 may abide it " (Ps. cxxx. 3). 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 He descmbes his infancy ; and extols the protecting care and eternal 
 providence of God. 
 
 YET let me speak unto Thy mercy, me, " dust and ashes." 
 Yea, let me speak, since to Thy mercy I speak, and 
 not to scornful man. Thou too, perhaps, despisest me, yet 
 wilt Thou "return and have compassion" (Jer. xii. 15) 
 upon me. For what would I say, O Lord my God, but 
 that I know not whence I came hither; into this dying life 
 (shall I call it ?) or living death. Then immediately did the 
 consolations of Thy mercies take me up as I have heard from 
 the parents of my flesh, out of whose substance Thou didst 
 sometime fashion me ; for in truth I remember it not. 
 Thus there awaited me the comforts of woman's milk. 
 For neither my mother nor my nurses stored their own 
 breasts ; but Thou didst bestow on me the food of infancy 
 through them, according to Thine ordinance, and to the 
 riches distributed even through the first springs of things. 
 Thou also gavest me to desire no more than Thou gavest ; 
 and to my nurses willingly to give me what Thou gavest 
 them. For they with an affection ordained by Thee 
 willingly gave me, what they abounded with from Thee. 
 For good for them was my good from them, which, indeed, 
 was not from them but through them ; for from Thee, O 
 God, are all good things, and " from my God is all my salva- 
 tion" (2 Sam. xxiii. 5). For this I since have learned, that 
 Thou dost call to me by these gifts, which within me and 
 without me Thou dost give. For then I knew but to suck ; 
 to rest in the delights, but to weep at the vexations of my 
 flesh ; nothing more. 
 
 Afterwards I began to smile ; first in sleep, then waking : 
 for so it was told me of myself, and I believed it ; for we 
 
6 The Confessions of S. Augustine. 
 
 see the like in other infants, though of myself I remember 
 it not. Thus, little by little, I became conscious where I 
 was ; and to have a wish to express my desires to those 
 who could gratify them, and I could not ; for the desires 
 were within me, but they without ; nor could they by any 
 sense of theirs enter within my mind. So I used to fling 
 about my Hmbs and voice, making the few signs I could, 
 and such as I could, to express my desires ; though they 
 expressed them poorly enough. And when they were not 
 complied with, whether because they were not understood, 
 or were injurious, then I grew indignant with my elders for 
 not submitting to me, with them free as they were because 
 they were not my slaves, and took my vengeance on them 
 with tears. Such have I learned infants to be from observ- 
 ing them ; and, that I was myself such, they who knew it 
 not, have shown me better than my nurses whp knew it. 
 
 And, lo ! my infancy is dead long since, and I live. But 
 Thou, Lord, who for ever livest, and in whom nothing dies : 
 for before the beginnings of the ages, and before all that 
 can be called " before," Thou art, and art God and Lord of 
 all which Thou hast created; and with Thee abide, the 
 first causes of all things unabiding ; and of all changeful 
 things, the changeless springs abide with Thee : and in Thee 
 live the eternal reasons of all things unreasoning and 
 temporal. Say, to me, Thy suppliant, O God \ Thou all 
 merciful to me all miserable, say to me; did my infancy 
 succeed another age of mine already dead? was it that 
 which I passed within my mother's womb? for of that I 
 have heard somewhat, and have myself seen woman with 
 child? and what, O God my joy, was I before that? Was 
 I any where or any body ? For have I none to tell me 
 this, neither father nor mother, nor experience of others, 
 nor mine own memory. Dost Thou mock me for asking 
 this, and bid me praise Thee and confess Thee, for that 
 which I do know? 
 
 1 acknowledge Thee, Lord of heaven and earth, and 
 praise Thee for my first beginnings of life, and for my 
 infancy, whereof I remember nothing ; for Thou hast 
 appointed that man should form conjectures as to himself 
 from the things of others ; and even believe much on the 
 authority of mere^ women. Even then I had being and 
 life, and towards the close of my infancy I began to seek 
 
The Confessions of S, Augustine, 7 
 
 for signs, whereby to make known my feelings to others. 
 Whence could such a living thing be, save from Thee, Lord ? 
 Shall any be artificer to fashion himself? or can there 
 elsewhere be derived any vein, through which being and 
 life may flow into us, except that "Thou makest us," O 
 Lord ; and " to be " and " to live " are all one to Thee : 
 since Thou Thyself art supremely Being, and supremely 
 Life. " For Thou art most high, and Thou changest not " 
 (Mai. iii. 6), neither in Thee doth to-day come to a close ; 
 yet in Thee doth it come to a close; because all such 
 things also are in Thee. For they had no way to pass 
 away, unless Thou didst sustain them. And since "Thy 
 years fail not" (Ps. cii. 27), Thy years are one to-day. 
 How many of ours and our fathers' days have passed away 
 through Thy " to-day," and from it received the measures 
 and the manner of their existence ; and others still shall 
 pass away, and so receive the degree of their being. But 
 "Thou art the same" (Ps. cii. 27), and all things of to- 
 morrow, and beyond it, and all of yesterday, and before it, 
 to-day shalt Thou do, to-day hast Thou done. What is it 
 to me, though any comprehend not this? Let him too 
 rejoice and say, "What thing is this" (Ex. xvi. 15). Let 
 him too rejoice thus ; that he may choose rather ^ by not 
 finding them to find Thee, than by finding them not to 
 find Thee. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 He proves that even Infancy is prone to sin, 
 
 HEAR, O God. Alas, for man*s sins ! So saith man, 
 and Thou hast pity on him ; since Thou hast made 
 him, but madest not the sin in him. Who remindeth 
 me of the sin of my infancy? for in Thy sight none is 
 " clean from sin," not even the infant whose life on earth is 
 but a day. Who remindeth me ? doth not each little infant, 
 in whom I see what I remember not about myself? But in 
 what did I then sin ? was it that wailing I longed for the 
 breast ? for should I iibw so long, not for the breast, but for 
 food convenient for my age, most justly should I be laughed 
 at and blamed. What I then did was deserving of blame ; 
 
8 The Confessions of S. Augustine. 
 
 but since I could not understand any who might blame, 
 neither custom nor reason allowed me to be blamed. For 
 with our growth we uproot and cast away such habits. Now 
 no man when he prunes knowingly casts away what is good. 
 Or was it then good, even for a while, to cry for what, if 
 given, would hurt ? bitterly to resent, ihat persons free, and 
 its own elders, yea even its parents, served it not? that 
 many besides, wiser than it, obeyed not the nod of its plea- 
 sure ? to strive to strike and hurt with all its might, because 
 its biddings were not obeyed, which had been obeyed to its 
 peril ? In the weakness then of baby limbs, not in its will, 
 lies its innocence. Myself have seen and known jealousy 
 even in a babe ; it could not yet speak, but pale, and with 
 bitter expression it would eye its foster-brother. Who 
 knows not this? Mothers and nurses tell you, that they 
 abate these things by I know not what remedies. Perhaps 
 that too is innocence, when the fountain of milk is flowing 
 in generous abundance, not to endure any to share it, though 
 in extremest need, and whose very life as yet depends 
 thereon. We bear gently with all this, not as being no or 
 slight evils, but because they will disappear by lapse of time. 
 For though you now excuse them, the very same tempers 
 are utterly intolerable when found in persons of maturer 
 age. 
 
 Thou, then, O Lord my God, who gavest life to this my 
 infancy, and a body, which thus as we see Thou hast fur- 
 nished with senses, compacted with limbs, made shapely in 
 form, and, for its general good and safety, hast implanted in 
 it all the powers of life. Thou commandest me to praise 
 Thee in these things, to confess unto Thee, and " to sing 
 praises to Thy name, O most Highest " (Ps. xcii. i ). For 
 Thou art God, Almighty and Good, even hadst Thou done 
 only this, which none could do but Thou alone, from Whom 
 is the mode of being of all things ; who out of Thy own 
 fairness makest all things fair ; and orderest all things by 
 Thy law. This age then. Lord, whereof I have no remem- 
 brance, which I take on others' word, and guess from other 
 infants that I have passed, true though that guess be, I am 
 yet loth to count in this life of mine which I live in this 
 world. For in that it reaches back to the shadows of for- 
 getfulness, it is like to that which I spent in my mother's 
 womb. But if " I was shapen in wickedness, and in sin did 
 
The Confessions of S. Augustine. 9 
 
 my mother conceive me " (Ps. li. 7), where, I beseech Thee, 
 O my God, where, Lord, or when, was I Thy servant guilt- 
 less ? But, lo ! that period I pass by ; and what have I now 
 to do with that, of which I can recal no vestiges ? 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 That a child leameth not to speak by rtilesy but from the gesture and 
 words of his parents. 
 
 PASSING hence from infancy, I came to boyhood, or 
 rather it came to me, displacing infancy. Nor did that 
 depart, — (for whither went it ?) — and yet it was no more. 
 For I was no longer a speechless infant, but a speaking boy. 
 This I remember; and have since observed how I learned 
 to speak. For my elders did not teach me words (as, soon 
 after, other learning) by any set method ; but I, longing by 
 cries and broken accents and various motions of my limbs 
 to express my thoughts, that so my will might be obeyed, 
 and yet unable to express all I willed, or to whom I willed, 
 did myself, by the understanding which Thou, my God. 
 gavest me, go through the sounds in my memory. Whei 
 they named anything, and to suit the word turned towards 
 it, I saw and remembered that they called what they desired 
 to point out by the name they uttered. And that they 
 meant this thing and no other, was plain from the motion 
 of their body, the natural language, as it were, of all people, 
 expressed by the countenance, the glance of the eyes, the 
 movement of the Hmbs, and the tone of the voice, indicat- 
 ing the affections of the mind, as it pursues, possesses, 
 rejects, or shuns. And thus by frequently hearing words, 
 as they occurred in various sentences, I collected gradually 
 for what they were the symbols j and having broken in my 
 mouth to these symbols, I thereby gave utterance to my 
 will. Thus I exchanged with those about me these symbols 
 of our wills in utterance, and so launched deeper into the 
 stormy fellowship of human life, yet depending on parental 
 authority and the beck of elders. 
 
10 The Confessions of S. Augustine. 
 
 f CHAPTER IX, 
 
 Concerning the hatred of lessons, the love of play , and the fear of being 
 whipped, noticeable in boys ; and concerning the inconsistencies of 
 their elders and masters. 
 
 OGOD my God, what miseries and derision did I now 
 experience, when obedience to my teachers was im- 
 posed upon me, as proper in a boy, in order that in this 
 worlH I might get on and excel in oratorical arts, which 
 should serve to the " praise of men," and to deceitful riches. 
 Next I was put to school to learn lessons, in which I (poor 
 wretch) knew not what use there was ; and yet, if idle in 
 learning, I was flogged. For this method was commended 
 by our forefathers; and many, passing the same course 
 before us, framed for us weary paths, through which we 
 were compelled to pass ; multiplying toil and grief upon the 
 sons of Adam. But, Lord, we found men that called upon 
 Thee, and we learnt from them to think of Thee as well as 
 we could, as of some great One, who, though hidden from 
 our senses, couldst hear and help us. For, as a boy, I 
 began to pray to Thee, my aid and refuge ; and broke the 
 fetters of my tongue to call on Thee, and I used to ask 
 Thee, though small, yet with no small earnestness, that I 
 might not be flogged at school. And when "Thou didst 
 not hear me, though not to my folly " (Ps. xxii. 2, Vulg.), 
 my elders, yea, my very parents, who yet wished me no 
 ill, laughed at my stripes, my then great and grievous ill. 
 
 Is there, Lord, any of courage so great, and cleaving to 
 Thee with so intense affection (for a sort of doggedness will 
 in a way do it) ; is there any one, I ask, who, from cleaving 
 devoutly to Thee, is endued with so great a courage, that 
 he can think as lightly of the racks and hooks and other 
 tortures (to be delivered from which, throughout all lands, 
 men call on Thee with extreme dread), laughing at those 
 by whom they are feared most bitterly, as our parents used 
 to laugh at the tortures which we suffered as boys from our 
 masters ? For we feared them no less ; nor prayed we less 
 to Thee to escape them. And yet we used to sin by not 
 writing or reading or minding our lessons as was demanded 
 of us. For we wanted not, O Lord, for memory or capa- 
 city, whereof Thy will gave enough for our age; but our 
 
The Confessions of S, Augustine. ii 
 
 sole delight was play; and for this we were punished by 
 those who yet themselves were doing the like. But the 
 trifling occupations of older people are called " business ; " 
 but those of boys, being really the same, are punished by 
 those elders ; and none commiserates either boys or men. 
 For will any of sound judgment approve of my being beaten 
 as a boy, because, by playing at ball, I made less progress 
 in studies, which I was to learn, only that, as a man, I might 
 play more odiously? and what else did he, who flogged me? 
 who, if worsted in some trifling discussion with his fellow- 
 tutor, was more embittered and jealous than I, when beaten 
 at ball by a play-fellow ? 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 From love of sports and shows he neglects his studies ^ and the precepts of 
 his parents. 
 
 AND yet, I sinned herein, O Lord God, the Creator 
 and Disposer of all things in nature, of sin the Dis- 
 poser only, O Lord my God, I sinned in acting contrary to 
 the commands of my parents and of those masters. For 
 what they, with whatever motive, would have me learn, I 
 might afterward have put to good use. For I disobeyed, 
 not from the choice of better things, but from love of play, 
 loving the pride of victory in my contests, and to have my 
 ears tickled with lying fables, that they might itch the more ; 
 the same curiosity shone in my eyes more and more, at the 
 shows and games of my elders. Yet those who give these 
 shows are in such esteem, that almost all wish the same for 
 their children, and yet willingly allow them to be whipped, 
 if by those very games they are hindered from the studies, 
 whereby they would have them attain to be the givers oif 
 them. Look with pity. Lord, on these things, and deliver 
 us who call upon Thee now; deliver those too who call 
 not on Thee yet, that they may call on Thee, and Thou 
 mayest deliver them. 
 
12 The Confessions of S. Augustine, 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 He is taken ill^ and desires to be baptized ; but his mother defers it upon 
 his recovery^ as his father w not yet a Christian. 
 
 AS a boy, then, I had already heard of an eternal life, 
 promised us through the humility of the Lord our God 
 stooping to our pride ; and even from my mother's womb, 
 whose hope was in Thee, I was signed with the sign of His 
 cross and salted with His salt. Thou sawest, Lord, how 
 while yet a boy, I was one day suddenly seized with oppres- 
 sion of the stomach, and like to die ; Thou sawest, my 
 God (for Thou wert my keeper), with what emotion and 
 what faith I entreated, from the affection of my mother and 
 Thy Church, the mother of us all, the baptism of Thy 
 Christ my God and Lord. Whereupon the mother of my 
 flesh, being much disturbed (since with a heart pure in Thy 
 faith, she even more lovingly " travailed in birth " of my 
 salvation), would with all speed have provided for my con- 
 secration and cleansing by the health-giving sacraments, 
 confessing Thee, Lord Jesus, for the remission of sins, 
 unless I had suddenly recovered. And so, as if I must 
 needs be again polluted should I live, my cleansing was de- 
 ferred, because after that washing the guilt, in gross sins, 
 would be greater and more perilous. I then already be- 
 lieved : and my mother and the whole household, except 
 my father : yet did not he prevail over the power of my 
 mother's piety in me, that I should believe in Christ the 
 less, because he did not yet believe. For it was her sted- 
 fast aim, that Thou my God, rather than he, shouldest be my 
 father ; and in this Thou didst aid her to prevail over her 
 husband, whom she the better obeyed ; and even thus she 
 obeyed Thee who hast so commanded. 
 
 I beseech Thee, my God, I would fain know, if so Thou 
 wiliest, for what purpose was I hindered from being then 
 baptised ? was it for my good that the rein was laid loose, 
 as it were, upon me, for me to sin ? or was it not laid loose ? 
 If not, why does it still echo in our ears on all sides, " Let 
 him alone, let him do as he will, for he is not yet baptized ? " 
 And yet as to bodily health, we do not say, " Let him be 
 worse wounded, for he is not yet healed." How much 
 better then, had I been at once healed ; and that then it 
 
The Confessions of S. Augustine. 13 
 
 had been brought about by my Iriends' diligence and my 
 own, that my soul's recovered health had been kept safe in 
 Thy safe keeping, who hadst given it. Better truly. But 
 how many and great waves of temptation seemed to hang 
 over me after my boyhood ! These my mother foresaw ; 
 and preferred to hazard on them the clay whence I might 
 afterwards be moulded, than the very image, when made. 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 He was compelled to labour at his studies ; and confesses in this that 
 God is good. 
 
 IN boyhood itself, however (so much less dreaded for me 
 than youth), I loved not lessons, and hated to be 
 forced to them. Yet I was forced ; and this was well done 
 towards me, but I did not well; for, unless compelled, I 
 would not have learnt. But no one doth well what he doth 
 unwillingly, even though what he doth, be well. Yet 
 neither did they well who forced me, but what was well was 
 done of Thee, my God. For they did not care to what use 
 I might put what they compelled me to learn, except to 
 satiate the insatiate desires of a want that hath abundance, 4 
 and a glory that is full of shame. (See Rev. iii. 1 7, and 
 Phil. iii. 19.) But Thou, "by whom the very hairs of our 
 head are all numbered " (S. Matt. x. 30), didst use for my 
 good the error of all who urged me to learn ; and my own 
 who would not learn, Thou didst use for my punishment — 
 a punishment of which I was not undeserving, being so 
 small a boy, yet so great a sinner. So by those who did 
 not well. Thou didst well for me ; and by my own sin Thou 
 didst justly requite me. For Thou hast commanded, and 
 so it is, that every inordinate affection should be its own 
 punishment. 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 He used to hate the Greek grammar and language ; but delighted in his 
 Latin^ and the empty tales of the poets, 
 
 BUT why did I so much hate the Greek, which as a 
 little boy I used to study ? not even yet is it quite 
 clear to me. For the Latin I loved ; not what my first 
 
14 The Confessions of S. Augustine, 
 
 masters, but what the so-called grammarians taught me. 
 For those first lessons, reading, writing, and arithmetic, I 
 used to find no less burdensome and tasklike than all my 
 Greek. And yet whence was this too, but from the sin 
 and vanity of this life, because " I was but flesh, and a wind 
 that passeth away and cometh not again"? (Ps. Ixxviii. 39). 
 For those first lessons were in fact better, because more 
 certain ; by them I obtained, and still retain, the power of 
 reading what I find written, and myself writing what I will ; 
 whereas in the others, I was compelled to learn the wander- 
 ings of some -^neas or other, forgetful of my own and to 
 weep for dead Dido, because she killed herself for love \ the 
 while, with dry eyes, I, most miserable, endured myself 
 dying among these things, far from Thee, O God my life. 
 
 For what could be more miserable than a miserable 
 being, who commiserates not himself, weeping the death of 
 Dido which came of her love to ^neas, but weeping not 
 his own death which came of want of love to Thee, O God, 
 Thou light of my heart. Thou bread of my inmost soul, 
 Thou Power who makest fertile my mind, and the thought 
 of my bosom ? I loved Thee not, I committed fornication 
 against Thee, and all around me thus fornicating there 
 echoed " Well done ! well done ! " " for the friendship of 
 this world is fornication against Thee " (S. James iv. 4), and 
 "Well done ! well done !" is repeated till one is ashamed 
 not to be thus a man. And all this I wept not, but I wept 
 for Dido slain, and " seeking by the sword a wound ex- 
 treme," myself seeking the while the extremest and lowest 
 of Thy creatures, having forsaken Thee, earth passing into 
 the earth ; and if forbid to read all this, I would grieve that 
 I might not read what grieved me. Madness like this is 
 reckoned a more honourable and a richer learning than 
 that by which I learned to read and write. 
 
 But now, my God, cry Thou aloud in my soul ; and let 
 Thy truth tell me, " Not so, not so. Far better was that 
 earlier lore." For, lo, I would far more readily forget the 
 wanderings of ^neas and all the rest than how to read and 
 write. But over the thresholds of the Grammar Schools 
 veils are hung ; but these indicate not so much the dignity 
 of secrecy as the cloak of errors. Let not those, whom 
 I no longer fear, cry out against me, while I confess to 
 Thee, my God, whatever my soul will, and acquiesce in the 
 
The Confessions of S. Augiistifie. 15 
 
 condemnation of my evil ways, that I may love Thy good 
 ways. Let not either buyers or sellers of grammar cry out 
 against me. For if I put the question to them whether it 
 be true that ^neas came on a time to Carthage, as the 
 Poet tells, the less learned will reply that they know not, 
 the more learned that he never did. But if I were to ask 
 with what letters the name "-^neas" is written, all who 
 have learnt this will answer me aright, according to the use 
 and wont, by which men have established those signs among 
 themselves. If, again, I should ask, which might be for- 
 gotten with least detriment to the concerns of life, reading 
 and writing or these poetic fictions, who does not foresee, 
 what all must answer who have not wholly forgotten them- 
 selves ? I sinned, then, when as a boy I preferred those 
 empty to those more profitable studies, or rather hated the 
 one and loved the other. " One and one, two ; " " two 
 and two, four ; " this was to me a hateful singsong : " the 
 wooden horse filled with armed men," and " the burning of 
 Troy," and " Creusa's shade" were the vain spectacle most 
 charming to me. 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 Why he disliked Greeks and easily learned Latin. 
 
 WHY then did I hate the Greek language in which like 
 songs are sung. For Homer also was skilful in 
 weaving the like fables, and is most sweetly- vain, yet was he 
 bitter to my boyish taste. And so I suppose would Virgil 
 be to Grecian children, when forced to learn him as I was 
 the other. Difficulty, in truth, the difficulty of learning a 
 foreign tongue, sprinkled, as it were, with gall all the sweet- 
 ness of Grecian fables. For I knew none of the words, and 
 to make me know them, I was urged vehemently with cruel 
 threats and punishments. Time was also (as an infant) I 
 knew no Latin ; but this I learned without fear or torture, 
 by mere observation, amid the caresses of my nurses, the 
 jests of smiling friends, and the delights of those that played 
 with me. This 1 learned without any burden of punish- 
 ment to urge me on, for my heart urged me to give birth to 
 its conceptions, which I could only do by learning words 
 not of teachers, but of talkers ; in whose ears also I gave birth 
 
i6 The Confessions of S. Augustine. 
 
 to the thoughts, whatever I conceived. It is quite clear 
 then, that a free curiosity has more power to make us learn 
 these things than a terrifying obligation. Only this obliga- 
 tion restrains the waverings of that freedom by Thy laws, O 
 my God, Thy laws, from the master's rod to the martyr's 
 trials, for Thy laws have the effect of mingling for us certain 
 wholesome bitters, which recall us to Thee away from that 
 pernicious blithesomeness, by means of which we depart 
 from Thee. 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 J fs prays that he may tise in God's service what he learned as a boy. 
 
 HEAR, Lord, my prayer ; let not my soul faint under 
 Thy discipline, nor let me faint in confessing unto 
 Thee Thy mercies, whereby Thou hast drawn me out of all 
 my most evil ways ; that Thou mightest become sweeter to 
 me than all the allurements which I once pursued ; that I 
 may most entirely love Thee, and clasp Thy hand with all 
 the affections of my heart, and Thou mayest yet draw me 
 away from every temptation, even unto the end. For, lo, 
 do Thou, O Lord, my King and my God, make serviceable 
 to Thyself whatever useful thing I learned in boyhood ; 
 for Thy service be it, that I speak, and write, and read, and 
 reckon. For Thou didst grant me Thy discipline, while I 
 was learning vanities ; and the sin of taking delight in those 
 vanities Thou hast forgiven. In them, indeed, I learned 
 many useful words, but these may as well be learned in 
 things not vain ; and that is the safe path, in which the 
 young should walk. 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 He blames the method in which theycungare taught ; and shows why the 
 poets attribute vices to the gods. 
 
 j[ "D UT woe to thee, thou torrent of human custom ! Who 
 
 I ID shall stand against thee ? how long shalt thou not 
 
 ^ be dried up ? how long roll the sons of Eve into that huge 
 
 and dreadful sea, which even they scarcely overpass who 
 
The Confessions of S, Augustine. 17 
 
 embark upon the wood ? * Did not I read in thee of Jove 
 foe thunderer and the adulterer ? both, certainly, he could 
 not be ; but so was it devised, that the sham thunder might 
 authorise and pander to real adultery. And now which of 
 our gowned masters, lends a sober ear to one of the same 
 clay as themselves, who cries out, " These things Homer 
 feigned, and transferred things human to the gods ; would 
 he had brought down things divine to us I " (Cic. Tusc. i. 
 26.) Yet more truly had he said, " These are indeed but 
 fictions ; but by attributing a divine nature to wicked men, 
 crimes were no longer deemed crimes, so that those who 
 commit them might seem to imitate not abandoned men, 
 but the celestial gods." 
 
 And yet, thou hellish torrent, into thee are cast the sons 
 of men with rich payments for such learning ; and a great 
 business is made of it, when this is being publicly done in 
 the forum, within sight of laws appointing a salary beside 
 the scholar's payments ; and thou lashest thy rocks and 
 roarest, " Hence words are learnt ; hence eloquence is 
 acquired; most necessary to gain your ends, or set forth 
 your opinions." As if we should have never known such 
 words as " golden shower," " lap," " deceit," " temples of 
 the heavens," or others in that passage, unless Terence had 
 brought a lewd youth upon the stage, setting up Jupiter as 
 his example of debauchery, while he views a " certain pic- 
 ture painted on the wall, where this was shown, how Jove, 
 they say, once dropped in Danae's lap a golden shower, 
 and on the woman passed deceit." And then mark how he 
 excites himself to lust as by celestial authority j " But what 
 God ? saith he. Why, he that shakes the topmost temples 
 of the heavens with his tKuhder. And may not I, weak 
 man, the same thing do ? Eh, but that I did, and merrily." 
 (Terence, Eun. Act iii. sc. 5.) Not one whit more easily 
 are the words learnt for all this vileness ; but by their 
 means the vileness is committed the more boldly. Not 
 that I blame the words, being, as it were, vessels elect and 
 
 * The wood of the cross is probably what S. Augustine here intends. 
 Compare Wisdom xiv. 5, ** Therefore do men commit their lives to a 
 small piece of wood, and passing the rough sea in a weak vessel are 
 saved." Of this passage S. Rabanus Maurus writes, " What sea, save 
 the tempestuous ocean of this naughty world ? what vessel, save the 
 the holier ark, the Cross of the Lord Jesus ? " — Editor. 
 
 A * 
 
1 8 The Confessions of S. Augustine. 
 
 precious ; but that wine of error which is in them, was given 
 to us to drink by teachers intoxicated with it ; and if we, tco, 
 drank not, we were beaten, nor could we appeal to tny 
 sober judge. Yet, O my God (in whose presence my 
 remembrance of this is now harmless), all this unhappily 
 I learnt willingly and took delight in it, and for this was 
 pronounced a hopeful boy. 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 He continues the subject of the last chapter, 
 
 SUFFER me, my God, to say somewhat of my talents, 
 Thy gift, and on what absurdities I wasted them. 
 For a task was set me, troublesome enough to my soul, upon 
 terms of praise or shame, and fear of stripes, to speak the 
 words of Juno, as she raged and mourned that she could 
 not turn the Trojan king from Italy. Which words I had 
 heard that Juno never uttered ; but we were forced to err 
 and stray in the footsteps of these poetic fictions, and to 
 say in prose much that the poet had expressed in verse. 
 And he would speak with the more applause, who best 
 maintained the dignity of the character he personated, and 
 simulated the passion of rage and grief, and meetly clothed 
 the thoughts in words. What is it to me, O my true life, 
 my God, that my declamation was applauded above so 
 many of my own age and class ? is not all this smoke and 
 wind ? and was there nothing else whereon to exercise my 
 talents and my tongue ? Thy praises, Lord, Thy praises 
 throughout Thy Scriptures, might have lent support to the 
 vine of my heart ; so had it not trailed away amid these 
 trifling vanities, a vile prey for the fowls of the air. For in 
 more ways than one do men sacrifice to the rebel angels. 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 Men keep with care the rules of grammar ; but neglect the eternal laws 
 of lasting salvation. 
 
 BUT what marvel that I was thus carried away to 
 vanities, and went out from Thy presence, O my 
 God, when men were set before me for imitation, who, if in 
 
The Confessions of S, Augustine. 19 
 
 relating some action of theirs, in itself not ill, expressed 
 themselves with some barbarism or solecism, being censured, 
 were abashed \ but if they related their own immoralities in 
 words well chosen and aptly put together, with fluency and 
 eloquence, being praised, they gloried ? These things Thou 
 seest. Lord, and boldest Thy peace ; " long-suffering, and 
 plenteous in mercy and truth" (Ps. Ixxxvi. 15). Wilt Thou 
 for ever hold Thy peace ? and even now thou dost pluck out 
 of this most frightful gulf the soul that seeketh Thee, that 
 thirsteth for Thy pleasures, " whose heart saith unto Thee, 
 I have sought Thy face ; Thy face, Lord, will I seek " (Ps. 
 xxvii. 8). For in " darkened affections I was far off from 
 Thee" (See Rom. i. 21). For it is not by our feet, or by 
 local distances, that men leave Thee, or return unto Thee. 
 Or did that Thy younger son look out for horses or chariots 
 or ships, fly with visible wings, or with knees bent to walk, 
 take his journey, that he might in a far country waste in 
 riotous living all Thou gavest at his faring forth ? a loving 
 Father, when Thou gavest, and more loving unto him when 
 he returned empty. So then lustful affections are in truth 
 darkened ; and they are the " country " far from Thy face. 
 
 Behold, O Lord God, yea, behold patiently as Thou art 
 wont, how carefully the sons of men observe the conven- 
 tional rules of letters and syllables received from former 
 speakers, neglecting the eternal covenant of everlasting 
 salvation received from Thee; insomuch, that any who 
 should hold to, or teach, the obsolete opinions of pronun- 
 ciation and contrary to grammatical rule, should fail to 
 aspirate the " h " in " uman being," would give more 
 offence to human beings, than if he, a human being, were to 
 hold human beings in hatred, contrary to Thy precepts. 
 As if, forsooth, one could receive more hurt from any 
 human enemy, than the hatred's self with which he is in- 
 censed against him; or could wound more deeply him 
 whom he persecutes, than he wounds his own soul by his 
 enmity. Assuredly no science of letters is so implanted in 
 us, as the law of conscience, " Do not to another as you 
 would not be done by." How Thou dost hide Thyself, O 
 God, Thou only great, "that dwellest on high" (Isaiah 
 xxxiii. 5) in silence, and by an unwearied law dost for pun- 
 ishment send blindness upon lawless desires. In quest of 
 the fame of eloquence, a man standing before a human 
 
20 The Confessions of S. Augustine. 
 
 judge, surrounded by a human crowd, inveighing against 
 his enemy with fiercest hatred, will take heed most watch- 
 fully, lest, by a slip of the tongue, he should say " amun* 
 men ; " * but will take no heed, lest, through the fury of his 
 spirit, he should take away his life from among men. 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 He proves that infants are not without faults ; and details the guile and 
 faults of boyhood. 
 
 SUCH were the moral surroundings among which I lay, 
 unhappy, in boyhood ; such the school of my contest, 
 in which I had feared more to commit a barbarism, than, 
 having committed one, to envy those who had not. These 
 things I speak and confess to Thee, my God ; for which I 
 had praise from them, in whose pleasure I then thought 
 honourable life to consist. For I saw not the abyss of vile- 
 ness, wherein " I was cast away from Thine eyes " (Ps. xxxi. 
 22). For in them what could be more foul than I already 
 was, since I was offensive even to such as myself? with 
 innumerable lies deceiving my tutor, my masters, my 
 parents, from love of play, eagerness to see vain shows and 
 restlessness to imitate stage plays? Thefts also I com- 
 mitted from my parents' cellar and table, either because 
 tempted by gluttony, or that I might have to give to boys, 
 who sold me their play, which all the while they delighted 
 in as much as I did. In this play, too, I often sought to 
 win by cheating ; won over myself meanwhile by coveting 
 to excel. And what could I so ill put up with, or, when I 
 found it out, did I denounce so fiercely, as that very thing 
 which I was doing to others, and for which, found out, I 
 was denounced, but yet chose rather to quarrel than to yield. 
 And is thisjhe innocence of boyhood ? Not so. Lord, not 
 'sbJTTcry'Thy mercy, "O my TJod. ~Tor these very sins, as 
 riper years succeed, these very sins are transferred from 
 tutors and masters, from nuts and balls and sparrows, to 
 
 * There is a constant word play throughout this chapter, most diffi. 
 cult to reproduce. In this sentence the fault, which S. Augustine says 
 a man would eagerly avoid, is that of saying *' inter hominibus " instead 
 of " inter homines." I have tried to save the sense. — Editor. 
 
The Confessions of S. Augustine, 21 
 
 magistrates and kings, to gold and manors and slaves, just / 
 as severer punishments displace the cane. It was the'' 
 stature then of childhood, which Thou our King didst 
 commend as an emblem of humility, when Thou saidst, 
 "Of such is the kingdom of heaven" (S. Matt. xix. 14). 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 He thanks God for benefits conferred on him in boyhood, 
 
 YET, Lord, to Thee, the Creator and Governor of the 
 universe, most excellent and most good, thanks were 
 due to Thee our God, even hadst Thou willed that boyhood 
 only should be mine. For even then I was, I lived, and 
 felt ; and had my preservation ; a trace of that most hidden 
 Unity, from which I had my being; I guarded by the 
 inward sense the entireness of my senses, and in these little 
 things, and in my thoughts about little things, I began to 
 take delight in truth. I hated to be deceived, had a vigor- 
 ous memory, was well furnished with language, was com- 
 forted by friendship, avoided pain, shame, and ignorance. 
 In so small a creature, what was not wonderful, not admir- 
 able ? But all are gifts of my God : it was not I, who gave 
 them to myself ; and good these are, and these together are 
 myself. Good, then, is He that made me, and He is my 
 good ; and before Him do I exult for every good which 
 even as a boy I had. For herein was my sin, that not in 
 Him, but in His creatures — myself and others — I sought for 
 pleasures, grandeurs, realities, and so fell headlong into 
 sorrows, confusions, errors. Thanks be to Thee, my joy 
 and my glory and my confidence, my God, thanks be to 
 Thee for Thy gifts \ but do Thou preserve them to me. 
 For so wilt Thou preserve me, and those things shall be in- 
 creased and perfected, which Thou hast given me, and I 
 myself shall be with Thee, since even that I am is of Thy 
 gift to me. 
 
3Booft 35. 
 
 He passes on to his youth ; beginning from his sixteenth 
 
 YEAR ; when having LAID ASIDE HIS STUDIES, HE INDULGED 
 HIS APPETITES, AND WITH HIS COMPANIONS COMMITTED THEFT 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 He deplores the sins of his youth, 
 
 I DESIRE now to call to mind my past foulness, and the 
 carnal corruptions of my soul ; not because I love them, 
 but that I may love Thee, O my God. For love of Thy 
 love I do it ; recalling my most wicked ways in the bitter- 
 ness of my remembrance, that Thou mayest grow sweet unto 
 me ; (Thou sweetness never failing, Thou blessed and tran- 
 quil sweetness) ; and gathering me again out of that my 
 dissipation, wherein I was torn piecemeal, while turned 
 away from Thy Unity, I lost myself among many things. 
 For I even burnt in my youth heretofore, to be satiated in 
 things below ; and I dared to grow wild with various and 
 shadowy loves : " my beauty consumed away," and I was 
 loathly in Thine eyes ; pleasing myself, and desirous to please 
 the eyes of men. 
 
 CHAPTER H. 
 
 In the deepest grief he recalls the sensual indulgences of his sixteenth 
 year. 
 
 AND what was it that 1 delighted in, but to love, and be 
 beloved ? but the measure of mind to mind, such as 
 is the shining boundary of friendship, was not kept ; but out 
 of the muddy desire of the flesh, and the overflow of youth, 
 mists were given off which clouded and overcast my heart, 
 so that the clear brightness of love could not be distin- 
 
The Confessions of S, Augustine. 23 
 
 guished from the fog of lust. Both did confusedly boil in 
 me, and hurried my youthful weakness over the precipice of 
 desire, and sunk me in an abyss of shame. Thy wrath had 
 lowered over me, and I knew it not. I was grown deaf by 
 the clanking of the chain of my mortality, the punishment 
 of the pride of my soul ; and I strayed further from Thee, 
 and Thou didst let me alone, and I was tossed about, and 
 poured out, and dissipated, and I boiled over in my forni- 
 cations, and Thou didst hold Thy peace, O Thou my tardy 
 joy ! Thou then didst hold Thy peace, and I wandered 
 further and further from Thee, into more and more barren 
 occasions of sorrows, with a proud dejectedness, and a rest- 
 less weariness. / 
 
 Oh ! that some one had then restrained my distress, and / 
 turned to account the fleeting beauties of these newest ' 
 powers, had put a bound to their pleasureableness, that so 
 the tides of my youth might have cast themselves upon the 
 shore of marriage if the duty of paternity had not sufficed 
 to calm them, as Thy law prescribes, O Lord : who this 
 way formest the offspring of our mortal race, being able 
 with a gentle hand to blunt the thorns, which were shut 
 out from Thy paradise ! For Thy omnipotence is not far 
 from us, even though we are far from Thee. Else ought 
 I more watchfully to have heeded the solemn voice froir 
 Thy clouds; "Nevertheless such shall have trouble in the 
 flesh, but I spare you." And " it is good for a man not to 
 touch a woman." And " he that is unmarried thinketh of 
 the things of the Lord, how he may please the Lord ; but 
 he that is married careth for the things of this world, how 
 he may please his wife" (i Cor. vii.). 
 
 To these words I should have listened more attentively, 
 and being continent " for the kingdom of heaven's sake " 
 (S. Matt. xix. 1 2), I should the more happily have awaited 
 Thy embraces ; but I, poor wretch, as though I had been 
 a boiling sea, followed the tide of my impulses, and forsook 
 Thee, I exceeded all the bounds of Thy laws, yet I escaped 
 not Thy scourges. For what mortal can ? For Thou wert 
 ever with me angry in mercy, and besprinkling with rnost 
 bitter vexations all my unlawful pleasures : that I might 
 seek pleasures free from offence. But where to find such, 
 I could not discover, save in Thee, O Lord, who " shapest 
 our troudle for a precept" (Ps. xciv. 20, Vulg.), and 
 
24 The Confessiofis of S. Augustine. 
 
 woimdest us, that Thou mayest heal ; and killest us, lest 
 we die from Thee. Where was I, and how far was I exiled 
 from the delights of Thy house, in that sixteenth year of 
 the age of my flesh, when the madness of lust which hath 
 license through men's viciousness, though forbidden by Thy 
 laws, took the rule over me, and I resigned myself wholly 
 to it ? My friends meanwhile took no care by marriage to 
 save me from ruin; their only care was that I should 
 learn to make a good speech, and be a persuasive orator. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 Concerning his father^ a freedman of Thagaste, the helper of his son's 
 studies ; and his mother's counsels to chastity. 
 
 FOR that year were my studies intermitted : whilst after 
 my return from Madaura, a neighbouring city, whithei 
 I had begun to travel to study grammar and rhetoric, the 
 expenses for a further journey to Carthage were being found 
 for me rather by the resolution than the means of my father, 
 who was but a poor freedman of Thagaste. To whom tell I 
 this ? not to Thee, my God ; but before Thee to mine own 
 kind, even to the small portion of mankind, that may light 
 upon these writings of mine. And to what purpose ? that 
 I myself and whosoever reads this, may reflect "out of 
 what deep we are to cry unto Thee " (Ps. cxxx. i). For 
 what is nearer to Thine ears than a heart that makes con- 
 fession, and a life of faith ? Who did not then sing my 
 father's praises, for that beyond the ability of fortune, he 
 would furnish his son with all necessaries for a long journey 
 for the sake of his studies ? For many citizens far more 
 wealthy did no such thing for their children. But yet this 
 same father had no concern how I grew towards Thee, or 
 how chaste I were ; so that I were but a cultured speaker, 
 however barren I were to Thy culture, O God, who art the 
 only true and good Lord of Thy field, my heart. 
 
 But while in that my sixteenth year I began to be at 
 home, and to keep enforced holiday from all study, through 
 the narrowness of my parents' fortunes, the briars of unclean 
 desires grew up above my head, and there was no hand to 
 root them out. When that my father saw me at the baths, 
 
The Confessions of S, Augustine, 25 
 
 now growing toward manhood, and endued with the rest- 
 lessness of youth, he, as though already exulting in his 
 grandchildren, gladly told it to my mother; intoxicated 
 with that joy wherein the world forgetteth Thee its Creator, 
 and loveth Thy creature instead of Thyself, through that 
 invisible wine of self-will, which is perverse, and inclined to 
 base things. But in my mother's breast Thou hadst 
 already begun Thy temple, and the foundation of Thy holy 
 habitation, whereas my father was as yet a catechumen, and 
 that but recently. She then was startled with an holy fear 
 and trembling; and though I was not as yet one of the 
 faithful, she feared for me those crooked ways, in which 
 they walk, who " turn their back unto Thee and not their 
 face" (Jer. ii. 27). 
 
 Woe is me ! and dare I say that Thou didst hold Thy 
 peace, O my God, while I was straying further from Thee ? 
 Didst Thou then indeed hold Thy peace to me? And 
 whose but Thine were these words which by my mother. 
 Thy faithful one. Thou didst chant in my ears ? Nothing 
 whereof sunk into my heart, so as to do it. For she wished, 
 and I remember in private with great earnestness warned 
 me, " to flee fornication, and especially never to sin with 
 another's wife." These seemed to me womanish advices, 
 which I should blush to obey. But they were Thine, and 
 I knew it not ; and I thought Thou didst hold Thy peace, 
 and that it was she who spake ; by whom Thou didst not 
 hold Thy peace ; and in her wast despised by me, her son, 
 "the son of Thy handmaid and Thy servant" (Ps. cxvi. 16). 
 But I knew it not ; and ran headlong with such blindness, 
 that amongst my equals I was ashamed of being less 
 vicious, when I heard them boast of their vices, yea, boast- 
 ing the more the baser they were ; and I took pleasure, not 
 only in a vicious act, but in the praise of it. What is 
 worthy of blame but Vice ? But I made myself out more 
 vicious than I was to avoid being blamed ; and when there 
 was nothing which I could plead guilty of, to be like the 
 most abandoned, I would pretend that I had done what I 
 had not done, that I might not seem more contemptible 
 because I was more innocent; or be held the cheaper 
 because more chaste. 
 
 Behold with what companions I walked the streets of 
 Babylon, and wallowed in the mire thereof, as if in a bed 
 
26 The Confessions of S. Augustine. 
 
 of spices, and precious ointments. And that I might cleave 
 the faster in the midst of it, the invisible enemy trod me 
 down, and seduced me, for that I was easy to be seduced. 
 Neither did the mother of my flesh (who had now " fled 
 out of the midst of Babylon " [Jer. li. 6], yet went more 
 slowly in the skirts thereof), as she advised me to chastity, 
 so heed what she had heard of me from her husband, as 
 to restrain within the bounds of married love (if it could 
 not be pared away to the quick), what she felt to be pestilent 
 at present, and for the future dangerous. She heeded not 
 this, for she feared, lest my prospects might be embarrassed 
 by the clog of a wife. Not that prospect of the world to 
 come, which my mother reposed in Thee ; but the prospect 
 of learning, which both my parents were too desirous I 
 should attain ; my father, because of Thee he thought little 
 or nothing, and of me but vain conceits ; but my mother, 
 because she accounted that those usual courses of learning 
 would not only be no hindrance, but even some help to- 
 wards attaining Thee in time to come. For thus I conjec- 
 ture, recalling, as well as I may, the dispositions of my 
 parents. The reins, meantime, were slackened to me, 
 beyond the due measure of severity, so that I might sport, 
 yea, even unto dissoluteness, in all sorts of passions. And 
 in all was a mist shutting out from me, O my God, the 
 brightness of Thy truth ; and mine iniquity " stood out as 
 with fatness " (Ps. Ixxiii. 7). 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 He joins his companions in an act of theft ; tempted not by want^ 
 but by a certain loathing of righteousness. 
 
 THEFT is punished by Thy law, O Lord, and the law 
 written in the hearts of men, which iniquity itself 
 does not blot out. For what thief will abide a thief? not 
 even a rich thief, one driven to steal by want. Yet I wanted 
 to thieve, and did it, though compelled by no want nor 
 poverty, but through a loathing of righteousness and a surfeit 
 of iniquity. For I stole that, of which I had plenty, and 
 much better. Nor did I want to enjoy what I sought by my 
 theft, but the theft and sin itself. A pear tree there was 
 
The Confessions of S, Augustine, 27 
 
 near our vineyard, laden with fruit, tempting neither in form 
 nor flavour. To shake and rob this, some base young 
 fellows of us went, laie one night, after having, according 
 to our abominable habit, kept up our fun in the streets 
 till then ; and took huge loads, not for a feast for ourselves, 
 but to fling to the very hogs, having only tasted them. And 
 this was done by us only for the pleasure of doing what we 
 ought not. Behold my heart, O God, behold my heart, 
 which Thou hadst pity upon in the bottom of the abyss. 
 Now, behold, let my heart tell Thee, what it sought there, 
 that I should be gratuitously wicked, having no temptation 
 to that evil deed, but the evil deed itself. It was foul, and 
 I loved it ; I loved to perish, I loved mine own fault, not 
 that for the sake of which I committed the fault, but my 
 fault itself I loved. Foul soul, falling from Thy firmament 
 to expulsion from thy presence ; not seeking aught through 
 the shame, but the shame itself ! 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 That the motive to sin lies not in mere love of evil^ but in the desire to^ 
 acquire something. 
 
 FOR there is a beauty in fair bodies, in gold and silver, 
 and all things ; and in bodily touch, sympathy counts 
 for much, and of the other senses each hath his correspond- 
 ing measure of enjoyment. Worldly honour hath also its 
 attractiveness, and the power of command and of conquest ; 
 whence springs also the longing for revenge. But yet, ta 
 obtain all these, we may not depart from Thee, O Lord, nor 
 wander from Thy law. The life also which here we live 
 hath its own enchantment, through a certain measure of 
 dignity, and a correspondence with all things beautiful here 
 below. Human friendship also is pleasant with its tie of 
 affection, by reason of the unity formed of many souls. 
 Upon occasion of all these, and the like, is sin committed, 
 while through an immoderate inclination towards these goods 
 of the lowest order, the better and higher are forsaken, — 
 Thou, our Lord God, Thy truth, and Thy law. For these 
 lower things have their delights, but not like my God, who 
 made all things ; for '* in Him doth the righteous delight^ 
 and He is the joy of ihe true of heart " (Ps. Ixiv. 10). 
 
28 The Confessions of S. Augustine. 
 
 When, then, we ask why a crime was done, we believe it 
 not, unless it appear that there might have been some desire 
 of obtaining some of those which we called lower goods, 
 or a fear of losing them. For they are beautiful and comely ; 
 although in comparison with those higher and more blessed 
 goods, they be abject and low. A man hath done murder. 
 Why ? he loved his victim's wife or his estate ; or would rob 
 for his own livelihood ; or feared to lose some such things by 
 him ; or, wronged, burned to revenge himself Would any 
 commit murder upon no cause, delighted in murder itself? 
 who would believe it ? for as for that mad and savage man, 
 of whom it is said that he was " gratuitously evil and cruel," 
 yet is the cause assigned ; " lest " (saith he) " through idle- 
 ness hand or mind should grow inactive" (Sallust. Catil." 
 1 6). And to what end ? that through that practice of crimes, 
 he might, having taken the city, attain to honours, empire, 
 riches, and be freed from fear of the laws, and the embar- 
 rassment of his affairs, through narrow means and conscious- 
 ness of villanies. So then, not even Catiline himself loved 
 his own villanies, but rather that for the sake of which he 
 did them. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 WTiat it was that he loved in his theft ; since all things that prompt to 
 sin by an appearance of goodness can be only true and perfect in 
 God alone. 
 
 WHAT then did wretched I so love in thee, thou theft 
 of mine, thou deed of night, in that sixteenth year of 
 my age ? Fair thou wert not, for thou wert theft. But art 
 thou any thing, that thus I speak to thee ? Fair were the 
 pears we stole, because they were Thy creation. Thou fairest 
 of all, Creator of all. Thou good God ; God, the sovereign 
 good and my true good. Fair were those pears, but not 
 them did my wretched soul desire ; for I had store of better, 
 and those I plucked only that I might steal. For, when 
 plucked, I flung them away, and feasted only on my sin, 
 which I was pleased to enjoy. For if aught of those pears 
 came within my mouth, the sin was the seasoning. And 
 now, O Lord my God, I ask what in that theft delighted 
 me ; and behold it hath no beauty ; I mean not such 
 
The Confessions of S, Augustine. 29 
 
 beauty as is in justice and wisdom; nor even sucn as is in 
 the mind and memory, and senses, and animal life of man ; 
 nor yet as the stars are glorious and beautiful in their orbs ; 
 or the earth or sea, full of embryo-life, replacing by its birth 
 that which decayeth ; nay, nor even that false and shadowy 
 beauty which belongeth to deceiving vices. 
 
 For pride doth ap^Jiighness; whereas Thou only art 
 God, Most" High above all. Ambition, what seeks it, but 
 honours and glory? whereas Thou alone art to be honoured 
 above all, and glorious for evermore. The cruelty of the 
 powers that be, would fain be feared; but who is to be 
 feared but God alone, out of whose power what can be 
 wrested or withdrawn ? when, or where, or whither, or by 
 whom? The charms of the wanton would fain be. loved; 
 but there is nothing that hath more charm than Thy charity; 
 nor is aught loved more healthfully than that Thy truth 
 which is beautiful and luminous above all. Curiosity seems 
 to affect a desire of knowledge ; whereas Thou supremely 
 knowest all! Tea, ignorance and very folly is cloaked under 
 the name of simplicity and harmlessness ; because nothing 
 is found more simple than Thyself. And what is more 
 harmless than Thou art? Truly his own deeds are the 
 sinner's foes. SloUi again is a certain seeking after rest; 
 but what sure rest is there besides the Lord? Luxury 
 would prefer to be called sufficiency and abundance ; but 
 Thou art the fulness and never-failing plenteousness of 
 sweetness incorruptible. Prodigality presents a shadow of 
 liberality : but Thou art the most plenteous Giver of all 
 good things. Covetousness would possess many things: 
 and Thou possessest all things. Envy quarrels about ex- 
 cellency: what more excellent than Thou? Anger seeks 
 vengeance ; who avengeth more justly than Thou ? Fear 
 trembles at unwonted and sudden adversities which en- 
 danger things beloved, and takes precautions for their 
 safety ; but to Thee what unwonted or sudden, or who 
 separateth from Thee what Thou lovest? (Rom. viii. 9.) 
 Or where but with Thee is unshaken safety ? Grief pines 
 away for things now lost, in which covetousness used to 
 take delight ; because it would have nothing taken from it, 
 as nothing can be taken from Thee. 
 
 Thus doth the soul commit fornication, when she turns 
 from Thee, seeking without Thee, what she findeth not 
 
30 The Confessio7is of S. Augustine. 
 
 pure and untainted, till she returns to Thee. Thus all 
 perversely imitate Thee, who put Thee far from them, and 
 lift themselves up against Thee. But even by thus imitating 
 Thee, they imply Thee to be the Creator of all nature; 
 whence there is no place whither altogether to retire from 
 Thee. What then did I love in that theft ? and wherein 
 ,did I even wickedly and perversely imitate my Lord ? Did 
 jit please me to do contrary to Thy law, at any rate by 
 jartifice, if I could not by power, so that though a prisoner, 
 jl might mimic a maimed liberty by doing with impunity 
 i things unpermitted me, a shadowy likeness of Thy Omnipo- 
 tency? Behold, Thy servant, fleeing from his Lord, and 
 obtaining a shadow. O rottenness, O monstrousness of 
 life, and depth and death ! could I like what I might not, 
 for nothing else than that I might not ? 
 
 CHAPTER VIL 
 
 \ \ He renders thanks to God for the forgiveness of his sins ; and warns 
 I against pride any whom God has kept from such grave offences. 
 
 "TX rHAT shall I render unto the Lord" (Ps. cxvi. 12), 
 V V that, whilst my memory recalls these things, my 
 soul is not affrighted at them ? " I will love Thee, O Lord, 
 and give thanks unto Thee, and confess unto Thy name ; " 
 because Thou hast forgiven me these so great and wicked 
 deeds of mine. To Thy grace I impute it, and to Thy 
 mercy, that Thou hast melted away my sins as it were ice. 
 To Thy grace I impute also that some evil I have left un- 
 done ; for what might I not have done, who even loved a sin 
 for its ov/n sake ? And I confess that all have been forgiven 
 me; both those sins which, of my own will, I did, and 
 those which, of Thy guidance, I left undone. What man 
 is there who, conscious of his own infirmity, dares to ascribe 
 his chastity and innocency to his own strength ; that so he 
 should love Thee the less, as though Thy mercy had been 
 the less necessary for him; the mercy whereby Thou re- 
 mittest sins to those that turn to Thee ? For whosoever, 
 V called by Thee, followed Thy voice, and shunned those 
 \ things which he reads me recording and confessing of 
 myself, let him not scorn me, who being sick, was cured by 
 
The Confessions of S. Augustine. 31 
 
 I that Physician, through whose aid it was that he was not 
 ' sick, or rather was less sick : and for this let him love Thee 
 as much, yea and more; since by whom he sees me to have 
 been freed from the weary exhaustion of my sins, by Him 
 he sees that he was saved from entanglement in the like 
 exhaustion. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 That in the theft^ it was the companionship of his fellow-sinners 
 that he liked. 
 
 "■\7[rHAT fruit had I then, ''wretched man," in those 
 VV things, of the remembrance whereof I am now 
 ashamed ? " (Rom. vi. 21). Especially, in that theft wherein 
 I loved theft itself? there was nothing else to love in it; 
 and since itself was nothing, was not I more wretched even 
 than the theft ? Yet alone I had not done it : for I re- 
 member that my mind even then discerned that of myself 
 I had never done it. I loved then in it also the companion- 
 ship of the accomplices, with whom I did it ? Did I then 
 love nothing else but the theft ? yea rather I did love no- 
 thing else, for that companionship was also nothing. What 
 is, in truth ? who can teach me, save He that enlighteneth 
 my heart, and discovereth its shadows? What is it which 
 hath come into my mind to enquire, and discuss, and con- 
 sider ? For had I then loved the pears I stole, and wished 
 to enjoy them, I might have done it alone, if the com- 
 mitting of that wickedness had sufficed to attain my 
 pleasure ; nor needed I have inflamed the itching of my 
 covetousness, by the flattery of accomplices. But since my 
 pleasure was not in those pears, it was in the offence itself, 
 which the association with fellow-sinners occasioned. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 There is pleasure in Icciighter^ and in the deceiving of others. 
 
 WHAT then was that inclination of the mind ? For of 
 a truth it was too foul : and woe was me, who had 
 it. But yet what was it? "Who can understand his 
 errors" (Ps. xix. 12). It was the sport, which as it were. 
 
32 The Confessions of S. Augustine. 
 
 tickled our hearts, that we were deceiving those who had no 
 idea of what we were about, and vehemently misliked it. 
 Why then was my delight of such sort, that I did it not 
 alone ? Was it because none doth readily laugh alone ? 
 indeed no one doth so readily; yet laughter sometimes 
 masters men alone and by themselves, when no one else is 
 with them, if any thing very ridiculous presents itself to 
 their senses or mind. Yet I had not done this alone ; 
 alone I had never done it. Behold my God, before Thee 
 is the vivid remembrance of my soul ; alone I had never 
 committed that theft wherein the thing stolen gave me no 
 pleasure, but only the stealing; nor would the stealing have 
 given me pleasure by myself, nor would I have done it. O 
 friendship too unfriendly ! thou incomprehensible deception 
 of the mind, thou greediness to do mischief out of sport 
 and mirth, thou thirst of another's loss, without lust of my 
 own gain or revenge : but when it is said, " Let's go, let's 
 do it," we are ashamed not to be shameless. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 With God is true rest^ and life undisturbed. 
 
 WHO can unloose that most twisted and tangled knot ? 
 Foul is it : I hate the thought of it ; I hate the 
 sight of it. But Thee I long for, O Righteousness and 
 Innocency, fair and comely to pure eyes, and of a satis- 
 faction unsating. With Thee is true rest and life un- 
 troubled. Whoso enters into Thee, " enters into the joy of 
 his Lord " (S. Matt. xxv. 21) : and shall not fear, and shall 
 find all good, in Thee, Most Good. I sank away from 
 Thee, and I wandered, O my God, too much astray from 
 Thee my stay, in my youth, and I became to myself a 
 barren land. 
 
Booft 555^ 
 
 Treats of his seventeenth, eighteenth, and nineteenth 
 
 YEARS spent at CaRTHAGE, WHERE, IN ADDITION TO HIS STUDIES, 
 HE WAS TAKEN IN THE SNARE OF LAWLESS LOVE, AND PLUNGED 
 INTO MANICHyEAN ERRORS. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 Captive to a latvless passion, a man base and dishonourable would fain 
 be fine and courtly, 
 
 I CAME to Carthage, where there seethed all around 
 me a cauldron of lawless loves. I loved not yet, yet 
 I loved to love, and out of a deep-seated want, I hated 
 myself for wanting not. I sought what I might love, in 
 love with loving, and I hated safety, and a way without 
 snares. For within me was a famine of that inward food, 
 Thyself, my God ; yet, through that famine I was not hun- 
 gered ; but was without all longing for incorruptible suste- 
 nance, not because filled therewith, but the more empty, 
 the more I loathed it. For this cause my soul was un- 
 healthy; and being ulcerous, miserably cast itself forth, 
 seeking to be scraped by the touch of objects of sense. 
 Yet if these had not a soul, they would not be objects of 
 love. To love then, and to be beloved, was sweet to me ; 
 but more, when I obtained to enjoy the person I loved. I 
 defiled, therefore, the spring of friendship with the filth of 
 concupiscence, and I beclouded its brightness with the 
 hell of lustfulness; and thus foul and unseemly, I would 
 fain, through excess of vanity, be fine and courtly. I fell 
 headlong then into the love, with which I longed to be 
 taken captive. My God, my Mercy, with how much gall 
 didst Thou out of Thy great goodness besprinkle for me 
 that sweetness? For I was both beloved, and secretly 
 
 B 
 
34 I'hf^ Confessions of S. Augustine, 
 
 arrived at the bond of enjoying ; and rejoiced to be b(l md 
 in sorrowful bonds, that I might be scourged with the i ad- 
 hot iron rods of jealousy, and suspicions, and fears, and 
 angers, and quarrels. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 He arouses empty feelings of pity in himself by stage plays, 
 
 STAGE plays also carried me away, full of images of my 
 miseries, and of tinder for my flame. Why is it that 
 man desires to be there made sad, beholding grievous and 
 tragical things, which yet himself would by no means suffer? 
 yet he desires as a spectator to feel grief at them, and this 
 very grief is his pleasure. What is this but a mis^^rable 
 madness ? for a man is the more affected with these actions, 
 the less free he is from such affections. Howsoever, w.hen 
 he suffers in his own person, it uses to be styled misery ; 
 when from sympathy with others, then it is pity. But what 
 sort of pity is this for the shams and shadows of the stage ? 
 for the auditor is not moved to succour, but only asked to 
 grieve ; and he applauds the actor of these fictions the 
 more, the more he grieves. And if those human misfor- 
 tunes, whether they be histories of olden times, or mere 
 fictions, be so acted, that the spectator is not moved to 
 grief, he goes away disdainful and censorious ; but if he be 
 moved to grief, he stays intent, and enjoys the tears he 
 sheds. 
 
 Are griefs then too loved? Verily all desire joy. Or 
 since no man likes to be miserable, yet we like to be piti- 
 ful ; and as this cannot be without some grief, is this the 
 sole reason why griefs are loved ? This also arises from 
 that spring of friendship. But whither goes that spring? 
 whither does it flow ? wherefore runs it into that torrent of 
 pitch bubbling forth those monstrous tides of foul lusts, into 
 which it is changed and transformed of its own motion, 
 being twisted aside and cut off from its heavenly clearness ? 
 Shall pity then be renounced ? by no means. Let griefs 
 then sometimes be loved. But beware of uncleanness, O 
 my soul, under the guardianship of my God, the " God of 
 our fathers, who is to be praised and exalted above all for 
 ever " (Dan. iii. 52, Vulg.) ; beware of uncleanness. For I 
 
The Confessions of S. Augustine. 35 
 
 have not even now ceased to pity ; but then in the theatres 
 I rejoiced with lovers, when they wickedly enjoyed one 
 another, although this was imaginary only in the play. And 
 when they lost one another, as if very pitiful, I sorrowed 
 with them, yet had my delight in both the while. But now 
 I much more pity him that rejoiceth in his wickedness, 
 than him that suffers seeming hardships through lack of some 
 pernicious pleasure, and the loss of some miserable felicity. 
 This certainly is the truer pity, but in it grief is without 
 delight. For though he that grieves for the miserable be 
 commended for his office of charity, yet he who is genuinely 
 pitiful would much prefer that there were nothing for him to 
 grieve for. For if good will be ill willed, which cannot be, 
 then may he, who truly and sincerely pities, wish there 
 might be some miserable that he might pity them. Some 
 sorrow may then be allowed, none loved. For thus dost 
 Thou, O Lord God, who lovest souls far more purely than 
 we, and hast more incorruptibly pity on them, yet art 
 wounded with no sorrowfulness. " And who is sufficient for 
 these things"? (2 Cor. ii. 16). 
 
 But I, miserable, then loved to grieve, and sought out 
 what to grieve at, when in the misery of another, who only 
 feigned and postured, that acting of a player best pleased 
 me, and attracted me the most vehemently, which drew 
 tears from me. What marvel that an unhappy sheep, erring 
 from Thy flock, and impatient of Thy keeping, I became 
 infected with a foul disease ? And hence came the love of 
 griefs, though not of such as should too deeply affect me. 
 For I loved not to endure what I loved to look on ; but 
 such that when I heard their fictions, I should, as it were, 
 be tickled on the surface : upon which, as on nail scratches, 
 followed inflamed swelling, corruption, and a horrid sore. 
 Such was my life. But was it life, O my God ? 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 Not even in Church does he govern his desires ; in the rhetoric school he 
 abhors the doings of the ** Subverters.''^ 
 
 AND Thy faithful mercy hovered over me from afar. In 
 what grievous iniquities did I consume away, and 
 followed after a sacrilegious curiosity, that when forsaking 
 
36 The Confessions of S, Augustine. 
 
 Thee it might bring me to the treacherous abyss, and the 
 deceitful rites of devils, to whom I sacrificed my evil 
 doings ; and in all these things Thou didst scourge me ! I 
 dared even, during the celebration of Thy solemnities, 
 within the walls of Thy church, to desire, and to compass a 
 business, deserving death for its fruits, for which Thou 
 scourgedst me with grievous punishments, though nothing 
 to my fault, O Thou my exceeding mercy, my God, my 
 refuge from those terrible destroyers, among whom I 
 wandered with a stiff neck, withdrawing further from Thee, 
 loving mine own ways, and not Thine; loving a fleeting 
 liberty. 
 
 Those studies also, which were accounted honourable, 
 had their purpose fixed upon the Law Courts, that I might 
 excel in them, being considered more praiseworthy, the 
 more crafty in deception. Such is men's blindness, glory- 
 ing even in their blindness. And now I was chief in the 
 rhetoric school, whereat I joyed proudly, and I swelled with 
 arrogancy, though (Lord, Thou knowest) far quieter and 
 altogether removed from the subvertings of those "Sub- 
 verters " (for this perverse and devilish name was a sort of 
 mark of the " man about town ") among whom I lived, with 
 a shameless shame that I was not even as they. With 
 them I lived, and was sometimes delighted with their 
 friendship, though I ever held aloof from their doings, i.e., 
 their " subvertings," wherewith they wantonly railed at the 
 modesty of strangers, which they disturbed by a gratuitous 
 jeering, feeding thereon their malicious mirth. Nothing 
 can be more like the actions of devils. What then could 
 they be more truly called than " subverters " ? themselves 
 subverted and altogether perverted first, the deceiving spirits 
 secretly deriding and seducing them in the very thing 
 wherein themselves delight to jeer at, and deceive others. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 In his nineteenth year, two years after his father^ s death, the "Hor- 
 teusius" of Cicero recalls his mind to philosophy, to God, and to 
 a better mood of thought. 
 
 AMONG such as these, in that inconstant age of mine, 
 I kept learning books of eloquence, wherein I desired 
 to be eminent, for a damnable and windy end, the gratifica- 
 
The Confessions of S. Augustine. 37 
 
 tion of human vanity. In the then usual course of study, 
 I fell upon a certain book of Cicero, whose language almost 
 all admire, not so his heart. This book of his contains 
 an exhortation to philosophy, and is called Hortensius. But 
 this book altered my disposition, and turned my prayers to 
 Thyself, O Lord ; and changed my purposes and desires. 
 Every vain hope at once became worthless to me ; and I 
 began to yearn with an incredible fervour of heart for the 
 immortality of wisdom, and began now to arise, that I might 
 return to Thee. For not to sharpen my tongue (which thing 
 I seemed to be purchasing with my mother's income, in 
 that my nineteenth year, my father being dead two years 
 before), not to sharpen my tongue did I pore over that 
 book ; and it convinced me, not by the manner, but the 
 matter of its eloquence. 
 
 How did I burn then, my God, how did I burn to soar 
 again from earthly things to Thee ; and I knew not what 
 Thou wouldest do with me. For with Thee is wisdom. But 
 the love of wisdom is in Greek called "philosophy," with 
 which that book inflamed me. Some there be that seduce 
 through philosophy, under a great, and alluring, and honour- 
 able name colouring and disguising their own errors : and 
 almost all who in that and former ages were such, are in 
 that book censured and set forth : there also is illustrated 
 that wholesome advice of Thy spirit, by Thy good and 
 devout servant ; " Beware lest any man spoil you through 
 philosophy and vain deceit, after the tradition of men, after 
 the rudiments of the world, and not after Christ. For in 
 Him dwelleth all the fulness of the Godhead bodily " (Col. 
 ii. 8, 9). And at that time (Thou, O light of my heart, 
 knowest that this passage of the Apostle was not as yet 
 known to me), I was delighted with this only, to wit, the 
 exhortation that I should love, and seek, and follow after, 
 and hold, and embrace, not this school or the other, but 
 wisdom's self, wherever she might be : with that exhortation 
 I was greatly stirred up, and enkindled, and inflamed ; and 
 in my great ardour this only gave me pause, that the name 
 of Christ was not in it. For this name, according to Thy 
 mercy, O Lord, this name of my Saviour Thy Son, had my 
 tender heart, even with my mother's milk, drunk in, and 
 deeply treasured ; and whatsoever was without that name, 
 though never so learned, polished, or truthful, took not 
 entire hold of me. 
 
3$ Tlie Confessions of S. Augusti?te. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 He throws aside Holy ScHpture as being too simple^ and by no means 
 comparable with Cicero for dignity. 
 
 I BEGAN then to turn my mind to the Holy Scriptures, 
 that I might see what they were. But behold, I see a 
 thing not understood by the proud, nor laid open to children, 
 in mien lowly, in issue lofty, and veiled with mysteries ; and 
 I was not such as could enter into it, or stoop my neck to 
 follow its steps. For not as I now speak, did I feel when 
 I turned to those Scriptures ; but they seemed to me undig- 
 nified, in comparison with Ciceronian dignity \ for my swell- 
 ing pride shrunk from their humble method, nor could my 
 sharp wit penetrate their depths. Yet were they such as 
 would grow up in a little one. But I disdained to be a 
 little one ; and, swoln with arrogance, took myself to be a 
 great one. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 By his own fault he fell into the errors of the Manichceans, who boast of 
 a true perception of Gody and thorough investigation of all things. 
 
 THEREFORE I fell among men raving* with pride, very 
 carnal and wordy, in whose mouths were the snares of 
 the Devil, and a bird lime made up of a mixture of the 
 syllables of Thy name, and of our Lord Jesus Christ, and of 
 the Holy Ghost, the Paraclete, our Comforter. These 
 names departed not from their lips, though they were but 
 a sound and a rattling of the tongue : for the heart was void 
 of truth. Yet they said : " the Truth, the Truth," and spake 
 much thereof to me, yet " it was not in them" (i S. John ii. 
 4), but they spake falsehoods, not of Thee only (who truly 
 art Truth), but even of those elements of this world, Thy 
 creatures. And I indeed ought to have passed by even 
 philosophers who spake truth concerning them, for love of 
 Thee, my Father, supremely good. Beauty of all things 
 beautiful O Truth, Truth, how inwardly did even then the 
 marrow of my soul pant after Thee, when they often and 
 diversely, and in many and huge books, clamoured to me of 
 Thee in empty words ! And these were the dishes wherein 
 
The Confessions of S. Augustine. 39 
 
 to me, an hungered for Thee, were served up, instead of 
 Tliee, the Sun and Moon, Thy fair works ; but yet Thy 
 works, not Thyself, no nor Thy first works. For Thy 
 spiritual works are before these corporeal works, though 
 they be bright and poised in the sky. But I hungered and 
 thirsted not even after those first works of Thine, but after 
 Thee Thyself, the Truth, "in whom is no variableness, 
 neither shadow of turning" (S. James L 17), yet they still 
 set before me in those dishes, glittering phantasms, than 
 which better were it to love this very sun (which is real to 
 our sight at least), than those illusions which by our eyes 
 deceive our mind. Yet because I thought them to be Thee, 
 I fed thereon; not greedily, for Thou didst not in them 
 savour to me as Thou art \ for Thou wast not these empty 
 figments, nor was I nourished by them, but rather ex- 
 hausted. Food in dreams shews very like the food of 
 waking men ; yet are not those asleep nourished by it, for 
 they are asleep. But those were not even any way like to 
 Thee, as Thou hast now spoken to me ; for those were cor- 
 poreal phantasms, false bodies, than which these true bodies, 
 which we see with our bodily sight, whether terrestrial or 
 celestial, are far more certain : we share the sight of these 
 with beasts and birds ; and they are more certain than when 
 we imagine them. And again, we do imagine them with 
 more certainty than surmise from them other vaster and in- 
 finite bodies which have no sort of being. Upon such 
 empty husks was I then fed : and yet was not fed. But 
 Thou, my Love, for whom I faint, that I may become strong, 
 art neither these bodies which we see, though in heaven ; 
 nor art Thou those which we see not there ; for Thou hast 
 created them, nor dost Thou account them among the 
 chiefest of Thy works. How far then art Thou from those 
 phantasms of mine, phantasms of bodies which have no 
 existence whatever; than which fancy images of those 
 bodies, which exist, are far more certain ; and more certain 
 still the bodies themselves, which yet Thou art not ; no, nor 
 yet the soul, which is the Hfe of the bodies. So then, better 
 and more certain is the life of the bodies, than the bodies. 
 But Thou art the life of souls, the life of lives, having life in 
 Thyself : and changest not, Thou life of my soul. 
 
 Where then wert Thou then to me, and how far from me? 
 Far verily was I straying from Thee, shut out from the very 
 
40 The Confessio7is of S. Augustine. 
 
 husks of the swine, which with husks I fed. For how 
 much better are the trivial fables of grammarians and poets, 
 than these deceits ? For verse, and song, and " Medea 
 flying," are more profitable truly, than these men's five 
 elements, variously disguised, answering to five dens of 
 darkness, which have no being, yet slay him that believes 
 in them. For verse and song I can turn to true food, and 
 even though I did sing of " Medea flying," I affirmed it 
 not ; though I heard it sung, I beheved not : but those 
 things I did believe. Woe, woe, by what steps was I brought 
 down to "the depths of hell !" (Prov. ix. i8), toiling and 
 tempest tost for want of Truth, since I sought after Thee, 
 my God (to Thee I confess it, who hadst mercy on me, 
 though not as yet confessing it), not according to the un- 
 derstanding of the mind, wherein Thou willedst that I 
 should excel the beasts, but according to the sense of the 
 flesh. But Thou wert more inward to me, than my most 
 inward part ; and higher than my highest. I fell in with 
 that bold woman, " simple and knoweth nothing," accord- 
 ing to Solomon's parable, " sitting at the door, and saying. 
 Eat ye with pleasure of bread in secret, and drink ye stolen 
 waters which are sweet" (Prov. ix. 13, 17). She seduced 
 me, because she found me dwelling abroad in the eye of 
 my flesh, and ruminating on such food, as through it I had 
 devoured. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 He combats the Manichcean doctrine of Evil ^ of God, and concerning the 
 righteousness of the Patriarchs, 
 
 FOR I knew not anything truly, as it really is ; and was, 
 as it were, persuaded by their subtilty to cast in my 
 lot with foolish deceivers, when they asked me, "whence 
 comes evil ? " and whether " God is contained within the 
 bounds of bodily form, and hath hairs and nails " ? and 
 whether " they are to be esteemed righteous, who had many 
 wives at once, and did slay men, and oft'ered animals in 
 sacrifice"? At which I, in my ignorance, was much 
 troubled, and departing from the truth, seemed to myself 
 to be making towards it ; because as yet I knew not that 
 evil v/as nothing but a privation of good, up to the point at 
 
The Confessions of S. Augustine, 41 
 
 which a thing ceases altogether to be. And how should I 
 see it, since with my eyes I could see body only ; and with 
 my mind a phantasm ? And I knew not that " God is a 
 Spirit" (S. John iv. 24) ; not such a being as hath members 
 having length and breadth ; nor such as hath bulk ; for 
 " bulk" is less in a part than in its whole; and if it be infinite, 
 it is less in such part as is contained within a definite space 
 than in its infinitude ; and so is not wholly every where, as 
 Spirit, as God. And what that could be in us, according to 
 which we could be " like unto God," and might be rightly 
 said in the Scriptures, to be "after the image of God" 
 (Gen. i. 27) I was altogether ignorant. 
 
 Nor knew I that true inward righteousness, which 
 judgeth not according to custom, but out of the most right- 
 eous law of God Almighty, whereby the moral habits of 
 countries and periods were fashioned meetly for those coun- 
 tries and periods; itself being always and everywhere the 
 same, not here of one kind, and there of another ; according \ 
 to which Abraham, and Isaac, and Jacob, and Moses, and 
 David, were righteous, and all those commended by the 
 mouth of God ; but were judged unrighteous by unlearned 
 men, "judging of man's day" (i Cor. iv. 3), and measuring 
 the collective moral habits of the human race by the partial 
 standard of their own custom: as if in an armoury, one 
 ignorant what were adapted to each limb should seek to 
 cover his head with greaves, or to be shod with a helmet, 
 and then should complain that they fitted amiss ; or as if 
 on a day, when a public holiday has been appointed to be 
 kept in the afternoon, one were angered at not being al- 
 lowed to keep open shop, because he had been in the 
 morning ; or when in one house he observeth some thing to 
 be managed by some servant, which the butler is not 
 suffered to meddle with ; or something done in the stable 
 yard, which is forbidden in the dining-room ; and should be 
 angry, since the house is one, and the family one, that the 
 same thing is not allowed everywhere, and to all. Even 
 such are they, who are angered to hear that something was 
 permitted to the righteous in the olden time which now isj 
 forbidden ; or that God, for reasons arising from the times,! 
 gave to some one precept, to others another, though both! 
 were obedient to the same righteousness : whereas they see J 
 in one man, and one day, and one house, different things to 
 
42 The Confessions of S. Angus ti?2e, 
 
 be fit for different members, and a thing for a time lawful, 
 after a certain time forbidden ; in one corner permitted or 
 commanded, but in another rightly forbidden and punished. 
 Is justice therefore various or mutable ? No, but the times, 
 over which it presides, flow not evenly, because they are 
 times. But men whose "days are few upon the earth," 
 because by their reason they cannot conform the causes of 
 things in former ages and other nations, of which they have 
 had no experience with these which they have experience 
 of, whereas in one and the same body, day, or family, they 
 easily see what is fitting for each member, and season, part, 
 and person ; take exceptions to the former, but comply 
 with the latter. 
 
 These things I then knew not, nor observed ; they struck 
 upon my eyes on all sides, and I saw them not. I made 
 verses, in which I might not place every kind of foot every- 
 where, but differently in different metres ; nor even in any 
 one verse the self-same foot in all places. Yet the art itself 
 of verse-making had not different principles for these 
 different cases, but comprised all in one. Still I saw not 
 hov/ that righteousness, which good and holy men obeyed, 
 did far more excellently and sublimely contain in one all 
 those things which God commanded, and in no part varied ; 
 although in varying times it prescribed not every thing at 
 once, but apportioned and enjoined what was fit for each. 
 And I, in my blindness, censured the holy patriarchs, not 
 only wherein they made use of things present as God com- 
 manded and inspired them, but also wherein they were fore- 
 telling things to come, as God was revealing in them. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 He coniimces his argutneni against the Manichaansy concerning tJie 
 nature of vices. 
 
 CAN it at any time or place be unjust " to love God with 
 all the heart, with all the soul, and with all the mind; 
 and our neighbour as ourself " ? (S. Matt. xxii. 37). There- 
 fore are those foul offences which be against nature, to be 
 everywhere and at all times detested and punished ; such as 
 were those of the men of Sodom : which should all nations 
 commit, they should all stand guilty of the same crime, by 
 
The Confessions of S, Augustine. 43 
 
 the law of God, which hath not so made men, that they 
 should so abuse one another. For even that fellowship 
 which should be between God and us is violated, when that 
 same nature, of which He is Author, is polluted by per-, 
 versity of lust. But those offences which are contrary to 
 men's customs, are to be avoided accordingly as customs 
 vary with times ; so that a compact ratified by custom or 
 law of any state or nation, neither native or foreigner may 
 violate at will. For any part which accords not with its 
 whole, is unseemly. But when God commands a thing to 
 be done, against the custom or compact of any people, 
 though it were never by them done heretofore, it is to be 
 done -J and if intermitted, it is to be restored ; and if never 
 ordained, is now to be ordained. For if it be lawful for a 
 king, in the state which he reigns over, to command that, 
 which no one before him, nor he himself heretofore, had 
 commanded, and to obey him would not be against the 
 common weal ; but rather it would be against the common 
 weal not to obey him (for to obey princes is a general com- 
 pact of human society) ; how much more ought we to obey 
 God, the Ruler of the created universe, without hesitation, 
 in all that He commands ! For among the powers of 
 human society the greater authority is obeyed in preference 
 to the lesser, so must God be chosen before all. 
 
 So in criminal actions, v/here there is a wish to hurt, 
 whether by insult or injury ; and these either for the sake 
 of revenge, as one enemy against another; or to obtain 
 some advantage belonging to another, as the robber to the 
 traveller; or to avoid some evil, as towards one who is 
 feared ; or through envy, as one less fortunate to one more 
 so ; or one that has thriven in anything, to him whose rivalry 
 he fears, or laments his success in it ; or for the mere 
 pleasure at another's pain, as spectators of gladiators, or 
 deriders and mockers of others. These be the heads of 
 iniquity, which spring from the lust of power, and " of the 
 eye, and of the flesh " (i S. John ii. 16), or from any one, or 
 two, or all of them together ; and so do men live ill against 
 the three, and seven,i " the instrument of ten strings " (Ps. 
 
 ^ S. Augustine adopts the division of the Commandments into tables 
 three and seven, instead of the more familiar division amongst our- 
 selves into *' four," having reference to God, and "six " to our neigh- 
 bour. The division referred to in the text lends itself more readily to 
 the mystical system of interpreting numbers in Scripture. 
 
44 I'he Confessions of S , Augustine. 
 
 cxliv. 9), Thy decalogue, O God, most high, and most 
 sweet. But what foul offences can there be against Thee, 
 who canst not be defiled ? or what acts of violence against 
 Thee, who canst not be harmed ? But Thou avengest wha/- 
 men commit against themselves, seeing also when they sin 
 against Thee, they do wickedly against their own souls, and 
 "iniquity gives itself the lie" (Ps. xxvii. 12, Vulg.), whether 
 by corrupting and perverting their nature, which Thou hast 
 created and ordained, or by an immoderate use of things 
 allowed, or in " burning " in things not allowed, after " that 
 use which is against nature" (Rom. i. 26); or are found 
 guilty, raging in thought and words against Thee, and 
 " kicking against the pricks " (Acts ix. 5) ; or when, bursting 
 the pale of human society, they boldly delight in private 
 unions and separations, according as anything may have 
 given them pleasure or offence. And these things are done 
 when Thou art forsaken, O Fountain of Life, who art the 
 only and true Creator and Governor of the Universe, and 
 by a self-willed pride, any one false thing is selected there- 
 from and loved. So then by a humble devoutness we 
 return to Thee ; and Thou cleansest us from our evil habits, 
 and art merciful to their sins who confess, and " hearest the 
 groaning of the prisoner " (Ps. cii. 20), and loosest us from 
 the chains which we made for ourselves, if we lift not up 
 against Thee the horns of a sham liberty, for the greed of 
 having more, risking the loss of all, by loving our own 
 private good more than Thee, the Good of all. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 God and men judge of human crimes by a different standard. 
 
 AMIDST these offences of foulness and violence, and 
 so many iniquities, are sins of men, who are making 
 progress ; which by those that judge rightly, according to 
 the law of perfection, are condemned, yet the persons com- 
 mended, in hope of future fruit, as the green blade has 
 promise of corn. And there are some things resembling 
 offences of foulness or violence, which yet are no sins; 
 because they offend neither Thee, our Lord God, nor 
 human society; when, namely, things fitting for a given 
 
The Confessions of S, Augustine. 45 
 
 period are obtained for the use of life, and it is doubt 
 fu] whether from a lust of having; or when things are 
 punished, for the sake of correction, by constituted authority, 
 and it is doubtful if from a lust of inflicting injury. Many 
 a,n action then which in men's sight is disapproved, is by 
 rl^y testimony approved j and many, by men praised, are 
 yrhou being witness) condemned: because the outward 
 appearance of the action, and the motive of the doer, and 
 the secret urgency of the occasion, are often different^ But / 
 when Thou on a sudden commandest an unwonted and 1 
 unthought of thing, yea, although Thou hast sometime for- 
 bidden it, and still for the time hidest the reason of Thy 
 command, and it be against the compact of some society 
 of men, who doubts but it is to be done, seeing that society 
 of men is righteous which obeys Thee? But blessed are 
 they who know that Thou hast commanded ! For all 
 things were done by Thy servants ; either to show forth 
 something needful for the present, or to foreshow things t*) 
 come. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 He rebukes the follies of the Manichceans^ concerning the fruits of 
 
 the earth, 
 
 IN my ignorance of these things I used to scoff at those 
 Thy holy servants and prophets. And what gained 
 I by scoffing at them, but to be scoffed at by Thee, being 
 insensibly and step by step drawn on to such follies, as to 
 believe that a fig wept when it was plucked, and the tree, 
 its mother, shed milky tears? And if some saint should 
 eat the fig, plucked though it had been by another's guilt, 
 and not his own, and should inwardly digest it, he would 
 breathe out angels from it, and in very truth, in the groan- 
 ing of his prayer and heartburn, particles of Diety : which 
 particles of the most high and true God would have re- 
 mained bound in that fig, unless they had been set at 
 liberty by the tooth or stomach of an " Elect " saint ! And 
 I, miserable, believed that more mercy was to be shown to 
 the fruits of the earth, than men, for whom they were 
 brought forth. For if any one an hungered, not a Mani- 
 chsean, should ask for any, a morsel, if given to him, would 
 seem to be sentenced to a sort of capital punishment. 
 
46 The Confessions of S. Augustine. 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 Hs relates the tears of his mother^ and a dream she had of heavenly 
 comfort concerning her son. 
 
 AND Thou "sentest Thine hand from above" (Ps. 
 cxliv. 7), and didst deliver my soul out of that pro- 
 found darkness, when my mother, thy faithful one, wept 
 for me to Thee, more than mothers weep for the death of 
 children's bodies. For she, by that faith and spirit which 
 she had from Thee, discerned the death wherein I lay, and 
 Thou heardest her, O Lord ; Thou heardest her, and de- 
 spisedst not her tears, when streaming forth, they watered 
 the earth beneath her eyes in every place of her prayer ; and 
 Thou heardst her. For whence was that dream whereby 
 Thou didst comfort her; so that she allowed me to live 
 with her, and to eat at the same table in the house, which 
 she had begun to forbid, shunning and detesting the 
 blasphemies of my error ? For she saw herself standing on 
 ^ certain wooden rule, and a shining youth coming towards 
 her, cheerful and smiling upon her, the while she grieved, 
 and was consumed with grief : and when he had enquired 
 of her the causes of her grief and daily tears (for the sake 
 as is their wont of teaching, not of learning), and she had 
 made answer that she was bewailing my perdition, he bade 
 her be at ease, and advised her to look and observe, " That 
 where she was, there was I also." And when she looked 
 there, she saw me standing by her on the same rule. 
 Whence was this, but that Thine ears were towards her 
 heart? O Thou Good Almighty, who so carest for every 
 one of us, as if Thou caredst for him only ; and so for all, 
 as if they were but one ! 
 
 Whence was this also, that when she had told me this 
 vision, and I would fain turn it so ; " That she rather should 
 not despair of being one day what I was ; " forthwith, 
 without any hesitation, she rejoins, " No ; for it was not 
 •told me that, * where he, there thou also ; ' but * where thou, 
 there he also ? ' " I confess to Thee, O Lord, that to the 
 best of my remembrance (and I have oft spoken of this), I 
 was far more impressed even then by that Thine answer, 
 through my waking mother, that she was not disturbed by 
 the specious similarity of my interpretation, and so quickly 
 
The Confessions of S. Augustine. 47 
 
 saw what was to be seen, and what I certainly had not per- 
 ceived, before she spake, than by that dream itself, by which 
 a joy to the holy woman, to be fulfilled so long after, was, 
 for the consolation of her present anguish, so long before 
 predicted. For almost nine years passed, in which I wal- 
 lowed in the mire of that deep pit, and the darkness of 
 falsehood, often assaying to rise, but dashed down the more 
 grievously ; the while, however, that chaste widow, devout 
 and sober (such as Thou lovest), though something brighter 
 for the hope, yet no whit relaxing in her weeping and 
 mourning, ceased not at all hours of her devotions to lay 
 before Thee her sorrow on my behalf. And her " prayers 
 entered into Thy presence " (Ps. Ixxxviii. 2) ; and yet Thou 
 didst suffer me to be more and more enveloped in that 
 darkness. 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 The wise answer of a Bishop to his mother's entreaty that he woula 
 convert her son. 
 
 THOU gavest also, meanwhile, another answer, which I 
 call to mind. And many things beside I pass over, for 
 I hasten to those things which most press me to confess 
 unto Thee, and many things I do not remember. Thou 
 gavest her then another answer, by a Piiest of Thine, a cer- 
 tain Bishop brought up in Thy Church, and well learned in 
 Thy books. For when this woman had entreated him to 
 vouchsafe to converse with me, refute my errors, unteach 
 me ill things, and teach me good things (for this he was 
 wont to do, when he found persons fitted to receive it), he 
 refused, wisely, as I afterwards perceived. For he answered^ 
 that I was yet unteachable, being puffed up with the novelty 
 of that heresy, and had already perplexed divers unlearned 
 persons with trifling questions, as she had told him ; " but 
 let him alone a while " (saith he), " only pray God for him ; 
 he will of himself by reading find what that error is, and 
 how great its impiety." At the same time he told her, how 
 himself, when a Httle one, had by his misguided mother 
 been given over to the Manichseans, and had not only read, 
 but frequently copied out almost all, their books, and had 
 convinced himself, without anyone having argued or per- 
 
48 Tke Co7tfessions of S. Augustine. 
 
 suaded him, how much that sect was to be avoided ; and 
 had avoided it. "When he had said this, and she would not 
 be satisfied, but urged him more, with entreaties and many 
 tears, that he would see me, and discourse with me ; he, 
 a httle displeased at her importunity, saith, " Go thy ways, 
 and God be with ye ; it is not possible that the son of these 
 tears should perish." Which answer she took (as she often 
 mentioned in her conversations with me) as if it had been a 
 voice from heaven. 
 
mooW 51l>* 
 
 He describes the nine years which followed his nineteenth 
 
 YEAR. How he lost HIS FRIEND, AND WROTE A TREATISE ON 
 THE " FAIR AND FITTING." HOW HE GAVE SOME ATTENTION 
 TO THE LIBERAL ARTS, AND TO THE ARISTOTELIAN CATEGORIES. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 Of the most unhappy time, in which, misled himself, he misled others : 
 and of those who scoff at his confession. 
 
 FOR this space of nine years then (from my nineteenth 
 year, to my eight and twentieth) we were misled, and 
 did mislead, deceived and deceiving, in divers lusts ; openly, 
 by sciences which they call liberal; secretly, with a false- 
 named religion ; here proud, there superstitious, everywhere 
 vain ! By the former hunting after the emptiness of popu- 
 lar praise, even the applause of theatres, prizes for verse 
 competitions, the contest for garlands of hay, and the follies 
 of shows, and the intemperance of lusts. By the latter, de- 
 siring to be cleansed from these defilements, by carrying 
 food to those who were called '* elect " and " saints," out of 
 which, in the workshop of their stomachs, they should forge 
 for us angels and gods, by whom we might be delivered. 
 These things did I hunt after, and practise with my friends, 
 deceived by me, and with me. Let the arrogant mock me, 
 and such as have not been wholesomely stricken and 
 smitten down, by Thee, O my God ; but let me still confess 
 to Thee my shame in Thy praise. Suffer me, I pray, and 
 grant me to go over in my present remembrance the bye- 
 gone strayings of my wandering feet, and to " offer unto Thee 
 the sacrifice of thanksgiving " (Ps. cxvi. 17). For what am 
 I to myself without Thee, but a guide to mine own down- 
 fall? 01 what am I when it is well with me, but an infant 
 
50 The Confessions of S. Augustine, 
 
 sucking the milk Thou givest, and enjoying Thee, "the 
 food that perisheth not"? (S. John vi.). But what sort of 
 man is any man, seeing he is but a man ? Let now the 
 strong and the mighty scoff at us, but let us "poor and 
 needy confess unto Thee" (Ps. Ixxiv. 21). 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 Hffw he taught rhetoric ; was true to one love ; and spurned the magician 
 who promised success by his means, 
 
 IN those years I taught the art of rhetoric, and vanquished 
 by cupidity, used to sell the craft of conquering fluency. 
 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 didst see me, slipping in that mire, and 
 amid much smoke sending out some sparks of faith, which 
 I showed in my office of teacher toward " such as loved 
 vanity, and sought after leasing" (Ps. iv. 2), myself being 
 their companion. In those years I lived with one, to whom 
 I was not joined in that which is called lawful wedlock, but 
 whom my wayward passion, void of understanding, had 
 found out ; yet with but one, and was faithful to her bed ; 
 in whom I in my own case experienced, what difference 
 there is betwixt the self-restraint of the marriage-covenant, 
 for the sake of issue, and the bargain of a lustful love, where 
 children are born against their parents' will, although, once 
 born, they constrain love. 
 
 I remember also, that when I had determined to compete 
 for a prize for theatrical verse, some wizard asked me what 
 I would give him to win : but I, detesting and abhorring 
 those foul rites, answered, "Though the garland were of 
 imperishable gold, I would not suffer a fly to be killed to 
 gain me it." For he would have killed some living creatures 
 in his sacrifices, and would pretend by such honours to 
 canvass for the suffrages of devils on my behalf. 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 fornica- 
 
The Confessions of S, Augustine. 51 
 
 tion against Thee, trust in false gods, and " feed the winds " 
 (Hosea xii. i). 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 their sport ? 
 
 CHAPTER IIL 
 
 Not even the most leaj-ned men could persuade him to abandon the folly 
 of astrology to which he was devoted. 
 
 THOSE impostors then, whom they style Mathematicians, 
 I did not hesitate to consult ; because they seemed to 
 use no sacrifice, nor to pray to any spirit for their divina- 
 tions ; which thing, however. Christian and true piety meetly 
 rejects and condemns. For "it is a good thing to confess 
 unto Thee, O Lord," and to say, ** Have mercy upon me, 
 heal my soul, for I have sinned against Thee " (Ps. xli. 5), 
 and not to abuse Thy mercy for a license to sin, but to re- 
 member the Lord's words, " Behold, thou art made whole 
 sin no more, lest a worst thing come unto thee " (S. John 
 V. 14). All which wholesome advice they labour to destroy, 
 saying, " The inevitable cause of thy sin is in the sky," and 
 " This did Venus, or Saturn, or Mars ; " that man; forsooth, 
 flesh and blood, and proud corruption, might be blameless ; 
 while the Creator and Ruler of sky and stars is to bear the 
 blame. And who is He but our God? the very sweetness 
 and fountain of righteousness j Thou " who renderest to 
 every man according to his works " (Rom. ii. 6) ; and " a 
 broken and contrite heart wilt Thou not despise" (Ps. 
 
 a 17). 
 
 There was in those days a wise man,* very skilful in 
 physic, and renowned therein, who as proconsul, had with 
 his own hand placed that garland of victory upon my dis- 
 tempered head, but not as a physician. For Thou art the 
 only healer of such distemper ; " who resistest the proud, 
 and givest grace to the humble" (i St Peter v. 5). But 
 didst Thou fail me even by that old man, or forbear to heal 
 my soul ? For having become better acquainted with him, 
 
 * Vindicianus. See Book vii., chap. 6. 
 
52 The Co7tfessions of S. Atigustine. 
 
 I hung assiduously and fixedly on his speech, for though in 
 style it was unpolished, yet in matter it was lively, gay, and 
 weighty. When he had gathered by my discourse, that I 
 was given to the books of the seers that calculate nativities, 
 he kindly and fatherly advised me to cast them away, and 
 not fruitlessly to expend a care and labour, necessary for use- 
 ful things, upon that vain folly ; saying that he had studied 
 that art, as in his early years he had wished to adopt it as a 
 profession, and as a means of livelihood ; and that if he 
 could understand Hippocrates, he could certainly have 
 understood such a study as this j and yet he had abandoned 
 it, and taken to medicine, for no other reason but that he 
 found it utterly false ; and he, a grave man, could not bring 
 himself to get his living by deluding people. " But thou," 
 saith he, " hast rhetoric whereby to maintain thyself, so that 
 thou folio west this deceptive art of free choice, not of neces- 
 sity : the more then oughtest thou to give me credit herein, 
 who laboured to master it so perfectly, as by it alone I hoped 
 to get my living." Of whom when I had demanded, " What 
 cause then brings it about, that many things afterwards 
 proving true, have been foretold by it ? " he made answer, 
 as he well might, that "The force of chance diffused 
 throughout the whole order of things, hath brought this 
 about. For if from the pages of some poet, who sang and 
 thought of something wholly different, when anyone has re- 
 ferred to them at random, a verse hath oftentimes fallen out, 
 marvellously apt to the business in hand : it cannot be won- 
 dered at, if out of the soul of man, unconscious what takes 
 place in it, by some higher instinct an answer should be 
 given, by hazard, not by art, which might harmonise with 
 the affairs and actions of the enquirer. 
 
 And thus much, either from or through him. Thou didst 
 possess me with, and didst grave 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 guarded, who laughed at the whole system of 
 divining, could persuade me to cast it aside, for the autho- 
 rity of the authors swayed 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 chance or coincidence, 
 not of the art of the observers of the stars. 
 
The Confessions of S, Augustine. 53 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 Being deeply sorrow-stricken upon the death of his friend, he found no 
 consolation but in tears. 
 
 IN those years when I first began to give lessons in my 
 native town, I had made a friend, especially dear to 
 me, from a community of studies, who was of my own age, 
 and, like myself, in the first opening flower of youth. He 
 had grown up in boyhood 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 friendship cannot be, unless Thou dost cement it in 
 those who cleave to Thee by that " love which is shed 
 abroad in our hearts by the Holy Ghost which is given 
 unto us " (Rom. v. 5). Yet was it but too sweet, welded by 
 our ardour for kindred studies. For, from the true faith 
 (which as a youth he did not fully and thoroughly hold) I 
 had turned him aside to those superstitious and pernicious 
 fables, which gave my mother such grief for me. With me 
 he now erred in mind, nor could my soul be without him. 
 But behold Thou, following hard upon Thy fugitives, at 
 once "God of vengeance" (Ps. xciv. i), and Fountain of 
 mercies, who dost convert us to Thyself by wonderful 
 means, — behold Thou didst take that man out of this life, 
 when he had scarce filled up one whole year of my friend- 
 ship, sweet to me above all sweetness of that my life. 
 
 " Who can shew forth all Thy praises " (Ps. cvi. 2), 
 which he hath experienced in himself alone ? What diddest 
 thou then, my God, and how unsearchable is the " abyss of 
 Thy judgments" (Ps. xxxvi. 6). For long, sore sick of a 
 fever, he lay insensible in a death-sweat, and being quite 
 given up, he was baptised, unknowing, myself meanwhile 
 little regarding, and feeling confident that his soul would 
 retain rather what it had received of me, not what was 
 wrought on his unconscious body. But it fell out quite 
 otherwise : for he was restored and saved.* Forthwith, as 
 soon as I could speak with him (and I could, so soon as he 
 
 * " Recreatus est, et salvus factus." It is difficult to suppose that 
 S. Augustine did not mean these words spiritually, as well as 
 physically. 
 
54 The Confessions of S. Augustine. 
 
 was able, for I never left him, and we were but too de- 
 pendent upon each other), I essayed to jest with him, as 
 though he would be sure to jest with me at that baptism 
 which he had received, when utterly absent in mind and 
 feeling, but had by this time been told that he had received. 
 But he so shrunk from me, as from an enemy ; and with a 
 wonderful and sudden freedom bade me, if I still desired to 
 be his friend, to cease to say such things to him. I, all 
 astonished and amazed, suppressed all my emotions till he 
 should recover, and so regain his strength that I might deal 
 with him, as I would. But he was rent away from my 
 madness, that with Thee he might be preserved for my 
 consolation ; a few days after, in my absence, he was 
 attacked again by the fever, and died. 
 
 At this grief my heart was utterly darkened ; and what- 
 ever 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, for lack of him became a 
 ghastly torture. Mine eyes sought him every where, but he 
 was not granted them ; and I hated all things, since they 
 held him not ; nor could they now tell me, " he is coming," 
 as when he was alive and absent. I became a great 
 problem to myself, and I asked my soul, " why she was so 
 heavy, and why she disquieted me sorely" (Ps. xliii. 5); 
 but she had no word 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, though but 
 human, both truer and better, than that phantasm in which 
 she was bidden to trust. Qnly tears were sweet to me, and 
 took my friend's place in my heart's affections. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 0/ weeping: why it is pleasant to the wretched. 
 
 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 pleasant 
 to the wretched? Hast Thou, although present every- 
 where, cast away our misery far from Thee ? And Thou 
 
The Confessions of S. Augustine. 55 
 
 abidest in Thyself, but we are tossed about in divers trials. 
 And yet unless we mourned in Thine ears, nothing of our 
 hope would remain to us. Whence then is sweet fruit 
 gathered from the bitterness of life, from groaning, weeping, 
 sighing, and complaining? Doth this sweeten it, that we 
 hope Thou hearest? This is true of our prayers, for in 
 them we yearn to approach unto Thee. But is it also in 
 grief for a thing lost, and the mourning wherewith I was 
 then overwhelmed ? For I neither hoped he should return 
 to life, nor did I desire this with my tears ; but I only sor- 
 rowed and wept. 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 in disgust from them, please us ? 
 
 CHAPTER Vr. 
 
 He holds that of his friend^ though dead, in himself the half 
 remains alive. 
 
 BUT why speak I of these things ? for now is no time of 
 research, 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 perceives the wretchedness, which he had, 
 even before he lost them. So was I then ; I wept most 
 bitterly, and found my rest in bitterness. Thus was I 
 wretched, and even that wretched life I held dearer than 
 my friend. For though I would willingly have changed it, 
 yet was I more unwilling to lose it, than him. Yea, I know 
 not whether I would have parted with it even for him, as is 
 related (though perhaps it is fiction) 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 feeling, for which I cannot 
 account, very opposite to this ; for the direst weariness of 
 life possessed me, and at the same time a fear of death. I 
 believe that the more I loved him, the more did I hate, and 
 fear (as a most cruel enemy) that death, which had taken him 
 from me : and I imagined it would suddenly devour all 
 men, because it had power over him. Thus was it with 
 
56 The Confessions of S. Augustine, 
 
 me, I remember. Behold my heart, O my God, behold 
 and see into me \ for I remember it, O my Hope, who 
 cleansest me from the impurity of such feelings, directing 
 " mine eyes towards Thee, and plucking my feet out of the 
 snare" (Ps. xxv. 15). For I marvelled that other mortal 
 men should be ahve, since he whom I had loved, as if he 
 should never die, was dead ; and I marvelled the more that 
 I, since I was but his other self, should be alive when he 
 was dead. Well hath one said 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 loathed that only half of me should be alive : and 
 hence perchance I feared to die, lest he should wholly die, 
 whom I had loved much. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 He is so greatly harassed by restlessness and sorrow that he leaves his 
 birthplace^ and returns to Carthage, 
 
 O MADNESS, which knowest not how to love men, like 
 men ! O foohsh man that I then was, fretting with- 
 out measure against the lot of man ! So I raged, I sighed, 
 I wept, I was distraught: without rest, without counsel. 
 For I bore about a torn and bleeding soul, impatient of 
 being borne by me, yet where to repose it, I found not. Not 
 in pleasant groves, not in sports and songs, not in fragrant 
 spots, not in splendid banquets, not in the pleasure of the 
 bed and the couch ; not (finally) in books or poesy, did it 
 find rest. 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 
 some litde relief. But when my soul was withdrawn from 
 them a huge burden of misery weighed me down. To Thee, 
 
 Lord, it ought to have been lifted up, for Thee to lighten ; 
 
 1 knew it ; but neither would nor could ; the more, since, 
 when I thought of Thee, Thou wert not to me anything 
 real or substantial. For Thee, I had not, but an empty 
 phantasm, and my error was my God. If I tried to cast 
 my burden there, that it might rest, it glided through the 
 void, and fell down again on me ; and I had remained to 
 myself a hapless spot, where I could neither be, nor thence 
 
The Confessions of S. Augustine. 57 
 
 depart For whither should my heart flee from my heart ? 
 Whither should I flee from myself? Whither not follow 
 myself? And yet I fled from my own country, for mine eyes 
 would be less apt to look for him, where they were not wont 
 to see him. And thus from Thagaste, I came to Carthage. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 How his grief yielded to tiine^ and to the consolations of friends. 
 
 TIME does not stand still ; neither does it roll without 
 effect through our senses ; but works wondrous 
 changes in the mind. For lo, it came and went from day 
 to 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 interests, 
 before which my sorrow slowly yielded ; and yet there 
 succeeded, not indeed other griefs, yet the causes of other 
 griefs. For whence had that former grief so easily and so 
 deeply pierced me, but that I had poured out my soul 
 upon the sand, in loving one that must die, as if he would 
 never die? But what chiefly restored and refreshed me, 
 were the consolations 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 converse together, and to jest together, 
 to do each other kindnesses, to read together agreeable 
 books, to trifle together, or to be earnest together ; to differ 
 together at times without heat, as a man might with his 
 own self; and by the extreme rarity of our differences, to 
 season our most usual unanimity ; sometimes to teach, and 
 sometimes learn ; long for the absent with impatience ; and 
 welcome the coming with joy. These and the hke expres- 
 sions, 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. 
 
58 The Confessions of S. Augustine, 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 That human friendship, which consists in interchange of love^ perishes^ 
 and that he alone who loves his friend in God, loseth hitn never. 
 
 npHIS 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 tokens of good will. 
 Hence that mourning, if one die, and the dark clouds of 
 sorrows, that steeping of the heart in tears, all sweetness 
 turned to bitterness ; and from the lost life of them that die, 
 the death of them that live. Blessed is he that loveth Thee, 
 and his friend in Thee, and his enemy for Thee. For he 
 alone loses no dear one to whom all are dear in Him who 
 is never 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, save he that 
 forsaketh. And whoso forsaketh Thee, whither goeth or 
 whither fleeth he, but from Thee smiling to Thee frowning? 
 For where doth he not find Thy law in his own punish- 
 ment ? " And Thy law is truth " (Ps. cxix. 42), and " Thou 
 art Truth " (S. John xiv. 6). 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 That all things that begin to be hasten to their end ; and that we are 
 not saved unless God have us in His keeping, 
 
 " nrURN Thou us, O God of Hosts, shew us Thy coun- 
 -*- tenance, and we shall be saved" (Ps. Ixxx. 19). 
 For whithersoever the soul of man turns itself, unless towards 
 Thee, it cleaveth to sorrows, yea even though it cleaveth to 
 things beauteous, apart from Thee, and apart from itself. 
 For these things can have no being unless they have their 
 being from Thee ; these things which rise and set, and at 
 their rising, begin, as it were, to be, and grow that they may 
 reach their perfection, and when perfected wax old and 
 perish. And all thmgs grow not old ; but all perish. In 
 truth when they are arising, and beginning to be ; the more 
 they speed to grow into being, the more they speed towards 
 
The Confessions of S. Augustine. 59 
 
 ceasing to be. This is the law of them. Thus much hast 
 Thou appointed them, because they are portions of things,, 
 which exist not all at once, but by their departures and suc- 
 cessions they together complete that universe, whereof they 
 are portions. And even thus is our speech completed by 
 means of symbols of sound. For our speech will not be 
 completed unless one word pass away when it hath uttered 
 its syllables, that another may succeed. Out of all these 
 things let my soul praise Thee, O God, Creator of all ; yet 
 let it not cleave to them with the bond of love, through the 
 senses of the body. For they go whither they were goings 
 towards ceasing to be ; and they rend her with pestilent 
 regrets; because she desires that they may continue to be, and 
 loves to repose in what she loves. But there is not in these 
 things where she may rest ; for they abide not, they flee ; 
 and who can follow them with his bodily sense ? yea, who 
 can grasp them, even when they are close at hand ? For 
 the sense of the flesh is slow, because it is the sense of the 
 flesh ; and itself is its limit. It sufficeth to that for which it 
 was made; but it sufficeth not to hold back things that 
 hasten on their course from their appointed beginning 
 to their appointed end. For in Thy Word, by which they 
 are created, they hear their decree, " from hence and. 
 hitherto." 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 Thai parts of the universe art not to be loved; but the changeless God^ 
 that fashioneth them^ and His eternal Word. 
 
 BE not vain, O my soul, nor become deaf in the ear of 
 thine heart with the tumult of thy vanity. Hearken 
 thou too. The Word itself calleth thee to return: and 
 there is the place of thy rest undisturbed, where love is not 
 forsaken, if itself forsaketh not. Behold, some things pass 
 away, that others may replace them, and so this lower uni- 
 verse be completed in all his parts. But do I depart any 
 whither? saith the Word of God. There fix thy dwelling, 
 there commit whatsoever thence thou hast, O my soul, at 
 least now that thou art wearied with deceits. To the Truth 
 commit whatsoever thou hast from the Truth, and thou 
 Shalt lose nothing ; and thy decay shall bloom again, and 
 
6o The Confessions of S. Augustine, 
 
 " all thy diseases be healed " (Ps. ciii. 3), and thy mortal 
 parts be reformed and renewed, and re-knit for 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" (i Peter i. 23). 
 
 Why then art thou perverted to follow thy flesh ? Let it 
 be converted and follow thee. Whatever by it thou per- 
 ceivest, is in part ; and the whole, whereof these are parts, 
 thou knowest not ; and yet they delight thee. But if the 
 sense of thy flesh had capacity to comprehend the whole, 
 and had not itself for thy punishment been justly limited to 
 a part of the whole, thou wouldest desire that whatsoever 
 existeth in the present should pass away, that so the whole 
 might please thee more. For what we speak also, by that 
 same sense of the flesh thou hearest ; yet wouldest not thou 
 have the syllables stand still, but fly away, that others may 
 come, and thou mayest hear the whole. And so ever, 
 when any one thing is made up of many parts, all of which 
 do not exist together, if it could be perceived as a whole., 
 the whole would more delight than the several parts. But 
 far better than these, is He who made all ; and He is our 
 God, nor doth He pass away, for neither doth aught 
 succeed Him. 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 Love is not condemned: but love in God excelleth ; in which is resty 
 through Jesus Christ. 
 
 IF bodies please thee, praise God on occasion of them, 
 and incline again thy love towards their Maker ; lest 
 in these things which please thee, thou displease. If souls 
 please thee, let them be loved in God : for they too are 
 changeful, but in Him are they firmly stablished ; else 
 would they pass, and pass away. In Him then let them be 
 loved ; and transport 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. Look now, where is He? where is truth relished? 
 He is within the very heart, yet hath the heart strayed from 
 Him. * Return again to your heart, ye transgressors ' (Is. 
 
The Confessions of S. Augustine. 6i 
 
 xlvi. 8), and cleave fast to Him that made you. Stand 
 with Him, and ye shall stand. 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 so much as is 
 referred to him is good and pleasant. But bitter shall it 
 righteously become, for unrighteously is aught from Him 
 loved, if He be forsaken. Wherefore then do ye still and 
 still tread 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 it. Ye seek a blessed life in the realm 
 of death ; it is not there. For how should there be a blessed 
 life, where even life is not ? " 
 
 And hither did our Life Himself come down, and bare 
 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 to Him- 
 self our creaturely humanity, our mortal flesh, that it might 
 not be for ever mortal, and thence "like a bridegroom 
 coming out of his chamber, He rejoiced *as a giant to run 
 His course" (Ps. xix. 5). For He tarried not, but ran, 
 crying aloud by words, by deeds, by death, by life, by 
 descent, by 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 de- 
 parted, and lo, 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 
 " He was in the world," and " He came into this world to 
 save sinners" (S. John i. 10; i Tim. i. 15), unto whom my 
 soul confesseth, "and He healeth it, for it hath sinned 
 against Him " (Ps. xli. 4). " O ye sons of men, how long 
 so slow of heart?" (Ps. iv. 3, Vulg.) Nay, but since Life 
 hath come down, will ye not ascend and live ? But whither 
 ascend ye, when ye are on high, and "set your mouth 
 against the heavens"? (Ps. Ixxiii. 9). 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 vale of misery" (Ps. Ixxxiv. 6), and thus 
 transport them with Thee unto God : for by His Spirit dost 
 thou tell them these things, if thou tell them burning with 
 the fire of charity. 
 
62 The Confessions of S, Augustine, 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 Love hath its origin in the attraction exercised by grace and beauty. 
 
 'T^HESE things I then knew not, and I used to love 
 J- lower forms of beauty, and I was sinking to the very 
 depths, and to my friends I used to say, " Do we love any- 
 thing but the fair ? What then is the fair ? and what is the 
 being fair? 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 one 
 thing was a sort of completeness, from whence came fair- 
 ness \ and another source of beauty was in their being fitly 
 adjusted to each other, as a part of the body is to the whole, 
 or a shoe to the foot, and the like. And this consideration 
 streamed upon 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 have gone from me, I know not how. 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 Of the books he "wrote upon " The Fair and Fit" which were dedicated 
 to Hierius, the Roman. 
 
 BUT what moved me, O Lord my God, to dedicate 
 these books unto Hierius, an orator of the city of 
 Rome, whom I knew not by face, but loved for the fame of 
 his teaching, which was renowned? And I had heard 
 certain words of his, 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 trained in Greek elo- 
 quence, should afterwards be formed a remarkable speaker 
 in Latin, and that he should be profoundly skilled in things 
 pertaining unto philosophy. One is praised, and though 
 absent, is loved. Doth this love enter the heart of the 
 hearer from the mouth of him that praises ? Not so. But 
 one is kindled by another's love. For hence he is loved, 
 who is bepraised, when he is believed to be commended 
 out of an unfeigned heart; that is, when one that loves 
 him, praises him. 
 
The Confessions of S. Augustine. 63 
 
 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 should 1 not, as a famous charioteer or as some 
 beast fighter is celebrated by the popular devotion, but far 
 otherwise, and earnestly, and so as I would be praised 
 myself? For I should not hke to be praised or loved, as 
 actors are (though I myself did commend and love them), 
 but would rather be unnoticed 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 abhor and reject for myself? 
 For it cannot be accounted for in the same way, as in the 
 case of a good horse, which is loved by one who would not 
 change places with him even if he could, in the case of an 
 actor, who shares our own nature. Do I then love in a man 
 what I should hate to be, though I am a man myself? 
 Man himself is a great deep, whose very "hairs Thou 
 numberest " (S. Matt. x. 30), O Lord, and they are not lost 
 in Thy sight. And yet are the hairs of his head easier to 
 be numbered, than are his affections, and the motions of 
 his heart. 
 
 But that orator was of the type that I loved, and would 
 myself be like unto ; and I erred through a swelling pride, 
 and "was carried about with every wind" (Eph. iv. 14); 
 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 for the love of them that 
 praised him, rather than for the very things for which he 
 was praised ? Because, had he been unpraised, and these 
 selfsame men had blamed him, and with blame and scorn 
 told the very same things of him, I had never been so 
 kindled and excited to love him. And yet the things would 
 have been no other, nor the man himself other; but the 
 only difference would have lain in the affections of the 
 narrators. See where the unstable soul lies prostrate, which 
 is not yet stayed upon the firm support of truth ! As the 
 winds of talk blow from the breasts of speculation-mongers, 
 so is it borne along, and turned and twisted, and twisted 
 again, and its light is beclouded, and the truth is unseen. 
 And lo, it is before us. And it was to me a great matter, 
 that my discourse and labours should attract the notice of 
 
64 The Confessions of S. Augustine. 
 
 that man. And should he approve them, I should be the 
 more ardent ; but if he disapproved, my empty heart, un- 
 stayed by thy firm support, had been wounded. And yet 
 the "fair and fit," whereon I wrote to him, I turned over 
 in my mind, contemplating and surveying it, and admired 
 it, though none shared my admiration. 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 In this treatise^ being blinded by corporeal images^ he failed to discern 
 the spiritual nature of God. 
 
 BUT I saw not yet, the hinge on which this great matter 
 turned in Thy skill, O Thou Almighty, "who only 
 doest wonders" (Ps. cxxxvi. 4), and my mind wandered 
 among corporeal forms; and "fair," I defined and dis- 
 tinguished as that which is so in itself, and " fit," that which 
 is beautiful as it corresponds to some other thing : and I 
 quoted in confirmation corporeal illustrations. And I 
 turned to the nature of the mind, but the false notion 
 which I had of spiritual things, prevented my discerning 
 the truth. Yet the mere might of truth did force itself 
 under my eyes ; and I wrenched away my panting spirit 
 from the incorporeal, to forms, and colours, and vasty bulks. 
 And because I could not 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 an 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 supreme good to consist : but in 
 this division I miserably imagined that there was some 
 unknown substance of irrational Hfe, and the nature of the 
 supreme evil, which was not only a substance, but real life 
 also, and yet not derived from Thee, O my God, of whom 
 are all things. And moreover that first I called a Monad, 
 as being a mind without any sex ; but the latter a Duad ; — 
 anger, exhibited in crimes of violence, and lust in vicious 
 practices : not knowing whereof I spake. For I had not 
 known or learned, that no substance was evil, and that our 
 mind was not the supreme and unchangeable good. 
 
 For as deeds of violence arise, if that emotion of the 
 
The Confessions of S. Augustine. 65 
 
 mind, whence vehement action springs, be corrupted, and 
 behave itself with insolence and turbulence; and lusts, 
 when that affection of the soul is ungovemed, whereby- 
 carnal pleasures are drunk in, so do errors and false 
 opinions pollute the life, 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 " (Ps. xviii. 28) : "and of Thy fulness have we 
 all received, for Thou art the true light that lighteth every 
 man that cometh into the world" (S. John i. 16, 9) : "for 
 in Thee there is no variableness, neither shadow of turning " 
 (S. James i. 17). 
 
 But 1 kept on striving towards Thee, and was thrust from 
 Thee, that I might taste of death : for " Thou resistest the 
 proud" (i Pet. v. 5). But what prouder, than that with a 
 marvellous madness I should assert that I was by nature, 
 that which Thou art? For whereas I was subject to change, 
 and this was manifest to me in my very desire to become 
 wise, being the wish to change from worse to better ; yet 
 chose I rather to imagine Thee subject to change, than 
 that I was not that which Thou art. Therefore I was 
 thrust from Thee, and Thou didst resist my windy stiff- 
 neckedness, and I imagined corporeal forms, and — myself 
 flesh, I accused flesh , and, a ** wind that passeth away, I 
 returned not " (Ps. Ixxviii. 39) 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, as a garrulous fool, 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 preferred 
 to argue that Thy unchangeable substance had been com- 
 pelled to err, rather than confess that my changeable sub- 
 stance had chosen of its own will to turn aside from the 
 way, and now for a punishment lay in error. 
 
 I was then some six or seven and twenty years old when 
 I wrote those volumes; revolving within me corporeal 
 fictions, buzzing in the ears of my heart, which I turned, 
 
66 The Confessions of S. Augustine. 
 
 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 " (S. John 
 iii. 29), but I 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 of joy and gladness, nor did 
 my bones rejoice which were not yet humbled " (Ps. li. 8). 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 He understood with ease the liberal artSy and Aristotle s " Categories ^'^ 
 but did not truly profit by them. 
 
 AND what did it profit me, that when I was scarcely 
 twenty years old, a certain treatise of Aristotle, which 
 they call the Ten Categories^ fell into my hands (on 
 the name of which I hung, agape, as upon something great 
 and divine, when the Carthaginian orator, my master, made 
 mention of it, with cheeks cracking with pride, and others 
 also, who were accounted learned), and I read and under- 
 stood it, without help. And when I conferred with others 
 who said they had scarcely understood it with the help of 
 most able masters, who not only lectured upon it, but even 
 drew many diagrams, upon the sand, they could tell me 
 no more of it than I had learned by reading it by myself. 
 And the book appeared to me to speak very clearly of 
 substances, such as " man," and of their distinctive features : 
 thus 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 sufifers 
 anything ; and all the innumerable things which might be 
 ranged under these nine classes, of which I have given 
 something in illustration, or under the class of " substance" 
 itself. 
 
 What did all this profit me, nay rather it injured me, 
 tsince, imagining whatever was, was comprehended under 
 those ten Predicaments, I essayed in such wise to under- 
 stand, 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 
 
The Confessions of S. Augustine. 67 
 
 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 false- 
 hood which of Thee I conceived, not truth ; fictions of my 
 misery, not the realities of Thy Blessedness. For Thou 
 hadst commanded, and so it came to pass in me, that the 
 " earth should bring forth briars and thorns to me," and 
 that "with labour should I come by my bread" (Gen. iii. 
 18, 19). 
 
 And what did it profit me, that I, the vilest slave of evil 
 passions, read by myself all the books of so-called " liberal " 
 arts; and understood whatever I could read? And I 
 delighted in them, but knew not whence came whatsoever 
 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 the 
 art of oratory or debate, on geometry, music, and arithmetic, 
 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 squander it 
 upon harlot desires " (con. S. Luke xv. passim). For what 
 did a good thing profit me, who did not use it well ? For 
 I did not perceive that those arts were attained with great 
 difficulty, even by the studious and talented, until I at- 
 tempted to explain them to such ; when he most excelled 
 in them, who was not quite so slow as the rest in following 
 my exposition. 
 
 But what did this profit me, while I imagined 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, un- 
 
68 The Confessions of S. Augustine. 
 
 ravelled by me, with no support from human teaching; 
 seeing I erred so foully, and with such sacrilegious shame- 
 fulness, in the doctrine of piety? Or what injury was a far 
 slower wit to Thy little ones, since they departed not far 
 from Thee, that safe in the nest of Thy Church they might 
 grow their fledgling feathers, and nourish the wings of 
 charity, with the food of a sound faith. O Lord our God, 
 " under the shadow of Thy wings let us put our trust " (Ps. 
 Ixiii. 8) ; protect us, and carry us. Thou wilt carry us both 
 when little, and " even to hoar hairs wilt Thou carry us " 
 (Is. xlvi. 4). For when Thou art our strength, it is strength 
 indeed ; but when it is our own, it is infirmity. Our good 
 ever lives with Thee ; but when we turn away from thence 
 we are perverted. 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 alone ; 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. 
 
3Boofe ID* 
 
 He describes his twenty-ninth year. How he discovered the 
 
 FALLACIES OF THE MaNICH^ANS, AND BECAME A PROFESSOR OF 
 
 Rhetoric in Rome and Milan. How he heard S. Ambrose, 
 
 AND began to return TO HIS RIGHT MIND. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 That it becomes the soul to praise God^ and to confess to Him. 
 
 ACCEPT the sacrifice of my confessions offered by my 
 tongue, which thou hast formed and stirred up to 
 confess unto Thy name. *' Heal Thou all my bones, and let 
 them say, O Lord, who is like unto Thee ? " (Ps. xxxv. lo), 
 for he that confesses to Thee, doth not inform Thee of 
 what is wrought within him ; seeing a closed heart cannot 
 shut out Thine eye, nor can man's hardheartedness thrust 
 back Thy hand : for Thou dost melt it, when Thou wiliest, 
 either in pity or in vengeance, "and there is none hid from 
 Thy heat " (Ps, xix. 6). But let my soul praise Thee, that 
 it may love Thee ; and let it confess to Thee Thy mercies, 
 that it may praise Thee. Thy whole creation ceaseth not 
 Thy praises, and is silent never : neither the spirit of every 
 man, by his voice directed towards Tnee, nor creatures 
 animate or inanimate, by the voice of those who meditate 
 thereon : that so our souls may from their weariness arise 
 towards Thee, leaning on those things which Thou hast 
 created, and passing on to Thyself, who madest them 
 wonderfully j and there is refreshment and true strength. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 Of the vanity of them that would escape from God, seeing He is 
 everywhere present. 
 
 LET the restless and the unrighteous depart and flee 
 from Thee; yet thou seest them, and dividest the 
 darkness; and behold, all things with them are fair, but 
 
7© The Confessions of S. Augtistim. 
 
 themselves are foul. And how have they injured Thee? or 
 how have they dishonoured thy government, which, from the 
 heavens to this lowest earth is just and perfect? For 
 whither fled they, when they fled from Thy presence ? or 
 where dost not Thou find them ? But they fled, that they 
 might not see Thee, who seest them, and, blinded, might 
 stumble against Thee ; because " Thou forsakest nothing 
 Thou hast made " (Wisd. xi. 25), that the unjust might stumble 
 against Thee, and justly be hurt; withdrawing themselves 
 from Thy gentleness, and stumbling at Thy righteousness, 
 and falling upon their own ruggedness. Indeed, they know 
 not that thou art everjrwhere, and that no place encloseth 
 Thee ; and Thou alone art near, even to those that are far 
 off" from Thee. Let them then be converted and seek 
 Thee ; because not as they have forsaken their Creator, hast 
 Thou forsaken Thy creature. Let them be converted and 
 seek Thee ; and behold. Thou art there in their heart, in 
 the heart of those that confess to Thee, and cast themselves 
 upon Thee, and weep in Thy bosom, after all their rugged 
 ways. Then dost Thou gi'aciously wipe away their tears, 
 and they weep the more, and joy in weeping ; even for 
 that Thou, Lord — not man of flesh and blood, but — Thou, 
 Lord, who madest them, dost renew them and console 
 them. But where was I, when I was seeking Thee ? And 
 Thou wert before me, but I had departed even from my- 
 self; nor did I find myself, how much less Thee 1 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 Having heard Faustus^ the most learned bishop amongst the Manichaans^ 
 he understandeth that God, the Creator of things animate and 
 inanimate, hath especial care for the lowly. 
 
 I WILL now declare, in the presence of God, the twenty- 
 ninth year of my age. There had at that time come 
 to Carthage, a certain Bishop of the Manichseans, Faustus by 
 name, a great snare of the Devil, and many were entangled 
 by him through the charm of his fluent speech : but though 
 I praised it, I was able to distinguish it from the truth of 
 the things which I hungered to learn : nor did I care so 
 much how that Faustus, so renowned among them, dished 
 up his discourse, as what kind of food of knowledge he set 
 
The Confessions of S. Augustine. yi 
 
 before me. Fame had before bespoken him most knowing 
 in all honourable learning, and especially well equipped 
 in the liberal sciences. And since I had read many 
 treatises of philosophers, and kept in my mind their 
 maxims, I compared some things of theirs with those 
 long fables of the Manichseans, and the former struck me 
 as more probable, which they taught who " were able 
 only to know so much as to judge this present world, 
 though by no means could they find out the Lord thereof" 
 (Wisdom xiii. 9). " For thou art great, O Lord, and hast 
 respect unto the lowly, but the proud Thou beholdest afar 
 oif" (Ps. cxxxviii. 6). Nor dost thou "draw near," but to 
 "the contrite in heart" (Ps. xxxiv. 18); nor art found by 
 the proud ; not even if by curious skill they could number 
 the stars and the sand, and measure the starry regions, and 
 track the paths of constellations. 
 
 For with their understanding and wit, which Thou be- 
 stowedst on them, they search out these things ; and much 
 have they found out; and foretold, many years before, eclipses 
 of those luminaries, the sun and moon, at what day and hour 
 they would be, and whether partial or total ; nor did their cal- 
 culation fail ; and it came to pass as they foretold ; and they 
 wrote down the laws they had discovered, and these are read 
 at this day, and out of them do others foretell in what year, 
 and month of the year, and what day of the month, and 
 what hour of the day, and what part of its light, moon, or 
 sun is to be eclipsed, and as it is predicted, so will it 
 happen. At these things men, that know not this art, 
 marvel, and are astonished, and they that know it, exult, 
 and are puffed up ; and through their ungodly pride with- 
 draw themselves from Thy Light, and are in eclipse, and 
 though so long before they can foresee a coming eclipse of 
 the sun, their own present eclipse they see not. For they 
 search not religiously whence they have the wit, wherewith 
 they search out this. And finding that Thou madest them, 
 they give not themselves up to Thee, that Thou mayest 
 keep what Thou hast made ; nor do they sacrifice them- 
 selves to Thee, being such as they have made themselves ; 
 nor slay their own soaring imaginations, as ''fowls of the 
 air," nor their own curious enquiries, wherewith, like the 
 " fishes of the sea," they walk through the secret paths of 
 the deep {cf. Ps. viii. 8) ; nor their own wantonness, as 
 
72 The Confessions of S. Augustine, 
 
 " beasts of the field," that " Thou, Lord, a consuming fire " 
 (Deut. iv. 24), mayest bum up those dead cares of theirs, 
 and renew them to immortality. 
 
 But they knew not the Way, Thy Word, by Whom Thou 
 madest these things which they number, and themselves 
 who number, and the sense whereby they perceive what 
 they number, and the understanding, by which they number ; 
 or that " of Thy wisdom there is no number " (Ps. cxlvii. 5). 
 But the Only Begotten is Himself " made unto us wisdom, 
 and righteousness, and sanctification " (i Cor. i. 30), and 
 was numbered among us, and " paid tribute unto Caesar " 
 (S. Matt. xvii. 27). They knew not this Way whereby to 
 descend to Him from themselves, and by Him ascend unto 
 Him. They knew not this Way, and deemed themselves 
 exalted amongst the stars and shining ; and behold, they 
 fell to the earth "and their foolish heart was darkened" 
 (Rom. i. 21). They discourse many things truly concerning 
 the creature ; but Truth, Artificer of the creature, they seek 
 not piously, and therefore find him not ; or if they find 
 Him, " knowing Him to be God, they glorify Him not as 
 God, neither are thankful, but become vain in their imagi- 
 nations, and profess themselves to be wise" (Rom. i. 21, 22), 
 attributing to themselves what is Thine ; and tliereby with 
 most perverse blindness, seek to attribute to Thee what is 
 their own, speaking lies against Thee who art the Truth, 
 and " changing the glory of the uncorruptible God, into an 
 image made like to corruptible man, and to birds, and four- 
 footed beasts, and creeping things, changing Thy truth into 
 a lie, and worshipping and serving the creature more than 
 the Creator" (Rom. i. 23-25). 
 
 Yet I remembered many truths concerning the creature 
 declared by these men ; and their reasoning was confirmed 
 to me by their calculations, and the succession of times, 
 and the visible testimony of the stars; and I compared 
 them with the sayings of Manichaeus, who in his crazy folly 
 has written much and copiously upon these subjects; but 
 none of his reasoning of the solstices, nor equinoxes, nor 
 eclipses, nor whatever of this kind I had learned in books 
 of secular philosophy, was satisfactory to me. But I was 
 commanded to believe ; and yet it corresponded not with 
 the reasonings obtained by calculations, and by my own 
 observations, but was quite contrary. 
 
The Confessions of S. Augustine. 73 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 That no scientific acquaintance with things terrestrial or celestial can 
 give happiness, but only the knowledge of God. 
 
 DOTH then, O Lord God of truth, whoso knoweth these 
 things, therefore please Thee? Nay, but unhappy 
 is the man who knoweth all these, and knoweth not Thee : 
 but happy whoso knoweth Thee, though he know not these. 
 And whoso knoweth both Thee and them, is not the more 
 blessed for knowing them, but for Thee alone is blessed, if, 
 " knowing Thee, he glorifies Thee as God, and is thankful, 
 and becomes not vain in his imaginations" (Rom. i. 21). 
 For as he is better off, who knows how to possess a tree, 
 and returns thanks to Thee for the use thereof, although he 
 know not how many cubits high it is, or how wide it spreads, 
 than he that can measure it, and count all its boughs, and 
 neither possesses it, nor knows or loves its Creator : so a 
 faithful man, to whom all the world of wealth belongs, and 
 "who having nothing, yet possesseth all things" (2 Cor. 
 vi. 10), by cleaving unto Thee, whom all things serve, though 
 he know not even the circles of the Great Bear, yet is it 
 folly to doubt but he is in a better state than one who can 
 measure the heavens, and number the stars, and weigh the 
 elements, yet neglecteth Thee " Who hast made all things 
 in number, weight, and measure " (Wisd. xi. 20). 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 Concerning Manichceus ; his pertinacity in teaching falsehood ^ and 
 his pride in claiming to be the Holy Spirit. 
 
 BUT yet who bade that Manichseus write on these things 
 also, since piety could be learnt without any skill in 
 such matters ? " For Thou hast said to man, Behold, piety 
 is wisdom" (Job xxviii. 28); of the one he might be 
 ignorant, though he had a perfect knowledge of these 
 things; but inasmuch as he most impudently dared to 
 teach these things, though he knew nothing about them, he 
 plainly could have no knowledge of piety. For it is vanity 
 to make profession of these worldly things even when 
 
74 l^he Confessions of S. Augustine, 
 
 known ; piety is to make confession to Thee. Wherefore 
 this man, wandering from the way, to this end spake much 
 of these things, that convicted by those who had truly 
 learned them, it might be manifest what understanding he 
 had in the other things more abstruse. For he would not 
 have himself slightly valued, but attempted to persuade 
 men, " That the Holy Ghost, the Comforter and Enricher 
 of Thy faithful ones, was in Person within him, with plenary 
 authority." When then he was found out to have taught 
 falsehoods of the heaven and stars, and of the motions of 
 the sun and moon (although these things pertain not to the 
 doctrine of religion), yet it was plain enough that his preten- 
 sions were sacrilegious, seeing he delivered things which 
 not only he knew not, but which were falsified, with so mad 
 a vanity of pride, that he sought to ascribe them to himself, 
 as to a divine person. 
 
 For when I hear any brother Christian, ignorant of this 
 or that, and mistaking one thing for another, I can patiently 
 bear with his fancy ; nor do I see that any harm can come 
 to him, so long as he does not believe anything unworthy 
 of Thee, O Lord, the Creator of all, even if he happens 
 to be ignorant about the " situation " and " possession " * of 
 the material creation. But it doth injure him, if he imagine 
 it to pertain to the form of the doctrine of piety, and will 
 dare to assert over confidently that of which he is ignorant. 
 And yet is even such an infirmity, in the cradle time of 
 faith, borne by our mother Charity, till the new man may 
 " grow up unto a perfect man," so as " not to be carried 
 about with every wind of doctrine" (Eph. iv. 13, 14). But 
 in him, who in such wise presumed to be the teacher, 
 source, guide, chief of all whom he could so persuade, that 
 whoso followed him, thought that he followed, not a mere 
 man, but Thy Holy Spirit ; who would not judge that so 
 great madness would be at once detested, and utterly 
 rejected, so soon as he should be convicted of having 
 spoken falsehood ? But I had not as yet clearly ascertained 
 whether the variations of the longer and shorter days and 
 nights, and of day and night itself, with the eclipses of the 
 greater lights, and whatever else of the kind I had read of 
 in other books, might be explained consistently with his 
 
 * See ante. Book iv. Chap. xvi. " Situs " and " Habitus," situation 
 and possession, are two of the ten categories. 
 
The Confessions of S. Augustine. 75 
 
 sayings ; so that, if they by any means might, it should still 
 remain a question to me, whether it were so or no ; but I 
 might, on account of his reputed sanctity, have rested my 
 belief upon his authority. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 Faustus was an eloquent disputant but ignorant of the Liberal Sciences, 
 
 AND for almost all those nine years, wherein with un- 
 settled mind I had been a hearer of their teaching, I 
 had longed but too intensely for the coming of this Faustus. 
 For others of them, whom by chance I had lighted upon, 
 when unable to answer my objections about these things, 
 used to promise me that he would come ; and that, in con- 
 ference with me, upon his coming these difficulties and even 
 any greater, if I desired it, would be resolved for me in the 
 clearest way. When then he came, I found him agreeable, 
 and pleasant of address, and fluent to express, though in a 
 much more pleasant manner, all those things which they 
 were wont to say. But what availed the most courteous 
 butler to assuage my thirst for a rarer vintage ? Mine ears 
 were already wearied of such things, nor did they seem to 
 me therefore better, because better said; nor therefore 
 true, because eloquent ; nor the soul therefore wise, because 
 the face was comely, and the expressions eloquent. But 
 they who had made me promises about him were no good 
 judges of things \ and therefore to them he appeared a man 
 of wisdom and understanding, because his speech delighted 
 them. I felt however that another sort of people were 
 suspicious even of truth, and refused to assent to it, if de- 
 livered in an ornate and florid discourse. But Thou, O my 
 God, hadst already taught me by wonderful and secret 
 ways ; and for this reason I believe that Thou didst teach 
 me, because it is truth, nor is there besides Thee any teacher 
 of truth, wherever or whencesoever it shines forth upon us. 
 Of Thyself therefore had I already learned, that a thing 
 ought not to be held to be truly spoken, because eloquently 
 spoken; nor therefore falsely, because the syllables are 
 not carefully arranged; and again not therefore true, 
 because rudely delivered ; nor therefore false, because the 
 
'jS The Confessions of S. Augustine, 
 
 language is brilliant ; but that wisdom and folly are much 
 the same as wholesome and unwholesome food ; but that 
 whether in words ornate or inornate, just as either in choice 
 dishes or in delf, either kind of food can be served. 
 
 That hunger then wherewith I had of so long time looked 
 forward to the coming of that man, was delighted indeed with 
 his action and passion when disputing, and his choice and 
 ready fluency of words aptly fitted to clothe his ideas. For 
 I was delighted, and shared with many, and even outpassed 
 many in praising and extoUing him. But I misliked that 
 in the assembly of his auditors I was not permitted to press 
 upon him and confer with him upon the anxieties of my 
 difficulties, in familiar converse, and in the give and take of 
 controversy. And when I had an opportunity, and took 
 occasion to engage his attention, together with my asso- 
 ciates, at a time when it was becoming to enter upon discus- 
 sion, and submitted to him certain matters which had per- 
 plexed me, I found him first utterly ignorant of liberal 
 sciences, save grammar, and that but in an ordinary way. 
 But because he had read some of TuUy's Orations, a very 
 few books of Seneca, some things of the poets, and such 
 few volumes of his own sect, as were written in Latin and 
 in logical order, and was daily practised in speaking, he 
 acquired a certain eloquence, which proved the more pleas- 
 ing and seductive, because under the control of his good 
 sense, and with a certain natural grace. Is it not thus, as I 
 recall it, O Lord my God, Thou Judge of my conscience? 
 before Thee is my heart, and my remembrance. Who didst 
 at that time direct me by the hidden mystery of Thy pro- 
 vidence, and didst " set those shameful errors of mine be- 
 fore my face" (conf. Ps. L 21), that I might see and hate 
 them. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 By Go(^s grace he departs from the falsehoods of the Manichceans^ now 
 clearly perceived. 
 
 FOR after it became clear to me, that he was ignorant of 
 those arts in which I had thought he excelled, I began 
 to despair of his opening and solving the difficulties which 
 
The Confessions of S, Augustine, 77 
 
 perplexed me; of which indeed however ignorant, he 
 might have held the truths of piety, had he not been a 
 Manichsean. For their books are full of lengthy fables, of 
 the heaven, and stars, sun, and moon ; and I now no longer 
 thought him able with any subtlety to explain, what I 
 especially desired, whether in comparison with the calcula- 
 tions I had elsewhere read, the account of these matters 
 given in the books of Manichasus were more truthful, or 
 indeed whether an equally satisfactory explanation could be 
 got from them. But when I brought forward these things 
 for consideration and discussion, he, so far modestly, shrunk 
 from the burthen. For he knew that he did not know these 
 things, and was not ashamed to confess it. For he was not 
 one of those loquacious people, like many that I had 
 suffered from, who attempted to teach me these things, and 
 said nothing. But this man had a heart, though not right 
 towards Thee, yet not wholly careless towards himself. For 
 he was not altogether ignorant of his own ignorance, and 
 did not choose to be caught in a dispute upon these matters, 
 where there was no outlet, and no easy means of retreat. 
 Even for this 1 liked him the better. For the modesty of a 
 candid mind is even more attractive than the knowledge of 
 those things which I desired ; and such I found him, in all 
 the more difficult and subtile questions. 
 
 My zeal for the writings of Manichseus being thus shat- 
 tered, and despairing yet more of their other teachers, see- 
 ing that in divers things which perplexed me, he, though so 
 renowned among them, had so turned out ; I began to 
 engage with him in the study of that literature, on which 
 he also was much set (and which as rhetoric-reader I was at 
 that time teaching young students at Carthage), and to read 
 with him, either what himself desired to hear, or such as I 
 judged fit for his genius. But all my efforts whereby I pur- 
 posed to gain advantage in that sect, after my acquaintance 
 with that man, came utterly to an end ; not that I entirely 
 separated myself from them, but as one finding nothing 
 better, I had settled to be content meanwhile with what I 
 had in whatever way fallen upon, unless by chance some- 
 thing more eligible should dawn upon me. Thus that 
 Faustus, to so many a snare of death, had now, though he 
 neither wished it, nor knew that it was so, begun to loosen 
 that in which I had been taken. For Thy hands, O my 
 
78 The Confessions of S. Augustine. 
 
 God, in the secret purpose of Thy providence, did not for- 
 sake my soul ; and out of my mother's heart's blood, by her 
 daily and nightly tears, was a sacrifice offered for me unto 
 Thee; and Thou didst deal with me by wondrous and 
 secret ways. Thou didst it, O my God : for " the steps of 
 a man are ordered by the Lord, and He shall dispose his 
 way" (Ps. xxxvii. 23). Or what shall obtain salvation for 
 us, except Thy hand renew what Thou hast made ? 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 He sets out for Rome, though his mother in vain dissuades him, 
 
 THOU didst deal with me, that I should be persuaded 
 to go to Rome, and to teach there rather, what I 
 was teaching at Carthage. And how was I persuaded to 
 this ? I will not omit to confess to Thee ; because herein 
 also the deepest recesses of Thy wisdom, and Thy most 
 present mercy to us, must be discerned and declared. I 
 did not wish to go to Rome, because of the higher gains 
 and higher dignities which my friends, who persuaded me 
 to this, held out to me, though even these things had at 
 that time an influence over my mind ; but my chief and 
 almost only reason was, that I heard that young men 
 studied there more quietly, and were restrained by a more 
 regular system of discipline ; so that they did not wantonly 
 and at random rush into the school of one, whose pupils 
 they were not, nor were even admitted without his per- 
 mission. At Carthage, on the contrary, the license among 
 the scholars is disgraceful and unruly. They break in 
 impudently, and with a well nigh frantic expression disturb 
 the order which any one has established for the good of 
 his scholars. They commit many outrages with extra- 
 ordinary effrontery, which could be punished by law, did 
 not custom afford protection ; a custom which shows them 
 to be the more miserable, in that they now do as lawful, 
 what by Thy eternal law shall never be lawful ; and they 
 think they do it unpunished, whereas they are punished 
 with the very blindness whereby they do it, and the punish- 
 ments they suffer are incomparably worse than the offences 
 they commit. The manners then which, when a student, I 
 
The Confessions of S. Augustine. 79 
 
 would not make my own, I was fain, as a teacher, to endure 
 in others : and so I preferred to go where, all that knew it, 
 assured me that the like was not done. But Thou, " my 
 hope and my portion in the land of the living " (Ps. cxlii. 5), 
 that I might change my earthly habitation for the salvation 
 of my soul, at Carthage didst goad me, that I might thereby 
 be torn from it ; and at Rome didst proffer me allurements, 
 whereby I might be attracted thither, by men in love with 
 a dying life, the former by their frantic doings, the latter by 
 their empty promises ; and, to correct my steps, didst 
 secretly make use, both of their and my perversity. For 
 both they who disturbed my quiet, were blinded with a 
 disgraceful frenzy, and they who invited me elsewhere, 
 savoured of earth. While I, who here detested real misery, 
 was there seeking an unreal happiness. 
 
 But why I should depart hence and go thither, Thou 
 didst know, O God, yet shewedst it neither to me, nor to 
 my mother, who grievously bewailed my journey, and fol- 
 lowed me as far as the sea. But I deceived her, as she 
 held me by force, that either she might keep me back, or 
 go with me, and I feigned that I had a friend whom I could 
 not leave, till he had a fair wind to sail. And I lied to my 
 mother, and such a mother, and escaped : for this also hast 
 Thou mercifully forgiven mo. preserving me, who was so 
 vilely stained with sins, from the waters of the sea, for the 
 water of Thy Grace ; that when I was washed in this, the 
 rivers from my mother's eyes, with which she daily used to 
 water the ground beneath her face on my behalf before 
 Thee, might be dried up. And yet refusing to return 
 without me, I scarcely persuaded her to stay that night in a 
 place hard by our ship, where was a memorial chapel in 
 honour of S. Cyprian. That night I stealthily set out ; but 
 she remained in weeping and prayer. And what, O Lord, 
 was she with so many tears asking of Thee, but that Thou 
 wouldest not suffer me to sail ? But Thou, in the depth of 
 Thy counsels giving ear to the purport of her desire, didst 
 not effect what then she was asking, that thou mightest do 
 in me what she was ever asking. The wind blew and 
 swelled our sails, and the shore sank from our sight ; and 
 she on the morrow was there, frantic with sorrow, and with 
 complaints and groans filled Thine ears, who didst then 
 disregard them; whilst through my desires, Thou wert 
 
8o The Confessions of S, Augustine. 
 
 hurrying me to end those very desires, and her carnal regret 
 for my departure was chastened by the allotted scourge of 
 sorrows. For she loved my being with her, as mothers do, 
 but much more than many ; and she knew not how great 
 joy Thou wert about to work for her out of my absence. 
 She knew not; therefore did she weep and wail, and by 
 this agony there was manifested in her the heritage of Eve, 
 with sorrow seeking, what in sorrow she had brought forth. 
 And yet, after accusing my deceit and cruelty, she betook 
 herself again to intercede to Thee for me, and departed, 
 she to her wonted habits, I to Pvome. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 He lies dangerously ill of a feve} . 
 
 AND lo, there was I taken with the scourge of bodily 
 sickness, and I was going down to hell, bearing all 
 the sins which I had committed against Thee, and myself, 
 and others, many and grievous, over and above that bond 
 of original sin, whereby we "in Adam, all die" (i Cor. 
 XV. 22). For Thou hadst not forgiven me any of these 
 things in Christ, nor had He " abolished by His cross the 
 enmity " (Eph. ii. 14) which by my sins I had incurred with 
 Thee. For how should He, by the crucifixion of a phantasm, 
 which I believed Him to be? As then the death of His 
 Flesh seemed to me to be fictitious, so was the death of my 
 soul real : and as the Death of His Flesh was real, so was 
 the life of my soul, which disbelieved it, fictitious. And 
 now the fever heightening, I was parting and perishing. 
 For had I then parted hence, whither had I departed, but 
 into fire and torments, such as my deeds deserved in the 
 truth of Thy appointment ? And this she knew not, yet in 
 absence prayed for me. But Thou, everywhere present, 
 heardest her where she was, and, where I was, hadst com- 
 passion upon me ; that I should recover the health of my 
 body, though frenzied as yet in my impious heart. For I 
 did not in all that danger desire Thy baptism ; and I was 
 better as a boy, when I begged it of my mother's piety, as I 
 have before recited and confessed. But I had grown up to 
 i)fly own shame, and I in my madness scorned thy healing 
 
Tke Confessions of S. Augustine. 8i 
 
 counsels, who wouldest not suffer me, though I was such 
 an one, to die the second death. For if my mother's heart 
 had been stricken with such a wound, healed had it been 
 never For I cannot express the affection she bare to me, 
 and with how much more vehement anguish she was now in 
 labour of me in the spirit, than when she bare me in the 
 flesh. 
 
 I see not then how she should have been healed, had such 
 a death of mine pierced through the bowels of her love. And 
 where would have been those her prayers, so fervent and so 
 frequent, without cessation ? nowhere, unless with Thee. But 
 wouldest Thou, God of mercies, "despise the contrite and 
 humble heart" (Ps. li. 17), of that chaste and sober widow, 
 so frequent in almsdeeds, so full of duty and service to Thy 
 saints, no day intermitting the oblation at Thine altar, twice 
 a day, morning and evening, without any intermission, 
 coming to Thy church, not for empty fables, and old wives' 
 gossip ; but that she might hear Thee in Thy discourses, 
 and Thou her, in her prayers ? Couldest Thou despise and 
 reject from Thy aid the tears of such an one, wherewith she 
 begged of Thee not gold or silver, nor any changeful or 
 fleeting good, but the salvation of her son's soul ? Thou, 
 by whose gift she was such? Never, Lord. Yea, Thou 
 wert at hand, and wert hearing and doing, in that order 
 wherein Thou hadst predestined that it should be done. 
 Far be it that Thou shouldest deceive her in Thy visions 
 and answers, some of which I have already recorded, others 
 I have not, which she kept in her faithful heart, and ever 
 praying, used to press upon Thee, as though given under 
 Thine own hand. For Thou, " because Thy mercy endureth 
 for ever" (Ps. cxviii.), vouchsafest to those to whom Thou 
 *' forgivest all their debts," to become also a debtor by Thy 
 promises. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 After leaving the Manichaans he retained low opinions concerning God^ 
 and sin, and the Incarnation. 
 
 THOU didst restore me then of that sickness, and didst 
 save the son of Thy handmaid, as regards his bodily 
 health, that he might await Thy giving of a better and more 
 
 c * 
 
82 The Confessions of S, Augustine, 
 
 sure salvation. And even then, at Rome, I joined myself 
 to those deceived and deceiving " saints " : not with their 
 " hearers " only (of which number was he, in whose house 
 I had fallen sick and recovered), but even with those whom 
 they call " The Elect." For I still thought, " that it \s. not 
 we ourselves that sin ; but that some other nature (what, I 
 know not) sins in us " \ and it delighted my pride, to be free 
 from blame ; and when I had done ahy evil, not to confess 
 I had done any, " that Thou mightest heal my soul because 
 it had sinned against Thee " (Ps. xli, 4), but I loved to 
 excuse it, and to accuse I know not what other thing, which 
 was with me, but which was not I. But in truth it was 
 wholly I, and mine impiety had divided me against myself ; 
 and that sin was the more incurable, whereby I considered 
 that I was not a sinner ; and execrable iniquity it was, that 
 I should prefer that Thou, O God Almighty, should be 
 overcome in me to my destruction, than that I should be 
 overcome by Thee, to my salvation. Not as yet then hadst 
 Thou " set a watch before my mouth, and a door of self- 
 restraint around my lips, that my heart might not turn 
 aside to evil words, to make excuses of sins, with men that 
 work iniquity : and, therefore, was I still united with their 
 Elect " (Ps. cxli. 3, 4). 
 
 But now .despairing of getting any advantage in that 
 false doctrine, even those things (with which if I should 
 find no better, I had resolved to rest contented) I now held 
 with greater laxity and negligence. For a thought sprang 
 up within me, that those philosophers, whom they call 
 Academics, were wiser than the rest, because they held that 
 men ought to doubt every thing, and declared that no truth 
 can be comprehended by man. For so, even to me, they 
 clearly seemed to think, as is the common opinion of them, 
 for I did not yet understand their meaning. But I made 
 no secret of discouraging that host of mine from the over- 
 confidence which I perceived him to have in those fables, 
 of which the books of Manichseus are full. Yet I lived 
 in more familiar friendship with them, than with others who 
 were not of this heresy. Nor did I maintain it with my 
 ancient eagerness : still my intimacy with that sect (for 
 Rome gives concealment to many of them) made me slower 
 to seek any other way: especially since I despaired of 
 finding the truth, from which they had turned me aside, in 
 
The Confessions of S. Augustine. 83 
 
 Thy Church, O Lord of heaven and earth, Creator of all 
 things visible and invisible : and it seemed to me very 
 unseemly to believe Thee to have the form of human flesh, 
 and to be contained within the bodily limitations of our 
 members. And because, when I wished to think on my 
 God, I knew not what to think of, but a mass of bodies 
 (for what was not such, did not seem to me to be any thing), 
 this was the greatest, and almost only cause of my in- 
 evitable error. 
 
 For hence I believed Evil also to be some such kind of 
 substance, and to have its own foul, and hideous bulk; 
 whether gross, which they called earth, or thin and subtle 
 {like the body of the air), which they imagine to be some 
 malignant mind, creeping through that earth. And because 
 some sort of piety constrained me to believe, that the good 
 God had created no evil nature, I conceived two masses, 
 mutually antagonistic, both infinite, but the evil narrower, 
 the good greater. And from this pestilent beginning, the 
 other blasphemies followed. For when my mind sought to 
 revert to the Catholic faith, I was repelled, since that was 
 not the Catholic faith, which I thought to be so. And I 
 thought it more reverent in me, my God, to whom Thy 
 mercies make confession by my means, to believe Thee 
 infinite on all sides, except upon that one, where the mass 
 of evil opposed itself against Thee, and I was bound to 
 confess Thee to be finite ; than if I should imagine Thee 
 to be contained on every side within the limits of a human 
 bodily form. And it seemed to me better to believe Thee 
 to have created no evil, which to me in my ignorance 
 appeared to be not only a substance, but even a bodily sub- 
 stance, because I knew not how to conceive of mind, unless 
 it were some subtle body, which diffused itself throughout 
 some defined area, than to beheve that the nature of evil, 
 according to my notion of it, came from Thee. Yea, and 
 our Saviour Himself, Thy Only Begotten, I believed to have 
 been reached forth (as it were) for our salvation, out of the 
 mass of Thy most lucid substance, so as to believe nothing 
 of Him, but what I could imagine in my vanity. His 
 Nature then, being such, I thought could not be born of the 
 Virgin Mary, without being mingled with the flesh: and 
 how that which I had so figured to myself, could be mingled, 
 and not defiled, I did not see. I feared therefore to believe 
 
84 .fhe Confessions of S, Augustine. 
 
 Him bom in the flesh, lest I should be forced to believe 
 Him defiled by the flesh. Now will Thy spiritual ones 
 mildly and lovingly smile upon me, if they shall read these 
 my confessions. Yet such was I. 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 Helpidius well argued with the Manichceans, concerning the authenticity 
 of the New Testament. 
 
 FURTHERMORE, what the Manichseans had criticised 
 in Thy Scriptures, I thought could not be defended ; 
 yet at times I strongly desired to confer, point by point, with 
 some one, learned in their books, and to discover what he 
 might think about them. For already the discourses of a 
 certain Helpidius, who spoke openly, and disputed against 
 those same Manichaeans, had begun to influence me, even 
 at Carthage, for he brought forth from the Scriptures certain 
 things which could not easily be refuted, and their response 
 seemed to me feeble. And even this answer they did not 
 readily produce in public, but to us with some secrecy ; to 
 the effect, that the Scriptures of the New Testament had 
 been falsified by I know not whom, who wished to engraff 
 the law of the Jews upon the Christian faith : yet themselves 
 produced not any uncorrupted copies. But those " masses " 
 chiefly held me down, captive, and almost suffocated, for I 
 pondered only of corporeal things : and beneath their weight 
 I gasped for the pure and clear air of Thy truth, and could 
 not breathe. 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 He practises as a rhetorician at Rome, and experiences the frattdulence of 
 tJie students. 
 
 I BEGAN then diligently to practise that for which I came 
 to Rome, namely, to teach the art of rhetoric ; and 
 first, to gather some to my house, to whom, and through 
 whom, I was beginning to be known ; when lo, I found out 
 that things were done at Rome which I did not suffer in 
 Africa. In truth it was made clear to me that those " sub- 
 
The Cofifessions of S. Augustine, 85 
 
 vertings " were not these practised by profligate youths ; but 
 say they, " suddenly to escape paying their master, many of 
 the youths conspire together, and betake themselves to 
 another, breaking their faith, and counting justice cheap 
 compared with love of money." These also "my heart 
 hated," though not **with a perfect hatred" (Ps. cxxxix. 22), 
 for perchance I hated them more because I was likely to 
 suffer by them, than because they used to act unlawfully to 
 all and sundry. Of a truth such are base persons, and they 
 commit fornication against Thee, by loving these fleeting 
 mockeries of time, and filthy lucre, which fouls the hand 
 that grasps it; hugging the fleeting world, and despising 
 Thee, who abidest, and recallest, and forgivest the adulteress 
 soul of man, when she returns to Thee. Even now I hate 
 such depraved and crooked persons, though I love them to 
 be corrected, so as to prefer to money the learning, which 
 they acquire, and to learning. Thee, O God, the truth and 
 plenteousness of sure good, and the most pure peace. But 
 at that time it was rather that I did not choose to endure 
 them in their badness, for my own sake, than that I wished 
 them to be made good for Thine. 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 He is sent to Milan to teach rhetoric^ and becomes acquainted with 
 Ambrose. 
 
 WHEN therefore they of Milan had sent to Rome to 
 the prefect of the city, to furnish them with a 
 rhetoric reader for their city, and send him at the public 
 expense, I made application (through those very persons, 
 intoxicated with Manichaean vanities, to be freed wherefrom 
 I was going thither, though neither they nor I knew it) 
 that Symmachus, then prefect of the city, would send me, 
 after examining me upon some set subject. To Milan I 
 came, to Ambrose the Bishop, known to the whole world as 
 among the best of men, Thy devout worshipper; whose 
 eloquent discourse did then plentifully dispense unto Thy 
 people the fatness of Thy "wheat," the gladness of Thy "oil," 
 and the sober inebriation of Thy " wine " (Ps. iv. 7, civ. 15), 
 To him was I unknowing led by Thee, that by him I might 
 
86 The Confessions of S. Augustine, 
 
 knowingly be led to Thee. That man of God received me 
 as a father, and shewed me an Episcopal kindness on my 
 coming. Thenceforth I began to love him, at first indeed 
 not as a teacher of the truth, of which in Thy Church I 
 wholly despaired, but as a person kind towards myself. 
 And I listened diligently to him preaching to the people, 
 not with that intent I ought, but, as it were, trying his 
 eloquence, whether it answered the fame thereof, or flowed 
 fuller or lower than was reported ; and I hung on his words 
 attentively ; but with regard to the matter was but a careless 
 and scornful bystander ; and I was delighted with the sweet- 
 ness of his discourse, which, as far as concerns manner, 
 was more learned, but less sparkling and flattering than that 
 of Faustus. Of the matter, however, there was no com- 
 parison , for the one was wandering amid Manichaean false- 
 hoods, but the other most wholesomely taught salvation. 
 But " salvation is far from sinners" (Ps. cxix. 155), such as 
 I then stood before him ; and yet was I drawing nearer by 
 little and little, and unconsciously. 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 After hearing the Bishops he realises the power of the Catholic Faith, 
 nevertheless he is sceptical after the manner of the later Academics. 
 
 FOR though I took no pains to learn what he spake, but 
 only to hear how he spake (for since I now despaired 
 that any way lay open for tnan to approach Thee, that empty 
 care, forsooth, alone remained), yet together with the words 
 which I was enjoying, came also into my mind the things 
 which I was rejecting. For I could not keep them apart. 
 And while I opened my heart to admit " how eloquently 
 he spake," there also entered " how truly he spake ;" though 
 but by degrees. For now for the first time these things had 
 begun to appear to me capable of defence ; and the Catholic 
 faith, in defence of which I had thought nothing could be 
 advanced against Manichaean objectors, I now began to 
 think might be maintained without shamelessness ; espe- 
 cially after I had heard one or two places of the Old Testa- 
 ment resolved, and often mystically, which when I understood 
 literally, I was slain {cf 2 Cor. iii. 6). Very many passages 
 
The Confessioiis of S. Augustine, S7 
 
 then of those books having been explained spiritually, 
 I began to condemn my own despair, for having believed 
 that no answer at all could be given to such as hated and 
 scoffed at the Law and the Prophets. I did not, however, 
 yet perceive that the Catholic way was to be held, because 
 it also could find learned defenders, who could abun- 
 dantly, and by no means foolishly, answer objections ; nor 
 that what I held was therefore to be condemned, because 
 both sides were equally defensible. For so the Catholic 
 side seemed not yet vanquished, though not as yet mani- 
 festly victorious. 
 
 Hereupon I earnestly bent my mind, to see if in any way 
 I could by any certain proof convict the Manichaeans of 
 falsehood. Could I once have conceived a spiritual sub- 
 stance, all their devices would be cast down immediately, and 
 be thrown off from my mind ; but I could not. Notwith- 
 standing, concerning the frame of this world, and the whole 
 of nature, which the senses of the flesh can reach to, as I 
 more and more considered and compared things, 1 judged 
 that most of the philosophers had held opinions far more 
 probable. So then, after the manner of the Academics (as 
 they are supposed) sceptical of every thing, and wavering 
 between all, I settled so far, that the Manichaeans must be 
 abandoned ; not considering that even in that time of doubt 
 I ought to continue in that sect, to which I was already 
 beginning to prefer some of the philosophers : to which 
 philosophers notwithstanding, because they were wi<-hout 
 the saving Name of Christ, I utterly refused to commit the 
 cure of my sick soul. I determined therefore so long to be 
 a Catechumen in the Catholic Church, to which I had been 
 commended by my parents, till something certain should 
 dawn upon me, whither I might direct my course. 
 
He is now thirty years of age, and under the teaching of 
 Ambrose, perceived more and more clearly the Truth 
 OF Catholic Doctrine, and determined to amend his 
 Life. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 His mother followed him to Milan, and prophesied that she should not 
 depart this life, until het son should have embraced the Catholic 
 Faith, 
 
 " IVyTY hope from my youth," where wert Thou to me, 
 iVl and whither hadst 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, strong in her piety, following me over sea and 
 land, and amid all perils safe by Thy protection. For 
 throughout the dangers of the sea, she comforted the very 
 mariners, by whom passengers unacquainted with the deep, 
 are generally comforted when troubled, promising them a 
 safe arrival, because Thou hadst by a vision promised this 
 to her. She found me in grievous peril, through despair 
 of ever finding truth. But when I had informed her, that 
 I was now no longer a Manichsean, though not yet a 
 Catholic Christian, she was not overjoyed, as though she 
 had heard some unlooked for tidings ; although she was 
 now at rest concerning that part of my misery, for which 
 she used to lament over me as one dead, though to be 
 raised up again by Thee, and to " carry " 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 
 
The Confessions of S. Augustine. 89 
 
 shouldest deliver him to his mother" (S. Luke vii. 14, 15). 
 Her heart then shook with no tumultuous exultation, when 
 she heard that what she daily with tears desired of Thee, 
 was already in so great part accomplished ; in that, though 
 I had not yet attained unto the truth, I was already de- 
 livered from falsehood ; but now because she was confident 
 that Thou, who hadst promised the whole, wouldest give 
 what yet remained, most calmly, and with an heart full of 
 confidence, she replied to me, "She believed in Christ, 
 that before she departed out of this life, she should see me a 
 faithful Cathohc." 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 lighten my 
 darkness ; and she hastened the more eagerly to the Church, 
 and hung upon the lips of Ambrose, for " the fountain of 
 that water, which springeth up into everlasting life " (S. John 
 iv. 14). But that man she loved "as an angel of God" 
 (Gal. iv. 14), because she knew that by him I had been 
 brought for a while to that present state of wavering doubt, 
 through which she anticipated most confidently that I should 
 pass from sickness unto health, after a sharper danger had 
 intervened, as by that increase of fever, which physicians 
 call " the crisis." 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 She discontinues her habit of commemorating martyrs, on account 
 of the prohibition of Ambrose. 
 
 WHEN then my mother had once, as she was wont in 
 Africa, brought to the memorials 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 dispute his prohibition. For 
 wine-bibbing did not lay siege to her spirit, nor was love of 
 wine, in her case, a stimulant to hate of truth, as it is with 
 too many, both men and women, who loathe the praise of 
 sobriety, as drunken men do a watered cup. But she, when 
 she had brought her basket with the accustomed festival- 
 food; to be but tasted by herself, and then given away, never 
 
90 The Confessions of S. Augustine, 
 
 joined therewith more than one small cup of wine, diluted 
 according to her own abstemious habits, from which she 
 would partake to their honour. And if there were many 
 memorials of the departed that were to be honoured in that 
 manner, she would carry round that same one cup, to be 
 used everywhere; and this, though not only made very 
 watery, but unpleasantly heated, she would share by small 
 sips, with those about her ; for she sought there devotion, 
 not pleasure. So soon, then, as she found that it was 
 ordered by that famous preacher and pious prelate that this 
 should not be done, even by those who would do it soberly, 
 lest any occasion of excess might be given to the drunken ; 
 and because these commemorations were very similar to the 
 superstitious Gentile rites of ancestor worship, she most 
 willingly abstained from it, and learned to bear to the 
 memorials of the martyrs, instead of a basket filled with the 
 fruits of the earth, a breast filled with purer offerings : and 
 she would give what she could to the poor, and thus would 
 be celebrated the Communion of the Lord's Body, in imita- 
 tion of whose passion the martyrs were slain and crowned. 
 But yet it seems to me, O Lord, my God, and thus thinks 
 my heart of it in Thy sight, that possibly my mother would 
 not have yielded so readily to the restriction of this custom, 
 had it been forbidden by another, whom she loved not as 
 Ambrose, whom, for my salvation, she particularly loved ; 
 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 little thought that the way 
 of life could be found out. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 On account cf the p-essure of business and study upon Ambrose^ 
 Augustine had feu* opportunities of consulting him concerning 
 Holy Scripture. 
 
 NOR did I yet groan in my prayers, that Thou wouldest 
 help me ; but my mind was bent on enquiry, and 
 restless for controversy. And Ambrose himself, as the 
 
The Confessions of S. Augustine. 91 
 
 world counts happy, I esteemed a happy man, for so many 
 persons of position held him in honour ; only his celibacy 
 seemed to me burdensome. But what the hope he bore 
 within, what the conflict against the temptations which beset 
 his very excellence, what the consolation in adversities, and 
 what the joys he tasted with that hidden mouth of the heart, 
 when ruminating upon Thy Bread, I could know neither by 
 conjecture nor by experience : 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 hindered by the 
 crowds of people full of business, to whose infirmities he 
 used to minister, from either speech or hearing from him ; 
 and when he was not surrounded by them, which was but a 
 very little time, he was either refreshing his body with the 
 sustenance absolutely necessary, or his mind with reading. 
 But when he was reading, his eyes scanned the pages, and 
 his heart explored the sense, but his voice and tongue were 
 at rest. Ofttimes when we had come (for no one was for- 
 bidden to enter, nor was it the custom that a visitor should 
 be announced to him), we saw him thus reading in silence, 
 and never otherwise ; and having long sat silent (for who 
 could dare be troublesome to one so wrapt ?) we used 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 loath to be taken off; and 
 perchance he was afraid lest it might become necessary to 
 explain to some keen and attentive listener anything ob- 
 scurely expressed by the author he was reading ; or to enter 
 upon some discussion of more difficult questions ; and if so 
 he should spend his time, he would turn over fewer volumes 
 than he desired, though the necessity of preserving his voice, 
 which was very easily injured, was possibly the truer reason 
 for his reading to himself. But with what intent soever he 
 did it, certainly in such a man it was good. 
 
 But no full opportunity of consulting that holy oracle of 
 Thine, his breast, was afforded me, unless some brief 
 audience might suffice. But my anxieties required that he 
 to whom they should be outpoured should have ample 
 leisure, and never found it. I heard him indeed every 
 Lord's day, " rightly handling the Word of truth " (2 Tim. 
 ii 15), among the people ; and I was more and more con- 
 vinced, that ail the knots of those crafty calumnies, which 
 
92 The Confessions of S. Augustine, 
 
 those our deceivers had tangled against the Divine Books, 
 could be unravelled. But when I understood withal, that 
 *' man created by Thee, after Thine own image " (Gen. i. 27), 
 was not so understood by Thy spiritual sons, whom of the 
 Catholic Mother Thou hast regenerated through grace, as 
 though they beHeved and conceived of Thee as contained 
 within the form of a human body ; although in what man- 
 ner spiritual substance could exist, I could form not the 
 slightest or most shadowy notion ; even in my joy I reddened 
 with the shame of having for so many years barked against, 
 not the Catholic faith, but against the figments of my own 
 carnal conceptions. For so rash and impious had I been, 
 that what I ought to have said in the way of enquiry, I had 
 said in the way of condemnation. 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 art nowhere comprehended in space ; Thou art 
 not indeed of bodily form, yet hast Thou made man after 
 Thine own image ; and behold, from head to foot he is con- 
 tained in space. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 He discorjered the falsehood of his own opinions, and committed to 
 memory a saying of Ambrose. 
 
 SINCE, then, I knew not how this Thy image could sub- 
 sist, I should have knocked and enquired in what 
 manner it was to be believed, not insultingly opposed it, as 
 if it were believed as I imagined : therefore the more sharply 
 the doubt, as to what I should hold for certain, 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 as if 
 they were certainties. For that they were falsehoods be- 
 came 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 condemned 
 Thy Catholic Church, which I had by this time discovered 
 to teach, if not the truth, at any rate not to teach those 
 things for which I had so seriously condemned her. So I 
 was confounded and converted : and I joyed, O my God, 
 
The Confessions of S. Augustine. 93 
 
 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 : and that in her 
 sound doctrine she did not hold any tenet which should 
 confine Thee, the Creator of all, in space, however great 
 and large, yet bounded every where by the shape of human 
 limbs. 
 
 I joyed also, that the old Scriptures of the law and the 
 Prophets, were laid before me, not now tv. be perused with 
 that eye to which before they seemed absurd, when I reviled 
 Thy saints for thinking what indeed they never thought ; 
 and with joy I heard Ambrose in his sermons to the people, 
 oftentimes most diligently recommend as a rule, this saying, 
 " The letter killeth, but the Spirit giveth life " (2 Cor. iii. 6) ; 
 when, having drawn aside the mystic veil, he would open 
 those passages spiritually, which according to the letter 
 seemed to teach something unsound; teaching herein 
 nothing that offended me, though I did not yet know 
 whether what he taught were true. For I withheld my 
 heart from all assent, dreading a downfall : and came nearer 
 being killed by the suspense. 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 my clearer mental vision 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 to a good 
 one, so was it with the health of my soul, which could not 
 be healed but by believing, and for fear of believing false- 
 hoods, refused to be cured ; resisting Thy hands, who hast 
 prepared the medicines of faith, and hast adapted them to 
 the diseases of the whole world, and imparted to them so 
 powerful an efficacy. 
 
94 1^^^ Confessions of S. Augustine, 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 Faith is the foundation of human life ; and man cannot discover the 
 truth which the Sacred Scriptures reveal. 
 
 ON this ground also, I now began to give the preference 
 to the Catholic doctrine, and to perceive that it was 
 more modest and straightforward in her to require belief in 
 that which was not proved (whether it could be proved, or 
 could perhaps not be proved to certain persons, or even not 
 at all), than the other plan, of mocking credulity by the 
 rash promise of knowledge ; and afterwards of imposing as 
 articles of faith, many most fabulous and absurd things, 
 because they could not be proved. Then Thou, O Lord, 
 little by little with most tender and most merciful hand, 
 touching and composing my heart, didst persuade me, by 
 the consideration of the numberless things I believed 
 though I did not see, and which were done while I was not 
 present; as for example so many events in the history of 
 peoples ; so many accounts of places and of cities, which I 
 had not seen ; so many things about my friends, so many 
 concerning physicians, so many of this man and the other, 
 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, unless I had believed what I heard, 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 might chance to say to me, " How knowest 
 thou those Scriptures to have been imparted unto mankind 
 by the Spirit of the one true and most truth saying God ? '* 
 For this very thing was of all most to be believed, since no 
 contentioMsness of quibble and artifice throughout the 
 abundant course of my reading amongst mutually contra- 
 dictory philosophers could wring from me even an occa- 
 sional failure to believe in Thy being, though of what Nature 
 Thou wert I knew not, or that the administration of human 
 alTairs belongs to Thee. 
 
 This I believed, sometimes more strongly, more weakly 
 other-whiles ; yet always I believed, both that Thou art, and 
 
The Confessions of S, Augustine. 95 
 
 that Thou dost exercise a care for 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 the light of reason to find out truth ; and for this very 
 cause needed the authority of Holy Writ ; I hg-d now begun 
 to believe, that Thou wouldest never have given such 
 excellency of authority to that Scripture throughout all lands, 
 hadst Thou not willed that through it Thou shouldest be 
 believed, and through it sought. For now the absurdity, 
 which used to oifend me in the Scripture, after I had heard 
 many things from it satisfactorily expounded, I began to 
 attribute to the depth of its mysteries, and its authority 
 appeared to me the more venerable, and more worthy of 
 religious credence, for the very reason that while it might 
 easily be read by all, it reserved the majesty of its mystery 
 within its profounder meaning, offering itself to all by the 
 great plainness of its words, and the very humble style of its 
 expression, yet demanding intense application of such as 
 are not light of heart ; that so it might receive all in its 
 broad bosom, and through narrow passages convey some 
 few to Thee, yet many more than if it stood not aloft on 
 such a height of authority, nor drew multitudes within the 
 bosom of its holy humility. These things I thought on, 
 and Thou wert with me ; I sighed and Thou didst hear 
 me ; I wavered, and Thou didst guide me ; I wandered 
 through the broad way of the world, and Thou didst not 
 forsake me. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 Concerning the origin and measure of true joy which he is brought to 
 dwell on by the sight of a beggar's gaiety. 
 
 I PANTED after honours, gains, marriage; and Thou 
 didst laugh me to scorn. In these desires I under- 
 went most bitter distresses. Thou being the more gracious, 
 the less Thou didst suffer aught to grow sweet to me, which 
 was not] Thyself. Behold my heart, O Lord, who wouldest 
 that I should remember and confess this to Thee. Let 
 now my soul cleave unto Thee, for Thou hast drawn it 
 forth from the snares of death, that cling so close. How 
 wretched was it I and Thou didst cause the wound to feel 
 
g6 The Confessions of S. A ugtistine, 
 
 its smart, that forsaking all else, it might be converted 
 unto Thee, who art above all, and without whom all things 
 would be nothing ; that it might be converted and made 
 whole. 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 boihng with the feverish- 
 ness of consuming thoughts. For, passing through one of 
 the streets of Milan, I noticed a poor beggar, who I suppose 
 had just had a good meal, joking and joyous : and I sighed, 
 and spoke to the friends around me, of the many sorrows of 
 our own frenzies, because by all such efforts of ours, as I 
 was then toiling at, dragging with me a burden of wretched- 
 ness beneath the goad of my desires, and increasing it by 
 dragging it, we sought for nothing, except to arrive at that 
 unanxious joy, wherein that beggar had forestalled us, who 
 should never perchance attain thereto. For what he had 
 obtained by means of a few begged pence, for that same 
 thing I was scheming by many weariful turnings and twistings; 
 for the joy forsooth of temporal happiness. He indeed had 
 not the true joy ; but yet I with those my ambitious designs 
 was seeking one far less true. And certainly he was joyous, 
 I anxious ; he free from care, I full of fear. But should 
 any ask me, " whether I would prefer to be merry or to be 
 fearful ? " I would answer " to be merry." Again, if he 
 asked had I rather be such as he was, or what I then was 
 myself? I should choose to be myself, though worn with 
 cares and fears ; but from perversity ; for could it be so of 
 a truth ? For I ought not to prefer myself to him, because 
 I was more learned, seeing I had no joy therein, but was 
 seeking to please men by it ; not even to teach them ; but 
 only to please them. Wherefore also Thou didst break my 
 bones with the rod of Thy discipline. 
 
 Away with those then from my soul, who say to her, 
 "The difference lies in the source of one's joy. The 
 beggar's joy lay in winebibbing; but Thou wouldest derive 
 Thine from 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 upturned my mind even more. 
 He that very night should digest his drunkenness ; but I 
 
The Confessions of S, Augustine. 97 
 
 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 there " does lie a difference in the source of 
 one's joy." I know it, and the joy of a faithful hope is 
 immeasurably distant from that vanity, but of us two he 
 then distanced me. For in very truth he was the happier , 
 not only because he was thoroughly drenched in mirth, 
 while my very life was torn out of me with anxieties : but 
 also he, by well-wishing folk had gotten his wine ; whilst I, 
 by lying, was seeking to feed my pride. Much to this eifect 
 said I then to my friends : and I often noticed 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 loath to catch at it, for almost before 
 I had hold of it, it flew away. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 He reforms Alypitis, his friend^ who had been captivated by a foolish 
 passion for the shows of the circus. 
 
 THESE things we, who were living as 'friends together, 
 bemoaned together, but chiefly and most familiarly 1 
 used to discuss them with Alypius and Nebridius, of whom 
 Alypius was a native of the same town as myself, where his 
 parents were among the leading townsmen; but he was 
 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 natural inclination to 
 virtue, which was eminent enough in one of no great age. 
 Yet the whirlpool of the liabits of the Carthaginians, who 
 are feverishly addicted to trifling shows, had sucked him 
 into a mad passion for the Circus. But while he was 
 miserably whirled about therein, and I, as a professor of 
 rhetoric there, held a public school, he did not as yet 
 frequent my lectures, on account of some dissension, which 
 had arisen between his father and me ; and I had discovered 
 that he had a deadly fondness for the circus; and I was 
 deeply grieved that he seemed likely to waste his great 
 promise, or even had already done so. Yet had I no 
 
 D 
 
98 The Confessions of S. A iigustine. 
 
 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 did not Therefore disregarding his father's 
 wish in this matter, he began to greet me, come sometimes 
 into my lecture-room, hear a little, and be gone. 
 
 However it slipped from my memory to vram him against 
 destropng so excellent a natural talent, with a blind and 
 headlong eagerness for vain sports. But Thou, O Lord, 
 who dost control the courses of all whom Thou hast created, 
 wast not forgetful that he should one day be amongst Thy 
 children a Priest celebrant of Thy sacrament : and that his 
 amendment might plainly be attributed to Thyself, Thou 
 didst effect it through me, though I thought not of it For 
 as one day I sat in my accustomed place, with my scholars 
 before me, he entered, greeted me, sat dowTi, and applied 
 his mind to what was being treated of I had by chance a 
 passage in hand, and while I was commenting on it, an apt 
 allusion to the Circensian games 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 entirely on his 
 account. And what another might have taken as a cause 
 of quarrel with me, the right-minded lad took as a ground 
 of quarrel \\nth himself, and liked me all the more warmly. 
 For Thou hadst said long ago, and put it into Thy book, 
 " Rebuke a wise man and he will love thee" (Prov. ix. 8). 
 But I had not rebuked him, but Thou, who employest all, 
 whether they know it or not, according to the design Thou 
 hast knouTi (and that design is righteous), didst bring forth 
 coals of fire from my heart and tongue, that Thou mightest 
 with a good hope kindle his languishing mind and heal 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 ; and all the contaminations of the circus fell 
 from him, nor came he again thither. Upon this, he pre- 
 vailed with his unwilling father, that he might be my scholar. 
 
The Confessions of S, Augustine. 99 
 
 He yielded and consented. And Alypius, beginning to 
 attend my lectures again, was with me involved in supersti- 
 tion, loving in the Manichseans that show of continency, 
 which he supposed true and genuine. Whereas it was 
 foolish and deceptive, lying in wait for precious souls, as 
 yet unable to climb the steep of virtue, and easy to be 
 beguiled with the appearance of virtue, though but shadowy 
 and feigned. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 77u same Alypius is dragged by companions at Rome to the CoIisseu?n, 
 and is delighted with the gladiatorial games. 
 
 HE, in pursuit of the secular avocation, which had been 
 glowingly depicted to him by his parents, 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 at a time when he loathed and detested 
 such things, certain of his friends and fellow-students, whom 
 he chanced to meet on their return from luncheon, dragged 
 him with playful violence, though vehemently resisting and 
 refusing, into the Amphitheatre, during these cruel and 
 deadly shows. " If," said he, " you drag my body to that 
 place, and there set me, can you force me also to fasten my 
 mind or my eyes upon those spectacles ? Sol will be pre- 
 sent though absent, and thus shall overcome both you and 
 them." They hearing this, nevertheless dragged him along 
 with them, anxious perhaps to find out whether he could go 
 through with it. When they were come thither, and had 
 taken their places as they could, the whole place was boil- 
 ing with the most savage delight. But he, closing the doors 
 of his eyes, forbade his mind to roam amongst such evils, 
 and would he had stopped his ears also ! For at a certain 
 accident in the fight, a mighty shout from the whole people 
 struck violently upon him, and vanquished by curiosity, and 
 fancying himself steeled to despise and overcome anything he 
 might see, whatever it might be, 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 shout 
 %/as raised, which entered through his ears, and unlocked his 
 
too The Confessions of S, Angus tine » 
 
 eyes, to make way for the striking and beating down of 
 a soul bold rather than brave, and the weaker, in that it had 
 presumed on itself, when it ought to have relied on Thee. 
 For so soon as he saw that blood, he therewith drank down 
 savageness ; nor turned away, but fixed his gaze, and drank 
 in fury, unawares, and delighted in the wickedness of the 
 conflict, and was intoxicated with the bloody pastime. Nor 
 was he now the man he came, but one of th^ crowd to 
 which he had come, and a very mate of theirs that brought 
 him thither. Why say more? He beheld, shouted, blazed 
 with excitement, and carried thence with him an infatuation 
 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 didst teach him to put 
 his trust not in himself, but in Thee. But this was long 
 afterwards. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 AlypiuSy though innocent, was apprehended as a thief, btU set free by the 
 skill of a certain architect. 
 
 BUT this was already being laid up in his memory to be 
 a medicine hereafter ; and another thing also, which 
 occurred while he was still a student, attending my lectures 
 at Carthage. For when he was conning over at mid-day in 
 the market-place, as is customary among students, what he 
 was going to recite. Thou didst suffer him to be appre- 
 hended by the market-keepers as a thief; for no other 
 reason, I suppose, 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, one man 
 ought not readily to condemn another from a headlong 
 credulity. For as he was walking up and down by himself 
 before the judgment seat, with his tablets and pen, lo, a 
 young man, one of the students, the real thief, privily bring- 
 ing a hatchet, got in, unperceived by Alypius, as far as the 
 leaden lattices, which project over the silversmiths' quarter,, 
 and began to cut away the lead. But the noise of the 
 hatchet being heard, the silversmiths who were underneath, 
 muttered together about it, and sent to apprehend whom^. . 
 
 M 
 
Tlie Co7ifessions of S,Augi*^stms. loi 
 
 ever they should find. As soon as he heard their voices, he 
 dropped his hatchet and made off, fearful of being caught 
 with it. Alypius now, who had not seen him enter, per- 
 ceived his departure, and saw too how hurriedly he went ^ 
 and curious to ascertain the reason, went into the place, and 
 stood there wondering and looking at the hatchet he found 
 there; when behold, those that had been sent, find him- 
 alone with the hatchet in his hand, the noise of wliich had 
 startled and brought them thither. They seize him, drag 
 him away, and a crowd of market-place tenants having 
 collected, boast of having captured a palpable thief, and so 
 he was being led away to be taken before the judge. 
 
 But so far was his instruction to go. For forthwith, O 
 Lord, Thou didst come to the rescue of his innocence, 
 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. 
 They were especially glad to meet him, for they were apt to 
 fall under his suspicion of stealing goods which were lost 
 out of the market-place, and now at length he might, as they 
 thought, make certain who really did these things. But 
 this man had often seen Alypius at a certain Senator's 
 house, upon whom he used to call, and recognising him 
 immediately, took him aside by the hand, and enquiring 
 the occasion of so great a misfortune, heard what had hap- 
 pened j 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 suspecting any danger 
 for his master, to disclose the whole. For he had attended 
 his master to the market-place. Directly Alypius recog- 
 nised him, he told the architect; and he, shewing the 
 hatchet to the boy, asked him "Whose that was?" 
 " Ours," quoth he presently : and upon further questioning, 
 disclosed everything. So the charge was shifted to that 
 household, to the confusion of the crowds, which had already 
 begun to exult over Alypius : and the future minister of 
 Thy word, and examiner of many causes in Thy Church,, 
 went away the wiser and more experienced 
 
iQZ The Confessions of S, Augustine, 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 The extraordinary integrity of Alypitis injudicial matters ; and th* 
 firm friendship between Nebridius and Augustine. 
 
 HIM then I had found at Rome, and he clung 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 in- 
 tegrity which surprised others, while he was even more sur- 
 prised at those who could prefer gold to honesty. His 
 character was tried besides, not only with the bait of covet- 
 ousness, but with the goad of fear. At Rome he was As- 
 sessor to the count of the Italian Treasury. There was at 
 that time a very powerful senator, to whom many were 
 attached by favours, and many cringed for fear. He, by 
 his usual manner of influence, wanted permission for some- 
 thing which by the laws was not permitted. Alypius 
 resisted it: a bribe was promised; with all his heart he 
 scorned it : threats were held out ; he trampled upon them 
 to everybody's surprise at so rare a display of spirit, which 
 neither desired the friendship, nor feared the enmity of one 
 so great and of such general notoriety for innumerable 
 means of helping or hurting another. And the very Judge, 
 whose councillor Alypius was, although himself also opposed 
 to it, 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 dis- 
 sented. By his devotion to literature only, he was almost 
 persuaded, that he might have books copied for him at Prae- 
 torian prices; but consulting justice, he altered his deli- 
 beration for the better; judging that the equity, by which he 
 was restrained, was more advantageous than the privilege, by 
 which he was permitted. This is a little matter ," but he 
 that is faithful in little, is faithful also in much." Nor can 
 that anyhow be void, which proceeded out of the mouth of 
 Thy Truth ; " If ye have not been faithful in the unright- 
 eous 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 ? " (S. Luke 
 . xvi. 10-12). Such then was he. who at that time clung to 
 
The Confessions of S. Augustine, 103 
 
 me, and with me wavered in purpose, what manner of life 
 should be pursued. 
 
 Nebridius also, who having left his native place, near 
 Carthage, and Carthage itself, which he had greatly fre- 
 quented, leaving his excellent paternal estate and house, and 
 his mother too, who would not 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. He mingled 
 with ours' his sighs and perplexities, an ardent seeker after 
 the blessed life, and a most acute examiner of the most 
 difficult questions. Thus were there the mouths of three 
 who in their needs were sighing forth their wants one to 
 another, and " waiting upon Thee that Thou mightest give 
 them their meat in due season" (Ps. cxlv. 15). And in all 
 the bitterness, which by Thy mercy followed our worldly 
 doings, 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, when these were for- 
 saken, we might grasp. 
 
 />- 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 Troubled by most serious perplexities, Augustine deliberates upon 
 beginning a new life. 
 
 AND I, greatly troubled and recalling things, most 
 wondered at the length of time from that my nine- 
 teenth year, wherein I had begun to kindle with the desire 
 of wisdom, determining when I had found her, to abandon 
 all the empty hopes and lying fantasies 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, " To- 
 morrow I shall find it ; it will appear clearly, and I will lay 
 hold of it ; lo, Faustus will come, and make every thing 
 plain ! O you great men, ye Academicians, is it true then, 
 that no thing can be grasped with certainty for the guidance 
 of our life? Nay, let us search the more diligently, and 
 let us not despair. For, look you, the things are no longer 
 
104 ^-^^^ Confessions of S, Augustive, 
 
 absurd in the church's books, which used to seem absurd, 
 for they can be differently understood, and with honesty. 
 I will plant my feet in the very steps, in which in my boy- 
 hood my parents set 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 fixed, let certain 
 hours be set apart for the health of our soul. Great hope 
 has dawned ; the Catholic Faith teaches not what we used 
 to think, and in our vanity allege against it : her instructed 
 members hold it profane, to believe that God is com- 
 prehended within the form of a human body ; and do we 
 doubt to " knock," that the rest " may be opened " ? Our 
 scholars fill the hours of the forenoon ; what do we during 
 the rest ? Why not this ? But when then can we pay our 
 respects to our more influential friends, of whose good 
 offices we have need ? When prepare what our students 
 buy? When refresh ourselves, seeking mental relaxation 
 from the strain of our cares ? 
 
 " Perish every thing, let us dismiss these empty vanities, 
 and devote ourselves wholly to the seeking after truth ! 
 Life is wretched, death uncertain ; if it steals upon us 
 suddenly, how shall we depart hence? and where shall 
 we learn what here we have neglected ? and shall we not 
 rather pay the penalty of this negligence ? What, if death 
 itself cut off and end all care and feeling ? This also must 
 be inquired into. But God forbid that so it should be ! 
 It is no vain and empty thing, that the excellent dignity of 
 the authority of the Christian Faith hath so 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 should be destroyed. Why then do we delay to 
 abandon worldly ambition, and to give ourselves wholly to 
 seeking after God and the blessed life ? But wait ! Even 
 those things are pleasant ; they have a not small sweetness 
 of their own. Our pursuit of them must not be abandoned 
 without consideration, for it were base to return to them 
 again. 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 j if nothing else offer, and we be in much 
 haste, at least a presidentship may be given us : and a wife 
 
The Confessions of S. Augustine. 105 
 
 with some money, that she increase not our charges : and 
 this shall be the bound of desire. Many great men, and 
 most worthy of imitation, have given themselves to the 
 study of wisdom in the state of marriage." 
 
 While I went over these things, and these winds shifted 
 and drove my heart this way and that, time passed on, but 
 I delayed my conversion to the Lord ; and from day to day 
 deferred to live in Thee, and deferred not daily to die in 
 myself. Loving the blessed hfe, I feared it in its own 
 abode, and sought it, by fleeing from it. I thought I should 
 be too miserable if deprived of a woman's embraces ; and 
 of the medicine of Thy mercy to cure that infirmity I 
 thought not, not having tried it ; and I thought that con- 
 tinency was attainable by our own strength, and was 
 conscious that I had not such strength, being so foolish as 
 not to know what is written, " None can be continent 
 unless Thou give it " (Wisd. viii. 21). And certainly Thou 
 wouldest have given it, if with inward groanings I had 
 knocked at Thine ears, and with a firm faith should cast my 
 care on thee. 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 A discussion with Alypius concerning marriage and celibacy. 
 
 ALYPIUS indeed kept me from marrying ; arguing that 
 by no possibility could we with undisturbed leisure 
 continue to live together in the love of wisdom, as we had 
 long desired, if I were to do so. For himself was even 
 then in this respect most chaste, so that it was wonderful ; 
 and that the more, since in the outset of his youth he had 
 made trial of such pleasures, but had not clung to them, 
 rather had lamented and despised them : and up to now 
 was living in absolute continence. But I opposed him 
 with the examples of those, who in the state of marriage 
 had cherished wisdom, and had pleased God, and retained 
 their friends, and loved them faithfully. Of whose great- 
 ness of spirit I truly came far short ; and bound with the 
 disease of the flesh, and its deadly sweetness, drew along 
 my chain, dreading to be loosed, and rejecting the words of 
 iiim that counselled well, as though my wound were galled, 
 and a hand sought to loose my chain. Moreover, by me 
 
io6 The Confessions of S. Augustine, 
 
 did the serpent speak unto Alypius himself, and by my 
 tongue wove and scattered in his path snares of pleasure 
 wherein his virtuous and unfettered feet might be entangled. 
 For when he would wonder 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 together, 
 that I could by no means lead a single life ; and urged in 
 my defence when I saw him wonder, that there was great 
 difference between his momentary and stolen experiences, 
 which now he could hardly even remember, and could 
 therefore without effort easily despise, and my habitual 
 pleasures, whereto if but the honourable name of marriage 
 were added, he ought not to wonder why I could not con- 
 temn that course ; he began also to desire to be married ; 
 not that he was overcome by the lust 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 seem to me not life, but 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 thraldom whereat he wondered, since he was willing to 
 *'make a covenant with death" (Isaiah xxviii. 15), and "he 
 that loves danger, shall fall into it" (Ecclus. iii. 26). For 
 whatever honour there be in the duty of ordering well the 
 married life, and bringing up children, influenced neither of 
 us, even 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 into captivity. 
 So were we, until Thou, O Most High, not forsaking our 
 clay, moved with mercy at our misery, didst come to our 
 help, in wonderful and secret ways. 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 He is advised by his mother to marry ; and found a maiden 7vho 
 pleased him. 
 
 AND I was constantly being urged to marry. Now I 
 went a-wooing; now a betrothal was made, chiefly 
 through my mother's effort, in order that as soon as I was 
 
The Confessions of S. Augustine, 107 
 
 married the saving Baptism might cleanse me, for which 
 she rejoiced that I was being daily fitted, and saw that her 
 prayers and Thy Promises were receiving fulfilment in my 
 faith. But when 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 
 working of the human spirit^ preoccupied with this matter, 
 would compound ; and related them to me, not with that 
 confidence she used to have when Thou hadst revealed 
 anything to her, but slighting them. For she said she could 
 discern, by a certain indescribable savour, which she could 
 not explain in words, a difference between Thy revelation, 
 and her soul's own dreams. So I was urged, and a maiden 
 wooed, who was by two years too youag to marry ; and since 
 she pleased me, I was to wait for hei. 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 A plan of living in C07ni7tunity with his friends soon comes to naught. 
 
 AND many of us friends conferring about, and detesting 
 the turbulent cares of human life, had debated and 
 now almost resolved on living apart from bustle and 
 business ; and this leisure we were to compass by bringing 
 into a common fund whatever we might be able to procure, 
 and by establisliing one household out of all ; so that through 
 the sincerity of our friendship, this should not belong to 
 one, that to another ; but the whole thus derived from all, 
 should as a whole belong to each, and all to all. We 
 thought there might be some ten persons in this society; 
 some of whom were very rich, especially Romanianus, our 
 fellow townsman, from childhood a very familiar friend of 
 mine, whom the grievous perplexities of his affairs had at 
 that time brought up to court. He was most urgent for 
 this project, and had great weight in pressing it, because 
 his ample fortune far exceeded that of any of the rest. And 
 we had arranged that two of us annually, as a kind of 
 officials, should provide all things necessary, the rest being 
 undisturbed. But when we began to consider whether the 
 
ioS The Confessions of S. Augustine. 
 
 wives, which some of us already had, others hoped to have, 
 would allow this, all that plan, which we were so well shap- 
 ing, 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 " (S. Matt. vii. 
 13) of the world, for many thoughts were in our heart. 
 "But Thy counsel standeth for ever" (Ps. xxxiii. 11). 
 Out of which counsel Thou didst deride ours, and didst 
 prepare Thine own ; purposing to " give us meat in due 
 season, and to open Thy hand, and to fill our souls with 
 benediction" (Ps. cxlv. 15, 16). 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 He dismisses his mistress, but obtains another, 
 
 MEANWHILE my sins were being multiplied, and my 
 mistress 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 Africa, 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 wooed, not being so much 
 a lover of marriage, as a slave to lust, procured another, 
 though no wife, that so by the convoy of a continuous 
 custom, the disease of my soul undiminished or even in- 
 creased, might be sustained and carried on into the realm 
 of matrimony. 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 benumbed, but more desperate. 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 The fear of death and judgment weighed on him, owing to his belief 
 in the immortality of the sotil. 
 
 TO Thee be praise, to Thee glory. Thou fount of mercies, 
 I was becoming more miserable, and Thou nearer. 
 Thy right hand was continually ready to pluck me out of 
 
The Confessions of S. Augustine. 109 
 
 the mire, and to " wash me throughly," 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 throughout all my changes of opinion, 
 never entirely departed from my breast. And in my 
 disputes with my friends Alypius and Nebridius of the 
 nature of good and evil, I used to hold that Epicurus would, 
 to my judgment, have won the palm, had I not believed, 
 that after death there remained a life of the soul, and 
 durations of requitals, which Epicurus refused to 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 discei-n that light of virtue 
 and beau y, which is 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 found pleasure 
 in \ onferring with my friends, nor could I, even according 
 to the notions I then had of happiness, be happy without 
 friends, in whatever abundance of carnal indulgence. 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 hard. For Thou alone art rest. And 
 behold, Thou art at hand, and deliverest us from our 
 wretched wanderings, and dost set us in Thy Life, and dost 
 comfort us, and say, ''Run ; I will carry you; yea I will 
 bring you to the end ; and tiiere also will 1 carry you." 
 

 
 K 
 
 ^ 
 
 S 
 
 
 
 
 
 !5«a*:^ 
 
 
 He recalls the beginning of his manhood, to wit the thirty- 
 first YEAR of his age : IN WHICH HAVING ABANDONED HIS 
 MOST SERIOUS ERRORS CONCERNING THE NATURE OF GOD, AND 
 THE ORIGIN OF EVIL, AND HAVING MADE A MORE ACCURATE 
 STUDY OF THE SACRED SCRIPTURES, HE ATTAINS AT LAST TO A 
 TRUE KNOWLEDGE OF GOD, THOUGH NOT YET RIGHTLY UNDER- 
 STANDING THE Incarnation of Jesus Christ. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 Ifts conception of God, not exactly in the form of a human body, but cts 
 a coi-poreal substance, diffused through space. 
 
 BY this time my evil and wicked youth was dead and 
 gone ; and I was entering upon manhood ; growing 
 baser in vanity, as older in years. But although I could 
 not imagine any substance, but such as is wont to be seen 
 with these eyes, I thought not of Thee, O God, under the 
 form of a human body. Since I began to hear aught of 
 wisdom, I always avoided this; and rejoiced to have found 
 the same in the faith of our spiritual mother. Thy Catholic 
 Church. But what else to conceive Thee I knew not. 
 And I, a man, and such a man, sought to conceive of Thee 
 the sovereign, and only and true God; and I did in my inmost 
 soul believe that Thou wert incorruptible, and inviolable, 
 and unchangeable, though not knowing whence or how. 
 For I saw plainly and was sure, that that which can be cor- 
 rupted, must be inferior to that which cannot ; that which 
 cannot be injured, I unhesitatingly placed above that which is 
 capable of injury ; and that which suffers no change is better 
 than that which can be changed. My heart passionately 
 cried out against all my phantasms, and with this one blow 
 I sought to beat away from the eye of my mind all that 
 unclean troop which buzzed around it. And lo, being 
 
TJie Confessions of S. Augustine. in 
 
 scarce put off, in the twinkling of an eye they gathered 
 again thick about me, flew against my face, and beclouded 
 it j so that though not under the form of the human body, 
 yet was I constrained to conceive of Thee as something 
 corporeal, throughout space, whether infused into the world, 
 or diffused through infinity outside the world, yea, even of 
 that incorruptible, and inviolable, and unchangeable sub- 
 stance, which I judged better than anything corruptible, 
 violable, or changeable. Because whatever I severed from 
 the idea of dimensions, seemed to me to be nothing at all ; 
 but absolutely nothing, not even an empty space, as if some 
 body were taken away from it, and the space should remain, 
 emptied of every substance, both earthly, watery, aerial, 
 and celestial, but yet should remain an empty space, as 
 though it were a spacious nothing. 
 
 I then being thus crass of heart, nor clear even to myself, 
 whatsoever was not extended over certain spaces, nor dif- 
 fused, nor condensed, nor swelled out, or did not or could 
 not receive some of these dimensions, I thought to be 
 absolutely nothing. For my heart did then range among 
 such images, as the forms among which my eyes are still 
 wont to range ; and I did not perceive that the very mental 
 operation, by which I formed these images, was a thing of 
 a different sort from the images, and could not have formed 
 them, had not itself been something great. So also did I 
 endeavour to conceive of Thee, Life of my life, as vast, 
 through infinite spaces on every side penetrating the whole 
 mass of the universe, and beyond it, every way, through un- 
 measurable boundless spaces ; so that the earth should have 
 Thee, the heaven have Thee, all things have Thee, and they 
 be bounded in Thee, and Thou bounded nowhere. For 
 just as the substance of this air, which is above the earth, 
 offers no such resistance to the light of the sun, that it cannot 
 pass through it, penetrating it, not by rending or cutting it, 
 but by filling it wholly : so I thought the substance not of 
 heaven, air, and sea only, but of the earth too, was pervaded 
 by Thee, so that in all its parts, the greatest as the smallest, 
 it was penetrable to receive Thy presence, ordering, by a 
 secret inspiration within and without, all things which Thou 
 hast created. Such was my theory, for I could conceive no 
 other ; but it was false. For in this way a greater part of 
 the earth would contain a greater portion of Thee, and a less, 
 
112 TJte Confessions of S. Augustifte. 
 
 a lesser : and all things should in such sort be full of Thee^ 
 that the body of an elephant should contain more of Thee 
 than that of a sparrow, in proportion to its greater size, 
 and filling a larger space ; and thus shouldest Thou make 
 the several portions of Thyself present unto the several por- 
 tions of the world, piecemeal, large in the large, little in the 
 little. But such art not Thou. But not as yet hadst Thoij. 
 enlightened my darkness. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 An argument of Nebridius against the Manichaans^ upon the question, 
 " whether God be or be not corruptible.''^ 
 
 IT was enough for me, Lord, to allege against those de- 
 ceived deceivers, and dumb praters, since not from 
 them did Thy word sound; it was surely enough, which 
 long ago, while we were yet at Carthage, Nebridius used to 
 propound, at which all we that heard it, were staggered ; 
 "That indescribable nation of darkness, which they are 
 wont to set as an opposing mass, over against Thee, what 
 could it have done unto Thee, hadst Thou refused to fight 
 with it? For, if it should be answered, *it would have 
 done Thee some hurt,' then Thou wouldest be violable, and 
 corruptible ; but if * it could do Thee no hurt,' then was no 
 cause assigned for Thy fighting with it; and fighting in 
 such wise, as that a certain portion and member of Thee, 
 even the offspring of Thy very Substance, should be 
 mingled with opposed powers, and natures not created by 
 Thee, and be by them so far corrupted and changed for 
 the worse, as to be turned from blessedness into misery, and 
 to need help, whereby it might be rescued and purified; 
 and that this was the soul, which Thy Word might aid ; being 
 free might aid the enslaved, pure the defiled, sound the 
 corrupted ; that Word itself being still corruptible, because 
 It was of one and the same Substance. So then, should 
 they say that Thou, whatsoever Thou art, that is. Thy 
 Substance whereby Thou art, art incorruptible, then were 
 all these sayings false and execrable ; but if corruptible, 
 then the statement itself is false, and at the very first utter 
 ance to be abhorred." This argument then of Nebridius 
 
The Confessions of S, A ugustine, 113 
 
 sufficed agairxKf those, who deserved wholly to be vomited 
 out of the overcharged stomach ; for they had no escape, 
 without horrible blasphemy of heart and tongue, thus think- 
 ing and speaking of Thee. 
 
 CHAPTER III, 
 That the freedom of the will is the cause ofemL 
 
 BUT I also as yet, although I held and was firmly per- 
 suaded, that Thou our Lord the true God, who 
 madest not only our souls, but our bodies, and not only our 
 souls and bodies, but all beings, and all things, wert unde- 
 filable and unalterable, and in no degree mutable; yet I 
 did not hold that the cause of evil was explained, and dis- 
 entangled. And yet whatever it were, I perceived it was 
 in such wise to be sought out, as should not constrain me 
 to believe the unchangeable God to be changeable, lest I 
 should become that evil for which I was seeking. I sought 
 it out then, thus far free from anxiety, certain of the un- 
 truth of what these held, from whom I shrunk with my 
 whole heart : for I saw, that through enquiring the origin of 
 evil, they were filled with evil, in that tIieyjgreferfed~to~ 
 think that TTiy sifbstance did suler evil FatHeF'tTian that" 
 their own did commit it. 
 
 And I strained to perceive what I now heard, that firee- 
 will was the cause of our doing ill, and Thy just judgment 
 of our suffering ill ; but I was not able clearly to discern it. 
 So then endeavouring to draw my soul's vision out of that 
 deep pit, I was again plunged therein, and endeavouring 
 often, I was plunged back again and again. But it lifted 
 me a little towards Thy Light, to know that I had a wiTT, as 
 certainly as that I had life. So then when I did or did noF 
 wHl anything, I was as sure as possible tliat none other than 
 myself did or did not will it, and I came to the point of 
 noticing that here lay the cause of my sin. But what I did 
 against my will, I saw that I suffered rather than did, and I 
 judged not to be my fault, but my punishment ; whereby 
 however, holding Thee to be just, I speedily confessed 
 myself to be not unjustly punished. But again I said. Who 
 made me? Did not my God, who is not only good, but 
 
114 ^-^^ Confessions of S. Augustine, 
 
 goodness itself? Whence then comes it that I choose the 
 evil and refuse the good, that so a reason should be found 
 for my just punishment? Who set this in me, and im- 
 planted in me this root of bitterness, seeing I was wholly 
 formed by my most sweet God? If the devil were the 
 author, whence is that same devil? And if he also by his 
 own perverse will, of a good angel became a devil, whence, 
 again, came in him that evil will, whereby he became a 
 devil, since his whole angelhood was made good by the 
 Most Good Creator ? By these thoughts I was again thrust 
 down and suffocated ; yet not so brought down to that hell 
 of error, where no man confesseth unto Thee, as to think 
 rather that Thou dost suffer ill, than that man doth it. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 That God is not corruptible : or He would cease to be God. 
 
 FOR I v/as in such wise striving to find out the rest, as 
 one who had already found, that the incorruptible 
 must needs be better than the corruptible ; and Thee 
 therefore, whatsoever Thou wert, I confessed to be incor- 
 ruptible. For never soul was, nor shall be, able to conceive 
 of any thing better than Thee, who art the sovereign and 
 the chiefest good. But since most truly and certainly, the 
 incorruptible is preferable to the corruptible, as I did now 
 prefer it, then, unless Thou wert incorruptible, I could in 
 thought have arrived at something which was better than 
 my God. Where then I saw the incorruptible to be pre- 
 ferable to the corruptible, there ought I to seek for Thee, 
 and there observe "whence evil was;" that is, whence 
 is that corruption, by which Thy substance can by no 
 means be injured. For in absolutely no way at all doth 
 corruption injure our God ; by no will, by no necessity, by 
 no unlooked-for chance ; because He is God, and what He 
 wills is good, and Himself is that good. But to be cor- 
 rupted is not good. Nor art Thou against Thy will con- 
 strained to any thing, since Thy will is not greater than Thy 
 power. For it could only be greater, if Thou Thyself wert 
 greater than Thyself; for the will and power of God is God 
 Himself. And what can be unforeseen to Thee, who 
 
TJte Confessions of S. Augustine, 1 1 5 
 
 knowest all things ? and there is no nature, except because 
 Thou knowest it. And what should we more say, " why 
 that substance which God is, should not be corruptible," 
 seeinof that if it were so, it should cease to be God ? 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 Questions concerning the relation of evil to God: since if He be the 
 sovereign good. He cannot be the cause of evil. 
 
 AND I sought, " whence is evil," and sought in an evil 
 way ; and saw not the evil in my very search. I set 
 now before the sight of my spirit, the whole creation, what- 
 soever is visible in it, such as earth, and sea, and air, and 
 stars, and trees, and mortal creatures ; and whatsoever in it 
 is invisible, as the firmament of heaven, and besides all the 
 angels and all the spiritual things thereof. But these also, 
 as though they were bodies, did my imagination arrange in 
 such and such places ; and I made one great mass of Thy 
 creation, distinguished as to the kinds of bodies ; some, 
 real bodies, some, what myself had feigned for spirits. And 
 this mass I made huge, not as it was, which I could not 
 know, but as large as I chose, yet bounded on every side ; 
 but Thee, O Lord, I imagined on every part surrounding 
 and penetrating it, but in every direction infinite : as if 
 there were a sea, every where, and on every side, through 
 unmeasured space, one only infinite sea, and it contained 
 within it some sponge, huge, but finite ; that sponge must 
 needs, in all its parts, be filled from that unmeasured sea : 
 so I imagined Thy finite creation full of Thee, the Infinite ; 
 and I said. Behold God, and behold what God hath created ; 
 and God is good, yea, most mightily and imcomparably 
 better than all these : but yet He, the Good, created them 
 good; and see how doth He surround and fill them. 
 Where is evil then, and whence, and how crept it in hither? 
 What is its root, and what its seed? Or hath it no being? 
 Why then do we fear and shun what hath no existence ? 
 Even if we fear it idly, yet surely that very fear is evil, 
 whereby the soul is thus idly goaded and tormented ; and 
 so much a greater evil, as there is nothing to fear, and yet 
 we do fear. Therefore there is either evil, which we fear. 
 
Ii6 The Confessions of S. Augustine, 
 
 or this is itself the evil, namely, that we fear. Whence is it 
 then ? seeing God hath made all these things, and He being 
 good hath made them good. He indeed, the greater and 
 chiefest Good, hath created these lesser goods \ still both 
 Creator and created, all are good. Whence is evil ? Or, 
 was there some evil matter out of which He made these 
 things, and did He give it form and order, and yet leave in 
 it something which He did not convert into good ? Why so 
 then ? Had He no might to turn and change the whole, so 
 that no evil should remain in it, seeing He is Almighty? 
 Lastly, why would He make any thing at all of it, and not 
 rather by the same Almighty power cause it entirely to cease 
 to exist ? Or, could it really exist against His will ? Or if 
 it were from eternity, why suffered He it so to be for infinite 
 spaces of times past, and yet chose so long after to make 
 something out of it ? Or if He now suddenly chose to do 
 something, an Almighty being would be more likely to do 
 this ; to wit, to cause this evil matter to cease to be, and 
 that He only should exist, the very sovereign and Infinite 
 Good ; or if it was not good that He who was good, should 
 not also frame and create something that were good, then, 
 that evil matter being taken away and brought to nothing, 
 He might establish good matter, whereof to create all 
 things. For He should not be Almighty, if He could not 
 create something good except by the assistance of that 
 matter which Himself had not created. These thoughts 
 I turned over in my miserable heart, weighed down with 
 most corrosive anxieties, and a dread of death, ere yet I 
 should have found the truth ; yet was the faith of Thy 
 Christ our Lord and Saviour, professed in the Church 
 Catholic, firmly fixed in my heart, in many points, indeed, 
 as yet without form, and vacillating beyond the strict limit 
 of doctrine ; yet did not my mind utterly leave it, but rather 
 daily drank in more and more of it 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 He rejects astrological divinations. 
 
 BY this time also I had rejected the lying divinations 
 and impious ravings of the astrologers. Let Thine 
 own mercies, out of my very inmost soul, confess unto 
 
The Confessions of S. Augustine. 117 
 
 Thee for this also, O my God. For Thou, Thou altogether 
 (for who else calls us back from the death of all errors, save 
 the Life which knows not death, and the Wisdom which need- 
 ing no light enlightens the minds that need it, by which 
 the universe is governed, even to the fluttering leaves of 
 trees ?), Thou didst provide for my obstinacy wherewith I 
 contended against Vindicianus, an acute old man, and 
 Nebridius, a young man of admirable talents ; the former 
 vehemently affirming, and the latter often (though with 
 some doubtfulness) saying, " That there was no such art 
 whereby to foresee things to come, but that men's conjectures 
 often had the nature of an oracle, and that out of their 
 many forecasts, a good part would come to pass, though 
 the foretellers knew nothing of it, but had only stumbled 
 upon it by their ready tongue." Thou didst provide then a 
 friend for me, no negligent consulter of the astrologers ; nor 
 yet well skilled in those arts, but (as I said) a diligent con- 
 sulter with them : yet he knew something, which he said he 
 had heard from his father, but how far it went to overthrow 
 the estimation of that art, he knew not. This man then, 
 Firminus by name, having had a liberal education, and well 
 taught in Rhetoric, consulted me, being an intimate friend 
 of his, as to what, according to his so-called constellations, 
 I thought on certain affairs of his, wherein his worldly hopes 
 had risen, and I, who had herein now begun to incline 
 towards Nebridius' opinion, did not altogether refuse to 
 conjecture, and tell him what came into my unresolved 
 mind ; but added, that I was now almost persuaded, that 
 these were but ridiculous and vain follies : thereupon he 
 told me, that his father had been very curious in such books, 
 and had a friend as earnest in them as himself, who with 
 joint study and conference fanned the flame of their affec- 
 tions to these toys, so that they would observe the moments, 
 whereat the very dumb animals, which bred about their 
 houses, gave birth, and then observed the relative position 
 of the heavens, in order to make experiments in this so- 
 called art. He said then that he had heard of his father, 
 that when his mother was about to give birth to him. Fir- 
 minus, a woman-servant of that friend of his father's, was in 
 the same condition, which could not escape her masters 
 notice, who took care with most exact diligence to know 
 the births of his very puppies. And so it fell out that the 
 
ii8 The Confessions of S. Augustine, 
 
 one for his wife, and the other for his servant, with the most 
 careful observation, reckoning days, hours, nay, the lesser divi- 
 sions of the hours, both were delivered at the same instant ; 
 so that they were constrained to cast the nativity, the one 
 of his son, the other of his servant, from the same constella- 
 tions even to the minute. For so soon as the women 
 began to be in labour, they each gave notice to the other 
 what was taking place in their houses, and had messengers 
 ready to send to one another, so soon as the actual birth 
 had been announced to each of them ; and that the an- 
 nouncement should be immediately made, they had easily 
 made provision, each in his own domain. Thus then the 
 messengers of the respective parties met, he averred, at 
 such an equal distance from either house, that neither of 
 them could make out any difference in the position of the 
 stars, or any other minutest points ; and yet Firminus, born 
 in his parents' house, in ample circumstances, entered upon 
 his career along the sunnier paths of the world, increased 
 in wealth, and was raised to honours ; but the slave, without 
 any relaxation of the yoke of his condition, continued 
 in servitude to his masters ; as he testified of his own 
 knowledge. 
 
 Now when I heard these things, and believed them (the 
 teller being such as he was), all my hesitancy was swept 
 away ; and first I endeavoured to reclaim Firminus himself 
 from that curiosity, by telling him, that upon inspecting his 
 constellations, I ought, if I were to predict truly, to have 
 seen in them, parents eminent among their neighbours, a 
 noble family in its own city, honourable birth, gentle breed- 
 ing, and liberal education : but if that servant had consulted 
 me upon the same constellations, since they were his also, 
 in order that I might also declare what was true for him, to 
 read in them the meanest lineage, the condition of slavery, 
 and all else most different and remote from the former fore- 
 casts ; whence then it must happen, that on inspecting the 
 same stars I should draw opposite conclusions, if I would 
 say truths ; but if I drew the same, I should utter false 
 predictions : thence it followed most certainly, that what- 
 ever, upon consideration of the constellations, was predicted 
 truly was predicted not by skill, but by hazard ; but that 
 false predictions were due not to want of skilled knowledge, 
 but to the misleading nature of the hazard. 
 
The Confessions of S. Augustine, 119 
 
 An opening thus made, ruminating with myself on the 
 like things, that no one of those dotards who followed such 
 a profession, and whom I longed to attack, and confute with 
 ridicule, might urge against me, that Firminus had informed 
 me falsely, or his father him ; I gave my attention to the 
 case of those who are born twins, who for the most part 
 come forth from the womb so near one to other, that the 
 small interval, whatever force they may argue that it has in 
 the nature of things, cannot be noted by human observation, 
 or be at all expressed in those figures which the Astrologer 
 must inspect, that he may predict the truth. Yet they can- 
 not be true : for looking into the same figures, he must have 
 predicted the same of Esau and Jacob, whereas the same 
 things did not befall both. Therefore he must speak falsely; 
 or if truly, then, looking into the same figures, he must not 
 give the same answer. Not by skill then, but by hazard 
 would he predict the truth. For Thou, O Lord, most righteous 
 Ruler of the Universe, while consulters and consulted know- 
 it not, dost by Thy hidden inspiration effect that the con- 
 suiter should hear what according to the hidden deservings 
 of souls, he ought to hear, out of the abyss of Thy righteous 
 judgment, to Whom let no man say, What is this ? Why 
 that ? Let him not, oh ! let him not so say ; for he is but 
 man. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 He is terribly distressed about the origin of evil, 
 
 NOW then, O my Helper, thou hadst loosed me from 
 those fetters : and I sought " whence is evil," and 
 found no outlet. But thou sufferedst me not by any waves 
 of thought to be carried away from the Faith whereby I 
 believed that Thou art, and that Thy substance is unchange- 
 able, and that Thou dost exercise Providence and Judgment 
 upon men ; and that in Christ, Thy Son, our Lord, and in 
 the holy Scriptures, which the authority of Thy Catholic 
 Church made binding, Thou didst appoint a way of human 
 salvation unto that life, which shall be after this death. 
 These things being safe and immoveably fixed in my mind, 
 I sought anxiously "whence was evil?" What were the 
 pangs of my labouring heart, what groans, O my God ! yet 
 
120 The Confessions of S. Augustine. 
 
 even there were Thine ears open, and I knew it not : and 
 when in silence I gave my whole strength to the enquiry, 
 those unspoken sorrows of my soul were strong cries unto 
 Thy mercy. Thou knewest what I suffered, and no man. 
 For, what was there of it which I could convey by my 
 tongue into the ears of my most familiar friends? How 
 could the whole tumult of my soul, for which neither time 
 nor utterance sufficed, reach them ? Yet the whole entered 
 into Thy hearing, " which I roared out from the very dis- 
 quietness of my heart : and my desire was before Thee, and 
 the light of mine eyes was not with me " (Ps. xxxviii. 9, 10). 
 For that was within, I was without. That was not in space. 
 But I was intent upon things which are contained in space, 
 and found there no space where I might rest ; nor did they 
 so receive me, that I could say, " It is enough," " it is well:" 
 nor did they yet suffer me to turn back, where it might be 
 well enough with me. For I was higher than they, but 
 lower than Thou; and Thou art my true joy when subjected 
 to Thee, and Thou hadst subjected to me what Thou 
 createdst below me. And this was the true temperament, 
 and the mean line of salvation for me, to remain in Thy 
 Image, and by serving Thee, keep under my body. But 
 when I rose proudly against Thee, and " ran upon the Lord, 
 even upon his neck, with the thick bosses of my buckler" 
 (Job XV. 26), even these inferior things were set above me, 
 and pressed me down, and nowhere was there respite or 
 space of breathing. They met my sight on all sides by 
 heaps and troops, and the images of bodies presented them- 
 selves to my thoughts, when I would return to Thee, as if 
 they were saying, "Whither goest thou, unworthy and 
 defiled?" And these things had grown out of my wound ; 
 for Thou " hast humbled the haughty as one that is 
 wounded " (Ps. Ixxxix. 10), and by my pompous pride I was 
 separated from Thee ; and my face so puffed up, closed 
 my eyes. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII, 
 
 By the help of God he little by little draws nigh to truth. 
 
 " T^UT Thou, O Lord, endurest for ever, and wilt not be 
 
 -'-' angry with us for ever" (Ps. cii. 13; Ixxxv. 5), 
 
 because Thou pitiest our dust and ashes, and it was pleasing 
 
TJu Confessions of S. Augustine. ^^^ 
 
 in Thy sight to reform my deformities ; and by inward goads 
 didst Thou rouse me, that I should be ill at ease, until 
 Thou wert manifested to my inward sight. Thus, by the 
 secret touch of Thy medicine, was my swelling abated, and 
 the troubled and darkened eyesight of my mind, by the 
 sharp eyesalve of wholesome sorrows, day by day w^as 
 healed. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 He compares the PlcUonist teaching concernmg the Word^ with the 
 Christian doctrine, which latter he finds by far more excellent. 
 
 AND Thou, willing first to shew me, how Tbou "re- 
 sistest the proud, but givest grace unto the humble " 
 (i Peter v. 5), and by what mercy Thou hadst pointed out 
 to men the way of humility, in that Thy Word was made 
 flesh, and dwelt among men ; Thou didst provide me, by 
 means of one puffed up with most unnatural pride, certain 
 books of the Platonists, translated from Greek into Latin. 
 And therein I read, not indeed in these words, but to the same 
 purpose, enforced by many and divers reasons, that " In 
 the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, 
 and the Word was God : the Same was in the beginning 
 with God : all things were made by Him, and without Him 
 was nothing made : that which was made by Him is life, 
 and the life was the light of men, and the light shineth in 
 the darkness, and the darkness comprehended it not." And 
 that the soul of man, though it " bears witness to the light," 
 yet itself "is not that light," but God, the Word of God, 
 " is that true light that lighteth every man that cometh into 
 the world." And that " He was in the world, and the 
 world was made by Him, and the world knew Him not." 
 But, that " He came into His own, and His own received 
 him not ; but as many as received Him, to them gave He 
 power to become the sons of God, even to them that believe 
 on His Name ; " this I read not there. 
 
 Again I read there, that " God the Word was born not of 
 flesh nor of blood, nor of the will of man, nor of the will of 
 the flesh, but of God." But that "the Word was made 
 flesh, and dwelt among us," I read not there {cf S. John 
 i. 1-14). For I traced in those books, said differently and in 
 
120. The Confessions of S. Augustine. 
 
 many ways, that " the Son was in the form of the Father, 
 and thought it not robbery to be equal with God," because 
 naturally He was the Same Substance. But that "He 
 emptied himself, taking the form of a servant, being made 
 in the likeness of men, and found in fashion as a man, 
 humbled himself, and became obedient unto death, even 
 the death of the cross : wherefore God exalted Him " from 
 the dead, " and gave Him a name which is above every 
 name, that at the name of Jesus every knee should bow, of 
 things in heaven, and things in earth, and things under the 
 earth ; and that every tongue should confess that the Lord 
 Jesus Christ is in the glory of God the Father" (Phil. 
 ii. 6 ss.) ; those books do not contain. For that before all 
 times and above all times Thy Only-Begotten Son remaineth 
 unchangeably, co-eternal with Thee, and that " of His ful- 
 ness souls receive," that they may be blessed ; and that by 
 participation of wisdom abiding in them, they are renewed, 
 so as to be wise, is there. But that "in due time He died 
 for the ungodly" (Rom. v. 6), and that "Thou sparedst not 
 Thine only Son, but deliveredst Him for us all" (Rom. 
 viiL 32), is not there. "For Thou hast hidden these things 
 from the wise, and revealed them to babes," that they " that 
 labour and are heavy laden, might come unto Him, and 
 He might refresh them," because " He is meek and lowly 
 in heart "(S. Matt, xi.); "and the meek He guideth in 
 judgment, and the gentle He teacheth His ways " (Ps. xxv. 
 9), " looking upon our lowliness and trouble, and forgiving 
 all our sins" (Ps. xxv. 18). But such as are lifted up upon 
 the stilts, as it were, of a more elevated teaching, hear not 
 Him, who saith " Learn of Me, for I am meek and lowly 
 in heart, and ye shall find rest to your souls " (S. Matt. ix. 
 29). " Although they knew God, yet they glorify Him not 
 as God, nor are thankful, but become vain in their imagina- 
 tions, and their foolish heart is darkened ; professing them- 
 selves to be wise, they became fools " (Rom. i. 21, 22). 
 
 And therefore did I read there also, that they had 
 " changed the glory of Thy incorruptible nature " into idols 
 and divers images, "into an image made like unto cor- 
 ruptible man, and to birds and four-footed beasts, and 
 creeping things" (Rom. i. 23) ; namely into that Egyptian 
 food, for which Esau lost his birthright ; since Thy first- 
 born people worshipped the head of a four-footed beast 
 
The Confessions of S, Augustine. 123 
 
 instead of Thee ; turning in heart back towards Egypt ; and 
 bowing Thy image, their own soul, before the image of 
 " a calf that eateth hay " (Ps. cvi. 20). These things found 
 I here, but I fed not on them. For it pleased Thee, O 
 Lord, to take away the reproach of inferiority from Jacob, 
 "that the elder should serve the younger" (Rom. ix. 12) ; 
 and Thou calledst the Gentiles into Thine inheritance. 
 And I had come to Thee from among the Gentiles ; and I 
 set my mind upon the gold which Thou willedst Thy people 
 to take from Egypt, since, wheresoever it was, it was Thine. 
 And to the Athenians Thou saidst by Thine Apostle, " that 
 in Thee we live, move, and have our being, as one of their 
 own poets had said" (Acts xvii. 28). And verily these 
 books came from thence. But I set not my mind on the 
 idols of the Egyptains, to which they made Thy gold 
 minister, " who changed the truth of God into a lie, and 
 worshipped and served the creature more than the Creator " 
 (Rom. i. 25). 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 In the inmost recess of his heart, things divine begin to grow more clear. 
 
 AND being thence admonished to return to myself, I 
 entered with Thy guidance into my inmost self, and 
 I was enabled to do so, for Thou wert my Helper. And I 
 entered and beheld with the eye of my soul (such as it was), 
 above the same eye of my soul, above my mind, the Light 
 Unchangeable : not this common light, which shines for all 
 flesh ; nor as it were a greater of the same kind, as though 
 the brightness of this should shine out more and more 
 brightly, and with its greatness take up all space. Not such 
 was this light, but other, yea, far other from all these. Nor 
 was it above my soul, as oil is above water, nor yet as 
 heaven above earth : but higher than I, because It made 
 me j and I below It, because I was made by It. He that 
 knoweth the Truth, knoweth what that Light is ; and he 
 that knoweth It, knoweth eternity. Charity knoweth It 
 O eternal Truth, and true Charity, and beloved Eternity. 
 Thou art my God, to Thee do I sigh night and day. And 
 when at first I knew Thee, Thou didst lift me up, that I 
 might see there was what I might see, and that I was not 
 
124 TJie Confessions of S. Augustine. 
 
 )'et such as could see it. And Thou didst beat back the 
 weakness of my sight, streaming forth Thy beams of light 
 upon me most strongly, and I trembled with love and awe : 
 and I perceived myself to be far off from Thee, in the 
 region of unlikeness, as if I heard this Thy voice from on 
 high : " I am the food of them that be full grown ; grow, 
 and thou shalt feed upon Me ; nor shalt thou transmute 
 Me into thee, as thou dost the food of thy flesh, but thou 
 shalt be transmuted into Me." And I learned, that " Thou 
 for iniquity didst chasten man, and Thou didst make my 
 soul to consume away like a spider" (Ps. xxxix. ii, Vulg.). 
 And I said, " Is Truth therefore nothin g because it ij jnot 
 diffused through space finite_or infinite ?" _ And ThcSi 
 criedst ' toTfie Irom "alar ; "*' Yea verily, T AM t¥at TTtM " 
 (Ex. iii. 14). And I heard, as the heart heareth, nor had I 
 room to doubt, and I should sooner doubt that I live, than 
 that Truth is not, " which is clearly seen being understood 
 by those things which are made " (Rom. i. 20). 
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 That creatures are subject to change; and God alone unchangeable. 
 
 AND I beheld the other things below Thee, and I per- 
 ceived, that they are neither absolutely existent, nor 
 absolutely non-existent. For they are, since they are from 
 Thee, but are not, because they are not, what Thou art. 
 For that truly is, which remains unchangeably. ** It is good 
 then for me to hold me fast by God" (Ps. Ixxiii. 28) ; for if 
 I remain not in Him, I cannot in myself; but " He remain- 
 ing in Himself, maketh all things new" (Wisd. vii. 27). 
 "And Thou art the Lord my God, since my goods are 
 nothing unto Thee" (Ps. xvi. 2). 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 Whatsoever things the most good God hath nuide^ are truly good. 
 
 AND it was manifested unto me, that those things be 
 good, which yet are corrupted ; which neither if they 
 were supremely good, nor unless they were good, could be 
 
The Co7ifessions of S, Augustine. 125 
 
 corrupted : for had they been supremely good, they would 
 have been incorruptible, but if they were not good at all, 
 there would be nothing in them which could be corrupted. 
 For corruption injures, but unless it diminished goodness, it 
 could not injure. Either then corruption injures not, which 
 cannot be; or which is most certain, all which is corrupted 
 is deprived of good. But if they be deprived of all good, 
 they will altogether cease to be. For if they shall continue 
 to be, but can no longer suffer corruption, they shall be 
 better than before, because they shall abide incorroptibly. 
 And what could be more monstrous, than to affirm that 
 things become better by the loss of all their good ? There- 
 fore, if they shall be deprived of all good, they will entirely 
 cease to be. So long therefore as they are, they are good : 
 therefore whatsoever is, is good. That evil then which I 
 sought, whence it is, is not any siiB^stance : for. were it a 
 substance, it should be, good. For either it should be an* 
 incorruptible substance, and so a chief good : or a corrupt- 
 ible substance; which unless it were good, could not be 
 corrupted. I perceived therefore, and it was manifested to 
 me, that Thou madest all things good, nor is there any sub- 
 stance at all, which Thou madest not ; and for that Thou 
 madest not all things equal, therefore are all things ; because 
 each is good, and altogether very good, because our God, 
 " made all things very good " (Gen. i.) 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 Whatsoever is in heaven and earthy being made good^ ought to praise 
 God. 
 
 AND to Thee there is nothing at all evil; and not only- 
 to Thee, but also to Thy creation as a whole, because 
 there is nothing without, which may break in, and corrupt 
 that order which Thou hast appointed to it But in the 
 parts thereof some ^hin^s^ because Jh(?XharmQriise.iiftt with 
 some DthefS^'afe accounted evil : whereas those very things 
 harmonise with others, and are good ; and in themselves are 
 good. And all these things which harmonise not together, 
 yet do harmonise with the inferior part, which we call 
 Earth, having its own cloudy and windy sky harmonious 
 with itselt. Far be it then that I should say, " These things 
 
126 The Confessiofis of S. Augusihte, 
 
 should not be : " for should I see nought but these, I should 
 indeed long for the better ; but still must even for these 
 alone praise Thee ; for these do show that " Thou art to 
 be praised, from the earth, dragons, and all deeps, fire, hail, 
 snow, ice, and stormy wind, which fulfil Thy word ; moun- 
 tains, and all hills, fruitful trees, and all cedars ; beasts, and 
 all cattle, creeping things, and feathered fowls ; kings of the 
 earth, and all people, princes, and all judges of the earth ; 
 young men and maidens, old men and children, praise Thy 
 Name." But when, from heaven, these " praise Thee, praise 
 Thee, our God, in the heights, all Thy angels, all Thy hosts, 
 sun and moon, all the stars and light, the Heaven of 
 heavens, and the waters that be above the heavens, praise 
 Thy Name" (Ps. cxlviii. 1-12) ; I did not now long for 
 things better, because I conceived of all ; and with a sounder 
 judgment I apprehended that the things above were better 
 than these below, but all together better than those above 
 alone. 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 They only invent the figment of two primary substances, whom some 
 creature displeaseth. 
 
 THERE is no health in them, whom aught of Thy crea- 
 tion displeaseth : as neither in me, when much which 
 Thou hast made, displeased me. And because my soul 
 durst not be displeased at my God, it would fain deny that 
 aught was Thine which displeased it. Hence it had 
 travelled into a notion of two substances, and found no 
 rest, but talked idly. And returning thence, it had made to 
 itself a God, through infinite measures of all space; and 
 thought it to be Thee, and placed it in its heart ; and had 
 again become the temple of its own idol, hateful to Thee. 
 But after Thou hadst soothed my head, unknown to me, 
 and closed " mine eyes that they should not behold vanity " 
 (Ps. cxix. 37), I ceased somewhat of my former self, and 
 my madness was lulled to sleep ; and I awoke in Thee, and 
 saw Thee infinite, but in another way, and this sight was 
 mot derived from the flesh. 
 
The Confessions of S, Augustine, 127 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 Whatsoever things exist oive their being to God, 
 
 AND I looked back on other things ; and I saw that 
 they owed their being to Thee, and were all bounded 
 in Thee : but in a different way ; not as being in space ; 
 but because Thou art in truth He that holdeth all things in 
 the hand ; and all things are true in so far as they have 
 being; nor is there any falsehood, unless when that is 
 thought to be, which is not. And I saw that all things did 
 harmonize, not with their places only, but with their seasons. 
 And that Thou, who only art Eternal, didst not begin to 
 work after innumerable spaces of times ; for that all spaces 
 of times, both which have passed, and which shall pass, 
 neither go nor come, but through Thee, working and 
 abiding. 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 Evil originates not from some substance^ but from perverseness of will. 
 
 AND I perceived and found it nothing strange, that 
 bread which is pleasant to the healthy, to the un- 
 healthy palate is nauseous ; and to eyes diseased the light 
 is hateful, which to pure eyes is lovely. And Thy righteous- 
 ness displeaseth the wicked ; much more the viper and the 
 worm, which Thou hast created good, correspond with the 
 lower orders of Thy Creation, to which also correspond the 
 wicked themselves ; the more so the more unlike they are 
 to Thee : but they correspond to the higher orders also, in 
 so far as they become liker Thee. And I enquired what? *" 
 iniquity was, and found it to be no substance, but the per-1 
 version of the will, turned aside from Thee, O God, thel 
 Supreme Substance, towards the lowest things, and "cast-i 
 ing away its bowels " (Ecclus. x. 9), and outwardly swollen, i 
 
128 The Confessions of S. Augustine, 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 Above the changing mind^ he finds the unchanging Author of Truth* 
 
 AND I was amazed that I now loved Thee, and no 
 phantasm instead of Thee. And yet did I not persist 
 to enjoy my God; but was borne up to Thee by Thy 
 beauty, and soon borne down from Thee by mine own weight, 
 and fell back, with groaning, upon those lower things : and 
 this weight was carnal habit. Yet dwelt there with me a 
 remembrance of Thee ; nor did I any way doubt, that there 
 was One to Whom I might cleave, but that I was not yet 
 such as to cleave to Thee : for " the body which is corrupted, 
 presseth down the soul, and the earthly tabernacle weigheth 
 down the mind that museth upon many things " (Wisd. ix. 
 15). And most certain I was "that Thy invisible things 
 from the creation of the world are clearly seen, being under- 
 stood by the things that are made, even Thy eternal power 
 and Godhead" (Rom. i. 20). For examining, what caused 
 me to admire the beauty of bodies celestial or terrestial ; 
 and what was of service to me in judging soundly on things 
 changeable, and pronouncing, " This ought to be thus, this 
 not ; " examining, I say, what was the cause of my so 
 judging, seeing I did so judge, I had found the unchange- 
 able and true Eternity of Truth, above my changeable 
 mind. And thus by degrees, I passed from bodies to the 
 soul, which perceives through the senses of thebody ; and 
 thence to its inward faculty, to which the bodily senses 
 communicate external things; and so far even beasts 
 possess it ; and thence further to the reasoning faculty, to 
 which is referred for the exercise of judgment upon it, what- 
 soever is received from the bodily senses. And when this 
 found itself in me also to be a changeable thing, it raised 
 itself up to its own understanding, and diverted my thought 
 from habit, withdrawing itself from those troops of contra- 
 dictory phantasms ; that so it might discover what that 
 light was, by which it was bedewed, when, without any 
 doubtfulness, it cried out, "That the unchangeable must 
 be preferred to the changeable ; " whence also it knew the 
 unchangeable itself, without some knowledge of which, it 
 could not with certainty have preferred it to the changeable. 
 And thus with the flash of one trembling glance it arrived 
 
The Confessions of S. Augustine, 129 
 
 at That Which Is. And then I saw Thy " invisible things 
 understood by the things which are made " (Rom. i. 20). 
 But I lacked strength to fix my gaze thereon; and my 
 weakness being struck back, I returned to my accustomed 
 ways, bearing with me naught but a loving remembrance, 
 and as it were longing for that, the scent of which I had 
 perceived, but was as yet unable to feed upon. 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 Jesus Christ, the Mediator, is the one only way of salvation. 
 
 AND I continued to seek for a way of gaining strength, 
 which should enable me to enjoy Thee ; but I found 
 it not, until I embraced " that Mediator betwixt God and 
 men, the Man Christ Jesus, who is over all, God blessed 
 for ever" (i Tim. ii. 5; and Rom. ix. 5). Who calleth 
 unto me and saith, " I am the way, the truth, and the life " 
 (S, John xiv. 6), and mingleth that food which I was unable 
 to receive, with our flesh. " For the word was made flesh " 
 (S. John i. 14), that Thy wisdom, whereby Thou hast created 
 all things, might provide milk for our infancy. For not 
 yet did I cling to Jesus, My Lord, humbly grasping his 
 humility ; nor did I yet know of how great a matter his 
 weakness should be our teacher. For Thy Word, the 
 Eternal Truth, far above the higher parts of Thy Creation, 
 raiseth unto Himself them that are cast down : but in this 
 lower world built for Himself a lowly habitation of our clay, 
 whereby to abase from themselves such as would be sub- 
 dued, and bring them over to Himself; healing their swell- 
 ing pride, and nourishing their love ; to the end they might 
 go on no further in self-confidence, but rather become weak, 
 seeing before their feet Godhead made weak by sharing 
 with us our " coats of skins ; " and when wearied, might 
 throw themselves upon It, and It in Its rising, might uplift 
 them. 
 
130 The Confessions of S. Augustine. 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 He did not yet clearly understand that passage of S, John^ " The Word 
 was made Flesh. " 
 
 BUT I thought Otherwise ; fX)nceiving only of my Lord 
 Christ, as of a man of excellent wisdom, to whom 
 none could be compared : especially because being wonder- 
 fully born of a Virgin, to become our example of despising 
 temporal things for the attainment of immortality, He 
 seemed through the divine care on our behalf to have 
 deserved such great authority as our master. But what 
 mystery there lay in " The word was made flesh " I could 
 not even imagine. Only I had learned out of what the 
 Scriptures delivered to us concerning him, that because he 
 ate, and drank, slept, walked, rejoiced, was sorrowful, dis- 
 coursed ; so surely flesh did not join itself alone unto Thy 
 Word, but with the human soul and mind. All know this, 
 who know the unchangeableness of Thy Word, which I now 
 knew, as far as I could, nor did I at all doubt thereof. For, 
 now to move the limbs of the body by will, now not, now to 
 be moved by some affection, now not, now to utter by 
 syllables wise sayings, now to keep silence ; these are the 
 properties of a mind and soul that is subject to change. 
 And should these things be falsely written of Him, all the 
 rest also would be endangered by the lie, nor would there 
 remain in those books any saving faith for mankind. Since 
 then they were written truly, I acknowledged in -Christ an 
 entire humanity; noLthe body^ iiinan only^.npr,. wklxthe 
 body, a living soul without a reasoning spirit, but .very. mjaiL^ 
 And I thought that he was to be preferred before others, not 
 as being an Incarnation of Truth,* but for a certain excel- 
 lence of human nature, and for a more perfect participation 
 of wisdom. But Alypius imagined the Catholics to believe 
 God to be so clothed with flesh, that besides God and flesh, 
 there was no soul at all in Christ, and did not think that a 
 human mind was ascribed to Him. And because he was 
 well persuaded, that the actions recorded of Him, could 
 only be performed by a vital and a rational creature, he 
 moved the more slowly towards the Christian Faith. But 
 understanding afterwards, that this was the error of the 
 * Persona veritatis. This seems to be the sense of this difficult phrase. 
 
The Confessions of S. Augustine, 131 
 
 Apollinarian heretics, he rejoiced in and was conformed to 
 the Catholic Faith. But somewhat later, I confess, did I 
 learn, how in that saying, " The Word was made flesh," the 
 Catholic truth is distinguished from the falsehood of 
 Photinus. For the refutation of heretics makes more boldly 
 to stand out what Thy Church judges, and sound doctrine 
 holds. *'For there must also be heresies, that they which 
 are approved may be made manifest among the weak" (j 
 Cor. xi. 19). 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 He is glad that his journeying has been from Plaionism to tlie Holy 
 Scriptures y instead of in the reverse direction. 
 
 BUT after then reading the books of the Platonists, 
 wherein I was taught to seek for incorporeal truth, I 
 beheld Thy " invisible things, understood by those things 
 which are made ; " and though cast back, I perceived what 
 that was, which through the darkness of my mind I was 
 hindered from contemplating, being assured, " That Thou ) 
 wert, and wert infinite, and yet not diffused throughout! 
 space, finite or infinite ; and that Thou truly art who art the \ 
 same ever, in no part and by no motion changing, and that( 
 all other things are from Thee, by this one most certain) 
 proof, that they are ; of these things I was assured, yet tod" 
 weak to enjoy Thee. I prated as one well read ; but had 
 I not sought Thy way in Christ our Saviour, I should have 
 been not well read, but well nigh dead. For now I began 
 to wish to seem wise, being filled with mine own punish- 
 ment, yet I let fall no tear, but rather was puffed up with 
 knowledge (i Cor. viii. i.) For where was that charity 
 building upon the "foundation" of humility, "which is 
 Christ Jesus " ? (i Cor. iii. 11). Or when should these books 
 teach me i:? Upon these, I believe, Thov therefore didst 
 purpose that I should light, before I studied Thy Scriptures, 
 that it might be imprinted on my memory, how I was 
 affected ty them ; and that afterwards when I had been 
 tamed by Thy books, and my wounds touched by Thy heal- 
 ing finger i, I might distinguish the difference between pre- 
 sumption and confession : between those who saw whither 
 they were to go, yet saw not the way, and the way that 
 
132 The Confessions of S. Augustine. 
 
 leadeth to the beatific country, which is not only to be gazed 
 upon, but also to be dwelt in. For had I first been formed 
 in Thy Holy Scriptures, and hadst Thou in the familiar use 
 of them, grown sweet unto me, and had I then fallen upon 
 those other volumes, they might have perhaps have withdrawn 
 me from the solid ground of piety, or, had I continued in that 
 healthful frame which I had thence imbibed, I might have 
 thought, that it might have been obtained by the study of 
 those books alone. 
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 He finds in Holy Scripture many consolations and helps^ not found in 
 the writings of the Platonists, 
 
 MOST eagerly then did I seize that venerable writing of 
 Thy Spirit; and more than all, the Apostle Paul. 
 And those difficulties, in which I formerly thought he con- 
 tradicted himself, and that the text of his discourse agreed 
 not with the testimonies of the Law and the Prophets, I 
 utterly disappeared. And now the aspect of that pure word 
 appeared but one; and I learned to " rejoice with trembling " 
 (Ps. ii. 11). So I began; and whatsoever truth I had read 
 elsewhere, I found here together with the added excellence 
 of Thy Grace ; that whoso sees, may not " so glory as if he 
 had not received " (i Cor. iv. 7), not only what he sees, but 
 also that he is able to see (" for what hath he, which he hath 
 not received" ?), and that he may be not only admonished to 
 behold Thee, Who art ever the same, but also be made 
 whole, to retain Thee. And that " he who cannot see afar 
 oflf," may yet walk on the way, by which he may come, and 
 behold, and retain ; for, though a man " delight in the law 
 of God after the inward man," what shall he do with that 
 " other law in his members warring against ti^e law of his 
 mind, and bringing him into captivity to th2 law of sin 
 which is in his members" (Rom. vii. 22, 23). For, "Thou 
 art righteous, O Lord, but we have sinned and committed 
 iniquity, and have done wickedly" (Song of the Three 
 Children, 4, 6), and Thy hand is grown heavy upon us, and 
 " we are justly delivered over " unto that antient sinner, the 
 king of death ; because he prevailed upon our will to be 
 like his will, whereby " he abode not in Thy truth. What 
 
The Confessions of S. Augustine. 133 
 
 shall wretched man do? who shall deliver him from the 
 body of this death, but only Thy Grace, through Jesus 
 Christ our Lord" (Rom. vii. 24, 25), whom Thou hast be- 
 gotten coetemal, and "formedst in the beginning of Thy 
 ways" (Prov. viii. 22). "In whom the prince of this world 
 found nothing worthy of death" (S. John xiv. 30, and S. 
 Luke xxiii. 15), yet killed he Him; and "the handwriting, 
 which was contrary to us, was blotted out " (Col. ii. 14). 
 This those writings contain not. Those pages present not 
 the image of this piety, the tears of confession, Thy " sacri- 
 fice, a troubled spirit, a broken and a contrite heart " (Ps. 
 li. 19), the salvation of the people, the " Bride," the " City," 
 "the earnest of the Holy Ghost," "the Cup of our Re- 
 demption." No man sings there, " Shall not my soul be 
 submitted unto God? for of Him cometh my salvation. 
 For He is my God and my salvation, my defence, I shall 
 not be greatly moved " (Ps. Ixii. i, 2). No one there hears 
 Him call, " Come unto Me all ye that labour " (S. Matt. xi. 
 28). They scorn to "learn of Him, because He is meek 
 and lowly in heart ; " " for these things hast Thou hid from 
 the wise and prudent, and hast revealed them unto babes " 
 (S. Matt. xi. 25, 29). For one thing is it, from the wooded 
 hill-top to gaze upon the land of Peace, and find no way to 
 it, and in vain to strive towards it, where lies no path, while 
 all around deserting fugitives lay siege and ambush, with 
 their prince, "the lion and the dragon" (Ps. xci. 13); but 
 another, to hold the way that leadeth thither, beneath the 
 strongholds built by the heavenly commander, where lurk 
 not now the robbers, who have deserted the heavenly Host: 
 for they shun it as a torment. These things did wonder- 
 fully sink into my bowels, when I read that " least of Thy 
 Apostles " (i Cor. xv. 9), and had considered Thy works, 
 and trembled exceedingly. 
 
JSooft ID335. 
 
 At last he reaches the record of his thirty-second year, by 
 
 FAR the most memorable OF HIS WHOLE LIFE, IN WHICH HAV- 
 ING BEEN INSTRUCTED BY SiMPLICIANUS, WITH REFERENCE TO 
 THE CONVERSION OF OTHERS, AND ON THE REASON FOR SUCH 
 A COURSE OF ACTION, AFTER A VIOLENT MENTAL STRUGGLE, HIS 
 WHOLE SPIRIT IS RENEWED, AND HE IS CONVERTED TO GOD. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 fn tht struggle between his devotion to Divine things^ and his captivity 
 to his passions^ he consults SimpUcianns concerning Spiritual 
 Renewed. 
 
 OMY God, let rae, with thanksgiving, remember, and 
 confess unto Thee Thy mercies upon me. " Let my 
 bones " be bathed in Thy love, and " say, Lord, who is 
 like unto Thee" (Ps. xxxv. lo), "Thou hast broken my 
 bonds in sunder, I will offer unto Thee the sacrifice of 
 thanksgiving" (Ps. cxvi. i6). And how Thou hast broken 
 them, I will declare ; and all who worship Tliee, when they 
 hear this, shall say, " Blessed be the Lord, in heaven and 
 in earth, great and wonderful is His name." Thy words 
 had stuck fast in my heart, and " I was hedged round about 
 on every side by Thee" (Job i. lo). Of Thy eternal hfe I 
 was now certain, though I saw it in a figure and as " through 
 a glass" (i Cor. xiii. 12). And all my doubt as to an in- 
 corruptible substance, and as to all other substance having 
 their being from it, was removed ; nor did I now desire to 
 be more certain of Thee, but more stedfast in Thee. But 
 for my temporal life, all was wavering, and " my heart had 
 to be purged from the old leaven" (i Cor. v. 7). The 
 Way, the Saviour Himself, well pleased me, but as yet I 
 was reluctant to journey thereon, by reason of its straitness. 
 And Thou didst put into my mind, and it seemed good in 
 
The Confessions of S, Augustine, 135 
 
 my sight, to go to Simplicianus, who appeared to be a good 
 servant of Thine; and Thy grace shone in him. I had 
 heard also, that from his youth up, he had most devoutly 
 lived to Thee. At that time he had grown old, and from 
 his long years spent in so zealously following Thy ways, he 
 seemed to me to have had much experience, and to have 
 learned much ; and truly such was he. I wished then that 
 he would tell me, after learning of my difficulties, what 
 means would be suitable for one, situated as I was, to walk 
 in Thy way. 
 
 For, I saw the church full ; and one went this way, and 
 another that way. But I did not like to lead a secular hfe, 
 and now that my desires ceased to inflame me, as they had 
 formerly done, with ambition of honour and wealth, the 
 burden of such a slavery was too great for me to bear. For, 
 in comparison of Thy sweetness, " and the beauty of Thy 
 house which I loved " (Ps. xxvi. 8), those things delighted 
 me no longer. But still I was enthralled with the love of 
 woman ; nor did the Apostle forbid me to marry, although 
 he advised me to something better, and especially " would 
 that all men were even as he himself" (i Cor. vii. 7). But 
 I being weak, chose the softer place ; and because of this 
 alone, was distressed and wearied in all beside, and languish- 
 ing with wasting anxieties, because even in other matters, 
 which I was unwilling to endure, I was obliged to conform 
 to the conjugal hfe, to which, as I had given myself, I was 
 bound. I had heard from the mouth of the Truth, " that 
 there were some eunuchs, which had made themselves 
 eunuchs for the kingdom of heaven's sake : but," saith He, 
 "he that is able to receive it, let him receive it" (S. Matt. 
 xix. 12). "Surely vain are all men who are ignorant of 
 God, and could not out of the good things that are seen, 
 know Him that is" (Wisd. xiii. i). But I was no longer in 
 that vanity ; I had surmounted it ; and, by the consent of 
 Thy whole creation, had found Thee our Creator, and Thy 
 Word, God with Thee, and together with Thee and the 
 Holy Spirit, one God, by whom Thou hast created all 
 things. There is yet another kind of ungodly, "who know- 
 ing God, glorified Him not as God, neither were thankful " 
 (Rom. i. 21). Into this also had I fallen, but "Thy right 
 hand hath holden me up" (Ps. xviii. 35), and Thou didst 
 take me thence, and place me where I might recover. For 
 
136 The Confessions of S, Augustine, 
 
 Thou hast said unto man, " Behold, the fear of the Lord 
 is wisdom" (Job xxviii. 28), and, "Be not wise in thine 
 own eyes" (Prov. iii. 7), because "they that professed 
 themselves to be wise, became fools" (Rom. i. 22). But I 
 had now " found the goodly pearl, which, selling all that I 
 had " (S. Matt. xiii. 46), I ought to have " bought," and I 
 hesitated. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 Hiat holy veteran^ Simpliciamis^ is glad that he has read Plato and the 
 Scriptures; and tells him how Victorinus the Rhetorician read the 
 Sacred Books and was converted to the Faith, 
 
 STRAIGHTWAY I went to Simplicianus, the father in 
 receiving Thy grace of Ambrose, who was then 
 Bishop, and who truly loved him as a father. To him I 
 related the compass of my errors. But when I mentioned 
 that I had read certain books of the Platonists, which 
 Victorinus, formerly Rhetoric Professor of Rome (who had 
 died a Christian, as I had heard), had translated into Latin, 
 he rejoiced with me that I had not fallen in with the writings 
 of other philosophers, full of fallacies, " and deceits, after the 
 rudiments of this world " (Col. ii. 8) ; whereas, in those 
 books, God and His Word are, by every means, suggested. 
 Then to exhort me to the humility of Christ, " hidden from 
 the wise, and revealed to babes " (S. Matt. xi. 25) ; he told 
 me of Victorinus himself whom while at Rome he had most 
 intimately known : and what he related of him I will not 
 pass by in silence. For it contains great praise of Thy 
 grace, to be confessed unto Thee, how that aged man, most 
 learned and skilled in the liberal sciences, and who had 
 read, and weighed so many works of the philosophers ; the 
 instructor of so many noble Senators, who also, as a 
 monument of his excellent discharge of his office, had 
 deserved and obtained a statue in the Roman Forum, which 
 citizens of this world consider a high distinction ; he even 
 to that age a worshipper of idols, and a partaker of the 
 sacrilegious rites, to which almost all the nobility of Rome 
 were given up, and had inspired the people with the love of 
 "monster gods of every kind, and barking Anubis, which 
 once had taken arms against Neptune and Venus, and 
 
The Confessions of S. Augustine. 137 
 
 Minerva" (Virg. -^n. viii. 698), which Rome once 
 conquered, now adored, all which the aged Victorinus had 
 with loud and awsome voice for so many years defended : 
 he now blushed not to become the child of thy Christ, and 
 the babe of Thy Font \ submitting his neck to the yoke of 
 humility, and subduing his forehead to the reproach of the 
 Cross. 
 
 O Lord, Lord, " which bowed the heavens and came 
 down, touched the mountains and they did smoke" (Ps. 
 cxliv. 5), by what means didst Thou glide into that breast? 
 He used to read (as Simplicianus said) the holy Scripture, 
 most studiously examined and searched into all the Chris- 
 tian writings, and used to say to Simplicianus, not openly, 
 but privately and confidentially, " Understand that I am 
 already a Christian." And he would answer, " I will not 
 believe it, nor will I reckon you among Christians, unless I 
 see you in the Church of Christ." The other would 
 laughingly rejoin, " Do walls then make Christians ? " And 
 this he often said, that he was already a Christian ; and 
 Simplicianus often made the same answer, and the jest of 
 the " walls " was by the other often renewed. For he feared 
 to offend his friends, proud demon-worshippers, from the 
 height of whose Babylonian dignity, as from " cedars of 
 Libanus," which " the Lord " had not " yet broken " (Ps. 
 xxix. 5), he supposed the weight of enmity would rush down 
 upon him. But after that by reading and earnest thought 
 he had gathered firmness, and feared to be " denied by 
 Christ before the holy angels, should he now be afraid to con- 
 fess Him before men " (S. Luke ix. 26), and appeared to him- 
 self guilty of a heavy offence, in being ashamed of the Sacra 
 ments of the humility of Thy Word, and not being ashamed 
 of the sacrilegious rites of those proud demons, which he 
 had participated in, and had imitated their pride, he grew 
 ashamed of vanity, and was shamed by Truth, and suddenly 
 and unexpectedly said to Simplicianus (as himself told me), 
 " Let us go to the Church ; I wish to be made a Christian." 
 But he, not containing himself for joy, went with him." 
 And having been admitted to the first rites of instruction, 
 he not long after further gave in his name, that he might be 
 regenerated by baptism, Rome wondering, the Church 
 rejoicing. The proud " saw, and were wroth : they gnashed 
 with their teeth, and melted away" (Ps. cxii. 10). But the 
 
138 The Co7tfessio7ts of S. Augustine. 
 
 "Lord God was the hope" of Thy servant, and "he 
 regarded not vanities and lying madness *' (Ps. xl. 5). 
 
 To conclude, when the hour was come for making pro- 
 fession of his faith, which at Rome they, who are about to 
 approach to Thy grace, deliver, from an elevated place, in 
 the sight of all the faithful, in a set form of words committed 
 to memory, the presbyters, he said, offered Victorinus, as 
 was customary in the case of such as seemed likely through 
 bashfulness to be alarmed^ to make his profession more 
 privately : but he chose rather to profess his salvation in 
 the presence of the holy multitude. "For it was not 
 salvation that he taught in rhetoric, and yet that ne publicly , 
 professed : how much less then ought he, when pronouncing 
 Thy word, to dread Thy meek flock, who, when delivering 
 his own words, had not feared multitudes of madmen." 
 When, then, he went up to make his profession, all, as they 
 knew him, uttered his name, one to another, with a cry of 
 congratulation. And who there knew him not? and a 
 hushed sound ran through the lips of the rejoicing assembly, 
 Victorinus ! Victorinus ! Sudden was the sound of exultation 
 that they saw him ; sudden also the silence of attention, 
 that they might hear him. He pronounced the true faith 
 with an excellent boldness, and all wished to draw him into 
 their very heart : yea by their love and joy they drew him 
 thither j such were the hands of them that drew him there. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 That God and the angels rejoice more over one sinner that repenteth, 
 than over many just persons, 
 
 OGOOD God, whence is it that men rejoice more over 
 the salvation of a soul despaired of, and freed from 
 greater peril, than if there had always been hope of him, or 
 the peril had been less? For so Thou also, merciful 
 Father, " dost more rejoice over one that repenteth, than 
 over ninety and nine just persons that need no repentance." 
 And with great joy do we listen, when we hear " how the 
 angels rejoice when the sheep which had strayed, is brought 
 back upon the shepherd's shoulder," and " how the neigh- 
 bours rejoice with the woman, who hath found the piece 
 
The Confessions of S. Augustine, 139 
 
 of money, and it is restored to Thy treasury ; " and the 
 festival joy of Thy house moveth us to tears, when in Thy 
 house the story is read of the " younger son, how he was 
 dead, and is alive again ; was lost, and is found " (S. Luke 
 XV.) For Thou " rejoicest " in us, and in Thy angels, holy 
 through holy charity. For Thou art ever the same ; for 
 all things which are not for ever, and changeless. Thou for 
 ever knowest in the same way. 
 
 What then takes place in the soul, when it is more de- 
 lighted at finding or recovering the tiaings it loves, than if 
 it had ever had them ? yea, and other things witness here- 
 unto ; and all things are full of witnesses, crying out, " So 
 is it." The victorious general hath his triumph, yet had 
 gained no victory, had he never fought ; and the greater 
 the peril in the battle, the greater is the joy in the triumph. 
 The tempest tosseth the mariners, and bodeth shipwreck, 
 and all grow pallid at impending death ; but sky and sea 
 grow calm, and great are the rejoicings, for great have been 
 the fears. One beloved is sick, and his pulse gives presage 
 of evil ; all, who desire his restoration, are sick of heart 
 from sympathy ; there is a turn for the better, though as 
 yet he walks not with his former strength ; yet there is such 
 joy, as was not, when before he walked in health and 
 strength. And men pursue even the very pleasures of 
 human life, by troubles, not unlooked for, and falling out 
 against our will, but self chosen, and voluntary. Eating 
 and drinking have no pleasure, unless preceded by the pang 
 of hunger and thirst. Men, given to drink, eat something 
 rather salt, to excite a feverish craving, which the draught 
 allays, and the delight ensues. And it hath been contrived, 
 that brides betrothed should not forthwith be given in 
 marriage, lest the husband should hold her cheap when 
 won, for whom delay had not aroused the bridegroom's 
 sighs. 
 
 This law holds in foul and accursed joy j this in permitted 
 and lawful joy; this in the very purest perfection of friend- 
 ship ; this in him " who was dead, and was alive again \ 
 had been lost and was found." Every where a greater joy 
 succeeds a greater pain. What means this, O Lord my 
 God, whereas Thou art to Thyself eternal joy, and some 
 things around Thee evermore rejoice in Thee? What 
 means this, that this portion of things alternates betwixt ebb 
 
I40 The Confessions of S. Augustine. 
 
 and flow, betwixt offences and reconciliations. Is this their 
 portion, and didst Thou appoint this only for them, when 
 from the heights of heaven to the depths of earth, from the 
 beginning to the end of the ages, from the angel to the 
 worm, from the first motion to the last. Thou wert setting, 
 each in his own place, and ordering, each in its own season, 
 all kinds of good, and all Thy righteous works ? Woe is 
 me ! how high art Thou in the highest, and how deep in 
 the deepest ! and Thou never departest, and we scarcely 
 return to Thee. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 He shows by the example of Victorinus that there is^ "^^^orej^ in the 
 
 UP, Lord, and do ; stir us up, and recall us ; kindle and 
 draw us ; inflame, grow sweet unto us ; let us now 
 love, let us run. Do not many, out of a deeper hell of 
 bhndness than Victorinus, return to Thee, approach, and 
 are enlightened, receiving that ** Light," which " they who 
 receive, receive power from Thee to become Thy sons " ? 
 (S. John i. 9, 12). But if they be less known to the people, 
 even they that know them, joy less for them. For when 
 many share the joy, each individual has a richer measure of 
 joy, because they kindle themselves and mutually inflame 
 each other. Again, because those known to many, influence 
 many towards salvation, and lead the way for many to 
 follow. And therefore do they also who preceded them, 
 much rejoice in them, because they rejoice not in them 
 alone. For far be it, that in Thy tabernacle the persons of 
 the rich should be preferred before the poor, or the noble 
 before the ignoble ; seeing rather " Thou hast chosen the 
 weak things of the world, to confound the strong ; and the 
 base things of this world, and the things despised hast Thou 
 chosen, and those things which are not, that Thou mightest 
 bring to nought things that are" (i Cor. i. 27-28). And 
 yet even that least of Thy apostles, by whose tongue Thou 
 soundedst forth these words, when through his warfare, 
 Paulus the Proconsul, his pride conquered, was made to 
 pass under the " easy yoke " of Thy Christ, and became a 
 provincial of the great King \ he also instead of as formerly, 
 
The Confessions of S. Augustine. 141 
 
 Saul, was pleased to be called Paul, for a memorial of so 
 great a victory. For the enemy is more overcome in one, 
 of whom he hath more hold ; by whom he hath hold of 
 more. But the proud he hath more hold of, through their 
 nobility ; and by them, of more through their authority. 
 Inasmuch then as the heart of Victorinus was deemed more 
 welcome, since the devil had possessed it, as though an 
 irreducible stronghold, and the tongue of Victorinus, with 
 which mighty and keen weapon he had slain many ; so 
 much the more abundantly ought Thy sons to rejoice, for 
 that our King "hath bound the strong man" (S. Matt, 
 xii. 29), and they saw his "vessels taken from him and 
 cleansed," and " made meet for Thy honour ; " and become 
 " serviceable for the Lord, unto every good work " (2 Tim. 
 ii. 21). 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 TTie conflict of will ^ which hindered his return to God, 
 
 BUT when that man of Thine, Simplicianus, related to 
 me this of Victorinus, I burned to imitate him. And 
 for this end had he related it. But when he went on to tell 
 how in the days of the Emperor Julian, a law was made 
 whereby Christians were forbidden to teach grammar and 
 oratory ; and how he, in deference to this law, chose rather 
 to forsake the wordy school, than Thy Word, by which Thou 
 " makest the tongues of them that cannot speak eloquent " 
 (Wisd. X. 21); he seemed to me no more brave than happy, 
 in having thus found opportunity to forsake all for Thee. 
 Which thing I was sighing for, bound as I was, not with 
 another's chain, but by my own enchaining will. My will 
 the enemy held, and thence had made a chain for me, and 
 bound me. For of a froward will, was a lust made ; and a 
 lust served, a habit was formed ; and habit not resisted, be- 
 came necessity. By these links, as it were, woven together 
 (whence I call it a chain), a hard slavery held me bound. 
 But that new will which had begun to be in me, freely to 
 worship Thee, and to wish to enjoy Thee, O God, Thou one 
 sure joy, was not yet able to overcome that earlier will, 
 strengthened by age. Thus did my two wills, one old, and 
 
142 The Confessmis of S. Augustine. 
 
 the other new, one carnal, the other spiritual, warred against 
 each other ; and by their discord, squandered my soul. 
 
 Thus I understood, by my own experience, what I had 
 read, how " the flesh lusteth against the spirit, and the spirit 
 against the flesh " (Gal. V. 17). It was I myself in both; 
 yet more myself, in that which I approved in myself, than 
 in that which in myself I disapproved. For in the latter, it 
 was now more the "not myself," because in much I rather 
 unwillingly endured, than willingly did. But yet habit had 
 become a more powerful adversary by my own action, since 
 by my will I had come where I would not be. And who 
 can justly complain, when just punishment overtakes the 
 sinner ? No longer had I now the excuse, with which I 
 had formerly been content, that on this ground I did not 
 yet despise the world, and serve Thee, namely because I 
 did not certainly perceive the Truth ; for now it was cer- 
 tain. But I still, bound to the earth, refused to fight under 
 Thy banner, and feared as much to be freed from all hin- 
 drances, as I ought to have feared to be hindered by them. 
 Thus with the baggage of this present world was I held 
 down pleasantly, as in sleep : and the thoughts wherein I 
 meditated on Thee, were like the efforts of such as desire to 
 awake, and yet overcome,are sunk again in depths of slumber. 
 And as no one would sleep for ever, and in all men's sober 
 judgment, waking is better (though often enough a man defers 
 to shake off" slumber, when he feels a drowsy heaviness in his 
 limbs, and, though half displeased, yet, even after it is time 
 to rise, too willingly yields to it) ; so I felt convinced that it 
 was better for me to devote myself to Thy charity than to 
 give way to my own lust. But the former satisfied and con- 
 vinced me ; the latter pleased and fettered me. Nor had I 
 any thing to answer Thee calling to me, " Awake, thou that 
 sleepest, and arise from the dead, and Christ shall give thee 
 light " (Eph. v. 14). And when Thou didst on all sides 
 shew me, that what Thou saidst was true, I, convicted by 
 the truth, had no answer at all to give but the sluggish and 
 sluggardly words, "Presently, oh, presently, let me be a 
 little while." But my "presently, presently," had no pre- 
 sent ', and " let me be a little while " went on for a long 
 while. In vain did " I delight in Thy law after the inward 
 man, while another law in my members was warring against 
 the law of my mind, and bringing me into captivity to the 
 
The Co7tfessions of S. Augustine. 143 
 
 law of sin, which was in my members " (Rom. vii. 23). For ) 
 the law of sin is the violence of habit, by which an unwill- ■ 
 ing mind is drawn and holden, but only as it deserves, \ 
 since it falleth into it willingly. "Wretched man that I was, ) 
 who should deliver me from the body of this death, but Thy 
 grace only, through Jesus Christ our Lord" (Rom. vii. 25). 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 Pontitianus relates how two of his companions were converted by reading 
 the life and miracles of S, Anthony. 
 
 AND how Thou didst release me from the bondage of carnal 
 desire, in which I was most straitly holden, and from 
 the slavery of worldly business, I will now declare, and con- 
 fess unto Thy name, " O Lord, my helper and my redeemer " 
 (Ps. xix. 14). With growing anxiety, I was keeping up my 
 usual pursuits, and daily sighing unto Thee. I attended 
 Thy Church, whenever free from the business beneath the 
 weight of which I groaned. "Alypius was with me, now after 
 the third sitting released from his law business, and awaiting 
 clients to whom to sell his counsel, as I sold the skill of 
 speaking, if indeed teaching can impart it. Nebridius had 
 now, in consideration of our friendship, consented to teach 
 under Verecundus, a citizen and a grammarian of Milan, 
 and a very intimate friend of us all ; who urgently desired, 
 and by the right of friendship challenged from our company, 
 such faithful aid as he greatly needed. Nebridius then was 
 not drawn to this by any desire of advantage (for he might 
 have made much more of his learning had he so willed), 
 but as a most pleasant and gentle friend, he would not 
 slight our request for an office of kindness. But he acted 
 herein very discreetly, shunning to become known to per- 
 sonages great according to this world, avoiding the distrac- 
 tion of mind thence ensuing, and desiring to have it free 
 and at leisure, as many hours as might be, to seek, or read, 
 or hear something concerning wisdom. 
 
 Upon a day then, when Nebridius was absent (I do not 
 remember why), lo, there came to see me and Al5rpius, one 
 Pontitianus, our countryman in so much as he was an 
 •African, holding a high command in the Palace, I do not 
 know what his business with us was, and we sat down to 
 
144 1^^ Confessions of S. Atigiistine. 
 
 converse, and it happened that upon a table for some game, 
 before us, he observed a book, took, opened it, and greatly 
 to his surprise, found it the Apostle Paul; for he had 
 thought it some of those books, which I was wearing myself 
 in teaching. Whereat smiling, and looking at me, he ex- 
 pressed his joy and wonder, that he had on a sudden found 
 this book, and this only before my eyes. For he was a 
 Christian, and one of the faithful, and often bowed himself 
 before Thee our God in the Church, in frequent and con- 
 tinued prayers. When then I had told him, that I bestowed 
 very great pains upon those Scriptures, a conversation arose 
 from what he told us of Antony the Egyptian Monk : whose 
 name was in high repute among Thy servants, though to 
 that hour unknown to us. Which when he discovered, he 
 dwelt the more upon that subject, informing and wondering 
 at our ignorance of one so eminent. But we were amazed 
 to hear of Thy miracles, of so recent a record, and in times 
 so near our own, so well attested, wrought in the true Faith 
 and Church Catholic. We all wondered; we, that they 
 were so great, and he, that we had not heard of them before. 
 Thence his discourse turned to the flocks in the Monas- 
 teries, and their customs, a sweet smelling savour unto 
 Thee, and the fruitful deserts of the wilderness, whereof we 
 knew nothing. And there was a Monastery at Milan, fulV 
 of good brethren, without the city walls, under the fostering 
 care of Ambrose, and we knew it not. He went on with 
 his discourse, and we listened in intent silence. He told 
 us then how one afternoon at Triers, when the Emperor 
 was taken up with the Circensian games, he and three 
 others, his comrades, went out to walk in gardens near the 
 walls, and there as they happened to stroll about in pairs, 
 one went apart with him, and the other two wandered by 
 themselves ; and these, in their wanderings, lighted upon a 
 certain cottage, where dwelt some of Thy servants, " poor 
 in spirit, of whom is the kingdom of heaven " (S. Matt. 
 V. 3), and there they found a book, containing the hfe of 
 Antony. This one of them began to read, and wondered 
 and was excited at it ; and as he read, to meditate on taking 
 up such a life, and relinquishing his secular service to serve 
 Thee. And these two were of those whom they style 
 agents for the public affairs. Then suddenly, filled with an 
 holy love, and a sober shame, in anger with himself he cast 
 
The Confessions of S. Augustine. 145 
 
 his eyes upon his friend, saying, ** Tell me, I pray thee, 
 what are we so pushing to come at by all these labours of 
 ours ? what are we seeking ? For what reason do we render 
 service? Can our hopes in court rise higher than to be 
 the favoured friends of the emperor? and in this, what is 
 there not frail and full of perils ? and by how many perils 
 arrive we at a greater peril ? and when arrive we thither ? 
 But a friend of God, if I wish it, I become now at once." 
 So spake he. And in pain with the travail of a new life, he 
 turned his eyes again upon the book, and read on, and was 
 changed inwardly, where Thou sawest, and his mind was 
 stripped of the world, as soon appeared. For as he read, 
 and rolled up and down the waves of his heart, he groaned 
 for awhile, then discerned, and determined on a better 
 course ; and now being Thine, said to his friend, " Now have 
 I broken loose from those our hopes, and am resolved to 
 serve God ; and this, from this hour, in this place, I begin 
 upon. If thou likest not to imitate me, oppose not." The 
 other answered, he would cleave to him, to partake so 
 glorious a reward, so glorious a service. Thus both being 
 now Thine, were building the tower at the proper cost, of 
 " forsaking all that they had, and following Thee " (S. Luke 
 xiv. 26, 35). Then Pontitianus and the other with him, 
 that had walked in other parts of the garden, came in search 
 of them to the same place; and finding them, reminded 
 them to return, for the day was declining. But they relat- 
 ing their resolution and purpose, and in what way that 
 determination arose and was confirmed in them, besought 
 them not to trouble them, even if they should refuse to join 
 them. But the others, though nothing altered from their 
 former selves, did yet bewail themselves (as he affirmed), 
 and piously congratulated them, recommending themselves 
 to their prayers ; and so, with hearts lingering on the earth, 
 went away to the palace. But the other two, fixing their 
 heart on heaven, remained in the cottage. And both had 
 affianced brides, who when they heard hereof, also dedicated 
 their virginity unto God. 
 
146 The Confessions of S, Augustine. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 The words oj Pontitianus pierce his soul^ which sullenly clings to its 
 old habits. 
 
 SUCH was the story of Pontitianus ; but Thou, O Lord, 
 while he was speaking, didst turn me round towards 
 myself, taking me from behind my back where I had placed 
 me, unwilling to observe myself; and setting me before my 
 face, that I might see how foul I was, how crooked and 
 defiled, bespotted and ulcerous. And I beheld and stood 
 aghast ; and whither to flee from myself I found not. And 
 if I sought to turn mine eye from off myself, he went on 
 with his relation, and Thou again didst set me over against 
 myself, and didst thrust me before my eyes, that "I might 
 find out mine iniquity, and hate it" (Ps. xxxvi. 2). I had 
 known it, but had hidden it away, crushed it down, and 
 forgotten it. 
 
 But now, the more ardently I loved those, whose health- 
 ful affections I heard of, that they had resigned themselves 
 wholly to Thee to be cured, the more did I abhor myself, 
 when compared with them. For many of my years (some 
 twelve) had now run out with me since my nineteenth, 
 when, upon the reading of Cicero's Hortensius, I was 
 stirred to a zealous desire of wisdom ; and still I was defer- 
 ring to abandon with contempt earthly happiness, and to 
 devote my leisure to enquiring after that, the mere search 
 for which, and not even the discovery, ought to be prefer- 
 able to the treasures and kingdoms of the world in actual 
 possession, and to the pleasures of the flesh though abound- 
 ing at my wish. But I wretched, most wretched, in the 
 very commencement of my early youth, had begged chastity 
 of Thee, and said, " Give me chastity and continency, only 
 not yet." For I feared lest Thou shouldest hear me soon, 
 and soon cure me of the disease of concupiscence, which I 
 wished to have satisfied, rather than extinguished. And I 
 had wandered through crooked ways in a sacrilegious super- 
 stition, not indeed assured thereof, but as preferring it to 
 the others which I did not seek with filial devotion, but 
 opposed with hostile malice. 
 
 And I had thought, that I therefore deferred from day to 
 day to abandon with scorn the hones of this world, and 
 
The Confessions of S. Augustine. 147 
 
 follow Thee only, because there did not appear aught 
 certain, whither to direct my course. And now was the day 
 come wherein I was to be laid bare to myself, and my con- 
 science was to upbraid me. "Where art thou now, my 
 tongue ? Thou usedst to say that thou wouldest not for an 
 uncertain truth cast off the baggage of vanity. Lo, now it 
 is certain, and thee that burden still oppresseth, while with 
 shoulders eased they are getting them wings, who have not 
 been worn out in the enquiry, like thee, nor meditated 
 thereon, ten years and more." Thus was I gnawed within, 
 and exceedingly confounded with an horrible shame, while 
 Pontititanus was so speaking. And he having brought to a 
 close his tale and the business he came for, went his way ; 
 and I into myself. What said I not against myself? with 
 what stripes of condemnation scourged I not my soul, that 
 it might follow me, in my striving to go after Thee ! But it 
 still withstood ; refused, though not excused itself. All its 
 arguments had been exhausted, and overthrown; a sullen 
 alarm remained : and she dreaded, as though it were death, 
 to be restrained from the flow of habit, by which she was 
 being wasted to death. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 Augitstine retires into the garden, and is greatly agitated, 
 Alypius accompanies him. 
 
 THEN in this powerful struggle of my inmost dwelling- 
 place, which I had strongly aroused together with my 
 soul, in the " chamber " of my heart, disturbed in counte- 
 nance as in mind, I fell upon Alypius, and cried out : "What 
 ails us ? what is it ? what heardest thou ? The unlearned 
 start up and ^take heaven by force' (S. Matt. xi. 12), and 
 we with our learning, and without heart, lo, where we wal- 
 low in flesh and blood I Are we ashamed to follow, because 
 others are gone before, and not ashamed not even to fol- 
 low?" Something of this kind, what I know not, I said ; 
 and my passion tore me from him, while he held his peace, 
 gazing at me in astonishment. For the sound of my voice 
 was strange; and face, cheeks, eyes, colour, intonation, 
 spoke out my mind more than the words I uttered. A 
 
148 The Confessions of S. Augustine, 
 
 little garden there was to our lodging, which we had the use 
 of, as of the whole house ; for the master of the house, our 
 landlord, was not living there. Thither had the tumult of 
 my breast hurried me, where no man might hinder the 
 burning strife upon which I had engaged with myself, until 
 it should end as Thou knewest, but not I. Only that I was 
 distraught for my well-being, and dying for my very life, 
 conscious what an evil thing I was, unconscious what good 
 thing I was shortly to become. I rushed out then into the 
 garden, and Alypius hurried after me. Neither did my 
 seclusion seem broken by his presence ; or how could 
 he forsake me so disturbed ? We sate down as far away as 
 we could from the house. I was groaning in spirit, indig- 
 nant with most restless indignation, that I could not journey 
 towards Thy Will and Covenant, O my God, towards which 
 " all my bones were crying out " to go, and were praising to 
 the skies ; but thither one journeyeth not in ships, nor in 
 chariots, nor on foot, even so far as I had gone from the 
 house to where we were sitting. For not only to journey 
 thither, but even to arrive there, was nothing else but to will 
 to go, but to will strongly and entirely ; not to turn and toss, 
 this way and that, a will maimed and divided against itself, 
 struggling, one part rising and another sinking. 
 
 At last in those passionate hesitations I made many such 
 bodily notions as men sometimes would do, but are unable 
 either from want of limbs, or because these are bound with 
 fetters, or weakened by fatigue, or some other way hindered. 
 Thus, if I tore my hair, beat my forehead, if locking my 
 fingers I clasped my knee, because I willed, I did it. But 
 I might have willed, and not done it ; if the motive power 
 of my limbs had not rendered obedience. So many things 
 then I did, when " to will " was not quite the same as " to 
 be able ; " but I did not then do that which both then I 
 with an incomparably greater longing wished to do, and 
 soon, when I willed, should also be able to do ; because 
 soon, when I willed, I should thoroughly will For in these 
 things the ability was one witTTthe will, and to will was to 
 do ; and yet was it not done : and more easily did my body 
 obey the weakest willing of my soul, in moving its limbs at 
 its nod, than the soul obeyed itself to accomplish in the will 
 alone this its momentous will. 
 
The Confessions of S. Augustine. 149 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 Whence it happens that the body obeys the tnind^ but the mind obcjft 
 not itself. 
 
 WHENCE is this strange anomaly? and to what end? 
 Let Thy mercy shine, and let me ask, if perchance 
 the secret places of human penalties, and the darkest griefs 
 of the sons of Adam, may perhaps answer me. Whence is 
 this strange anomaly ? and to what end ? The mind com- 
 mands the body, and it obeys instantly; the mind commands 
 itself, and is resisted. The mind commands the hand to 
 be moved; and such readiness is there, that command is 
 scarce distinct from obedience. Yet the mind is mind, the 
 hand is body. The mind commands the mind to will, and 
 though itself commands, it obeys not. Whence this strange 
 anomaly ? and to what end ? It commands itself, I say, to 
 will, and would not command, unless it willed, and what it 
 commands is not done. But it willeth not entirely : there- 
 fore doth it not command ehtifely. For it commandeth 
 only so far as it willeth ; and what it commandeth is not 
 done only so far as it willeth not. For the will commandeth 
 that there be a will ; not another, but itself. But it doth 
 not command entirely, therefore what it commandeth, is 
 not. For were the will entire, it would not even command 
 it to be, because it would already be. It is therefore no 
 anomaly partly to will, and partly not to will, but a disease 
 of the mind, that it doth not wholly rise, for it is uplifted 
 by truth, but pressed down by habit. And therefore are 
 there two will^, because one of them is not entire : and the- 
 one hath, what the other lacketh. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 He refutes the Manichcean doctrine that the conflict of ivills implies 
 two conflicting natures and principles ^ one Good, the other Evil, 
 
 " T ET them perish from Thy presence" (Ps. Ixviii. 2), 
 
 -L-* O God, as perish "vain talkers and seducers" 
 
 (Tit. i. 10) of the soul : who observing that in deliberating 
 
 there were two wills, affirm, that there are two minds in us 
 
150 The Confessions of S. Augustine, 
 
 of two kinds, one good, the other evil. Themselves are 
 truly evil, when they hold these evil things ; and themselves 
 shall become good if they shall perceive the truth, and 
 assent unto the truth, that Thy Apostle may say to them, 
 " Ye were sometimes darkness, but now are ye light in the 
 Lord " (Eph. v. 8). But they, wishing to be light, not " in 
 the Lord," but in themselves, imagining the nature of the 
 soul to be that which God is, are made more gross darkness ; 
 for through a fearful arrogance they have gone back farther 
 from Thee, from " Thee, the true light, which lighteth every 
 man that cometh into the world" (S. John i. 9). Take 
 heed what you say, and blush for shame : " draw near unto 
 Him and be lightened, and your faces shall not be ashamed" 
 (Ps. xxxiv. 5). Myself when I was deliberating upon serving 
 the Lord my God now, as I had long purposed, it was I 
 who willed, I who willed not ; I, I myself. I neither entirely 
 willed, nor entirely willed not Therefore was I at strife 
 with myself, and torn in twain by myself. And this tearing 
 in twain befel me against my will, and yet showed, not the 
 presence of another mind, but the punishment of my own. 
 "Therefore it was no more I that wrought it, but sin that 
 dwelt in me" (Rom. vii. 17),* in punishment of a sin more 
 truly voluntary, because I was a son of Adam. 
 
 P'or if there be as many contrary natures, as there be con- 
 flicting wills ; there shall now be not two only, but many. 
 If a man hesitates between going to their conventicle or to 
 the theatre, these folks cry, " Behold here are two natures : 
 one good, draws this way ; another bad, draws back that 
 way. For whence else is this hesitation between conflicting 
 wills ? " But I say, that both are bad : that which draws 
 to them, as well as that which draws back to the theatre. 
 But they believe not that will to be other than good, which 
 draws to them. What then if one of us should deUberate, 
 and hesitate between his two opposing wills whether he should 
 go to the theatre or to our church ? would not they also 
 hesitate what answer to make ? For either they must con- 
 fess, which they do not like to do, that it is by his good 
 will that a man is led to our church, as much as they who 
 
 * The "original sin" which dwelt in him, as a penal result of 
 Adam's fall, rendered him more exposed to temptation, and less 
 strong to resist. Adam's sin, therefore, was more "voluntary" than 
 Augustine's. 
 
The Confessions of S. Augtisttne, 1 5 1 
 
 are instructed and involved in their mysteries, are by their 
 good will led to their meeting ; or else they must imagine 
 that two evil natures and two evil souls are in conflict in one 
 man : and then their wonted saying, that there is one good, 
 and another bad, will not be true ; or they must be con- 
 verted to the truth, and no more deny, that where one 
 deliberates, one soul fluctuates between contrary wills. 
 
 'Let them no more say then, when they perceive two con- 
 flicting wills in one man, that the conflict is between two 
 contrary souls, of two contrary substances, from two con- 
 trary principles, one good, and the other bad. For Thou, 
 O true God, dost disprove, check, and convict them ; as 
 when, both wills being bad, one deliberates, whether he 
 should kill a man by poison, or by the sword ; whether he 
 should seize this or that estate of another's, when he cannot 
 both ; whether he should purchase pleasure by luxury, or 
 keep his money by covetousness ; whether he go to the 
 circus, or the theatre, if both be open on one day, or (to 
 add a third step) to rob another's house, if the opportunity 
 offers, or, fourthly, to commit adultery, if at the same time 
 the means of doing so presents itself; if all these objects 
 should present themselves at the same moment, and all be 
 equally desired, and yet could not all at once be done : 
 for they rend the mind amid four or even (amid the vast 
 variety of things desired) more, conflicting wills, nor do 
 they yet allege that there are so many divers substances. 
 Similarly also in wills which are sjood. For I ask them, 
 is it good to take pleasure in reading the Apostle ? or good 
 to take pleasure in a sober Psalm ? or good to discourse on 
 the Gospel? They will answer to each, "It is good." 
 What then if all give equal pleasure, and all at once ? Do 
 not divers wills distract the mind, while we deliberate which 
 we most of all should choose ? yet are they all good, and 
 are in conflict, till one be chosen, whither the one entire 
 will may be borne, which before was divided between many. 
 So also when eternity delights us above, and the pleasure 
 of temporal good holds us down below, it is the same soul 
 which willeth not this or that with an entire will ; and there- 
 fore is torn in twain with grievous anxiety, while for truth's 
 sake it prefers the former, but for custom's sake cannot set 
 aside the latter. 
 
152 TJie Confessions of S. Augustine. 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 He describes the violence of his inward struggle ^ as he sought to resolve 
 to renounce his old habits. 
 
 THUS soul-sick was I, and tormented, accusing myself 
 much more severely than my wont, rolling and turning 
 me in my chain, till that were wholly broken, whereby I now 
 was but slightly held ; but yet I was held. And Thou, O 
 Lord, pressedst upon me in my inward parts by a severe 
 mercy, redoubling the lashes of fear and shame, lest I 
 should again give way, and should fail to burst that slight 
 and slender chain, which still remained, and so, it should 
 recover strength, and bind me the faster. For I said with- 
 in myself, " Be it done now, be it done now " ; and as I 
 spake, I came near to resolution ; now I nearly did it, yet 
 did it not; but fell not back into my old place, but stood 
 hard by, and drew my breath. Again I tried, and came a 
 little nearer; and a little nearer, again and yet again, to 
 touching, and laying hold of it : yet I came not to it, nor 
 touched, nor held it, hanging still back from dying unto 
 death, and living unto life ; and the worse, which was my 
 wont, had more power over me, than the better, which was 
 unfamiliar : and the very moment wherein I was to become 
 other than I was, the nearer it approached me, the greater 
 horror did it strike into me ; yet did it not strike me back, 
 nor turn me away, but held me in suspense. 
 
 Toys of toys, and vanities of vanities, my ancient 
 mistresses, still held me ; they plucked my fleshly garment, 
 and whispered softly, " Dost thou cast us off? and from 
 that moment shall we no more be with thee for ever ? and 
 from that moment shall not this or that be lawful for thee 
 for ever ? " And what was it which they suggested in what 
 I have called " this or that," what did they suggest, O my 
 God ? Let Thy mercy turn it away from the soul of Thy 
 servant What defilements did they suggest ! What shames ! 
 And now I much less than half heard them, and not openly 
 showing themselves and contradicting me, but muttering 
 as it were behind my back, and furtively twitching me, as I 
 was departing, but to look back on them. Yet they did 
 retard me, so that I delayed to snatch myself away, and 
 shake myself free from them, and to leap over whither I 
 
The Confessions of S. Augustine. 153 
 
 was called ; a violent habit saying to me, " Thinkest thou, 
 thou canst do without them ? " 
 
 But now it spake very faintly. For on that side whither 
 I had set my face, and whither I was trembling to go, there 
 appeared unto me the chaste dignity of Continency, serene, 
 and cheerful, though not wantonly so, modestly enticing me 
 to come and doubt not ; and stretching forth to receive and 
 embrace me, her holy hands full of multitudes of good 
 examples. There were so many boys and girls ; there a 
 youthful multitude, and every age, and sober widows, and 
 aged virgins ; and Continence herself in all, not barren, but 
 a " fruitful mother of children " (Ps. cxiii. 8), of joys, by 
 Thee, her Husband, O Lord. And she smiled on me with 
 a persuasive mockery, as if to say, " Canst not thou what 
 these youths, what these maidens can ? or can they either 
 in themselves, and not rather in the Lord their God ? The 
 Lord their God gave me unto them. Why standest thou 
 in thyself, and so standest not ? cast thyself upon him, fear 
 not that He will withdraw Himself that thou shouldest fall ; 
 cast thyself fearlessly. He will receive, and will heal thee." 
 And I blushed exceedingly, for still kept I hearing the 
 mutterings of those toys ; and still kept hanging in hesita- 
 tion. And she again seemed to say, " Stop thine ears 
 against 'those' thy unclean members * on the earth,' that they 
 may be * mortified ' " " They tell thee of delights, but not as 
 doth the law of the Lord thy God " (Ps. cxix. 85, Vulg.). 
 This controversy in my heart was self against self only. 
 But Alypius sitting close by my side, in silence waited the 
 issue of my unwonted emotion. 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 The voice which came to him in the garden, and decided his conversion. 
 
 BUT when deep reflection had from the secret store (of 
 memory) drawn and heaped together all my misery in 
 the sight of my heart ; there arose a mighty tempest, bring- 
 ing a heavy downpour of tears. And that I might pour it 
 all out, with its loud lamentations, I rose from Alypius. 
 Solitude seemed to me better suited to the business of 
 weeping ; so I retired so far that even his presence could 
 
154 The Confessions of S. Augustine, 
 
 not be a restraint upon me. Thus was it then with me, and 
 he perceived it; for something I suppose I had spoken, 
 wherein the tones of my voice appeared choked with weep- 
 ing, and so had risen up. He then remained where we 
 were sitting, lost in amazement. I cast myself down I know 
 not how, under a certain fig-tree, and gave rein to my tears ; 
 and the floods of mine eyes broke forth, " an acceptable 
 sacrifice to Thee " (Ps. li. 19). And, not indeed in these 
 words, yet to this purpose, spake I much unto Thee : " and 
 Thou, O Lord, how long? how long, Lord, wilt Thou be 
 angry, for ever ? O remember not against us former iniqui- 
 ties " (Ps. Ixxix. 5, 8), for I felt that I was holden by them. 
 I kept on uttering wretched exclamations : How long ? how 
 long, "to-morrow, and to-morrow?" Why not now? why 
 not this hour make an end of my uncleanness ? 
 
 Such words I spake the while I wept in most bitter con- 
 trition of my heart. And lo, from a neighbouring house I 
 heard a voice, as of a boy or girl, I know not, singing and 
 oft repeating, " Take, read ; take, read." Instantly, with a 
 changed countenance, I began to think most intently, 
 whether boys in any kind of game used to sing such a 
 phrase ; nor could I remember ever to have heard the like. 
 So checking the torrent of my tears, I arose ; interpreting 
 it to be no other than a Divine command, to open the 
 book, and read the first chapter I should find. For I had 
 heard of Antony, that he had happened to come in during 
 the reading of the Gospel, and had taken the passage read 
 as a warning, spoken to himself, "Go, sell ail that thou 
 hast, and give to the poor, and thou shalt have treasure in 
 heaven, and come and follow me" (S. Matt. xix. 21); and 
 by such oracle he was forthwith converted unto Thee. 
 With such an inspiration then, I returned to the place 
 where Alypius was sitting ; for there had I laid the volume 
 of the Apostle, when I arose thence. I seized, opened, and 
 in silence read the passage, upon which my eyes first fell : 
 " Not in rioting and drunkenness, not in chambering and 
 wantonness, not in strife and envying : but put ye on tlie 
 Lord Jesus Christ, and make not provision for the flesh to 
 fulfil the lusts thereof" (Rom. xiii. 13, 14). No further 
 would I read ; nor was there need ; for instantly at the end 
 of this sentence, as though my heart were flooded with a 
 light of peace, all the shadows of doubt melted away. 
 
The Confessions of S. Augustine. 155 
 
 Then putting my finger between, or some other mark, I 
 shut the volume, and with a calm countenance made it 
 known to Alypius. And what was wrought in him, which 
 I knew not, he thus showed me. He asked to see what I 
 had read : I showed him \ and he looked even further than 
 I had read, and I knew not what followed. This followed, 
 "him that is weak in the faith, receive" (Rom. xiv. i); 
 which he applied to himself, and disclosed to me. And by 
 this admonition was he strengthened; and by a good re- 
 solution and purpose, quite in accordance with his charac- 
 ter, wherein he did always very far differ from me, for the 
 better, without any harassing delay he joined me. Thence 
 we go in to my mother; we tell her; she rejoiceth : we 
 relate in order how it took place ; she exulteth, and 
 triumpheth, and blessed Thee, " Who art able to do above 
 that which we ask or think " (Eph. iii. 20) ; for she per- 
 ceived that Thou hadst given her more for me, than she 
 v/as wont to ask, in her sorrowful and tearful groanings 
 For Thou didst so convert me unto Thyself, that I sought 
 neither wife, nor any hope of this world, standing in that 
 rule of faith, where Thou hadst in a vision revealed me to 
 her so many years before. And Thou didst ''turn her 
 mourning into joy" (Ps. xxx. 11), fuller by far than she had 
 desired, and by far more dear and chaste, than that of see- 
 ing my body's offspring, which she was wont to require. 
 
3Booft 5f . 
 
 Augustine determines to abandon the profession of Rhetoric, 
 
 AND retires to CaSSIACUM TO PREPARE FOR HOLY BAPTISM, 
 WHICH HE RECEIVES AFTER THE VINTAGE VACATION WITH 
 AlYPIUS AND AdEODATUS. He DETERMINES WITH HIS 
 FRIENDS TO RETURN TO AFRICA ; AND JOURNEYS AS FAR AS TO 
 OSTIA WITH THEM AND WITH HIS MOTHER MONICA. He DE- 
 SCRIBES HER EARLY LIFE AND CHARACTER ; HER INFLUENCE 
 OVER HER HUSBAND ; HER JOY IN HIS CONVERSION ; HER DEATH 
 AND BURIAL AT OSTIA, IN AUGUSTINE'S THIRTY-THIRD YEAR. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 He praises God for His goodness in effecting his conversion. 
 
 **■ r~\ LORD, I am Thy servant ; I am Thy servant, and 
 v-y the son of Thy handmaid : Thou hast broken my 
 bonds in sunder. I will ofifer to Thee the sacrifice of 
 praise" (Ps. cxvi. 17, 18). Let my heart and my tongue 
 praise Thee ; yea, let " all my bones say, O Lord, who is 
 like unto Thee?" (Ps. xxxv. 10). Let them say, and 
 answer Thou me, and " say unto my soul, I am thy salva- 
 tion?" (Ps. xxxv. 3). Who am I, and what am I? What 
 of evil have my deeds been without, or if not my deeds, my 
 words, or if not my words, my will ? But Thou, O Lord, 
 art good and merciful, and Thy right hand had respect 
 unto the depth of my death, and from the bottom of my 
 heart didst draw out that abyss of corruption. And this 
 was the whole matter; that I should refuse what I did 
 choose, and choose what Thou didst choose. But where 
 throughout that year-long time, and from what low and 
 deep recess was my free-will called forth in a moment, 
 whereby to submit my neck to Thy " easy yoke," and my 
 shoulders unto Thy " light burden," " O Christ Jesus, my 
 Helper and my Redeemer"? (S. Matt xi. 30; Ps. xix. 14). 
 
The Confessions of S. Augustine. 157 
 
 How sweet did it at once become to me, to be without 
 sweetnesses of those toys ! and what I feared to lose, I now 
 rejoiced to throw away. For Thou didst cast them forth 
 from me. Thou true and supreme sweetness. Thou didst cast 
 them forth, and Thyself instead didst enter in; Who art sweeter 
 than all pleasure, though not to flesh and blood ; brighter 
 than all light, but more inward than any secret place; 
 higher than all honour, but not to them that be high in 
 their own conceits. Now was my soul free from the biting 
 cares of compassing and getting, of wallowing amid and 
 ministering to my lustful foulness ; and to Thee did I as a 
 child babble, my Light, my Wealth, and my Salvation. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 He resolves to abandon his Rhetoric Professorship after the vintage 
 vacation^ which was at hand. 
 
 AND I resolved in Thy sight, not tumultuously to tear, 
 but gently to withdraw, the service of my tongue 
 from the talk market ; that boys who thought not on Thy 
 law, nor on Thy peace, but on foolish lies, and legal con- 
 flicts, should buy no more from my mouth the weapons for 
 their raving. And by good hap, but very few days remained 
 before the vintage vacation ; I resolved to endure them, so 
 as formally to resign, and after having been bought by Thee, 
 put myself up for sale no more. Our purpose then was 
 known to Thee ; but to men, other than our own friends, 
 was it not known. For we had agreed among ourselves not 
 to let it out abroad to any : although to us, now ascending 
 from the "vale of misery," and singing that "song of degrees" 
 {i.e., Ps. Ixxxiv.), Thou hadst given "sharp arrows," and 
 " hot burning coals " against the " deceitful tongue," which 
 under pretence of giving counsel, gainsayeth us, and under 
 pretence of love devoureth us, as it doth its meat. Thou 
 hadst wounded our heart with the arrow of Thy Charity, and 
 we bore Thy Words as though they transpierced our bowels : 
 and the examples of Thy servants, whom from being black 
 Thou hadst turned to shining white, and from dead to 
 living, were heaped up in the treasury of our reflection, and 
 burnt up and consumed our heavy torpor, that we might not 
 
158 TJte Confessions of S. Augustine, 
 
 sink into the deep : and so strongly did they kindle us that 
 every blast of gainsaying from the *' deceitful tongue " could 
 only fan into more fierce brightness, not extinguish, our 
 flame. Nevertheless, because for " Thy Name's sake " which 
 Thou hast " hallowed " throughout the earth, this our vow 
 and purpose might also find some to commend it, it seemed 
 like bragging not to wait for the vacation now so near, but 
 to quit sooner a public profession, practised in sight of all, 
 so that the gaze of society would be rivetted upon my action, 
 and they, observing that I was anxious to anticipate the day 
 of the vacation, so near at hand, would make a great talk 
 about it, as if I had wanted to be considered some great one. 
 And what would it have profited me that my purpose should 
 be the subject of consideration and discussion, and that 
 "our good should be evil spoken of" (Rom. xiv. 16). 
 
 Moreover, in this very summer, from excessive literary 
 labour, my lungs began to give way, to draw deep breaths 
 with difficulty, to give evidence of their diseased state by 
 pains in the chest, and to prove unequal to the eifort of 
 clear and lengthy speech : this had at first troubled me, for 
 it almost constrained me, of necessity, to lay down the bur- 
 den of that professorship, or, if I could be cured and recover, 
 at least to take a rest. But when there arose and was con- 
 firmed in me an utter determination to " be still, and see 
 that Thou art the Lord" (Ps. xlvi. 10), Thou knowest, O 
 my God, how I even began to rejoice that this secondary, 
 but not false excuse was ready to my hand, might temper 
 the annoyance of those who wished for the sake of keeping 
 me as their son's master, to prevent my becoming my own. 
 Full then of such joy, I endured till that interval of time 
 were run out ; it may have been some twenty days ; but yet 
 some courage was involved in the endurance, because the 
 covetousness which hitherto shared with me the burden of 
 this heavy business, had gone, and I should have remained 
 to my overwhelming, had not patience taken its place. 
 Perchance, some of Thy servants, my brethren, may say, 
 that I sinned in this, that with a heart fully set on Thy ser- 
 vice, I suffered myself to sit even one hour in the chair 
 of falsehood. Nor would I be contentious. But hast not 
 Thou, O most merciful Lord, pardoned and remitted this 
 sin also, with my other most horrible and deadly sins, in the 
 holy water ? 
 
The Co7tfessions of S. Augustine, 159 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 Verectmdus, though not yet a Christian^ offers his country house for a 
 time, though sorry that the conversion of Augustine and Alypius will 
 deprive him of their companionship : Nebridius is glad to hear of it ^ 
 though himself not yet converted. 
 
 VERECUNDUS was tormented with anxiety, concerning 
 this our blessed state, for by reason of the bonds in 
 which he was most straitly held, he saw that he should be 
 deprived of our companionship, he being not yet a Christian, 
 though his wife was one of the faithful : yet it was by her, 
 as a fetter more stringent than the rest, that he was hindered 
 from the journey upon which we had set out. For he would 
 not, he said, be a Christian on any other terms than on those 
 he could not be admitted on. However, he offered us cour- 
 teously to remain at his country-house, so long as we should 
 stay there. Thou, O Lord, shalt reward him in "the resurrec- 
 tion of the just" (S. Luke xiv. 14), seeing Thou hast already 
 given him " the lot " of the righteous (Ps. cxxv. 3). For al- 
 though, in our absence, at the time we were at Rome, he was 
 seized with bodily sickness, and having been made, during it, 
 a Christian, and one of the faithful, he departed this life ; so 
 "hadst Thou mercy not on him only, but on us also" (Phil, 
 ii. 27), lest remembering the exceeding kindness of our 
 friend towards us, yet unable to number him among Thy 
 flock, we should be racked with intolerable sorrow. Thanks 
 unto Thee our God, we are Thine ; Thy exhortations and 
 consolations declare Thee, Thou Faithful Keeper of Pro- 
 mises. Requite unto Verecundus, for his country-house at 
 Cassiacum, where we found rest in Thee from the turmoil 
 of the world, the delight of Thy Paradise, which blossometh 
 ever (since Thou hast forgiven his sins upon earth) in '-' the 
 mount filled with curds. Thy mount, the mount of abund- 
 ance" (Ps. Ixviii. 15, an old rendering). 
 
 He then had at that time sorrow, but Nebridius joy. For 
 although he also, not being yet a Christian, had fallen into 
 the pit of that most pernicious error, believmg the flesh of 
 Thy Son to be a phantom : yet coming forth from that error, 
 he was then in the same state of belief as we j not as yet 
 endued with any Sacraments of Thy Church, but a most 
 ardent seeker after truth. And not long after our con- 
 
i6o The Confessions of S, Augustine. 
 
 version and regeneration by Thy Baptism, being then him- 
 self a faithful Catholic, and serving Thee in perfect chastity 
 and continence amongst his people in Africa, after his whole 
 household like himself had become Christian, him didst 
 Thou release from the flesh ; and now he liveth in " Abra- 
 ham's bosom" (S. Luke xvi. 22). Whatever that be, which 
 is signified by that bosom, there liveth my Nebridius, my 
 sweet friend, and Thy child, O Lord, adopted of a freed 
 man ; there he liveth. For what other place is there for 
 such a soul? There he liveth, whereof he used much to 
 question me, a poor ignorant creature. Now lays he not 
 his ear to my mouth, but his spiritual mouth unto Thy 
 fountain, and drinketh in wisdom, as much as he can 
 receive, according to his thirst, infinitely blessed. Nor do 
 I think that he is so inebriated therewith, as to be forgetful 
 of me ; seeing Thou, Lord, of whom he drinketh, dost re- 
 member us. So were we then, comforting Verecundus, who 
 sorrowed, as far as friendship permitted, that our conversion 
 was of such sort ; and exhorting him to receive the Faith in 
 the state of life he was in, namely the married state ; and 
 awaiting Nebridius to follow us, which, being so near, he 
 could do, and indeed was on the point of doing, when lo ! 
 at last, those days rolled by ; for long and many did they 
 seem, by reason of my love of restful freedom, until I cowld 
 sing from my very marrow, " My heart hath said unto Thee, 
 I have sought Thy face : Thy face, Lord, will I seek '' 
 (Ps. xxvii. 8). 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 At Cassiacunti after resigning his professorship, he finds great comfort 
 in the Psalms. He dwells much upon Psalm iv. He experiences 
 great pain, from which God's mercy set him free. 
 
 AND the day came, wherein I was indeed to be freed of 
 my Rhetoric Professorship, from which in thought I 
 had been already freed. And it was done. Thou didst 
 rescue my tongue, whence Thou hadst before rescued my 
 heart, and I blessed Thee, rejoicing ; and went with all my 
 friends to the villa. What I there did in writing, which was 
 now enlisted in Thy service, though still, in this breathing- 
 time as it were, panting from the school of pride, my books 
 
 m 
 
The Confessions of S, A ng ustine. 1 6 1 
 
 may witness, as well what I debated with others, as what 
 with myself alone, before Thee : what with Nebridius, who 
 was absent, my Epistles bear witness. And when shall 
 time suffice to record all Thy great benefits towards us at 
 that time, especially when hasting on to yet greater mercies ? 
 For my remembrance recalls me, and pleasant is it to me, 
 
 Lord, to confess to Thee, by what inward goads Thou 
 didst completely tame me ; and how Thou didst make me 
 plain, " bringing low the mountains and hills of my thoughts, 
 and making my crooked places straight, my rough places 
 smooth " (Is. xl. 4) ; and how Thou also didst subdue Aly- 
 pius, the brother of my heart, unto the Name of Thy Only 
 Begotten, our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ, which he 
 would not at first vouchsafe to have inserted in our writings. 
 For rather would he have them redolent of the " cedars " of 
 the Schools, which now " the Lord hath broken " (Ps. xxix. 
 5) than the healthful herbs of the Church, which are the 
 serpents' bane. 
 
 With what accents did I address Thee, O my God, when 
 
 1 read the Psalms of David, those faithful songs, and sounds 
 of devotion, which admit no proud spirit, while yet a Cate- 
 chumen, and a novice in Thy real love, resting in that villa, 
 with Alypius a Catechumen, my mother clinging to us, she 
 that wore a woman's habit with the faith of a man, the calm- 
 ness of age, the love of a mother, the devotion of a Christian. 
 What accents did I utter unto Thee in those Psalms, and 
 how was I by them kindled towards Thee, and on fire to 
 recite them, if possible, throughout the whole circle of the 
 earth, to subdue the pride of the human race. And yet they 
 are sung through the whole world, and " there is none hid 
 from Thy heat" (Ps. xix. 6). With what vehement and 
 bitter sorrow was I indignant against the Manichseans ! and 
 yet I felt pity for them, for they knew not those Sacraments, 
 those medicines, and were mad against the antidote, by 
 which they might have been made sane. Would that they 
 had then been somewhere near me, and without my know- 
 ing that they were there, could have beheld my countenance, 
 and lizard my word?, when I read the fourth Psalm in that 
 time of my rest, and how that Psalm wrought upon me, 
 *' When I called, the God of ray righteousness heard me ; 
 Thou didst enlarge me when I was in distress. Have mercy 
 
 F 
 
1 62 The Confessions of S, Augustine. 
 
 upon me, O Lord, and hear my prayer." * Would they could 
 hear, without my knowing that they heard, so that they 
 might not think that I was speaking for their sakes, what I 
 uttered on these words; because indeed neither should I say 
 the same words, nor in the same way, if I were conscious of 
 being heard and seen by them, nor if I spake them would 
 they so receive them, as when I spake by and for myself 
 before Thee, out of the natural affection of my spirit. 
 
 I trembled for fear, and again was on fire with hope, and 
 with rejoicing in Thy mercy, O Father; and all these 
 emotions poured forth through mine eyes, and my voice, 
 when Thy Good Spirit turned towards us, and saith, " O ye 
 sons of men, how long slow of heart ? why do ye love vanity, 
 and seek after leasing ? " For I had " loved vanity, and 
 sought after leasing." ** And Thou, Lord," hadst already 
 " magnified Thy Holy One " (V. 4), raising Him from the 
 dead, and setting Him at Thy right hand, whence from on 
 high He should send His promise, the Comforter, the Spirit 
 of truth. And He had already sent Him, but I knew it 
 not ; He had sent Him, because He was now magnified, 
 rising again from the dead, and ascending into heaven. 
 For till then, " the Spirit was not yet given, because Jesus 
 was not yet glorified " (S. John vii. 39), and the prophecy 
 cried, " How long, slow of heart ? why do ye love vanity, 
 and seek after leasing? Know this, that the Lord hath 
 magnified His Holy One." It cries out, " How long?" It 
 cries out, " Know this : " and I so long, not knowing, "loved 
 vanity, and sought after leasing : " and therefore I heard and 
 trembled, because it was spoken unto such as I remembered 
 myself to have been. For in those phantoms which I had 
 held for truths, was there "vanity and leasing;" and I spake 
 aloud many things with gravity and vigour, in the bitterness 
 of my remembrance. Would that they had heard them, 
 who yet " love vanity and seek after leasing ! " They would 
 perchance have been troubled, and have vomited it up; and 
 " Thou wouldest hear them when they cried unto Thee ; '* 
 for by a true death of the flesh He died for us, "Who also 
 maketh intercession for us " unto Thee (Rom. viii. 34). 
 
 I read on, " Be angry, and sin not " {conf. Ps. iv. 4, and 
 
 * Psalm iv. i. The other verses in this Psalm are treated in this 
 chapter ; and this reference will sufi&ce. «* V " will indicate the Vulgate 
 leading. 
 
The Confessions of S, Angus ti?te. 163 
 
 Eph. iv. 26). And how was I moved, O my God, who had 
 now learned to be angry with myself for things past, that 
 for the future I might not sin; and to be justly angry, 
 because it was not another nature of the race of darkness 
 which sinned for me, as they say who are not angry at 
 themselves, " but treasure up unto themselves wrath against 
 the day of wrath, and revelation of Thy righteous judgment " 
 (Rom. ii. 5). Nor were my "good things" now without, 
 nor sought with the eyes of flesh in yonder sun ; for they 
 that would have joy from without soon become empty, and 
 are poured out on the things which are seen, and temporal, 
 and in their famished thoughts do lick their very shadows. 
 Oh that they were wearied out with their want, and said, 
 ** Who will shew us any good ? " And we would say, and 
 they hear, "The light of Thy countenance is sealed upon 
 us " (V.). For we are not " that light which lighteneth every 
 man " (S. John i. 9), but we are enlightened by Thee ; that 
 " we, who were sometimes darkness, may be light in Thee " 
 (Eph. V. 8). Oh that they could see the Inward Light 
 eternal, which I, having tasted, did gnash my teeth that I 
 could not shew them, so long as they brought me their 
 heart in their eyes roving abroad from Thee, while they 
 said, " Who will shew us any good ? " For there, where I 
 was angry within myself in my chamber, where I felt com- 
 punction, when I had " sacrificed," slaying the old man in 
 me, and beginning to meditate upon my renewal, and 
 " putting my trust in Thee," — there hadst Thou begun to 
 grow sweet unto me, and " hadst put gladness in my heart." 
 And I cried out, as I read this outwardly, and recognised 
 its truth within : nor did I wish to be increased in earthly 
 good, wasting time and wasted by it, when I might possess 
 in Thy Eternal Simplicity other " corn, and wine, and oil." 
 And with a cry from the depth of my heart, I cried aloud 
 in the following verse, O "in peace," O " in The Self-Same !" 
 (v.). O what said he, " I will lay me down and take my 
 rest," for who shall hinder us, when " shall be brought to 
 pass the saying that is written. Death is swallowed up in 
 victory"? (i Cor. xv. 54). And Thou, who indeed "changest 
 not" art that "Self-Same," and in Thee is rest which for- 
 getteth all toil, for there is none other with Thee, nor are 
 we to seek those many other things, which are not what 
 Thou art : " for Thou Lord only hast made me dwell in 
 
164 TJte Confessions of S. Augustine. 
 
 hope." 1 read, and glowed ; nor found I what to do to 
 those deaf and dead, of whom myself had been, a pestilent 
 person, a bitter and a blind barker against those writings, 
 which are honied with the honey of heaven, and luminous 
 with Thine own light : and I " consumed away " over the 
 enemies of this Scripture. 
 
 When shall I recall all which passed in those days of 
 leisure ? Yet neither have I forgotten, nor will I pass over 
 the severity of Thy scourge, and the wonderful swiftness of 
 Thy mercy. Thou didst at that time excruciate me with 
 pain in my teeth ; and when it had grown so bad, that I 
 could not speak, it rose up into my heart to bid all my 
 friends who were there, to pray for me to Thee, the God of 
 all manner of health. And I wrote it on the waxen tablet, 
 and gave it them to read. So soon as with suppliant de- 
 votion we had bent our knees, that pain fled. But what 
 pain? or how fled it? I was afraid, I confess it, O my 
 Lord, my God; for I had never, from my earliest age, 
 suflered the like. Thus in this deep was Thy will dis- 
 covered to me, and rejoicing in faith, I praised Thy Name. 
 And that faith suffered me not to be at ease about my past 
 sins, which had not yet been remitted to me by means of 
 Thy Baptism. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 S. Ambrose advises him to study the prophecies of Isaiah which, as yet^ 
 were too hard for him. 
 
 WHEN the Vintage vacation was over, I intimated to 
 the Milanese that they should appoint some othet 
 seller of words for their scholars, both because I had chosen 
 to become Thy servant, and because I was no longei equal 
 to that profession, by reason of the difficulty of breathing, 
 and the pain in my chest. And by letters I signified to 
 Thy Prelate, the holy man Ambrose, my former errors and 
 present solemn purpose, that he might advise me what 
 portion of Thy Books I ought especially to read, to become 
 readier and fitter for receiving so great grace. He recom 
 mended Isaiah the Prophet : I believe, because he is clear, 
 beyond others, in foretelling the Gospel and the calling ot 
 the Gentiles. But I, not understanding the first lesson of 
 
The Confessions of S. Augustine. 165 
 
 this book, and imagining the whole to be like it, laid it by, 
 to be resumed when more exercised in the Lord's inspired 
 word. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 His Baptism with Alypius and Adeodatus. The character of Adeodatus,. 
 
 THENCE, when the time was come, wherein I was to 
 give in my name, we left the country and returned 
 to Milan. It pleased Alypius also to be with me born again 
 in Thee, being already clothed with the humility befitting 
 Thy Sacraments; and a most valiant tamer of the body, 
 even to the point of treading barefoot, with unwonted 
 daring, the icy soil of Italy. We joined with us the boy 
 Adeodatus, the son, after the flesh, of my sin. Excellently 
 hadst Thou made him. He was not quite fifteen, and in 
 wit surpassed many grave and learned men. I confess unta 
 Thee Thy gifts. O Lord my God, Creator of all, and abund- 
 antly able to reform our deformities : for I had no part in 
 that boy, but the sin. For that we brought him up in Thy 
 discipline, it was Thou, none else, had inspired us with it. I 
 confess unto Thee Thy gifts. There is a book of ours entitled 
 The Master ; therein he converses with me. Thou knowest, 
 that all which is there put into the mouth of my interlocutor 
 were his ideas, in his sixteenth year. Much besides, and 
 yet more admirable, I found in him. That talent struck 
 awe into me. And who but Thou could be the artificer of 
 such wonders ? Soon didst Thou remove his life from the 
 earth : and I now remember him with the greater confidence, 
 fearing nothing for his childhood or youth, nor for him at 
 all. Him we joined with us, to reckon his birth in Thy 
 grace from the same time with us, to be brought up in Thy 
 discipline; and we were baptised, and anxiety about our 
 past life fled away. Nor was I sated in those days with the 
 wondrous sweetness of considering the depth of Thy 
 counsels concerning the salvation of mankind. How did I 
 weep, in Thy Hymns and Canticles, sharply affected by the 
 voices of Thy Church that -sweetly resoundeth ! Those 
 tones flowed into mine ears, and the Truth distilled into 
 my heart, whence the aff"ections of my devotion overflowed, 
 and tears ran down, and it was well with me with them. 
 
1 66 The Confessions of S. Augustine. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 The rise of Chanting at Milan. The Avian persecution under Justina, 
 stayed upon the discovery of the bodies of S. Gervasius and Protasius. 
 
 NOT long had the Church of Milan begun to practise 
 this kind of consolation and exhortation, the brethren 
 giving great care to the tuneful harmony of voices and 
 hearts. For it was a year, or not much more, since Justina, 
 mother of the Emperor Valentinian, a child, persecuted Thy 
 servant Ambrose, on account of her heresy, to which she 
 had been seduced by the Arians. The devout people kept 
 watch in the Church, ready to die with their Bishop Thy 
 servant. There my mother Thy handmaid, bearing a chief 
 part of those anxieties and watchings, lived in prayers. We, 
 though as yet unmelted by the heat of Thy Spirit, were 
 nevertheless excited by the alarm and tumult of the city. 
 Then it was first instituted that according to the custom of 
 the eastern regions, Hymns and Psalms should be sung, lest 
 the people should faint through the fatigue of sorrow ; and 
 from that day to this the custom has been retained ; and 
 to-day many, indeed almost all Thy congregations through- 
 out other parts of the world follow us herein. 
 
 Then didst Thou by a vision discover to Thy renowned 
 Bishop, where the bodies of Gervasius and Protasius the 
 martyrs lay hid, which Thou hadst in Thy secret treasury kept 
 hidden, and incorrupt throughout so many years, whence 
 Thou mightest in due season bring them forth, to stay this 
 feminine but royal fury. For when they were discovered 
 and dug up, and with fitting honour translated to the Am- 
 brosian Basilica, not only were those whom unclean spirits 
 vexed cured, and the devils made to confess themselves, but 
 a certain man, who had for many years been blind, a citizen, 
 and well known throughout the city, as soon as he had 
 enquired and heard the reason of the tumultuous rejoicing 
 of the people, leaped up, and begged his guide to lead him 
 thither. When led there he entreated to be admitted to 
 touch with a handkerchief the bier of the " death of Thy 
 Saints, precious in Thy sight " (Ps. cxvi. 5). And when he 
 Tiad done this, and put it to his eyes, they forthwith were 
 opened. Thence did fame spread abroad ; thence did Thy 
 praises more brightly shine ; thence the mind of that enemy, 
 
The Confessions of S. Augustine. 167 
 
 though not enlarged to the soundness of faith, was yet re- 
 strained from the fury of persecution. Thanks to Thee, O 
 my God. Whence and whither hast Thou thus led my re- 
 membrance, that I should confess these things also unto 
 Thee, which, great though they be, I had passed by in forget- 
 fulness ? And yet then, when " the savour of Thy ointments" 
 was so fragrant, did we not " run after Thee " (Cant. i. 3, 4). 
 Therefore did I weep the more at the singing of Thy hymns, 
 who once panted after Thee, and at length breathed in Thee, 
 as far as breath of life can gain access to this our house of 
 grass. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 He relates the incidents of his mother's early life and education, 
 
 THOU " that makest men of one mind to dwell in one 
 house" (Ps. Ixviii. 6), didst unite with us Euodius 
 also, a young man of our own city. He while discharging 
 the office of agent of public affairs, was converted to Thee 
 and baptised before us, and abandoned his worldly warfare 
 to gird himself for Thine. We were together about to dwell 
 together in our holy resolution. We enquired what place 
 would more usefully engage us as Thy servants ; and were 
 together on our way back to Africa. And when we had 
 come to Ostia on the Tiber, my mother died. Much I 
 omit, as hastening much. Receive my confessions and 
 thanksgivings, O my God, for innumerable things whereof I 
 am silent. But I will not omit whatsoever my soul would 
 bring forth concerning that Thy handmaid, who brought me 
 forth, both in the flesh, that I might be born to this tem- 
 poral light, and in heart, that I might be bom to Light 
 eternal. Not her gifts, but Thine in her, will I speak of; 
 for neither did she make nor educate herself. Thou didst 
 create her : nor did her father and mother know what a one 
 should come from them. And the rod of Thy Christ, the 
 discipline of Thine only Son, in a faithful household, a good 
 branch of Thy Church, taught her in Thy fear. Neverthe- 
 less she was wont to lay her. training not so much to the 
 account of her mother's diligence, as to that of a certain 
 decrepit maid- servant, who had carried her father when a 
 child, as little ones are often carried on the backs of older 
 
1 68 The Confessions of S, Augustine, 
 
 girls. For which reason, and for her great age, and excel- 
 lent conversation, she was in that Christian household held 
 in great respect by the heads of the family. On this account 
 the charge of her master's daughters was committed to her, 
 and she heedfully exer'cise,d it, and was earnest, in restrain- 
 ing them when necessary with a holy severity, in teachmg 
 them with sober judgment. For, except at those hours 
 wherein they were most temperately fed at their parents' 
 table, she would not suffer therxi, though parched with thirst, 
 to drink even water ; guarding against the formation of a 
 bad habit, and adding this wholesome advice ; " You drink 
 water now, because you have not wine in your power ; but 
 when you come to be married, and be made mistresses of 
 cellars and pantries, water will seem insipid'; but the habit 
 of drinking will remain." By such reasonable instruction, 
 and her authority to command, she curbed the greed of 
 childhood, and regulated the very thirst of the girls to a 
 becoming moderation, so that they no longer wished for 
 what they should not. 
 
 And yet there had stolen upon her (so Thy handmaid 
 told me, her son), there had stolen upon her a craving for 
 wine. For when she, in the usual way, as though a sober 
 maiden, was bidden by her parents to draw wine out of 
 the cask, holding the cup under it, she would sip 
 with the tips of her lips, where it lies open above, 
 before pouring the wine into the flask, just a little drop, for 
 she could not do more, from the reluctance of her feelings. 
 Nor did she do this from any desire of drinking too much, 
 but out of the overflowing extravagances of youth, which 
 bubbled up in playful impulses, and which in youthful 
 spirits are generally repressed by the gravity of their elders. 
 And thus by adding daily littles to that little (for " he that 
 contemneth small things shall fall by little and little" 
 Ecclus. xix. i), she had fallen into such a habit, as greedily 
 to drink off her little cup brim-full almost of wine. Where 
 was then that discreet old woman, and that her earnest 
 restraint? Would aught avail against a secret disease, 
 unless Thy healing care, O Lord, kept watch over us? 
 Father, mother, and teachers absent, Thou present, who 
 createdst, who callest, who also by those set over us, workest 
 something towards the salvation of our souls, what didst 
 Thou then, O my God ? how didst Thou cure her ? how 
 heal her ? didst Thou not out of anotlier soul bring forth a 
 
The Confessions of S, Augustine. 169 
 
 hard and a sharp taunt, like a surgeon's knife out of Thy 
 secret store, and with one piercing cut clear away that 
 corruption ? For a maid-servant with whom she used to 
 go to the cellar, quarrelling by hap with her little mistress 
 when alone with her, threw up this fault at her, calling her 
 with most insulting bitterness a " wine-bibber." Stung with 
 this taunt she saw the foulness of her fault, and instantly 
 condemned and forsook it. As flattering friends corrupt, 
 so wrangling enemies oftentimes correct. But Thou dost 
 reward them, not according to what Thou doest by their 
 means, but according to their own intentions. For she in 
 her anger sought to vex her young mistress, not to amend 
 her ; and did it in private, either because the time and 
 place of the quarrel so found them ; or else lest she herself 
 might run some risk, because she had not revealed it earlier. 
 But Thou, Lord, Governor of all in heaven and earth, who 
 tumest to Thy purposes the depths of torrents, ruling the 
 turbulent tide of the ages, didst heal one soul by the dis- 
 order of the other ; let not any then when he observes this 
 ascribe it to his own influence, even if another, whom he 
 wishes to be reformed, is reformed by some word of his. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 The married life of Monica ; her discretion and wifely duty. 
 
 BROUGHT up thus modestly and soberly, and made 
 subject rather by Thee to her parents, than by her 
 parents to Thee, so soon as she was of marriageable age, 
 being bestowed upon a husband, she served him as her lord ; 
 and concerned herself to gain him unto Thee, preaching 
 Thee unto him by her conduct, in which Thou didst make 
 her fair, and reverently amiable, and admirable unto her 
 husband. And she so endured his infidelities towards her, 
 that she never had any quarrel with her husband for that 
 cause. For she looked for Thy mercy upon him, that 
 believing in Thee, he might be made chaste. In addition 
 to this, as he was easy in his generosity, so was he passionate 
 in temper : but she had learnt, not to resist an angry 
 husband, not in deed only, but not even in word. Only 
 v/hen he was calmed and quieted, and she saw her oppor- 
 
I/O The Confessions of S, Augustine, 
 
 tunity, she would give an explanation of her actions, if 
 haply he had been unadvisedly aroused. In a word, while 
 many matrons, whose husbands were more good tempered, 
 bearing on their ill-used faces traces of blows, would in con- 
 versation with their friends, find fault with their husbands' 
 lives, she would blame their tongues, giving them, as in 
 jest, earnest advice ; " That from the time they heard the 
 marriage writings read to them, they should account them 
 as indentures, whereby they were made servants ; and 
 thenceforward, remembering their position, they ought not 
 to be arrogant towards their masters." And when they, 
 knowing what a fierce tempered husband she endured, 
 marvelled, that it had never been heard, nor by any token 
 perceived, that Patricius had beaten his wife, or that there 
 had been any domestic quarrel between them, even for one 
 day, and confidentially asking the reason, she taught them 
 her rule, which I have given above. Those wives who 
 followed it, when they had tried it, were delighted: and 
 those who did not follow it, when they were put in their 
 places, were annoyed. 
 
 Her mother-in-law also, at first by whisperings of evil 
 servants incensed against her, she so overcame by rendering 
 her services, and by perseverance in meek endurance, that 
 she of her own accord told her son of the meddling tongues 
 of the servants, through which the domestic peace betwixt 
 her and her daughter-in-law had been disturbed, asking him 
 to punish them. Then, when in compliance with his 
 mother, and for the well-ordering of the family, and the 
 harmony of its members, he had with stripes corrected those 
 told of, according to the will of her that told of them, she 
 warned them to expect the like recompense, if any desiring 
 to please her, should speak ill of her daughter-in-law to her; 
 and, none now venturing, they lived together with a remark- 
 able sweetness of mutual kindness. 
 
 This great gift also didst Thou bestow, O my God, my 
 mercy, upon that good slave of Thine, in whose womb Thou 
 didst create me, that between any disagreeing and dis- 
 cordant parties where she was able, she shewed herself such 
 a peacemaker, that hearing on both sides most bitter things, 
 such as swelling and indigested choler uses to break out 
 into, when the crudities of enmities are breathed out in sour 
 discourses to a present friend against an absent enemy, she 
 
The Confessions of S. Augustine, 171 
 
 never would repeat anything from one to the other, unless 
 it were something that might have the effect of reconciling 
 them. A small good this might appear to me, did I not to 
 my grief know numberless persons, who through some hor- 
 rible and wide-spreading contagion of sin, not only betray 
 to angry foes, the words of angry foes, but even add things 
 never said ; whereas contrariwise to a humane man, it ought 
 to seem a small matter not to arouse or increase enmity by 
 evil speaking, even if one has not striven by kindly speech 
 to allay it ; as was her wont, who was taught by Thee her 
 inmost Master, in the school of her heart. 
 
 Finally, her own husband, towards the very end of his 
 earthly life, did she gain unto Thee ; nor had she to com- 
 plain of that in him as a believer, which before he was a 
 believer she had endured from him. She was also the ser- 
 vant of Thy servants ; whosoever of them knew her, did in 
 her much praise and honour and love Thee ; because he 
 would perceive Thy Presence in her heart by the testimony 
 of the fruits of her holy conversation. For *' she had been 
 the wife of one man, had requited her parents, had governed 
 her house piously, was well reported of for good works, had 
 brought up children" (i Tim. v. 4, &c.), so often "travailing 
 in birth of them" (Gal. iv. 19), as she saw them go astray from 
 Thee. Lastly, O Lord, since by Thine own gift Thou sufferest 
 Thy servants to speak, she had such care of all of us, who, 
 before she fell asleep in Thee, used to live in companion- 
 ship together, after receiving the grace of Thy baptism, as 
 though she had been the mother of us all ; so she served 
 us, as though she had been our daughter. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 A conversation upon the Happiness of the Saints with Monica at Ostia. 
 
 AS now the day drew near, on which she was about to 
 depart out of this life, which day Thou didst know, 
 though we knew it not, it fell out, as I believe, through Thy 
 Providence, working in Thy hidden ways, that she and I 
 alone together, were standing leaning upon a certain window, 
 from which there was a view of the garden within the house 
 which sheltered us, there at Ostia on the Tiber, where apart 
 
172 The Confessions of S. Augustine. 
 
 from the throng, after the fatigue of our long journey we 
 were recruiting ourselves for our voyage. Together we two 
 held converse very sweet, and "forgetting those things 
 which were behind, and reaching forth unto those things 
 which were before" (Phil. iii. 13), we were discussing 
 between us in the presence of the truth, which Thou art, 
 of what kind would be that eternal life of the Saints, which 
 " eye hath not seen, nor ear heard, neither hath it entered 
 into the heart of man " ( i Cor. ii. 9). But with the mouth 
 of our heart we were panting for the heavenly streams of 
 Thy fount, " the fountain of life, which is with Thee " (Ps. 
 xxxvi. 9), that besprinkled thence according to our capacity 
 we might in some measure meditate upon so great a matter. 
 And when our converse drew to such an end, that the 
 utmost delight of the bodily senses, in the clearest material 
 light, by the side of the enjoyment of that life seemed un- 
 worthy not only of comparison with it, but even to be 
 named with it ; raising ourselves with a more glowing 
 emotion towards the "Self-Same" (Ps. iv. 8, Vulg.), we 
 wandered step by step through all material things, and even 
 the very heaven whence sun and moon and stars shed their 
 light upon the earth. And further still we climbed, in inner 
 thought, and speech, and in wonder of Thy works, and we 
 reached to our own minds, and passed beyond them, so as 
 to touch the realm of plenty never failing, where Thou 
 feedest Israel for ever in the pasture of the truth, and where 
 life is that Wisdom, by which all things are made, both 
 those which have been, and those which shall be ; and 
 Itself is not made, but is now as it was and ever shall be ; 
 or rather in it is neither " hath been " nor " shall be," but 
 only " is," since It is eternal. For " hath been " and " shall 
 be " spell not eternity. And while we thus speak and pant 
 after it, with the whole stress of our hearts we just for an 
 instant touched it, and we sighed, and left there bound the 
 "first fruits of the spirit" (Rom. viii. 23), and then returned 
 to the broken murmurs of our own mouth, where the word 
 hath its beginning and its end. And what is like unto Thy 
 Word, our Lord, who abideth in Himself, nor groweth old, 
 and maketh all things new? We were saying then; "if to 
 any one should grow hushed the tumult of the flesh, hushed 
 the images of earth, and of the waters, and the air, hushed 
 too the poles, and if the very soul should b^ hushed to 
 
The Confessions of S. Augustine. 173 
 
 itself, and were by cessation of thought of self to pass beyond 
 itself ; if all dreams, and imaginary revelations, every tongue 
 and every token, were hushed, and whatsoever falls out 
 through change ; if to any, such should be wholly hushed to 
 silence, since could any hear them, they all say " We made 
 not ourselves, but He made us, who abideth for ever," and 
 this said, if now they should cease to speak, because they 
 had inclined our ears to Him, who made them, and He 
 Himself by Himself should speak, not through them, but of 
 Himself, that so we should hear His Word, not uttered by 
 a tongue of flesh, nor by voice of angel, nor by thunder of 
 a cloud, nor by a parable of comparison, but Himself, whom 
 in these we love, if, I say, we should hear Him, without 
 these, as now we strained ourselves, and in the flight of 
 thought touched upon the eternal Wisdom that abideth 
 over all things \ if this were continued, and other visions of 
 a nature by far inferior were taken away, and this one alone 
 should ravish, and absorb, and enwrap the beholder of it 
 amid inward joys, so that life everlasting might be of such 
 a kind, as was that one moment of comprehension for which 
 we sighed ; were not this an " Enter Thou into the joy of 
 thy Lord" (S. Matt. xxv. 21)? And when shall that be? 
 Shall it be when " we all shall rise again, but shall not all 
 be changed" ( i Cor. xv. 51, Vulg.). Such things I said, 
 and if not in this manner and in these words, yet O Lord 
 Thou knowest, that on that day, when we were speaking of 
 such things, and this world with all its delights, amid such 
 converse, was beginning to grow but cheap to us, then said 
 she, " My son, as for myself, I delight no longer in anything 
 in this life. What yet here I may do, and why I linger 
 here, I know not, now that the hope of this life has died 
 within me. There was but one thing for which I longed 
 to tarry here a while, that I might see thee a Cathohc 
 Christian before my death. And this my God hath given 
 me even more abundantly, so that I even see thee His 
 servant, and able to despise mere earthly happiness. What 
 do I here?" 
 
174 '^^ Confessions of S. Augustine. 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 His Mother's Death. 
 
 WHAT answer I made her unto these things, I remem- 
 ber not. For scarce five days after, or not much 
 more, she fell sick of a fever ; and in that sickness one day 
 she fell into a swoon, and was for a while withdrawn from 
 these visible things. We hastened round her ; but she was 
 soon brought back to consciousness; and looking on me 
 and my brother standing by her, said to us inquiringly, 
 " Where was I ? " And then looking fixedly on us, who 
 were stunned with grief, said, "Will ye here bury your 
 mother?" I held my peace and refrained my weeping; 
 but my brother spake something to the effect that he wished, 
 as the happier lot for her, that not thus on her journey but 
 in her own country she might die. When she heard this, 
 with an anxious look she chid him with her eyes, for that 
 he still "savoured such things," and then looking upon me; 
 " Behold," saith she, " what he saith ; " and soon after to us 
 both, " Lay," she saith, " this body anywhere ; let not the 
 care for that any way disquiet you : this only I ask of you, 
 to remember me at the Lord's altar, wherever you be." 
 And having delivered this thought in what words she could, 
 she held her peace, and laboured for breath, as the disorder 
 increased. 
 
 But I, considering Thy gifts. Thou unseen God, which 
 Thou dost implant in the hearts of Thy faithful people, and 
 thence come forth wondrous fruits, did rejoice and give 
 thanks to Thee, recalling what I before knew, how careful 
 and anxious she had ever been, as to her grave, which she 
 had provided and prepared for herself beside the body of 
 her husband. For because they had lived in great harmony 
 together, she also wished (so little can the human mind 
 grasp things divine) to have this addition to that happiness, 
 and to have it remembered among men, that it had been 
 permitted her, after her pilgrimage beyond the sea, that the 
 mingled earthly dust of this wedded pair should be buried 
 in the same earth. But when this emptiness had through 
 the fulness of thy Goodness begun to cease in her heart, I 
 knew not, and rejoiced, admiring what she had so disclosed 
 to me ; though indeed in that our discourse also in the 
 
TIte Confessions of S. Augustine. 175 
 
 v/indow, when she said, " What do I here any longer ? " 
 there appeared no desire of dying in her own country. I 
 heard afterwards also, that when we were now at Ostia, she 
 with a mother's confidence, when I was absent, one day 
 discoursed with certain of my friends about the contempt of 
 this life, and the blessing of death : and when they were 
 amazed at the courage which Thou hadst given to her, 
 though a woman, and asked, " Whether she were not afraid 
 to leave her body so far from her own city ? " she replied, 
 *' Nothing is far to God ; neither need I fear that at the 
 end of the world He will not know whence to raise me up 
 again." On the ninth day then of her sickness, in the 
 fifty-sixth year of her age, and the three and thirtieth of 
 mine, was that devout holy soul dehvered from the body. 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 His deep sorrow, and how he restrained it. His mother^ s burial, and the 
 offering for her of the Holy Sacrifice. 
 
 I CLOSED her eyes ; and there flowed withal a mighty 
 sorrow into my heart, and overflowed to tears, and at 
 the same time, by the violent constraint of my will, mine 
 eyes sucked in the stream again, even to drought, and in 
 such a struggle it went very ill with me. But as soon as 
 she breathed her latest breath, the boy Adeodatus burst out 
 into a loud lament ; then, checked by us all, held his peace. 
 In like manner, also, something of the child in me, which 
 was inclining to tears, was checked and silenced by the 
 manly voice of my heart. For we thought it not meet to 
 celebrate that funeral with tearful lamentations and groans, 
 since with such often is bewailed some unhappiness of them 
 that die, or their supposed utter destruction. But she died 
 not unhappily, nor did she die utterly. This we knew, both 
 by the witness of her character, by her " faith unfeigned," 
 and by reasons which were certain. 
 
 What then was it which did grievously pain me within, 
 but the fresh wound received from the sudden breaking of 
 that most sweet and dear habit of living together ? I re- 
 joiced indeed in her testimony, when in the course of her 
 last illness, caressing me as I rendered her some little 
 
I yd The Confessions of S. Augustine, 
 
 services, she called me "dutiful," and dwelt with much 
 loving affection upon never having heard any harsh or un- 
 kind word uttered against her by my mouth. But yet, O 
 my God, Who madest us, what comparison is there betwixt 
 that honour that I paid to her, and her slavery for me ? 
 Being then forsaken of so great comfort in her, my soul was 
 wounded, and that life rent asunder as it were, which, of 
 hers and mine together, had been made but one. 
 
 The boy then being stilled from weeping, Euodius took up 
 the Psalter, and began to sing the Psalm, " My song shall 
 be of mercy and judgment, unto Thee O Lord will I sing" 
 (ci. i); to which the whole household made response. And 
 when they heard what was going forward, many brethren and 
 religious women came together ; and while they whose duty 
 it was, made the customary preparations for burial, I apart 
 from them, where I becomingly could do so, together with 
 those who thought not fit to leave me, discoursed upon 
 something fitting the time; and by this balm of truth, 
 assuaged that torment, known to Thee, though they knew 
 it not, and listened intently, imagining that I was without 
 any sense of grief. But in Thy ears, where none of them 
 heard, I blamed the weakness of my feeHngs, and restrained 
 the flood of my grief, which yielded a little to me, and then 
 again was borne upon me with a rush, though not so as to 
 provoke an outbreak of tears, nor even a change of counten- 
 ance ; but I knew what I was repressing in my heart. And 
 since it much displeased me that these accidents of our 
 humanity, which must befall in the due order and appointed 
 lot of our condition, should so affect me, with another grief 
 I grieved over my grief, and was fretted with a double 
 sorrow. 
 
 And behold, the corpse was carried to the burial; we 
 went and returned without tears. For not even in those 
 prayers which we poured forth unto Thee, when the Sacri- 
 fice of our redemption was offered on her behalf, when now 
 the corpse was by the grave's side, as the custom there is, 
 previous to its being laid therein — not even in those prayers 
 did I weep ; yet was I the whole day in secret heavily 
 sad, and with troubled mind prayed Thee, as I could, to 
 heal my soitow, yet Thou didst not ; impressing, I believe, 
 upon my memory by this one instance, how strong is the 
 bond of all habit, even upon a soul, which now feeds upon 
 
The Confessions of S. Augustine. 177 
 
 no deceiving Word. It seemed also good to me to go and 
 
 bathe, having heard that " bath " (balneum) hence derived 
 its name, namely from the Greek ^aXavsTov^ because it drives 
 anxiety from the mind. And this also I confess unto Thy 
 mercy, "Father of the fatherless" (Ps. Ixviii. 5), that I 
 bathed and was the same as before I bathed. For the 
 bitterness of my grief did not pass in sweat from my heart. 
 Then I slept, and rose up again, and found my sorrow 
 diminished not a little ; and as I lay lonely on my bed, I 
 recalled the truthful verses of Thine Ambrose. For Thou 
 xrt 
 
 The God who hast created all, 
 And hold'st the outspread sky in thrall, 
 Who deck'st the day with beauteous light. 
 With gracious slumber robest the night ; 
 That so, to wearied limbs, sweet rest 
 For daily tasks may bring new zest, 
 And comfort minds worn out with grief, 
 While sorrow's burdens find relief. 
 
 And then by little and little I recovered my former 
 thoughts of Thy handmaid, and her conversation towards 
 Thee devout, towards us kind and compliant, and holy, 
 whereof I was suddenly deprived : and I was minded to 
 weep in Thy sight, concerning her and for her ; concerning 
 myself, and for myself. And I gave my tears which I had 
 restrained till now leave to flow as they would, and prepared 
 in them a resting place for my heart ; and it found rest in 
 them, for it was in Thy ears, not in those of man, who would 
 have scornfully interpreted my weeping. And now. Lord, in 
 writing I confess it unto Thee. Let who will read it, and 
 interpret it as he will ; even if he shall find it a sin that I 
 wept for my mother for a little part of an hour, the mother 
 who for the time was dead to mine eyes, who had for many 
 years wept for me that I might live in Thine eyes, let him 
 not deride me ; but rather, if he be one of large charity, let 
 him weep himself for my sins unto Thee, the Father of all 
 the brethren of Thy Christ. 
 
lyS The Confessions of S. Augustine. 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 He prays for his mother ; aitd requests for her the prayers of such as 
 shall read his '* Confessions ^ 
 
 AT last, that wound of my heart was healed, which might 
 have seemed blameworthy for the earthliness of its 
 affection, and I pour out unto Thee, our God, in behalf of 
 that Thy handmaid, a far different kind of tears, flowing 
 from a spirit stricken by the remembrance of the dangers of 
 every soul that "in Adam dieth" (i Cor. xv. 22). And 
 although she " in Christ had been made alive," even before 
 her release from the flesh, and had so lived that Thy Name 
 was praised in her faith and conduct," yet dare I not say that 
 from the time when Thou didst regenerate her by baptism, 
 no word had issued from her mouth contrary to Thy Com- 
 mandment. Thy Son, the Truth, hath said, "Whosoever 
 shall say unto his brother, Thou fool, shall be in danger of 
 hell fire" (S. Matt. v. 22). But woe even to the men whose 
 lives deserve praise, if without mercy Thou shouldest search 
 them through. But since Thou " art not extreme to mark 
 what is done amiss" (Ps. cxxx. 3), we confidently hope to 
 find with Thee some place of indulgence. But whosoever 
 reckons up his real merits to Thee, what reckons he up to 
 Thee, but Thine own gifts ? O that men would know them- 
 selves to be but men ; and that " he that glorieth, would 
 glory in the Lord" (2 Cor. x. 17). 
 
 I therefore, O my Praise and my Life, God of my heart, 
 laying aside for a while her good deeds, for which rejoicing 
 I render thanks to Thee, do now entreat Thee for the sins 
 of my mother. Hearken unto me, through the Medicine of 
 our wounds. Who hung upon the tree, and now " sitting at 
 Thy right hand maketh intercession to Thee for us " (Rom. 
 viii. 34). I know that she dealt mercifully, and "from her 
 heart forgave her debtors their debts ; do Thou also forgive 
 her debts" (S. Matt, xviii. 35), whatever she may have con- 
 tracted in so many years, since the water of salvation. For- 
 give her. Lord, forgive, I beseech Thee; "enter not into 
 judgment with her" (Ps. cxliii. 2). "Let mercy rejoice 
 against judgment" (S. James ii. 13), since Thy words are 
 true, and Thou hast promised " mercy unto the merciful " 
 
The Coftfessions of S. Augustine. 179 
 
 (S. Matt. V. 7). Since they became so by Thy gift to them,. 
 " Who wilt have mercy on whom Thou wilt have mercy, and 
 wilt have compassion on whom Thou wilt have compassion" 
 (Rom. ix. 15). 
 
 And, I believe, Thou hast aheady done what I ask Thee; 
 but " accept, O Lord, the free-will offerings of my mouth " 
 (Ps. cxix. 108). For she, the day of her dissolution now at 
 hand, took no thought to have her body sumptuously wound 
 up, or embalmed with spices ; nor did she desire a choice 
 monument, or feel anxious for a grave in her own land. 
 These things she enjoined us not ; but desired only that a 
 memorial of her might be made at Thine Altar, which she 
 had served without missing one day, whence she knew was 
 dispensed the Sacred Host, by Which the "hand-writing that 
 was against us, is blotted out" (Col ii. 14), through Which 
 the enemy was triumphed over, who reckoning up our 
 offences, and seeking what to lay to our charge, ** found 
 nothing in Him " (S. John xiv. 30), in Whom we conquer. 
 Who shall restore to Him the innocent blood ? Who repay 
 Him the price wherewith He bought us, that so he may 
 take us out of His hand? Unto this Sacrament of our 
 redemption, Thy handmaid bound her soul by the bond of 
 faith. Let none tear her from Thy protection : let neither 
 "the lion nor the dragon" interpose himself by force or 
 fraud. For she will not answer that her debt is naught, lest 
 she be convicted and held by the crafty accuser : but she 
 will answer, that " her debts are forgiven " her by Him, to 
 Whom none can repay that price, which He, Who owed 
 nothing, paid for us. 
 
 May she rest then in peace with the husband, before and 
 after whom she had no other ; whom she served, " bringing 
 forth fruit with patience" (S. Luke viii. 15) unto Thee, that 
 she might gain him also for Thee. And inspire, O Lord 
 my God, inspire Thy servants my brethren, Thy sons my 
 masters, whom with voice, and heart, and pen I serve, that 
 so many as shall read these Confessions, may have in re- 
 membrance at Thine Altar, Monica Thy handmaid, with 
 Patricius, her sometime husband, through whose flesh Thou 
 didst bring me into this life, how, I know not. May they 
 with devout affection remember them, in this transitory light 
 my parents, under Thee, our Father, in the Catholic mother, 
 my brethren, and in that heavenly Jerusalem (for which Thy 
 
i8o The Confessions of S. Augustine. 
 
 people sigh in their pilgrimage from their going out even 
 unto their return thither), my fellow-citizens ; that so her 
 last request to me may be more richly granted in the prayers 
 of many obtained by means of my Confessions, than it 
 could be through my own prayers. 
 
He describes what he had become since his conversion : 
 
 PROFESSING his LOVE TO GOD ; AND SEEKS AMONG THE FACUL- 
 ties of the soul the means by which we know god. 
 Especially he discusses the nature of the memory, 
 WHEREIN God dwelleth. He examines himself with 
 regard to the triple lust of the flesh, of the eyes, 
 and of pride of life, and confesses that his whole trust 
 IS IN Christ Jesus, the mediator between God and man. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 lie desireth to know God. 
 
 LET me know Thee, O my Creator, " let me know Thee, 
 even as also I am known" (i Cor. xiii. 12). Power 
 of my soul, enter into it, and fit it for Thyself, that Thou 
 mayest have and hold it " without spot or wrinkle " (Eph. v. 
 27). This is my hope, "therefore do I speak" (Ps. cxvi. 
 10); and in this hope do I rejoice, when I rejoice health- 
 fully. The other things of this life are the less to be be- 
 wailed, the more they are bewailed ; and the more they are 
 to be bewailed, the less men bewail them. For behold. 
 Thou desirest truth" (Ps. li. 6), and "he that doeth it, 
 Cometh to the light" (S. John iii. 20). This would I do in 
 my heart before Thee in confession : and in my wnting, 
 before many witnesses. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 Though God knoweth the depths of our nature^ it is good to make confes- 
 sion unto hitn. 
 
 AND from Thee, O Lord, "in whose eyes is naked" 
 (Heb. iv. 13) the abyss of man's conscience, what 
 c ould be hidden in me though I were unwilling to confess 
 
1 82 The Confessions of S, Augustine. 
 
 it ? For I should hide Thee from myself, not myself from 
 Thee. But now, since my groaning beareth witness that I 
 am displeasing to myself, Thou shinest out, and art pleasing, 
 and beloved, and longed for ; that I may be ashamed of 
 myself, and renounce myself, and choose Thee, and neither 
 please Thee, nor myself, but in Thee. To Thee therefore, 
 O Lord, am I open, whatever I am ; and with what fruit I 
 confess unto Thee, I have said. Nor do I it with words 
 and utterances of the flesh, but with the words of my soul, 
 and the cry of the thought which Thy ear knoweth. For 
 when I am evil, then to confess to Thee is nothing else 
 than to be displeased with myself; but when devout, to 
 confess unto Thee is nothing else than not to ascribe 
 it to myself: because Thou, O Lord, "dost bless the 
 righteous" (Ps. v. 13), but first Thou "justifiest him when 
 ungodly " (Rom. v. 10). My confession then, O my God, in 
 Thy sight, is made silently, and not silently. For in sound, 
 it is silent ; in affection, it cries aloud. For neither do I 
 utter anything right unto men, which Thou hast not before 
 heard from me ; nor dost Thou hear any such thing from 
 me, which Thou hast not first said unto me. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 With what intent he maketh confession before men of his present 
 condition, 
 
 WHAT then have I to do with men, that they should 
 hear my confessions, as if they could " heal all my 
 infirmities " ? (Ps. ciii. 3). The race is curious to know the 
 lives of others, backward to correct their own. Why seek 
 they to hear from me what I am ; who will not hear from 
 Thee what themselves are? And how know they, when 
 from myself they hear of myself, whether I say true ; seeing 
 "no man knows what is in man, but the spirit of man 
 which is in him"? (i Cor. ii. 11). But if they hear from 
 Thee of themselves, tliey cannot say, " The Lord lieth." 
 For what is it to hear from Thee of themselves, but to 
 know themselves ? and who knoweth and saith, " It is false," 
 unless himself lieth? But because "charity believeth 2! 
 things " (i Cor. xiii, 7), especially among those, whoij 
 
TJie Confessions of S. Augustme. 183 
 
 knitting to itself, it maketh one, I also, O Lord, will even 
 so make confession to Thee, that men may hear, to whom 
 I am unable to prove whether I confess the truth, yet they 
 whose ears charity openeth to me, believe me. 
 
 But do Thou, my inmost Physician, make plain unto me, 
 what fruit I may pluck from this action. For the con- 
 fessions of my past sins, which Thou hast ** forgiven and 
 covered" (Ps. xxxii. i), that Thou mightest bless me in 
 Thee, changing my soul by Faith and Thy Sacrament, when 
 read and heard, stir up the heart, that it may not slumber 
 in despair, and say, " I can't," but awake in the love of 
 Thy mercy and the sweetness of Thy grace, whereby, every 
 one that is weak is made strong, when by means of it he 
 becomes conscious within himself of his own weakness, and 
 it delighteth the good to hear the past sins of them, that 
 now have abandoned them ; but it delights them not 
 because they are evil, but because they were, and are so 
 no longer. With what fruit then, O Lord my God, to 
 whom day by day my conscience confesseth, trusting rather 
 in the hope of Thy mercy than in its own innocence, with 
 what fruit, I ask, do I, by this book, confess to men also in 
 Thy presence, what I now am, not what I have been? 
 Forjthat other fruit I have seen and described. But what 
 I^now am, at the very time of making these confessions, 
 many desire to know, who have or have not known me, 
 who have heard from me or of me ; but their ear is 
 not at my heart, where I am, whatever I am. They 
 wish then to hear me confess what I am within ; whither 
 they can penetrate neither with eye, nor ear, nor mind; 
 they are even willing to believe; but will they know? 
 For charity, whence they gain their goodness, telleth 
 them that in my confessions I lie not ; and she in them, 
 believeth me. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 He declares what results he hopeth for from his Confessions, 
 
 BUT for what fruit do they desire this? Are they 
 ^ desirous to rejoice with me when they have heard 
 
 how near to Thee I draw by Thy bounty, and to pray for 
 
1 84 The Confessions of S. Augustine, 
 
 me when they have heard how much I am hindered by my 
 own weight ? To such will I discover myself. For it is no 
 small fruit, O Lord my God, " that by many thanks should 
 be given to Thee on our behalf" (2 Cor. i. 11), and that 
 Thou shouldest be entreated by many for us. Let the 
 fraternal spirit love in me, what Thou teachest is to be 
 loved, and lament in me, what Thou teachest is to be 
 lamented. This let a fraternal spirit do, not a stranger's^ 
 not that of the " strange children, whose mouth talketh of 
 vanity, and their right hand is a right hand of iniquity" 
 (Ps. cxliv. 11), but that fraternal spirit which, when it 
 approveth me, rejoiceth for me, and when it disapproveth 
 me, sorroweth for me; because whetlier it approveth or 
 disapproveth, it loveth me. To such will I discover myself; 
 at that which is good in me let them draw breath with joy, 
 at what is ill, let them breathe a sigh. All my good is 
 Thy appointment, and Thy gift ; all my evil mine own 
 faults, and Thy judgments. For the one let them draw 
 breath with joy, for the other let them sigh — and let their 
 hymn and their lamentation both ascend into Thy Presence, 
 from their fraternal hearts, which are Thy censers. But do 
 Thou, O Lord, rejoicing in the sweet perfume of Thy Holy 
 Temple, " have mercy upon me after Thy great goodness " 
 (Ps. li.), for Thy Name's sake; and by no means forsaking 
 what Thou hast begun, make perfect my imperfections. 
 
 This is the fruit of my confessions, not of what I have 
 been, but of what I am, that I may confess this not only 
 before Thee, with a secret "rejoicing with trembling'* 
 (Ps. ii. 11), and a secret sorrowing with hope, but also in 
 the ears of the sons of men who believe, the companions of 
 my joy, and partakers of my mortality, fellow citizens and 
 fellow pilgrims with me, whether they are gone before, or 
 follow after, or tread with me the path of life. These are 
 Thy servants, my brethren, whom Thou hast willed to 
 be Thy sons; my masters, whom Thou hast bidden me 
 serve, if I would live with Thee, of Thee. But this Thy 
 Word were all too little for me, did it in speech alone 
 enjoin, and not in deed prevent. And this I do both in 
 deeds and words, this I do " beneath Thy wings " in peril 
 too great, were not my soul subdued to Thee beneath Thy 
 wings, and my weakness known to Thee. I am but a little 
 one, but my Father ever liveth, and my Guardian is " suffi- 
 
The Confessions of S. Augustine, 185 
 
 cient for me." For He is the same who hath begotten 
 and doth guard me ; and Thou Thyself art all my good ; 
 Thou Almighty, Who art with me, yea, before I am with 
 Thee. To such then as Thou biddest me serve, will I 
 discover, not what I have been, but what I now am and 
 what I yet may be. But yet "I judge not mine own self" 
 (i Cor. iv. 3). Thus therefore I would be heard. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 Our confessions cannot but be imperfect ; for man knoweth not himself 
 as God kno-weth. 
 
 FOR " Thou, Lord, dost judge me : " because, although 
 " no man knoweth the things of a man, but the spirit of 
 a man which is in him," yet is there something of man, which 
 not even "the spirit of man that is in him," itself "knoweth" 
 (i Cor. ii. 11). But Thou, Lord, who hast made him, 
 knowest all concerning him. Yet I, though in Thy sight I 
 despise myself, and account myself " dust and ashes ; " yet 
 know 1 something of Thee, which I know not of myself. 
 And in truth " now we see through a glass darkly," not yet 
 "face to face" (i Cor. xiii. 12); and therefore so long as I 
 wander far off from Thee, I am more present with myself 
 than with Thee ; and yet I know that Thou canst in no way 
 suffer harm. But what temptations I can resist, what I 
 cannot, I know not. Yet there is hope, because "Thou 
 art faithful. Who wilt not suffer us to be tempted above that 
 we are able ; but wilt with the temptation also make a way 
 to escape, that we may be able to bear it" (i Cor. x. 13). 
 I will confess then what I know of myself, I will confess 
 also what I know not of myself ; since what I do know of 
 myself, I know by Thy shining upon me ; and what I know 
 not of myself, I know not only, until "my darkness be 
 made as the noon-day " (Is. Iviii. 10) in Thy countenance. 
 
1 86 The Confessions of S. Augustine, 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 He searcheth throughout the material creation^ wherein he findeth not 
 God ; though it speaketh of Him. 
 
 NOT with doubting, but with assured consciousness, do 
 I love Thee, Lord. Thou hast stricken my heart 
 with Thy word, and I loved Thee. Yea also "heaven and 
 earth, and all that therein is," behold, on every side they bid 
 me love Thee ; nor cease to say so unto all, " that they may 
 be without excuse" (Rom. i. 20). But more deeply "wilt 
 Thou have mercy on whom Thou wilt have mercy, and wilt 
 have compassion on whom Thou wilt have compassion " 
 (Rom. ix. 15), or else the heaven and the earth declare Thy 
 praises to deaf ears. But what do I love, when I love 
 Thee ? not beauty of the body, nor harmony of time, nor 
 the brilliancy of light, so pleasant to these eyes, nor sweet 
 melodies of every kind of song, nor the sweet scent of 
 flowers, and perfumes, and spices, not manna and honey, 
 not limbs inviting to fleshly embrace. Not these do I love, 
 when I love my God ; and yet I love a kind of light, and 
 melody, and fragrance, and food, and embrace, when I love 
 my God, the light, melody, fragrance, food, embrace of my 
 inward man : where there shineth upon my soul, what space 
 containeth not, and where resoundeth what time stealeth 
 not away, and where is fragrance that a breath scattereth 
 not, and where there is flavour that eating lesseneth not, and 
 where there is an embrace that satiety rendeth not asunder. 
 This I love, when I love my God. 
 
 And what is this ? I asked the earth, and it answered me, 
 " I am not He ; " and all that therein is confessed the same. 
 I asked the sea and the depths, and the creeping things with 
 life, and they answered, " We are not thy God, seek thou 
 above us." I asked the breezy gales ; and the airy universe, 
 and all its denizens replied, " Anaximenes is mistaken. I 
 am not God." I asked heaven, sun, moon, stars, "neither 
 are we," say they, " the God whom thou seekest." And I 
 said unto all things which stand about the gateways of my 
 flesh ; " Ye have told me of my God, that ye are not He ; 
 tell me something of Him." And they cried out with a loud 
 voice, " He made us." My study of them was my question 
 to them ; their beauty their response to me. And I turned 
 
The Co7ifessions of S. Augustine. 187 
 
 myself unto myself, and said to myself, "What art thou?" 
 And I answered, " A man." And behold, in me there con- 
 front me soul and body, the one without, the other within. 
 Which is it of these, wherein I ought to seek my God, whom 
 I had already sought through the body from earth even to 
 heaven, as far as I could send as messengers the beams of 
 mine eyes. But that which is within is the better ; for to it 
 all the bodily members made report, as to a president and 
 judge, concerning the several responses of heaven and earth, 
 and all things therein, which said " We are not God, but He 
 made us." The inner man knew this by the agency of the 
 outer — my inward self knew this, I myself, I, the living soul 
 through the senses of my body. I questioned the whole 
 fabric of the world about my God ; and it replied to me, 
 " I am not He, but He made me." 
 
 Is not this beauty manifest to all whose perception is 
 sound ? why then speaks it not the same to all ? Animals 
 small and great see it, but they cannot question it : because 
 reason is not placed in the seat of judgment over their 
 senses, to receive their reports. But men can ask, so that 
 " the invisible things of God are clearly seen, being under- 
 stood by the things that are made" (Rom. i. 20) ; but by 
 love of them, they are made subject unto them ; and being 
 subject, cannot judge. Nor yet do the creatures answer 
 such as ask, unless they can judge : they do not indeed 
 change their tone, that is their appearance, because one only 
 looks upon them, while another looks upon and ques- 
 tions them, so as to present one appearance to the one, 
 another to the other; but having the same appearance 
 to each, to one it is dumb, to the other it is eloquent ; or 
 rather to all it is eloquent : but they only understand who 
 compare its tone, perceived without, with the truth within. 
 For the truth saith unto me, " Neither heaven, nor earth 
 nor any material thing is thy God." This, their very nature 
 saith to him that seeth them ; " They are a mass ; a mass is 
 less in a part thereof, than in the whole." Now to thee I 
 speak, O my soul, thou art my better part : for thou 
 quickenest the mass of my body, giving it life, which no 
 body can give to a body : but thy God is even unto thee 
 the Life of thy life. 
 
1 88 The Confessions of S, Augustine. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 Neither doth he find God in any vital or sentient faculty within himself, 
 
 WHAT then do I love, when I love my God? who is 
 He above the head of my soul ? By my very soul 
 will I ascend to Him. I will pass beyond that power 
 whereby I am united to my body, and fill its whole frame 
 with life. Nor can I by that power find my God ; for so 
 " horse and mule that have no understanding " (Ps. xxxii. 9), 
 might find Him ; seeing it is the same power, whereby even 
 their bodies Hve. But another power there is, not that only 
 whereby I animate, but that too whereby I render sentient 
 that flesh, which the Lord hath fashioned for me ; which 
 bids the eye not to hear, and the ear not to see ; but the 
 former, that I may see by it, the latter that I may hear by 
 it : and the other senses respectively their own positions 
 and functions, all of which are different, while I, the one 
 living mind, act through them. I will pass beyond this 
 power of mine also ; for this also have the horse and mule, 
 for they also perceive through the body. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 He seeketh Him in his ineviojy ; and descrihcih its wonders, 
 
 I WILL pass then beyond this power of my nature also, 
 rising by degrees unto Him, who made me. And I 
 come to the fields and spreading courts of memory, where 
 are treasures of unnumbered impressions of things of every 
 kind, stored by the senses. There is hoarded even what we 
 imagine, whether by increasing or diminishing, or in any 
 way varying what sense hath observed : and whatever else 
 hath been entrusted to it, and laid up, which forge tfulness 
 hath not yet swallowed up and buried. When I am there 
 I require what I will, to be brought forth, and some things 
 appear forthwith ; for some things the search is longer, and 
 they seem to be dragged out of some more secret retreats ; 
 some things rush forth in crowds, and while another is 
 being hunted up, and sought after, leap into notice, as 
 
 i 
 
The Confessions of S. Augustine. 189 
 
 though they were saying " Is it not us by chance ? " And 
 with my heart's hand I brush them from the face of my 
 recollection, until what I want looks out from the clouds^ 
 and comes forth from its lurking places into sight. Other 
 things are easily suggested, and in an unbroken order, when 
 called for, the antecedents make way for the consequents, 
 aud as they depart, are put away, ready to come forth again, 
 when I shall desire. All this happens when I tell a thing 
 got by heart. There all things are kept distinct, and 
 according to their kind, as many as have been brought in, 
 each through his own approach : as light, and all colours 
 and material forms, through the eyes ; but through the ears 
 all kinds of sounds ; all odours through the approach of the 
 nostrils ; all flavours by the approach of the mouth ; but by 
 the general perception of the whole body, what is hard, 
 what soft, what hot or cold, smooth or rough, heavy or 
 light, whether external or internal to the body. All these 
 doth that vast hall of memory (and I know not what secret 
 and untold passages she hath) receive to bring forth at need, 
 and to examine again ; all of which enter through their own 
 gateways, and are laid up in her; nor do they themselves 
 enter, but impressions of things perceived by sense are 
 ready there, for reflection to recall them. And who can 
 tell how these images were fashioned ? though it is clear 
 enough by what senses they have been seized, and hidden 
 away within. For even while I am dwelling in darkness 
 and in silence, in my memory, if I choose it, 1 can call up 
 colours, and distinguish between white and black, and 
 whatsoever others I will ; nor do sounds rush in to disturb 
 my meditation upon what was drawn in by my eyes, though 
 they too are there, and seem to be put away and remain 
 hidden in a place apart. For I call for them too at my 
 pleasure, and there they are forthwith. And though my 
 tongue be still, and my throat silent, I sing as much as I 
 like ; and those images of colours, which are there no less, 
 do not thrust themselves forward, nor interrupt, when 
 another treasure, which poured in at the ears, is again being 
 dealt with. So also I recall other things, which have been 
 imported and stored up through my other senses, just as I 
 please : and the scent of lilies I can distinguish from that 
 of violets, though actually smelling nothing; and I can 
 prefer honey to mead, the smooth to the rough, though at 
 
190 The Confessions of S. Augustine, 
 
 the moment making use of neither taste nor touch, but 
 only of remembrance. 
 
 This I do within, in the huge hall of my memory. For 
 there the heaven, and the earth, and the sea, with all that in 
 them is which I have been able to discern by sense, are 
 ready to my hand, saving only such things as I have for- 
 gotten. There also I meet with myself, and I remember 
 myself, what I did, and when, and where, and in what way, 
 when I did it, I was affected by it. There are all things I 
 remember, whether such as have arisen within my own 
 experience, or those to which I have given credit. More- 
 over out of the same copious store I weave in with the 
 past varying impressions of things either experienced, or 
 such as I have believed from my own experience; and 
 from these again forecast actions, events, and hopes ; and 
 I exercise myself in them all, as though really present 
 again. " This or that will I do," I say to myself, in that 
 vast secret chamber of my mind, filled with images of things 
 so many and so great, " and this or that will follow." " O 
 that it might be that or the other ! " " God forbid this or 
 that." Such things within myself I say, and while I am 
 saying them the images of all are before me, out of that 
 same treasury of memory, nor could I say them at all if 
 they were wanting there. Great is that power of memory, 
 too great, my God, that wide and unbounded sanctuary. 
 Who can come at the depth of it ? And this is a power of 
 my soul, and belongs to my nature, nor can I even myself 
 take in the whole of what I am. Therefore the mind is 
 too narrow to contain itself And where can that portion 
 of it be, which itself cannot take in ? Is it outside itself, 
 and not in itself? How then is it that it cannot take it in ? 
 A great amazement arises with me, upon this ; surprise 
 astounds me. And men travel to enjoy the heights of 
 mountains, and the mighty billows of the sea, and the wide 
 flowing tides of rivers, and the expanse of ocean, and the 
 circuits of the stars, and leave themselves behind, and feel 
 no wonder that though I speak of all these things, I do not 
 see them with mine eyes ; and yet I could not speak of 
 them, did I not see within in my memory, in those spaces 
 so vast, mountains, and billows, and rivers, and stars, which 
 I have seen, and ocean, of which I have heard, as though I 
 were looking upon them without. Yet I did not swallow 
 
The Confessions of S. Augustine, 191 
 
 them up by looking at them, when I saw them with these 
 eyes : nor are they themselves within me, but their images. 
 And I know from what bodily sense each impression in me 
 hath been derived. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 Xn what way the liberal sciences may be said to be in the memory. 
 
 BUT not only these things doeth that unmeasured 
 spaciousness of my memory contain. Here too are 
 ail those things which I have learnt of the liberal sciences, 
 and not forgotten, put back as it were in an inward place, 
 which is no place \ nor have I there the images of these 
 things, but the things themselves. For what literature is, 
 what skill in discussion, how many kinds of questions there 
 are, what ever I know about these things, is in such a 
 manner contained in my memory, that I do not keep the 
 image, and leave the thing itself without, neither hath it 
 sounded and passed by, as a voice imprinted through the 
 ears by some impress, whereby it might be recalled as 
 though it still sounded, when it hath already ceased to 
 sound : or as a sweet odour affects the organ of smell, while 
 it is passing by, and being dissipated in the air, whence it 
 casts upon the memory an image of itself, which we recall 
 in recollection ; or as food, which certainly hath no taste 
 when it hath reached the stomach, still has a sort of taste 
 in the memory. Indeed these things themselves are not 
 admitted to it, but only their images are caught with 
 wonderful speed, and are laid by, as though in wonderful 
 cabinets, and wonderfully brought forth again by recollecting 
 tliem. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 Of the channels through which literature has access to the memory. 
 
 BUT when I hear that there are three kinds of questions : 
 namely, whether a thing is ? what it is ? of what kind 
 it is ? I retain indeed images of the sounds, of which these 
 words are composed, and I know that they themselves have 
 
192 The Confessions of S. Augtistine, 
 
 passed through the air with a vibration, and exist no longer ; 
 but the things themselves, signified by those sounds, I have 
 neither touched upon with any bodily sense, nor have I seen 
 them anywhere beyond my mind : and in my memory I 
 have stored away not their images but themselves, and 
 whence they found entrance to me let them tell if they can. 
 For I pass through all the doors of my flesh, nor find I 
 through which of them they made their entry. For the 
 eyes say, "if they are coloured, we ushered them in;" the 
 ears say, " if they sounded, they were declared by us ; " the 
 nostrils say, ** if they have any smell, they passed through 
 by us;" the sense of taste says, "if they have no flavour, 
 ask me nothing about them ; " touch says, " if it have not 
 bulk, I have not handled it, and if I have not handled it, I 
 have not shown it in. Whence and how have they found 
 entrance to my memory ? I know not how ; for when I 
 learnt them, I did not believe them in another's mind, but 
 recognised them in my own, and proved their truth, and 
 entrusted them to it, just as if putting them away some- 
 where, whence I could fetch them out when I chose. There 
 therefore they were, even before I had learned them, 
 but in memory they were not. Where then were they? or 
 why when they were spoken, did I assent to them and say 
 " It is so, it is true," unless they were already in my memory, 
 but so far off, and so concealed, as if in very secret corners, 
 that unless dragged out by the suggestion of another, I 
 could not even by chance think of them. 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 How things are learnt by the memory* 
 
 WHEREFORE we conclude that to learn those things, 
 whose images we do not imbibe through our senses, 
 but discern themselves by themselves within us, but without 
 images as they are, is nothing else than to collect as it were 
 by thought, those things which the memory held though 
 promiscuously and without arrangement, and to provide by 
 heedful consideration, that they may be placed ready to 
 hand in that same memory, where before they were lurking 
 scattered and neglected, so as to easily occur to the mind once 
 
The Confessions of S. Augustine, 193 
 
 familiarised with them. And how many things of this kind 
 does my memory bear which have been already found out, 
 and as I said, placed as it were at hand, which we are said to 
 have learned and come to know; which were I for some short 
 space of time to cease to call to mind, they are again so 
 buried, and glide back, as it were, into the more distant secret 
 chambers, that they must, as though new, be thought out 
 again from thence (for other abode they have none), and be 
 driven together again, that they may be known ; that is to say, 
 they must as it were be collected together from their disper- 
 sion : whence the word " to cogitate" is derived. For "cogo" 
 and "cogito" (/.^.,"I drive together," and ''I ponder upon ") 
 have the same connection as "ago" with "agito," and "facio" 
 with " factito." But the mind has claimed this word for its 
 own exclusive use, so that not what is collected elsewhere, 
 but only what is collected in the mind, that is, is " driven 
 together/' can properly be described as " pondered upon." 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 Of the memory of numbers. 
 
 THE memory containeth also reasons and laws innumer- 
 able of numbers and dimensions, none of which hath 
 any bodily sense impressed ; seeing they have neither colour, 
 nor sound, nor scent, nor taste, nor bulk. I have heard the 
 sound of the words whereby when discussed they are de- 
 noted : but the sounds are of one kind, the things them- 
 selves are quite different. For the sounds differ in Greek 
 and in Latin ; but the things are neither Greek nor Latin, 
 nor any other language. I have seen the lines of craftsmen ; 
 as fine as possible, like the gossamer of a spider ; but these 
 things are of another kind ; they are not the images of those 
 which my fleshly eye has made known to me. He only 
 knoweth them, who without any conception of any kind of 
 body hath recognised them within himself. I have perceived 
 also the numbers of the things with which we number all 
 the senses of my body ; but those numbers wherewith we 
 number, are different, nor are they the images of these, and 
 therefore they indeed are. Let him who seeth them not, 
 deride me for saying these things, and I will pity him, while 
 he derides me. 
 
194 l^he Confessions of S. Augustine, 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 Of the memory of remembrances ; and of the memory of the emotion^ 
 of the mind. 
 
 ALL these things I keep m my memory, and how I learnt 
 them I keep in my memory. Many things also most 
 falsely objected against them have I heard, and keep in my 
 memory, which though they be false, yet is it not false that 
 I remember them ; and I remember also that I have dis- 
 tinguished between those truths and these falsehoods alleged 
 against them. And I perceive that to distinguish between 
 them now, and to remember that I have often distinguished 
 between them, when I have many times pondered over them, 
 are quite different things. I remember therefore both that I 
 have often understood these things ; and also, I stow away in 
 my memory what I now discern and understand, that here- 
 after I may remember that I understood it now. Therefore 
 I remember also the fact that I have remembered ; so that 
 if afterwards I recall that I have now been able to remem- 
 ber, I shall certainly recall it by the power of memory. The 
 emotions also of the mind this same memory contains, 
 though not in the same way as the mind itself holds them, 
 when it is enduring them \ but in a very different manner, 
 according to its own power. For without rejoicing I 
 remember that I did rejoice \ and without sorrow I recollect 
 my past sorrows ; and that I was '* sometime afraid " I recall 
 without present fear ; and I call to mind an ancient desire 
 without renewal of desire. Nay, on the contrary, I am 
 sometimes glad when I remember past sorrow, and sorry 
 when recalling joy. 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 That the recollection of certain emotions doth not awaken similar 
 emotions. 
 
 AND this is not remarkable with regard to the body ; for 
 mind is one thing, body another. If I therefore with 
 joy remember some past pain of body, it is not so wonder- 
 ful ; but here is the marvel, in that memory itself is mind. 
 
The Confessions of S. Augustine. 195 
 
 for when we are bidding one to hold anything in memory, 
 we say, " See that you keep it in mind ; " and when we 
 forget, we say, " It was not in my mind," or, " It slipped 
 out of my mind," calling the memory itself the mind. Since 
 then this is so, how is it, that when with joy I remember 
 my past sorrow, the mind hath joy, and the memory 
 sorrow ; but the mind has joy by reason of the gladness in 
 it, while the memory is not sad by reason of the sorrow 
 that is in it ? Does the memory perchance not belong to 
 the mind ? Who will say so ? The memory then is a sort 
 of belly of the mind, and joy and sadness a kind of food, 
 sweet or bitter ; when these are entrusted to the memory, 
 they are passed into a kind of belly ; and there they can be 
 stowed, but can no longer have a flavour. Ridiculous it is 
 to imagine these to be alike \ and yet are they not utterly 
 unlike. 
 
 But see I am drawing upon my memory, when I say 
 there are four emotions of the mind, desire, joy, fear, 
 sorrow ; and whatever discussion I may hold upon them, 
 by dividing each into its subordinate species, and by defin- 
 ing it, it is there that I find what to say, and thence I pro- 
 duce it : yet am I not moved by any of these emotions, 
 when by calling them to mind, I remember them ; and even 
 before I recalled them, and dealt with them again, they 
 were there ; and therefore could they, by recollection, thence 
 be brought. Perchance, then, as meat from the belly by 
 rumination, so by recollection these are brought up again 
 from the memory. Why then is not the sweetness of joy, 
 or the bitterness of sorrow, tasted in the mouth of his 
 thought by the disputant, that is, by him who remembers ? 
 Is the comparison unlike in this, because not in all respects 
 like ? For who would willingly speak of such things if as 
 often as we name grief or fear, we should be compelled to 
 be sad or fearful ? And yet we could not speak of them, 
 did we not find in our memory, not only the sounds of the 
 names according to the images impressed by the bodily 
 senses, but notions of the very things themselves which we 
 have received through no fleshly gateway, but which the 
 mind itself perceiving by the experience of its own passions, 
 committed to the memory, or the memory of itself retained, 
 though they were not entrusted to it. 
 
1 9-5 The Confessions oj S, Augustine. 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 That images of things present as welt as absent are retained in the 
 memory. 
 
 BUT whether by images or no, who can readily say? 
 Thus, I name a stone, I name the sun, the things 
 themselves not being present to my senses, but their images 
 to my memory. I name a bodily pain, yet it is not present 
 with me, when nothing aches: yet unless its image were 
 present in my memory, I should not know what to say of 
 it, neither in discussion about it could I distinguish it from 
 pleasure. I name bodily health ; being sound in body, the 
 thing itself is present with me; yet, unless its image also 
 were present in my memory, I could by no means recall 
 what the sound of this name should signify. Nor would 
 the sick, when health were named, understand what was 
 being spoken of, unless the same image were retained by 
 the power of memory, although the thing itself were absent 
 from the body. I name numbers whereby we number; 
 and not their images, but themselves are present in my 
 memory. I name the image of the sun, and that image 
 is present in my memory. For I recall not the image of 
 its image, but itself; there it is itself when I remember it. 
 I name memory, r.nd I recognise what I name. And where 
 do I recognise it, but in the memory itself? Is it also 
 present to itself by its image, and not by itself? 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 Of the memory of forget fulness. 
 
 WHAT, when I name forgetfulness, and withal recognise 
 what I name ? whence should I recognise it, unless 
 I remembered it ? I am not speaking of the sound of the 
 name, but of the thing which it signifies : and if I had 
 forgotten this, I certainly should not be able to recognise 
 what the sound meant. When then I remember memory, 
 memory itself is, through itself, present with itself: but 
 when I remember forgetfulness, there are present both 
 memory and forgetfulness j memory by which I remember. 
 
The Confessio7is of S, Augustine, 197 
 
 forgetfulness which I remember. But what is forgetfulness^ 
 but the privation of memory ? How then is it present that 
 I remember it, since when it is present I cannot remember ? 
 But if we remember anything, we keep it in memory ; but 
 unless we remembered forgetfulness, we could not in any 
 way realise, upon hearing that word, the thing which it 
 denotes. Forgetfulness therefore is retained in the memory. 
 It is present then that we may not forget, yet when it is 
 present, we forget. Is it to be understood from this, that 
 forgetfulness, when we remember it, is not present to the 
 memory by itself, but by its image: because if it were 
 present by itself, it would not cause us to remember, but to 
 forget ? Who now shall search out this ? who shall com- 
 prehend how it is ? 
 
 Lord, I, truly, toil therein, yea and toil in myself j I am 
 become a difficult soil, demanding excessive " sweat." For 
 we are not now exploring tracts of sky, or measuring the 
 distances of the stars, or enquiring into the gravity of the 
 earth. It is I myself who remember, I a rational mind. 
 It would not be so wonderful if something not myself were 
 so far out of my reach. But what is nearer to me than 
 myself? And lo, the power of mine own memory is not 
 understood by me ; though I cannot so much as name 
 myself without it. For what shall I say, when it is clear to 
 me that I remember forgetfulness ? Shall I say that that is 
 ,jjQt in my memory, which I remember? or shall I say that 
 forgetfulness is in my memory, on purpose that I should 
 not forget? Either is most absurd. What third course is 
 there ? How can I say that the image of forgetfulness is 
 retained by my memory, not forgetfulness itself, when I re- 
 member it ? How could I say this either, seeing that when 
 the image of anything is impressed on the memory, the 
 thing itself must needs be first present, whence that image 
 may be impressed? For thus do I remember Carthage, 
 thus all places where I have been, thus the faces of men I 
 have seen, and things reported by the other senses ; thus, 
 too, the health or sickness of the body. For when these 
 things were present, my memory received from them images, 
 which, being present with me, I might look on and go over 
 again in my mind, when they were gone and I remembered 
 them. If then this forgetfulness is retained in the memory 
 through its image, not through itself, then plainly, itself was. 
 
198 The Confessions of S. Augustine. 
 
 once present, that its image might be received. But when 
 it was present, how did it sketch its image in the memory, 
 seeing that by its presence it obHterates even what it finds 
 already jotted down? And yet, in whatever way, although 
 that way be incomprehensible and inexplicable, yet^ certain 
 am I that I remember even that very forgetfulness* wherein 
 what we remember is overwhelmed. 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 Though the power of memory be vast and wonderful^ he passeth beyond 
 it in his search after God. "*" " 
 
 GREAT is the power of memory, a fearful thing, O my God, 
 a deep and boundless manifoldness ; and this thing 
 is the rational mind, and this am I myself. What am I then, 
 O my God ? What nature am I ? A life various and mani- 
 fold, and vast exceedingly. Behold in the plains, and caves, 
 and caverns of my memory, innumerable and innumerably 
 full of innumerable kinds of things, either through images, 
 as all bodies J or by actual presence, as'the arts ; or by cer- 
 tam notions or impressions, as the emotions of the mind, 
 which, even when the mind doth not undergo, the memory 
 retaineth, while yet whatsoever is in the memory, is also in 
 the mind — through all these do I run, and flit hither and 
 thither ; I penetrate them as far as I can, and there is no 
 limit. So great is the power of memory, so great the power 
 of life in mortal man. What shall I do then, O Thou my 
 true life, my God ? I will pass even beyond this power of 
 mine which is called memory : yea, I will pass beyond it, 
 that I may even attain unto Thee, O sweet Light. What 
 sayest Thou to me ? See, I am mounting up through my 
 mind towards Thee who abidest above me : and I now will 
 pass beyond this power of mine which is called memory, 
 desirous to reach unto Thee, where Thou mayest be 
 reached ; and to cleave unto Thee, whence one may cleave 
 unto Thee. For even beasts and birds have memory ; else 
 could they not return to their dens and nests, nor many 
 other things they are used unto : nor indeed could they be 
 used to any thing, but by memory. I will pass then beyond 
 memory also, that I may arrive at Him who hath separated 
 
The Confessions of S. Augustiize. 199 
 
 me from the four-footed beasts and made me wiser than the 
 fowls of the air. I will pass beyond memory also, and where 
 shall I find Thee, Thou truly good and certain sweetness. 
 And where shall I find Thee ? 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 How what is losi^ must still remain in the memory^ that it may be 
 found again. 
 
 IF I find Thee without my memory, then have I not 
 Thee in my remembrance. And how shall I find Thee 
 if I have Thee not in remembrance? For the woman that 
 had lost her groat (S. Luke xv. i) and sought it with a 
 light ; unless she had remembered it, could not have found 
 it. For when it was found, whence should she know 
 whether it were the same, if she had no remembrance of it? 
 I remember to have sought and found many a lost thing ; 
 and this I thereby know, that when I was seeking any of 
 them, and was asked, "Is this it?" "Is that it?" so long 
 said I " No," until that was offered me which I was seeking. 
 And had I not remembered it, whatever it was, even had it 
 been offered to me I should not have found it, for I should 
 not have been able to recognise it. And so it ever is, when 
 we seek and find any lost thing. Notwithstanding, when 
 any thing is by chance lost from the sight, not from the 
 memory, yet, like some visible body, its image is still re- 
 tained within, and it is sought until it is restored to sight, 
 and when it has been found, it is recognised by its cor- 
 respondence with the inward image; nor do we say that 
 we have found what was lost, unless we recognise it ; nor 
 can we recognise it, unless we remember it. This thing 
 then was lost only to the eyes; in the memory it was 
 retained 
 
200 The Confessions of S. Augustine, 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 That forgotten things are not wholly lost by the memory ; or if 
 wholly lost cannot he recovered. 
 
 BUT what when the memory itself loses anything, which 
 happens when we forget, and seek to recollect? 
 where do we finally search but in the memory itself? and 
 there, if one thing be perchance offered instead of another, 
 we reject it, until we meet with that of which we are in 
 search, and when we have met with it, we say, " This is it ; " 
 which we should not say unless we recognised it, nor recog- 
 nise it unless we remembered it. But we had certainly for- 
 gotten it. Or is it that it had not entirely escaped us ? but 
 by some portion which we retained, the other part was 
 sought for ; because the memory perceived that it was not 
 making the wonted associations, and as though halting 
 through the maiming of its wonted operation, kept pressing 
 for the restoration of what was missing? For instance, if 
 we see with our eyes, or only think of somebody we know, 
 but forget his name, and are trying to recall it, if any other 
 should occur to us, it does not connect itself with him, 
 because we have never been accustomed to associate it with 
 him, and we therefore reject it, until that comes back to us 
 whereon at once our usual recognition easily settles. And 
 whence does that present itself, but out of the memory 
 itself? for even when we recognise it, on being reminded 
 by another, it is thence it comes. For we do not give 
 credit to it as a novelty, but remember it, and acknowledge 
 that it is as stated to us. But \yere it utterly blotted out of 
 the mind, we should not remember it, even when reminded. 
 For we have not as yet utterly forgotten that, which we still 
 remember that we have forgotten. So we cannot even seek 
 what is lost, if we have utterly forgotten it. 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 With what manner of desire men seek the Blessed Life ; and what 
 knowledge they have <^fit, 
 
 HOW then do I seek Thee, O Lord ? For when I seek 
 Thee, my God, I seek the blessed life. " I will seek 
 Thee that my soul may live " (Amos v. 6). For my body 
 
The Confessions of S. Augustine. 201 
 
 llveth by my soul ; and my soul by Thee. How then do I 
 seek the blessed life ? for it is not mine until X can say, 
 there where I ought to say it, *' It is enough " ? How do I 
 seek it? Is it by remembrance as though I had for- 
 gotten it, yet still retained that I had forgotten it? or 
 by desiring to learn it as a thing unknown, whether 
 I had never known it, or so forgotten it, as not even to 
 remember that I had forgotten it ? Is not the blessed life 
 that which all desire, so that there is absolutely none that 
 does not desire it? Where have they known it, that they 
 so desire it ? where seen it that they so love it ? Truly we 
 have it, how, I know riot. Yea, there is another way, where- 
 in when one hath it, for the time he is happy ; and there 
 are those who are happy in hope. These have it in a lower 
 degree, than they who have it in very deed ; yet are they 
 better off than such as are happy neither in deed nor in 
 hope. Yet even these, had they it not in some sort, would 
 not so will to be happy ; but that they do will it is most 
 certain. They have known it then, I know not how, and 
 so have it by some sort of knowledge, what I know not, and 
 am doubtful whether it be in the mem.ory ; because if it be 
 there, then we must have formerly been happy. Whether 
 each individually, or all in that man who first sinned, " in 
 whom also we all died" (i Cor. xv. 22), and from whom we 
 are all born with misery, I now enquire not ; but only, 
 whether the blessed life be in the memory ? for we could 
 not love it, unless we knew it. We hear the name, and 
 confess that we all desire the thing itself ; it is not the mere 
 sound that charms us. For when a Greek hears it in Latin, 
 he is not charmed because he knows not what is said ; but 
 he would be as pleased as we are if he heard it in Greek ; 
 because the thing itself is neither Greek nor Latin, which 
 Greeks and Latins, and men of all other tongues pant to 
 attain. Know therefore it is to all, for could they with one 
 voice be asked, "would they be happy?" they would 
 answer without any hesitation that " they would." And this 
 could not be, unless the thing itself whereof it is the name, 
 were retained in their memory. 
 
202 The Confessions of S. Augustine 
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 Whence do we derive ouf memory of the blessed life ? 
 
 BUT is it in the same way as one, who has seen it, re- 
 members Carthage ? No. For the blessed Hfe is not 
 seen with the eye, because it is not material. Is it as 
 we remember numbers then? No. For he that has these 
 in his knowledge, seeks no further to attain them : but the 
 blessed life, we have in our knowledge, and therefore love 
 it, and yet still desire to attain it, that we may be happy. 
 As we remember eloquence then? No. For although 
 upon hearing this name also, some call to mind the thing, 
 who still are not yet eloquent, and many who desire to be so, 
 whence it appears that it is in their knowledge ; yet these 
 have by their bodily senses observed others to be eloquent, 
 and been delighted, and desire to become so, although 
 except from some inward knowledge they would not be de- 
 lighted, nor wish to become the like, unless they were 
 delighted. But the blessed life we do not by any bodily 
 sense know by our experience from others. Is it as we re- 
 member joy ? Perhaps it may be. For even when sad I re- 
 member my joy, so doth the wretched the happy life ; nor did 
 I ever with bodily sense see, hear, smell, taste, or touch my 
 joy ; but I experienced it in my mind, when I rejoiced ; and 
 the knowledge of it clave to my memory, so that I can recall 
 it, sometimes with disgust, sometimes with regret, according 
 to the various nature of the things, on account of which I 
 remember that I have rejoiced. For even from foul things 
 have I been pervaded with a sort of joy ; which now recalling, 
 I detest and execrate; sometimes also from good and honour- 
 able things ; and I now recall them with regret, although 
 perchance no longer present ; and therefore with sadness I 
 recall former joy. 
 
 Where then and when did I experience my blessed life, 
 that I should remember and love, and crave for it? Nor is 
 it I alone, or some few besides, but absolutely all would 
 fain be happy. And unless we knew of it by some certain 
 knowledge, we should not wish for it with so certain a will. 
 But how is it that if two men were asked whether they 
 would like to enlist for soldiers, one, perchance would 
 answer that he would, the other, that he would not ; but it 
 
The Confessions of S. Augustine. 203 
 
 they were asked, whether they would be happy, both would 
 instantly without any hesitation say they would ; and for no 
 other reason would the one enlist, and the other not, but 
 that they might be happy. Is it perchance, that as one 
 looks for his joy in this thing, another in that, all agree in 
 their desire of being happy, as they would (if they were 
 asked), that they wished to have joy, and this joy they call 
 a happy life ? Although then one obtains this joy by one 
 means, another by another, all have one end, which they 
 strive to attain, namely joy. And since this is a thing 
 which none can say that he has never experienced, it is 
 therefore found in the memory, and recognised whenever 
 the name of a blessed life is mentioned. 
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 The trtce joy of the blessed life. 
 
 FAR be it, Lord, far be it from the heart of Thy servant 
 who here confesseth unto Thee, far be it, that, be the 
 joy what it may, I should therefore think myself happy. 
 For there is a " joy " which is " not " given " to the ungodly " 
 (Is. xlviii. 22), but to those who worship Thee for Thine 
 own „sake, whose joy Thou Thyself art. And this is the 
 blessed life, to rejoice to Thee, of Thee, for Thee ; this it is, 
 and there is no other. For they who think there is another, 
 pursue some other joy, and not the true. But their will is 
 not turned away from some shadow of joy. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 That all desire joy in the truth, 
 
 IT is not certain then that all wish to be happy, inasmuch 
 as they who wish not to joy in Thee, which is the only 
 blessed life, do not truly desire the blessed Hfe. Or do all 
 men desire this, but " because the flesh lusteth against the 
 Spirit, and the Spirit against the flesh, so that they cannot 
 do the things that they would" (Gal. v. 17), they fall upon 
 that which they can, and are content therewith ; because^ 
 
204 ^^^^ Confessions of S. Augiistiyie, 
 
 what they are not able to do, they do not will so strongly, 
 as would suffice to make them able ? For I ask any one, 
 had he rather joy in truth, or in falsehood? They will as 
 little hesitate to say, " in the truth," as to say, " that they 
 desire to be happy." But the blessed life is joy in the 
 truth. For this is a joying in Thee, Who art " the truth," 
 O God " my light, health of my countenance, my God " 
 ^Psa. xxvii. i, xlii. ii). This blessed life all desire; this 
 life which alone is blessed, all desire ; joy in the truth all 
 desire. I have met with many that would fain deceive ; 
 who would choose to be deceived? no one. Where 
 then did they know this happy life, save where they knew 
 the truth also ? For they love it also, since they would not 
 be deceived. And when they love a happy life, which is 
 no other than rejoicing in the truth, then also do they 
 love the truth ; but they could not love it, were there not 
 some notice of it in their memory. Why then do they not 
 rejoice in it ? why are they not happy ? because they are 
 more strongly taken up with other things which have more 
 power to make them miserable, than that which they so 
 faintly remember to make them happy. For there is yet 
 a little light in men ; let them walk, " let them walk, lest 
 darkness come upon them " (S. John xii. 35). 
 
 But why doth " truth bring forth hatred," and why is that 
 man of thine that preacheth truth become their enemy, 
 seeing that the blessed life is loved, which is nothing else 
 than rejoicing in the truth : unless it be that truth is loved 
 only in such a sort, that they who love something else than 
 it, want what they love to be the truth ; and because they 
 are unwilling to be deceived, are unwilling to be convinced 
 that they have been deceived ? Therefore, for the sake of 
 that thing, which instead of truth they love, they hate the 
 truth. They love her, when she enlightens ; but they hate 
 her when she rebukes. For since they would not be de- 
 ceived, and would deceive, they love her, when she manifests 
 herself, but hate her when she manifests them. Whence 
 she shall so repay them, that they who would not be made 
 manifest by her, she both against their will makes manifest, 
 and herself becometh not manifest unto them. Thus, thus, 
 yea thus doth the mind of man, thus blind and sick, foul 
 and ill-favoured, wish to be hidden, but that aught should 
 be hidden from it, it wills not But the contrary is requited 
 
The Confessions of S. Augustine. 205 
 
 it, that itself should not be hidden from the Truth ; but the 
 Truth is hid from it. Yet even thus whilst wretched, it 
 would rather rejoice in truths than in falsehoods. Happy 
 then will it be, when, no distraction interposing, it shall 
 rejoice in that one Truth, by which all things are true. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 He delighteth that he hath found God^ abiding in his memory, 
 
 SEE how far I have travelled in my memory, seeking 
 Thee, O Lord ; and I have not found Thee, without 
 it. Nor have I found any thing concerning Thee, but what 
 I have kept in memory, from the time I learned Thee. For 
 since T learned Thee, I have not forgotten Thee. For 
 where I found Truth, there found I my God, the very 
 Truth ; which since I learned, I have not forgotten. Since 
 then I learned Thee, Thou abidest in my memory; and 
 there do I find Thee, when I called Thee to remembrance, 
 and delight in Thee. These are my holy delights, which 
 Thou hast given me in Thy mercy, looking upon my poverty. 
 
 CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 Where atid how God dwelleth in his memory. 
 
 BUT where in my memory abidest Thou, O Lord, 
 where abidest Thou there ? what manner of lodging 
 hast Thou formed there for Thyself? what sort of 
 sanctuary hast Thou built for Thyself.? Thou hast given 
 this honour to my memory, to abide in it; but in what 
 quarter of it Thou abidest, that am I now considering. For 
 in thinking on Thee, I passed beyond such parts of it, as the 
 beasts also have, for I found Thee not there among the 
 images of material things : and 1 came to those parts to 
 which I committed the affections of my mind, nor did I find 
 Thee there. And I entered into the very seat of my mind, 
 which it hath in my memory, inasmuch as the mind remem- 
 bers itself also, and Thou wast not there ; for as Thou art 
 not a corporeal image, nor the affection of a living being 
 
2o6 The Confessions of S, Augustine, 
 
 (as when we rejoice, condole, desire, fear, remember, forget, 
 or the like) ; so neither art Thou the mind itself \ because 
 Thou art the Lord God of the mind; and all these are 
 changed, but Thou remainest unchangeable over all, and 
 yet hast vouchsafed to dwell in my memory, since I learned 
 Thee. And why seek I now, in what place thereof Thou 
 dwellest, as if there were in truth places therein ? Certainly 
 Thou dwellest in it, because I have remembered Thee ever 
 since I learned Thee ; and there I find Thee, when I call 
 Thee to remembrance. 
 
 CHAPTER XXVI. 
 
 ThcU God is not in any place ; and who is His best servant, 
 
 WHERE then did I find Thee, that I might learn Thee? 
 For in my memory Thou wert not, before 1 learned 
 Thee. Where then did I find Thee, that I might learn 
 Thee, but in Thee above me ? Place there is none ; we go 
 backward and forward, and there is no place. Every where, 
 O Truth, dost Thou keep watch over all that consult Thee, 
 and at once respond, though they consult Thee concerning 
 divers matters. Clearly dost Thou answer, though all do 
 not clearly hear. All consult Thee on what they will, 
 though they hear not always what they will. He is Thy 
 best servant, who does not so much look to hear from Thee 
 what accords with his will, but rather to will what he hath 
 heard from Thee. 
 
 CHAPTER XXVn. 
 
 Absent fro?n God, he is attracted by His beauty, 
 
 TOO late I loved Thee, Beauty so old and yet so new, 
 too late I loved Thee! And behold, Thou wert 
 within, and I without, and there I sought Thee ; and in my 
 deformity rushed amidst those beauteous forms which Thou 
 hadst made. Thou wert with me, but I was not with Thee. 
 Things held me far from Thee, which unless they had their 
 being in Thee, had no being. Thou didst call, and cry 
 aloud, and break through my deafness. Thou didst blaze 
 
The Confessions of S. Augustine, 207 
 
 forth, and shine, and scatter my blindness. Thou wert 
 fragrant, and I drew in my breath, and pant for Thee. I 
 tasted, and I hunger and thirst Thou didst touch me, and 
 I burned for Thy peace. 
 
 CHAPTER XXVIII. 
 
 That the life on earth is full of trials. 
 
 WHEN I shall with my whole self cleave to Thee, I 
 shall no where have sorrow, or labour ; and my life 
 shall wholly live, as wholly full of Thee. But now since 
 whom Thou fillest, Thou liftest up, because I am not full 
 of Thee I am a burden to myself. Lamentable joys struggle 
 with joyous sorrows : and on which side standeth victory, I 
 know not. Woe is me ! Lord, have mercy upon me. My 
 evil sorrows struggle with my good joys ; and on which side 
 standeth victory, I know not. Woe is me ! Lord, have 
 mercy upon me. Woe is me ! lo ! I hide not my wounds ; 
 Thou art the Physician, I the sick ; Thou merciful, I miser- 
 able. " Is not the life of man upon earth all trial ? " (Job 
 vii. I, O.V.). Who liketh troubles and difficulties? Thou 
 biddest us endure them, not love them. None loveth what 
 he endureth, though he loveth to endure. For even though 
 he rejoiceth that he endureth, he would none the less prefer 
 that there were nothing to endure. In adversity I long for 
 prosperity, in prosperity I fear adversity. What middle 
 place is there betwixt these two, where "the life of man is 
 not all trial " ? Woe to the prosperities of the world, once 
 and again, through fear of adversity, and corruption of joy! 
 Woe to the adversities of the world, once and again, and the 
 third time, from the longing for prosperity, and because 
 adversity itself is hard, and patient endurance suffereth ship- 
 wreck. Is not tlie " life of man upon earth all trial : " with- 
 out any intermission ? 
 
2o8 The Confessions of S. Augustine, 
 
 CHAPTER XXIX. 
 He putteth his hope in the mercy of God, 
 
 AND all my hope is nowhere but in Thy exceeding great 
 mercy. Grant what Thou dost command, and com- 
 mand what Thou wilt. Thou dost enjoin upon us contin- 
 ency. "And when I perceived," saith one, " that no man 
 could be continent, except God gave it, this also was a 
 point of wisdom to know whose gift it was" (Wisd. viii. 21, 
 Vulg.). By continency verily, are we bound up and brought 
 back into One, whence we were dissipated into many. For 
 too little doth he love Thee, who loves any thing with Thee, 
 which he loveth not for Thee. O love, who ever burnest 
 and never consumest ! O charity, my God ! enkindle me. 
 Thou dost command continency. Grant what Thou com- 
 mandest, and command what Thou wilt. 
 
 CHAPTER XXX. 
 
 Concerning fleshly desire^ and the extent to xvhich it still can influence 
 
 him. 
 
 THOU dost indeed command me to be continent from 
 " the lust of the flesh, the lust of the eyes, and the am- 
 bition of the world " (i John ii. 16). Thou hast commanded 
 to abstain from concubinage ; and concerning marriage itself 
 hast counselled a better course than Thou hast permitted.^ 
 And since Thou gavest it, it was done, even before I became^ 
 a dispenser of Thy Sacrament. But there yet live in my 
 memory (whereof I have spoken much) the images of such 
 things, as my habit hath fixed there ; and when I am awake 
 they haunt me, though they have lost their power, but in my 
 sleep, not only do they present themselves, so as to give 
 pleasure, but even to obtain assent, and what is very like 
 reality. Yea, so far prevails the illusion of the image, in my 
 soul and in my flesh, that, when asleep, false visions per- 
 suade to that which when waking, the true cannot. Am I 
 not then myself, O Lord my God ? And yet how much 
 difference there is betwixt myself and myself, within that 
 moment wherein I pass from hence to sleep, or from sleep 
 
The Confessions of S. Augustine, 209 
 
 return hither. Where is reason then, which, awake, re- 
 sisteth such suggestions ? And should the things themselves 
 be urged on it, it remaineth unshaken. Is it closed up with 
 the eyes? does it slumber with the senses of the body? 
 And whence is it that often even in sleep we resist, and 
 mindful of our purpose, and abiding most chastely in it, 
 yield no assent to such enticements? And yet so much 
 difference there is, that when it falleth out otherwise, upon 
 waking we return to peace of conscience : and by this very 
 difference discover that we did not, what yet we grieve to 
 know was some way done in us. 
 
 Is not Thine hand mighty, O Almighty God, to heal all 
 the weaknesses of my soul, and by Thy more abundant 
 grace to quench even the impure motions of my sleep \ 
 Thou wilt increase. Lord, Thy gifts more and more in me, 
 that my soul may follow me to Thee, set free from the bird- 
 lime of concupiscence; that it be not rebeUious against 
 itself, and that even in dreams not only it may not commit 
 those debasing corruptions, through carnal images, to the 
 defilement of the flesh, but not even consent unto them. For 
 that nothing of this sort should have, over the pure affec- 
 tions even of a sleeper, the very least influence, not even 
 such as a thought would restrain, — to work this, not only 
 during life, but even at my present age, is not bard for the 
 Almighty, Who art " able to do above all that we ask or 
 think" (Eph. iii. 20). But what I yet am in this kind of my 
 evil, have I confessed unto my good Lord ; "rejoicing with 
 trembling" (Ps. ii. 11), in that which Thou hast given me, 
 and bemoaning that wherein I am still imperfect ; hoping, 
 that Thou wilt perfect Thy mercies in me, even to that ful- 
 ness of peace, which my outward and inward man shall have 
 with Thee, when " death hath been swallowed up in victory " 
 (i Cor. XV. 54). 
 
 CHAPTER XXXI. 
 
 Concerning g)-eed and drunkenness. 
 
 '■pHERE is another " evil of the day," would that it were 
 
 1 " sufficient unto it " (S. Matt. vi. 34). For by eating 
 
 and drinking we repair the daily decays of our body, until 
 
 Thou " destroy both meats and belly " (i Cor. vi. 13), when 
 
 G ^'^ 
 
2IO The Confessions of S. Atigustine. 
 
 Thou shalt slay my want with a wondrous sufficiency, and 
 " shalt put on this incorruptible the clothing of incorruption 
 everlasting" (i Cor. xv. 54). But now the necessity is 
 sweet unto me, and against this sweetness do I fight, lest I 
 be taken captive ; and carry on a daily war by fastings ; 
 often "bringing my body into subjection" (i Cor. ix. 27), 
 and my pains are driven away by pleasure. For hunger 
 and thirst are a sort of pain ; they burn and kill like a fever, 
 unless the medicine of nourishments come to our aid. But 
 since this is at hand from the comfort of Thy gifts, with 
 which earth and water and air serve our weakness, our 
 calamity is termed pleasure. 
 
 This hast Thou taught me, that I should set myself to 
 take food as physic. But while I am passing from the dis- 
 comfort of emptiness to the content of satisfaction, in the 
 very passage the snare of concupiscence besets me. For 
 that passing is pleasure, nor is there any other way to pass 
 thither, whither we needs must pass. And though health 
 be the cause of eating and drinking, yet a dangerous enjoy- 
 ment waiteth thereon like a lackey, and oftentimes endeav- 
 ours to precede it, so as to be the real cause of what I say 
 I do, or wish to do, only for health's sake ; nor is the same 
 moderation in both. For what is enough for health, is too 
 little for pleasure. And it is often uncertain, whether it be 
 the necessary care of the body which gives an appetite for 
 more support, or whether a sensual and deceptive greed is 
 tendering its service. In this uncertainty the unhappy soul 
 grows cheerful, and therein prepares the defence of an 
 excuse, glad that it is not manifest how much may suffice 
 for the moderate need of health, but that beneath the cloak 
 of health it may conceal the matter of enjoyment. These 
 temptations I daily endeavour to resist, and I call on Thy 
 right hand for my preservation, and refer my uncertainties 
 to Thee ; because my discretion in this matter is not yet 
 established. 
 
 I hear the voice of my God commanding, " Let not your 
 hearts be overcharged with surfeiting and drunkenness" 
 (S. Luke xxi. 34). Drunkenness is far from me ; Thou wilt 
 have mercy, that it come not near me. But full feeding 
 sometimes creepeth upon Thy servant : Thou wilt have 
 mercy, that it may be far from me. For " no one can be con- 
 tinent unless Thou give it." Many things thou givest to us, 
 
The Confessions of S, Augustine. 21 r 
 
 who pray ; and whatever good thing we received before we 
 prayed, we received from Thee : and in order that we might 
 afterwards know this did we receive it. A drunkard I never 
 was ; but I have known drunkards made sober by Thee. 
 From Thee then it was, that they who never were such, 
 should not so be, as it was from Thee that they should not 
 always continue such, who have been such ; whose doing 
 also it was that both should know whose doing it was. I 
 heard another voice of Thine, " Go not after thy lusts, but 
 refrain thyself from thine appetites " (Ecclus. xviii. 30). Yea 
 by Thy favour have I heard that which I have much loved ; 
 " neither if we eat, have we the more ; neither if we eat not, 
 shall we have the less" (i Cor. viii. 8). That is to say^ 
 neither shall the one make me rich nor the other miserable. 
 I heard also another, " for I have learned in whatsoever 
 state I am, therewith to be content ; I know both how to 
 abound and how to suffer need. I can do all things 
 through him, which strengtheneth me" (Phil. iv. 11-13). 
 Behold a soldier of the heavenly camp, not dust such as we 
 are. But " remember," Lord, " that we are dust," and that 
 of " dust Thou hast made man ; " and he " was lost and is 
 found." Nor could he of himself do this, because he whom 
 I so loved, saying this through the breath of Thy inspiration, 
 was of the same dust. "I can do all things," saith he, 
 "through Him that strengtheneth me." Strengthen me 
 that I may be able. Grant what Thou commandest, and 
 command what Thou wilt. He confesses to have received, 
 and when **he glorieth, he glorieth in the Lord" (i Cor. 
 i. 30). Another have I heard begging that he might re- 
 ceive ; " Take from me," saith he, " greediness of the belly " 
 (Ecclus. xxiii. 6) ; whence it appeareth, O my holy God, 
 that Thou givest, when what Thou commandest to be done 
 is done. 
 
 Thou hast taught me, good Father, that " to the pure, all 
 things are pure" (Tit. i. 15); but that "it is evil for that 
 man who eateth with offence " (Rom. xiv. 20), and, that 
 " every creature of Thine is good, and nothing to be refused, 
 if it be received with thanksgiving" (i Tim. iv. 4); and, 
 that "meat commendeth us not to God" (i Cor. viii. 8); 
 and, that "no man should judge us in meat or in drink" 
 (Col. ii. id) ; and, that "he that eateth, let him not despise 
 him that eateth not; and let not him which eateth not 
 
:2I2 The Confessions of S, Augustine, 
 
 judge him that eateth " (Rom. xiv. 3). These things have 
 I learned, thanks be to Thee, praise to Thee, my God, my 
 Master, that knockest at my ears, that enlightenest my 
 heart. Take me out of all temptation. I fear not the 
 uncleanness of meat, but the uncleanness of greediness. 
 I know that Noah was permitted to eat all kind of flesh that 
 was good for food; that Elijah was fed with flesh; that 
 John, endued with wonderful abstinence, was not polluted 
 by feeding on living creatures, locusts. I know also that 
 Esau was deceived by lusting for lentiles ; and that David 
 blamed himself for his longing for water ; and that our King 
 was tempted, not concerning flesh, but bread. And there- 
 fore the people in the wilderness also deserved to be re- 
 proved, not for desiring flesh, but because, in the desire for 
 food, they murmured against the Lord. 
 
 Placed then amid these temptations, I strive daily against 
 concupiscence in eating and drinking. For it is not a thing 
 that I can determine to cut off once for all, and never to 
 touch again, as I could in the matter of concubinage. The 
 reins of the throat then must be held in a moderation 
 neither too loose nor too strict. And who is he, O Lord, 
 who is not some little carried beyond the bounds of neces- 
 sity? whoever he is, he is a great one; let him magnify 
 Thy Name. But I am not such, for " I am a sinful man." 
 Yet do I too magnify Thy name ; and " He maketh inter- 
 cession to Thee" (Rom. viii. 34), for my sins, who "hath 
 overcome the world " (S. John xvi. 33) ; numbering me 
 among the " weak members of His body ; " because " Thine 
 eyes have seen that which is imperfect, and in Thy book 
 shall all be written" (Ps. cxxxix. 16). 
 
 CHAPTER XXXII. 
 
 Concei'tiing the attractions of pleasant odours. 
 
 WITH the attraction of pleasant odours, I am not much 
 concerned. When absent, I do not miss them; 
 when present, I do not refuse them ; yet I am always ready 
 to do without them. So I seem to myself; perchance I am 
 deceived. For that also is a deplorable darkness, in which 
 my ability is hidden from me, so that my mind, enauiring 
 
The Confessions of S. Augusti7te. 2 1 3 
 
 into herself concerning her own powers, does not reckon 
 herself to be readily trustworthy, because what is really in 
 her is mostly concealed, unless revealed by experience. 
 And no one ought to be free from anxiety in this life, the 
 whole of which is called a " trial," lest he who could be 
 made better from being worse, may not also from being 
 better become worse. Our only hope, only confidence, 
 only sure promise, is Thy mercy. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIII. 
 
 Concerning temptations arising from love of sweet mztsic. 
 
 THE delights of the ear had enmeshed me more firmly 
 and had subdued me; but Thou didst release me, 
 and set me free. Now in those tones, of which Thy words 
 are the life, when they are sung with a sweet and accom- 
 plished voice, I find some little satisfaction ; though I am 
 not so fast hoiden of them but that I can arouse myself, 
 when I will. But still, they do demand a place of some 
 honour in my heart, together with the phrases themselves, 
 to gain an entrance for which to me they live, and I have 
 difficulty in assigning to them their proper place. For 
 sometimes I seem to myself to give them more honour than 
 is seemly, feeling our minds to be more religiously and fer- 
 vently raised unto a flame of devotion, by the holy words 
 themselves when thus sung, than when not ; and that all the 
 emotions of our spirit, in accordance with, their own variety, 
 have measures suited to them in expression and melody, by 
 some secret and hidden correspondence with which they 
 are called forth. But this gratification of my flesh, to 
 which my mind ought not to be resigned to its weakening, 
 doth oft beguile me, the sense not so waiting upon reason, 
 as patiently to follow her ; but though for her alone it has 
 deserved admission, it attempts to outrun her, and to take 
 the lead. Thus in these things I sin without perceiving it ; 
 but afterwards I perceive it. 
 
 But sometimes in avoiding, without sufficient moderation, 
 this very deception, I err in too great strictness ; and some- 
 times to that degree, as to wish the whole melody of sweet 
 music, to which the Psalms of David are generally set, to 
 
214 The Confessions of S. Augustine. 
 
 be banished from my ears, aye, and from those of the 
 Church itself; and that mode seems to me safer, which I re- 
 member to have been often told me of Athanasius, Bishop 
 of Alexandria, who made the reader of the psalm intone 
 with so slight an inflection of voice, that it was more like 
 recitation than chanting. Yet again, when I remember the 
 tears which I poured forth at the chants of Thy church, in 
 the beginnings of my recovery of the Faith, and how even 
 now I am moved, not with the singing, but with the things 
 sung, when they are sung with a clear voice and well suited 
 melody, I realise again the great advantage of this insti- 
 tution. Thus I hesitate between the danger of mere enjoy- 
 ment, and my experience of their wholesomeness ; and I 
 am more drawn, though not now declaring an irrevocable 
 opinion, to approve of the custom of chanting in church, 
 that so by the deHght of the ears, the weaker minds may 
 rise to the feeling of devotion. Yet when it befalls me to 
 be more moved with the singing, than with the words 
 which are being sung, I confess that I sin grievously, and 
 then I would prefer not to hear the chanter. See now how 
 I am placed. Weep with me, and weep for me, ye who 
 order aright the good within, whence actions proceed. You 
 who do not so act, these things do not affect. But Thou, O 
 Lord my God, hearken ; behold, and see, and " have mercy 
 and heal me" (Ps. vi. 2), Thou, in whose presence I am 
 made an enigma to myself; and " this is my infirmity " 
 (Ps. Ixxvii. 10). 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIV. 
 
 Concerning pleasures of the eyes, 
 
 THERE remains the pleasure of these eyes of my flesh, 
 concerning which I will make confessions which the 
 ears of Thy temple, ears fraternal and devout, may hear, 
 and so bring to an end the temptations of the " lust of the 
 flesh," which yet assail me, " groaning, and desiring to be 
 clothed upon with my house which is from heaven " (2 Cor. 
 v. 2). The eyes love fair and varied forms, and bright and 
 pleasing colours. Let not these possess my soul; let 
 God rather possess it, who made these things very good 
 indeed, yet is He my good, not they. And these affect me, 
 
The Confessions of S. Augustine. 215 
 
 waking, the whole day, nor is any rest given me from them, 
 as there is from musical, sometimes, in silence, from all 
 voices. For the light, the very queen of colours, suffusing 
 all that we behold, wherever I am through the day, charms 
 me by its varied play, even when busy upon something else, 
 and not thinking of it. Indeed so greatly doth it ingratiate 
 itself, that if it be suddenly withdrawn, it is regretfully 
 sought for ; and if absent long, saddeneth the mind. 
 
 O Thou Light, which Tobias saw, when though these eyes 
 were blinded, he used to teach his son the way of life ; and 
 went before him on the foot of charity, never straying ; or 
 which Isaac saw, his fleshly " eyes being dim " and closed by 
 old age, when it was permitted him to bless his sons without 
 recognising them, but in blessing to recognise them; or 
 which Jacob saw, when he also, blind through great age, 
 with illumined heart, threw light upon the tribes of the 
 people that should be, foreshewn in the persons of his sons ; 
 and laid his hands upon his grandsons by Joseph, mystically 
 crossed, not as their father by his outward eye wanted to 
 correct them, but according to his own inward discernment ! 
 This is light, one it is, and one are all who see and love it. 
 But that corporeal light of which I was speaking seasoneth 
 the life of this world for her blind lovers, with an enticing 
 and dangerous sweetness. But they who know how to praise 
 Thee for it, "O God who hast created all,""^ take it up in 
 that hymn of Thine, and are not taken up with it in their 
 sleep. Such would I be. These seductions of the eyes I 
 resist, lest my feet wherewith I walk upon Thy way be 
 entangled ; and I lift up mine invisible eyes to Thee, that 
 Thou wouldest " pluck my feet out of the net " (Ps. xxv. 15), 
 Thou dost repeatedly pluck them out, for they are ensnared. 
 Thou ceasest not to pluck them out, though I often am 
 taken in snares scattered on all sides; because "Thou 
 that keepest Israel shalt neither slumber nor sleep" (Ps. 
 cxxi. 4). 
 
 What numberless things made by various arts and crafts, 
 in vestures, shoes, vessels, and manufactures of all kinds, 
 pictures too, and divers images, and these far exceeding all 
 necessary and moderate use and all pious meaning, have 
 men added Xq the enticements of the eyes ; outv/ardly 
 
 * See antCy Book ix., cap. xii. 
 
2i6 The Confessions of S. Augustine. 
 
 following what themselves make, inwardly forsaking Him 
 by whom themselves were made, and destroying that which 
 themselves have been made ! But I, my God and my 
 Beauty, do hence also sing a hymn to Thee, and do sacrifice 
 praise to Him who sanctifieth me ; because those beautiful 
 things which are conveyed through men's souls to the hands 
 of artificers, come from that Beauty, Which is above our 
 souls, for which my soul by day and night doth sigh. But 
 those who make and those who pursue these outward 
 beauties draw thence indeed the means of appreciating them, 
 but draw not thence the means of using them. And He is 
 there, though they perceive Him not, that so they might 
 not wander, but " keep their strength for Thee " (Ps. Iviii. 
 lo, Vulg.), and not scatter it abroad upon delicious weari- 
 nesses. And I, though I speak and see this, entangle my 
 steps with these beauties; but Thou pluckest me out, O 
 Lord, Thou pluckest me out j " because Thy loving-kindness 
 is. before my eyes " (Ps. xxvi. 3). For I am taken miserably, 
 and Thou pluckest me out mercifully, though sometimes, 
 when I had fallen lightly upon them, I perceive it nc^t; 
 sometimes with pain, because I had stuck fast in them. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXV. 
 Concer7iing the temptation of curiosity. 
 
 'T"^0 this is added another form of temptation more mani- 
 i- foldly dangerous. For besides that lust of the flesh 
 which consists in the delight of all senses and pleasures, 
 wherein its slaves, who go far from Thee, waste and perish, 
 there is in the soul, by means of the same senses of the 
 body, a certain vain and curious desire, cloaked under the 
 title of knowledge and science, not of delighting in the 
 flesh, but of acquiring experience through the flesh. And 
 because this is situated in the appetite for knowing, and 
 the eyes are chief among the senses as sources of knowledge, 
 it is called in the Divine language, " The lust of the eyes " 
 (i S. John ii. 16). For, to see, belongeth properly to 
 the eyes alone. Yet we make use of this word also of the 
 other senses, when we employ them in seeking knowledge. 
 For we do not say, hark how it flashes, or smell how it 
 
The Confessions of S. Augustine. 217 
 
 glows, or taste how it shines, or feel how it gleams ; for all 
 these are said to be seen. And yet we say not only, see 
 how it shines, which the eyes alone can perceive ; but also, 
 see how it sounds, see how it smells, see how it tastes, see 
 how hard it is. And so the general experience of the 
 senses, as was said, is called " The lust of the eyes," because 
 the office of seeing, wherein the eyes hold the first place, the 
 other senses by a sort of comparison adopt for themselves, 
 when they are seeking a knowledge of anything. 
 
 But by this may more evidently be discerned, wherein 
 pleasure and wherein curiosity is the object of the senses ; 
 for pleasure seeketh objects beautiful, melodious, fragrant, 
 savoury, soft ; but curiosity, the opposites also of all these, 
 for the sake of making trial of them, not with the object of 
 undergoing annoyance, but from the lust of experiment and 
 knowing. For what pleasure is there in seeing in a mangled 
 corpse what makes one shudder ? And yet if it be lying 
 near, they flock thither, to be made sad, and to turn pale. 
 They even fear that they may see it in their dreams ; as if 
 any one forced them to see it when they were awake, or any 
 report of its beauty induced them. Thus also in the other 
 senses, which it were long to go through. From this 
 disease of curiosity are certain marvels exhibited in 
 shows. Hence men go on to search out the hidden 
 powers of nature (which is beyond us), which to know 
 profits not, and wherein men desire nothing but to know. 
 Hence is it also, if any perverted knowledge, for the same 
 end, is sought by means of arts magical. Hence also, in 
 religion itself, is God tempted, when signs and wonders are 
 demanded of Him, not desired for any purpose of salvation, 
 but only for the attainment of knowledge. 
 
 In this so vast forest, full of snares and perils, behold 
 many of them I have cut away, and driven from my heart, 
 as Thou hast granted me to do, O God of my salvation. 
 And yet when dare I say, since so many things of this kind 
 clamour on every side about our daily life — when dare I 
 say, that nothing of this sort engages my attention, or 
 causes in me an empty interest ? True, the theatres do not 
 now carry me away, nor care I to know the transits of the 
 stars, nor did my soul ever seek oracles from ghosts; all 
 sacrilegious rites I detest. From Thee, O Lord my God, to 
 whom I owe humble and single-hearted service, by what 
 
2i8 The Confessions of S. Augustine. 
 
 devices and suggestions doth the enemy tamper with me, so 
 that I may seek some sign ! But I beseech Thee by our 
 King, and by our pure and holy country, Jerusalem, that as 
 any consenting thereto is far from me, so may it ever be 
 further and further. But when I pray Thee for the salva- 
 tion of any, my end and intention is far different. Thou 
 givest and wilt give me the will to follow Thee, who doest 
 what Thou wilt. 
 
 Notwithstanding, in how many most petty and contemp- 
 tible things is our curiosity daily tempted, and how often we 
 give way, who can recount? How often do we at first 
 appear to bear with people, teUing idle tales, so as not to 
 " offend the weak," and then little by little render an eager 
 attention ? I am not now a spectator of a dog coursing a 
 hare, when it is done in the circus ; but yet in a field, if I 
 happen to be passing by, that sport will possibly divert my 
 mind from some great subject of thought, and direct it to 
 itself, not forcing me to stray from the road, with the body 
 of my beast, but in the inclination of my mind. And 
 unless Thou, having shown me my infirmity, didst speedily 
 admonish me either through the sight itself, by some con- 
 templation to rise towards Thee, or altogether to despise 
 and pass it by, I grow dull and stupid over it. What, 
 when sitting at home, a lizard catching flies, or a spider en- 
 tangling them as they rush into her nets, ofttimes takes my 
 attention ? Is it true that the thing is not the same, because 
 the creatures are but small ? I go on from them to praise 
 Thee the wonderful Creator and Orderer of all things, but 
 this is not what I begin to take notice of. It is one thing 
 to rise quickly, another not to fall. And of such things is 
 my life full; and my one hope is Thy exceeding great 
 mercy. For when our heart becomes the receptacle of such 
 things, and entertains the throngs of this abundant vanity, 
 this causes often interruptions and distractions in our 
 prayers, and whilst in Thy presence we direct the voice of 
 our heart to Thine ears, this so great concern is broken ofi", 
 by the rushing in of trifling thoughts, I know not whence. 
 
The Confessions of S. Augustine. 219 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVI. 
 
 Concei'ning the love of praise, and fear of blame. 
 
 SHALL we then account this also among things of no 
 importance, or shall aught restore us to hope, save 
 Thy complete mercy, since Thou hast begun to change us ? 
 And Thou knowest how far Thou hast already changed me, 
 who first dost heal me of the desire of excusing myself, so 
 that Thou mayest be merciful to all my other " iniquities, 
 and heal all my infirmities, and redeem my life from cor- 
 ruption, and crown me with mercy and pity, and satisfy my 
 desire with good things" (Ps. ciii. 3-5), who didst curb my 
 pride with Thy fear, and tame my neck to Thy " yoke." And 
 now I bear it and it is "light" unto me, because so hast 
 Thou promised, and hast made it ; and verily so it was, and 
 I knew it not, when I feared to take it upon me. 
 
 But, O Lord, Thou who art alone a Lord without pride, 
 because Thou art the only true Lord, who hast no lord ; 
 hath this third kind of temptation also ceased from me, or 
 can it cease through this whole life ? To wish, namely, to 
 be feared and loved of men, for no other end, but that we 
 may have a joy therein which is no joy ? A miserable life 
 this and a foul boastfulness ! Hence it comes that men do 
 not entirely love Thee, nor purely fear Thee. And there- 
 fore " Thou resistest the proud, and givest grace to the 
 humble " (i S. Peter v. 5) ; 5^ea, Thou dost " thunder " above 
 the ambitions of the world, and the " foundations of the hills 
 shake " (Ps. xviii. 7). Because now certain duties of human 
 society make it necessary to be loved and feared of men, the 
 adversary of our true blessedness presseth upon us, every- 
 where spreading his snares of " well-done, well-done ; " that 
 while we greedily gather them, we may through our heed- 
 lessness be taken, and lay down our joy in Thy truth, and 
 rest it in the deceit of men ; and take pleasure in being 
 loved and feared not for Thee, but instead of Thee ; and 
 thus having been made like him, he may have them for his 
 own, not in the fellowship of charity, but as partakers of his 
 torment, who determined to " set his throne in the north " 
 (Is. xiv. 14), that dark and chilled they might serve him 
 who in a perverted and crooked way doth imitate Thee. 
 But we, O Lord, behold we are Thy " little flock " (S. Luke 
 
220 The Cojifessions of S . Augustine, 
 
 xii. 32), possess Thou us. Stretch out Thy wings, and let 
 us flee beneath them. Be Thou our glory ; let us be loved 
 for Thee, and Thy word feared in us. He that would be 
 praised of men, when Thou blamest, will not be defended 
 of men, when Thou judgest; nor dehvered, when Thou 
 condemnest. But when it is not " the sinner that is praised 
 in the desires of his soul, nor he that doeth unrighteousness 
 that is blessed " (Ps. ix. 24, Vulg.), but man is praised for 
 some gift which Thou hast given him, and he rejoices more 
 at the praise for himself than that he hath the gift for which 
 he is praised, he also is praised while Thou blamest. And 
 better then is he who gave the praise, than he who is 
 praised. For God's gift in man pleased the one, while 
 man's gift pleased the other more than God's. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVII. 
 
 He confesseth that he loveih praise ; but suggests that there may be 
 a right use of it, 
 
 BY these temptations we are assailed daily, O Lord ; 
 without ceasing are we assailed. Our daily ** furnace " 
 is the tongue of men. And in this kind also Thou com- 
 mandest us continency. Give what Thou commandest, 
 and command what Thou wilt. Thou knowest the groan- 
 ing of my heart to Thee concerning this matter, and the 
 rivers of mine eyes. For I cannot learn how far I am more 
 cleansed from this plague, and I much fear my " secret 
 sins," which Thine eyes know, mine do not. For in other 
 kinds of temptations I have some sort of power of examin- 
 ing myself; in this hardly any. For I see, in regard of the 
 pleasures of the flesh, and vain curiosity for knowledge, how 
 far I have attained the power of refraining my mind, when 
 I am without them, whether by my own choice, or through 
 their absence. For then I ask myself how much more or 
 less troublesome it is to me, not to have them? Even 
 riches, which are sought on this account, that they may 
 make provision for some one or two, or all of these three 
 lusts, if the soul cannot discern, whether, when it hath them, 
 it despiseth them, they may be cast aside, that so it may 
 prove itself. But what can we do so as to be free from 
 
The Confessions of S. Augustine. 221 
 
 praise, and so put it to the test ? Must we live ill, yea so 
 abandonedly and atrociously, that no one should know 
 without detesting us ? What greater madness can be said, 
 or thought of? But if praise both is and ought to be the 
 accompaniment of good living and good. works, it behoves 
 us to forsake its company no more than the good life itself. 
 Yet I do not perceive whether I could calmly or impatiently 
 bear to be without anything, unless it be absent. 
 
 What then do I confess unto Thee in this kind of 
 temptation, O Lord? What, but that I delight in praise,, 
 but in truth itself, more than in praise ? For were I asked 
 whether I should prefer to be in some frenzy, or in error 
 about all things, and so to receive the praise of all men ; 
 or to be firm, and most confident in the truth, and yet to 
 receive the blame of all, I know which I should choose. 
 But yet I am unwilling that the commendation of a stranger's 
 words should even increase my joy for any good in me. 
 Yet I own, it does not only increase it, but blame also 
 diminishes it. And when I am troubled at this my misery, 
 an excuse occurs to me, which of what value it is, Thou 
 God knowest, for it leaves me uncertain. For since Thou 
 hast commanded us not continency alone, that is, from 
 what things to restrain our regard, but also righteousness, 
 that is, whereon to bestow it, and hast willed us to love not 
 Thee only, but our neighbour also; often, when I am 
 delighted with the praise of some one of good understand- 
 ing, I seem to myself to be taking delight in the profit, or 
 hope of it, of my neighbour, and on the other hand, to 
 be grieved for evil in him, when I hear him blame either 
 what he is ignorant of, or what is good. For sometimes I 
 am grieved at my own praise, either when those things be 
 praised in me, in which I am displeasing to myself : or when 
 lesser and slight good things are more highly esteemed 
 than they ought to be. But again, how do I know? Am I 
 so affected for this reason, namely that I do not like my 
 commender to differ from me about myself: not because I 
 am anxious for his advantage, but because those same good 
 things which please me in myself, please me more when 
 they please another also ? For somehow I am not praised 
 when my opinion of myself is not praised, since indeed 
 either those things are praised, which displease me; or 
 those more, which please me less. Am I then doubtful of 
 myself in this matter ? 
 
222 The Confessions of S. Augustine. 
 
 Behold, in Thee, O Truth, I see, that I oughl not to be 
 moved at my own praises, for my own sake, but for the 
 gpqd^of my neighbour. And whether it be so with me, I 
 know not. For herein I know less of myself, than of Thee. 
 I beseech Thee, now, O my God, discover to me myself 
 also, that I may confess unto my brethren, who are to pray 
 for me, wherein I find myself unsound. Let me examine 
 myself again more diligently. If in my praise I am moved 
 with the good of my neighbour, why am I less moved if 
 another be unjustly dispraised than if it be myself? Why 
 am I more stung by reproach cast upon myself, than at that 
 cast upon another, with the same injustice, before me? 
 Know I not this also? or is it at last that I " deceive my- 
 self," and do not the truth before Thee in my heart and 
 tongue ? This madness put far from me, O Lord, lest mine 
 own mouth be to me the " sinner's oil to make fat my head " 
 (Ps. cxli. 5, Vulg.) ; " I am poor and needy " (Ps. cxix. 22), 
 but better while in hidden groanings I displease myself, 
 and seek Thy mercy, until what is lacking in my defective 
 state here newed and perfected, even unto that peace which 
 the eye of the proud knoweth not. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVIII. 
 
 That vain-glory sometimes hideth beneath an appearance of contempt of 
 
 itself. 
 
 YET the word, which cometh out of the mouth, and deeds 
 known to men, bring with them a most perilous 
 temptation through the love of praise : which, to establish a 
 certain excellency of our own, solicits and collects men's 
 suffrages. It tempts, even when it is reproved by myself in 
 myself, on the very ground that it is reproved. And often 
 a man glories more vainly of the very contempt of vain 
 glory; and so it is no longer contempt of vain-glory, 
 whereof he glories. For he doth not despise it when he 
 jglon^Jnwardly. 
 
The Confessions of S, Augustine. 223 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIX. 
 Of self-complacency. 
 
 THERE is another evil within, arising from the same 
 kind of temptation ; whereby men become vain from 
 self-complacency, though they please not, or displease, or do 
 not care to please others. But pleasing themselves, they 
 much displease Thee, not only because they take pleasure 
 in things not good, as if good, but in Thy good things, as 
 though their own \ or even if as Thine, yet as though for 
 their own deserts ; or even if as though from Thy grace, yet 
 not rejoicing with fellowship, but even grudging them to 
 others. In all these and the like perils and travails, Thou 
 seest the trembling of my heart ; and I rather feel that my 
 wounds are healed by Thee, than that they are not inflicted 
 by myself. 
 
 CHAPTER XL. 
 
 He summeth up his former description of his search after God, and de- 
 clares the sweetness of complete communion with God, sometimes 
 vouchsafed to him. 
 
 WHERE hast Thou not walked with me, O Truth, 
 teaching me what to beware, and what to desire ; 
 when I referred to Thee what I could discover here below, 
 and took counsel with Thee ? With my outward senses, as I 
 could, I surveyed the world, and observed the life, which 
 my body hath from me, and these my senses. Thence I 
 entered into the recesses of my memory, those manifold and 
 spacious chambers, wonderfully furnished with innumerable 
 stores ; and I considered, and was afraid, and could discern 
 nothing of them without Thee, and found that none of them 
 was Thee. Nor was I myself, who found out these things, 
 who went over them all, and endeavoured to distinguish 
 them, and to appraise them all according to their proper 
 worth, taking some things upon the report of my senses, 
 questioning about others which I felt to be mingled with 
 myself, distinguishing and enumerating the reporters them- 
 selves, and in the wide resources of my memory busying 
 myself with some things, storing away others, drawing out 
 
224 ^/^ Confessions of S. Augustine. 
 
 others ; nor yet was I myself when I did this, i.e. that my 
 power whereby I did it, neither was it Thou, for Thou art 
 the abiding light, which I consulted concerning all these, 
 whether they were, what they were, and how they ought to 
 be valued. And I heard Thee directing and commanding 
 me ; and this I often do. This is my delight, and as often 
 as I can get relaxation from works of necessity, I fly to this 
 pleasure. Nor in all these which I run over consulting 
 Thee, can I find any safe place for my soul, except in Thee, 
 in whom my scattered powers are may be gathered, so that 
 nothing of my being may depart from Thee. And some- 
 times Thou admittest me to an affection, very unusual, in 
 my inmost soul ; rising to a strange sweetness, which if it 
 were perfected in me, I know not what could ever be which 
 this life would not be. But by the weights of my miseries 
 I fall back again into those lower things, and am sucked 
 back by my wonted habits, and am holden fast, and greatly 
 weep, but am greatly holden. So great a power hath the 
 burden of habit. Here I can stay, but would not; there I 
 would be, but cannot ; both ways, miserable. 
 
 CHAPTER XLI. 
 He snmmeth up his confession with regard to the triple lust, 
 
 THUS then have I considered the diseases of my sins in 
 that threefold lust, and I have called on Thy right 
 hand for my salvation. For with a wounded heart have I 
 beheld Thy brightness, and stricken back I said, " Who can 
 attain thither ? " "I am cast away from the sight of Thine 
 eyes" (Ps. xxxi. 22). Thou art the Truth who presidest 
 over all, but I through my covetousness would not indeed 
 lose Thee, but would with Thee possess a lie ; as no man 
 would in such wise speak falsely, as himself to be ignorant 
 of the truth. So then I lost Thee, because Thou vouch- 
 safest not to be possessed together with a lie. 
 
The Confessions of S. Augustine. 225 
 
 CHAPTER XLII. 
 
 Of the deceits of the Devil, which overtake them who seek for Angelic 
 Mediation. 
 
 WHOM could I find to reconcile me to Thee ? must I 
 go canvassing the Angels ? by what prayer ? by what 
 sacraments ? Many endeavouring to return unto Thee, and 
 of themselves unable, have, as I hear, tried this, and fallen 
 into a desire of curious visions, and have been accounted 
 worthy of such delusions. For they, being high minded, 
 sought Thee by the pride of learning, swelling out rather, 
 than smiting upon, their breasts, and so by the likeness of 
 their own state of heart, brought down upon themselves the 
 " powers of the air " (Eph. ii. 2), the fellow-conspirators and 
 companions of their pride, by whom, through magical 
 influences, they were deceived, seeking a mediator, by whom 
 they might be purged, and there was none. For it was the 
 Devil " transforming himself into an Angel of light " (2 Cor. 
 xi. 14); and it much enticed proud flesh, that he had no 
 fleshly body. For they were mortal, and sinners; but 
 Thou, Lord, to whom they proudly sought to be reconciled, 
 art immortal, and without sin. But a mediator between 
 God and man, must have something like to God, something 
 like to men ; lest being in both like to men, he should be 
 too far away from God : or if in both like God, too far away 
 from men ; and so not be a mediator. That deceiving 
 mediator then, by whom in Thy secret judgments pride 
 deserved to be deluded, " hath one thing in common with 
 man, that is sin ; another, he would seem to have in 
 common with God, namely, that not being clothed with the 
 mortality of flesh, would vaunt himself for immortal. But 
 since 'the wages of sin is death' (Rom. vi. 23); this also 
 he hath in common with men, that with them he should be 
 condemned to death." 
 
226 The Confessio7is of S. Atigustit 
 
 CHAPTER XLIII. 
 
 The Man Christ Jesus the only Mediator between God and Man. In 
 Him his soul is satisfied. 
 
 BUT the true Mediator, Whom in Thy secret mercy 
 Thou hast shewed to the humble, and didst send, 
 that by His example also they might learn that same humi- 
 lity, that " Mediator between God and man, the Man Christ 
 Jesus" (i Tim. ii. 5), appeared betwixt mortal sinners and 
 the immortal Just One ; sharing with men, mortality, with 
 God, righteousness: so that since the wages of righteous- 
 ness is life and peace. He might by a righteousness con- 
 joined with God, make void that death of justified sinners, 
 which it was His will to share in common with them. 
 Hence He was shewed forth to holy men of old ; that they 
 too through faith in His Passion to come, as we through 
 faith in it passed, might be saved. In so far as He was 
 man, He was a Mediator ; in that He was the Word, He 
 w^as not in a middle place, because equal with God, and 
 God with God, and together [with the Holy Spirit] one God. 
 How hast Thou loved us, O good Father, who " sparedst 
 not Thine only Son, but deliveredst Him up for us un- 
 godly!" (Rom. viii. 32). How hast Thou loved us, for 
 whom, " He that thought it not robbery to be equal with 
 Thee, was made subject even to the death of the cross" 
 (Phil. ii. 6) He alone "free among the dead" (Ps. Ixxxviii. 
 5), " having power to lay down His life, and power to take 
 it again" (S. John x. 18): for us to Thee both Victor and 
 Victim, and therefore Victor, because the Victim : for us to 
 Thee Priest and Sacrifice, and therefore Priest because the 
 Sacrifice ; making us to Thee sons instead of servants, by 
 being begotten of Thee, and becoming servant to us. 
 Rightly then is my hope strong in Him, that Thou "wilt 
 heal all my infirmities" by Him Who " sitteth at Thy right 
 hand and maketh intercession for us" (Rom. viii. 34), 
 otherwise I should despair. For many and great are those 
 infirmities of mine, many they are, and great; but Thy 
 medicine is greater. We might think that Thy word was 
 far removed from any union with man, and despair of our- 
 selves, had He not been " made flesh and dwelt among us " 
 (S. John i. 14). 
 
The Confessions of S. Augustine. 227 
 
 Affrighted with my sins and the burden of my misery, I 
 had devised in my heart, and purposed to " flee to the wil- 
 derness;" but Thou didst forbid me, and strengthen me, 
 saying, "Therefore Christ died for all, that they which live 
 should not henceforth live unto themselves, but unto Him 
 which died for them " (2 Cor. v. 15). See, Lord, I "cast 
 my care upon Thee " that I may live, and I will " consider 
 the wondrous things of Thy law" (Ps. cxix. 18). Thou 
 knowest my unskilfulness, and my weakness ; teach me, and 
 heal me. He, Thine only Son, " in Whom are hid all the 
 treasures of wisdom and knowledge" (Col. ii. 3), hath re- 
 deemed me with His blood. "Let not the proud speak 
 evil of me ; " because I think upon the price of my Re- 
 demption, and eat and drink, and communicate it; and 
 being " poor," I desire to be satisfied from Him amongst 
 those who " eat and are satisfied. And they shall praise 
 the Lord that seek Him" (Ps. xx. 26)."^ 
 
 * The remaining three books in the Latin text consist entirely of a 
 commentary upon the early chapters of Genesis, and ^are seldom pub- 
 lished with the " Confessions." 
 
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