Writings of Augustine. The Confessions of St. Augustin
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The Confessions of St. Augustin
St. Aurelius Augustin, Bishop of Hippo
In Thirteen Books
Translated and Annotated by J.G. Pilkington, M.A.,
Vicar of St. Mark's, West Hackney; And Sometime
Clerical Secretary of the Bishop of London's Fund.
Published in 1886 by Philip Schaff,
New York: Christian Literature Publishing Co.
.
Book IX.
He speaks of his design of forsaking the profession of rhetoric; of
the death of his friends, Nebridius and Verecundus; of having received
baptism in the thirty-third year of his age; and of the virtues and
death of his mother, Monica.
Chapter I.--He Praises God, the Author of Safety, and Jesus Christ,
the Redeemer, Acknowledging His Own Wickedness.
1. "O Lord, truly I am Thy servant; I am Thy servant, and the son of
Thine handmaid: Thou hast loosed my bonds. I will offer to Thee the
sacrifice of thanksgiving." [688] Let my heart and my tongue praise
Thee, and let all my bones say, "Lord, who is like unto Thee?" [689]
Let them so say, and answer Thou me, and "say unto my soul, I am Thy
salvation." [690] Who am I, and what is my nature? How evil have not
my deeds been; 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 profoundness of my death, and removed from the bottom
of my heart that abyss of corruption. And this was the result, that I
willed not to do what I willed, and willed to do what thou willedst.
[691] But where, during all those years, and out of what deep and
secret retreat was my free will summoned forth in a moment, whereby I
gave my neck to Thy "easy yoke," and my shoulders to Thy "light
burden," [692] O Christ Jesus, "my strength and my Redeemer"? [693]
How sweet did it suddenly become to me to be without the delights of
trifles! And what at one time I feared to lose, it was now a joy to me
to put away. [694] For Thou didst cast them away from me, Thou true
and highest sweetness. Thou didst cast them away, and instead of them
didst enter in Thyself, [695] --sweeter than all pleasure, though not
to flesh and blood; brighter than all light, but more veiled than all
mysteries; more exalted than all honour, but not to the exalted in
their own conceits. Now was my soul free from the gnawing cares of
seeking and getting, and of wallowing and exciting the itch of lust.
And I babbled unto Thee my brightness, my riches, and my health, the
Lord my God.
Footnotes
[688] Ps. cxvi. 16, 17.
[689] Ibid. xxxv. 10.
[690] Ibid. xxxv. 3.
[691] Volebas, though a few mss. have nolebas; and Watts accordingly
renders "nilledst."
[692] Matt. xi. 30.
[693] Ps. xix. 14.
[694] Archbishop Trench, in his exposition of the parable of the Hid
Treasure, which the man who found sold all that he had to buy, remarks
on this passage of the Confessions: "Augustin excellently illustrates
from his own experience this part of the parable. Describing the
crisis of his own conversion, and how easy he found it, through this
joy, to give up all those pleasures of sin that he had long dreaded to
be obliged to renounce, which had long held him fast bound in the
chains of evil custom, and which if he renounced, it had seemed to him
as though life itself would not be worth the living, he exclaims, `How
sweet did it suddenly become to me,'" etc.
[695] His love of earthly things was expelled by the indwelling love
of God, "for," as he says in his De Musica, vi. 52, "the love of the
things of time could only be expelled by some sweetness of things
eternal." Compare also Dr. Chalmers' sermon on The Expulsive Power of
a New Affection (the ninth of his "Commercial Discourses"), where this
idea is expanded.
Chapter II.--As His Lungs Were Affected, He Meditates Withdrawing
Himself from Public Favour.
2. And it seemed good to me, as before Thee, not tumultuously to
snatch away, but gently to withdraw the service of my tongue from the
talker's trade; that the young, who thought not on Thy law, nor on Thy
peace, but on mendacious follies and forensic strifes, might no longer
purchase at my mouth equipments for their vehemence. And opportunely
there wanted but a few days unto the Vacation of the Vintage; [696]
and I determined to endure them, in order to leave in the usual way,
and, being redeemed by Thee, no more to return for sale. Our intention
then was known to Thee; but to men--excepting our own friends--was it
not known. For we had determined among ourselves not to let it get
abroad to any; although Thou hadst given to us, ascending from the
valley of tears, [697] and singing the song of degrees, "sharp
arrows," and destroying coals, against the "deceitful tongue," [698]
which in giving counsel opposes, and in showing love consumes, as it
is wont to do with its food.
3. Thou hadst penetrated our hearts with Thy charity, and we carried
Thy words fixed, as it were, in our bowels; and the examples of Thy
servant, whom of black Thou hadst made bright, and of dead, alive,
crowded in the bosom of our thoughts, burned and consumed our heavy
torpor, that we might not topple into the abyss; and they enkindled us
exceedingly, that every breath of the deceitful tongue of the
gainsayer might inflame us the more, not extinguish us. Nevertheless,
because for Thy name's sake which Thou hast sanctified throughout the
earth, this, our vow and purpose, might also find commenders, it
looked like a vaunting of oneself not to wait for the vacation, now so
near, but to leave beforehand a public profession, and one, too, under
general observation; so that all who looked on this act of mine, and
saw how near was the vintage-time I desired to anticipate, would talk
of me a great deal as if I were trying to appear to be a great person.
And what purpose would it serve that people should consider and
dispute about my intention, and that our good should be evil spoken
of? [699]
4. Furthermore, this very summer, from too great literary labour, my
lungs [700] began to be weak, and with difficulty to draw deep
breaths; showing by the pains in my chest that they were affected, and
refusing too loud or prolonged speaking. This had at first been a
trial to me, for it compelled me almost of necessity to lay down that
burden of teaching; or, if I could be cured and become strong again,
at least to leave it off for a while. But when the full desire for
leisure, that I might see that Thou art the Lord, [701] arose, and was
confirmed in me, my God, Thou knowest I even began to rejoice that I
had this excuse ready,--and that not a feigned one,--which might
somewhat temper the offence taken by those who for their sons' good
wished me never to have the freedom of sons. Full, therefore, with
such joy, I bore it till that period of time had passed,--perhaps it
was some twenty days,--yet they were bravely borne; for the cupidity
which was wont to sustain part of this weighty business had departed,
and I had remained overwhelmed had not its place been supplied by
patience. Some of Thy servants, my brethren, may perchance say that I
sinned in this, in that having once fully, and from my heart, entered
on Thy warfare, I permitted myself to sit a single hour in the seat of
falsehood. I will not contend. But hast not Thou, O most merciful
Lord, pardoned and remitted this sin also, with my others, so horrible
and deadly, in the holy water?
Footnotes
[696] "In harvest and vintage time had the lawyers their vacation. So
Minutius Felix. Scholars, their Non Terminus, as here; yea, divinity
lectures and catechizings then ceased. So Cyprian, Ep. 2. The law
terms gave way also to the great festivals of the Church. Theodosius
forbade any process to go out from fifteen days before Easter till the
Sunday after. For the four Terms, see Caroli Calvi, Capitula, Act
viii. p. 90."--W. W.
[697] Ps. lxxxiv. 6.
[698] Ps. cxx. 3, 4, according to the Old Ver. This passage has many
difficulties we need not enter into. The Vulgate, however, we may say,
renders verse 3: "Quid detur tibi aut quid apponatur tibi ad linguam
dolosam,"--that is, shall be given as a defence against the tongues of
evil speakers. In this way Augustin understands it, and in his
commentary on this place makes the fourth verse give the answer to the
third. Thus, "sharp arrows" he interprets to be the word of God, and
"destroying coals" those who, being converted to Him, have become
examples to the ungodly.
[699] Rom. xiv. 16.
[700] In his De Vita Beata, sec. 4, and Con. Acad. i. 3, he also
alludes to this weakness of his chest. He was therefore led to give up
his professorship, partly from this cause, and partly from a desire to
devote himself more entirely to God's service. See also p. 115, note.
[701] Ps. xlvi. 10.
Chapter III.--He Retires to the Villa of His Friend Verecundus, Who
Was Not Yet a Christian, and Refers to His Conversion and Death, as
Well as that of Nebridius.
5. Verecundus was wasted with anxiety at that our happiness, since he,
being most firmly held by his bonds, saw that he would lose our
fellowship. For he was not yet a Christian, though his wife was one of
the faithful; [702] and yet hereby, being more firmly enchained than
by anything else, was he held back from that journey which we had
commenced. Nor, he declared, did he wish to be a Christian on any
other terms than those that were impossible. However, he invited us
most courteously to make use of his country house so long as we should
stay there. Thou, O Lord, wilt "recompense" him for this "at the
resurrection of the just," [703] seeing that Thou hast already given
him "the lot of the righteous." [704] For although, when we were
absent at Rome, he, being overtaken with bodily sickness, and therein
being made a Christian, and one of the faithful, departed this life,
yet hadst Thou mercy on him, and not on him only, but on us also;
[705] lest, thinking on the exceeding kindness of our friend to us,
and unable to count him in Thy flock, we should be tortured with
intolerable grief. Thanks be unto Thee, our God, we are Thine. Thy
exhortations, consolations, and faithful promises assure us that Thou
now repayest Verecundus for that country house at Cassiacum, where
from the fever of the world we found rest in Thee, with the perpetual
freshness of Thy Paradise, in that Thou hast forgiven him his earthly
sins, in that mountain flowing with milk, [706] that fruitful
mountain,--Thine own.
6. He then was at that time full of grief; but Nebridius was joyous.
Although he also, not being yet a Christian, had fallen into the pit
of that most pernicious error of believing Thy Son to be a phantasm,
[707] yet, coming out thence, he held the same belief that we did; not
as yet initiated in any of the sacraments of Thy Church, but a most
earnest inquirer after truth. [708] Whom, not long after our
conversion and regeneration by Thy baptism, he being also a faithful
member of the Catholic Church, and serving Thee in perfect chastity
and continency amongst his own people in Africa, when his whole
household had been brought to Christianity through him, didst Thou
release from the flesh; and now he lives in Abraham's bosom. Whatever
that may be which is signified by that bosom, [709] there lives my
Nebridius, my sweet friend, Thy son, O Lord, adopted of a freedman;
there he liveth. For what other place could there be for such a soul?
There liveth he, concerning which he used to ask me much,--me, an
inexperienced, feeble one. Now he puts not his ear unto my mouth, but
his spiritual mouth unto Thy fountain, and drinketh as much as he is
able, wisdom according to his desire,--happy without end. Nor do I
believe that he is so inebriated with it as to forget me, [710] seeing
Thou, O Lord, whom he drinketh, art mindful of us. Thus, then, were we
comforting the sorrowing Verecundus (our friendship being untouched)
concerning our conversion, and exhorting him to a faith according to
his condition, I mean, his married state. And tarrying for Nebridius
to follow us, which being so near, he was just about to do, when,
behold, those days passed over at last; for long and many they seemed,
on account of my love of easeful liberty, that I might sing unto Thee
from my very marrow. My heart said unto Thee,--I have sought Thy face;
"Thy face, Lord, will I seek." [711]
Footnotes
[702] See vi. sec. 1, note, above.
[703] Luke xiv. 14.
[704] Ps. cxxv. 2.
[705] Phil. ii. 27.
[706] Literally, In monte incaseato, "the mountain of curds," from the
Old Ver. of Ps. lxviii. 16. The Vulgate renders coagulatus. But the
Authorized Version is nearer the true meaning, when it renders
G+uaB+°N+»N+iJ+M%, hunched, as "high." The LXX. renders it
teturomenos, condensed, as if from G+u°B+iJ+N+oH+, cheese. This
divergence arises from the unused root G+uoB+aN%, to be curved, having
derivatives meaning (1) "hunch-backed," when applied to the body, and
(2) "cheese" or "curds," when applied to milk. Augustin, in his
exposition of this place, makes the "mountain" to be Christ, and
parallels it with Isa. ii. 2; and the "milk" he interprets of the
grace that comes from Him for Christ's little ones: Ipse est mons
incaseatus, propter parvulos gratia tanquam lacte nutriendos.
[707] See. v. 16, note, above.
[708] See vi. 17, note 6, above.
[709] Though Augustin, in his Quæst. Evang. ii. qu. 38, makes
Abraham's bosom to represent the rest into which the Gentiles entered
after the Jews had put it from them, yet he, for the most part, in
common with the early Church (see Serm. xiv. 3; Con. Faust. xxxiii. 5;
and Eps. clxiv. 7, and clxxxvii. Compare also Tertullian, De Anima,
lviii), takes it to mean the resting-place of the souls of the
righteous after death. Abraham's bosom, indeed, is the same as the
"Paradise" of Luke xxiii. 43. The souls of the faithful after they are
delivered from the flesh are in "joy and felicity" (De Civ. Dei, i.
13, and xiii. 19); but they will not have "their perfect consummation
and bliss both in body and soul" until the morning of the
resurrection, when they shall be endowed with "spiritual bodies." See
note p. 111; and for the difference between the ades of Luke xvi. 23,
that is, the place of departed spirits,--into which it is said in the
Apostles' Creed Christ descended,--and geenna, or Hell, see Campbell
on The Gospels, i. 253. In the A.V. both Greek words are rendered
"Hell."
[710] See sec. 37, note, below.
[711] Ps. xxvii. 8.
Chapter IV.--In the Country He Gives His Attention to Literature, and
Explains the Fourth Psalm in Connection with the Happy Conversion of
Alypius. He is Troubled with Toothache.
7. And the day arrived on which, in very deed, I was to be released
from the Professorship of Rhetoric, from which in intention I had been
already released. And done it was; and Thou didst deliver my tongue
whence Thou hadst already delivered my heart; and full of joy I
blessed Thee for it, and retired with all mine to the villa. [712]
What I accomplished here in writing, which was now wholly devoted to
Thy service, though still, in this pause as it were, panting from the
school of pride, my books testify, [713] --those in which I disputed
with my friends, and those with myself alone [714] before Thee; and
what with the absent Nebridius, my letters [715] testify. And when can
I find time to recount all Thy great benefits which Thou bestowedst
upon us at that time, especially as I am hasting on to still greater
mercies? For my memory calls upon me, and pleasant it is to me, O
Lord, to confess unto Thee, by what inward goads Thou didst subdue me,
and how Thou didst make me low, bringing down the mountains and hills
of my imaginations, and didst straighten my crookedness, and smooth my
rough ways; [716] and by what means Thou also didst subdue that
brother of my heart, Alypius, unto the name of Thy only-begotten, our
Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ, which he at first refused to have
inserted in our writings. For he rather desired that they should
savour of the "cedars" of the schools, which the Lord hath now broken
down, [717] than of the wholesome herbs of the Church, hostile to
serpents.
8. What utterances sent I up unto Thee, my God, when I read the Psalms
of David, [718] those faithful songs and sounds of devotion which
exclude all swelling of spirit, when new to Thy true love, at rest in
the villa with Alypius, a catechumen like myself, my mother cleaving
unto us,--in woman's garb truly, but with a man's faith, with the
peacefulness of age, full of motherly love and Christian piety! What
utterances used I to send up unto Thee in those Psalms, and how was I
inflamed towards Thee by them, and burned to rehearse them, if it were
possible, throughout the whole world, against the pride of the human
race! And yet they are sung throughout the whole world, and none can
hide himself from Thy heat. [719] With what vehement and bitter sorrow
was I indignant at the Manichæans; whom yet again I pitied, for that
they were ignorant of those sacraments, those medicaments, and were
mad against the antidote which might have made them sane! I wished
that they had been somewhere near me then, and, without my being aware
of their presence, could have beheld my face, and heard my words, when
I read the fourth Psalm in that time of my leisure,--how that Psalm
wrought upon me. When I called upon Thee, Thou didst hear me, O God of
my righteousness; Thou hast enlarged me when I was in distress; have
mercy upon me, and hear my prayer. [720] Oh that they might have heard
what I uttered on these words, without my knowing whether they heard
or no, lest they should think that I spake it because of them! For, of
a truth, neither should I have said the same things, nor in the way I
said them, if I had perceived that I was heard and seen by them; and
had I spoken them, they would not so have received them as when I
spake by and for myself before Thee, out of the private feelings of my
soul.
9. I alternately quaked with fear, and warmed with hope, and with
rejoicing in Thy mercy, O Father. And all these passed forth, both by
mine eyes and voice, when Thy good Spirit, turning unto us, said, O ye
sons of men, how long will ye be slow of heart? "How long will ye love
vanity, and seek after leasing?" [721] For I had loved vanity, and
sought after leasing. And Thou, O Lord, hadst already magnified Thy
Holy One, raising Him from the dead, and setting Him at Thy right
hand, [722] whence from on high He should send His promise, [723] the
Paraclete, "the Spirit of Truth." [724] And He had already sent Him,
[725] 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 Holy Ghost was not yet given, because that Jesus was
not yet glorified." [726] And the prophet cries out, How long will ye
be slow of heart? How long will ye love vanity, and seek after
leasing? Know this, that the Lord hath magnified His Holy One. He
cries out, "How long?" He cries out, "Know this," and I, so long
ignorant, "loved vanity, and sought after leasing." And therefore I
heard and trembled, because these words were spoken unto such as I
remembered that I myself had been. For in those phantasms which I once
held for truths was there "vanity" and "leasing." And I spake many
things loudly and earnestly, in the sorrow of my remembrance, which,
would that they who yet "love vanity and seek after leasing" had
heard! They would perchance have been troubled, and have vomited it
forth, and Thou wouldest hear them when they cried unto Thee; [727]
for by a true [728] death in the flesh He died for us, who now maketh
intercession for us [729] with Thee.
10. I read further, "Be ye angry, and sin not." [730] And how was I
moved, O my God, who had now learned to "be angry" with myself for the
things past, so that in the future I might not sin! Yea, to be justly
angry; for that it was not another nature of the race of darkness
[731] which sinned for me, as they affirm it to be who are not angry
with themselves, and who treasure up to themselves wrath against the
day of wrath, and of the revelation of Thy righteous judgment. [732]
Nor were my good things [733] now without, nor were they sought after
with eyes of flesh in that sun; [734] for they that would have joy
from without easily sink into oblivion, and are wasted upon those
things which are seen and temporal, and in their starving thoughts do
lick their very shadows. Oh, if only they were wearied out with their
fasting, and said, "Who will show us any good?" [735] And we would
answer, and they hear, O Lord. The light of Thy countenance is lifted
up upon us. [736] For we are not that Light, which lighteth every man,
[737] but we are enlightened by Thee, that we, who were sometimes
darkness, may be light in Thee. [738] Oh that they could behold the
internal Eternal, [739] which having tasted I gnashed my teeth that I
could not show It to them, while they brought me their heart in their
eyes, roaming abroad from Thee, and said, "Who will show us any good?"
But there, where I was angry with myself in my chamber, where I was
inwardly pricked, where I had offered my "sacrifice," slaying my old
man, and beginning the resolution of a new life, putting my trust in
Thee, [740] --there hadst Thou begun to grow sweet unto me, and to
"put gladness in my heart." [741] And I cried out as I read this
outwardly, and felt it inwardly. Nor would I be increased [742] with
worldly goods, wasting time and being wasted by time; whereas I
possessed in Thy eternal simplicity other corn, and wine, and oil.
[743]
11. And with a loud cry from my heart, I called out in the following
verse, "Oh, in peace!" and "the self-same!" [744] Oh, what said he, "I
will lay me down and sleep!" [745] For who shall hinder us, when
"shall be brought to pass the saying that is written, Death is
swallowed up in victory?" [746] And Thou art in the highest degree
"the self-same," who changest not; and in Thee is the rest which
forgetteth all labour, for there is no other beside Thee, nor ought we
to seek after those many other things which are not what Thou art; but
Thou, Lord, only makest me to dwell in hope. [747] These things I
read, and was inflamed; but discovered not what to do with those deaf
and dead, of whom I had been a pestilent member,--a bitter and a blind
declaimer against the writings be-honied with the honey of heaven and
luminous with Thine own light; and I was consumed on account of the
enemies of this Scripture.
12. When shall I call to mind all that took place in those holidays?
Yet neither have I forgotten, nor will I be silent about the severity
of Thy scourge, and the amazing quickness of Thy mercy. [748] Thou
didst at that time torture me with toothache; [749] and when it had
become so exceeding great that I was not able to speak, it came into
my heart to urge all my friends who were present to pray for me to
Thee, the God of all manner of health. And I wrote it down on wax,
[750] and gave it to them to read. Presently, as with submissive
desire we bowed our knees, that pain departed. But what pain? Or how
did it depart? I confess to being much afraid, my Lord my God, seeing
that from my earliest years I had not experienced such pain. And Thy
purposes were profoundly impressed upon me; and, rejoicing in faith, I
praised Thy name. And that faith suffered me not to be at rest in
regard to my past sins, which were not yet forgiven me by Thy baptism.
Footnotes
[712] As Christ went into the wilderness after His baptism (Matt. iv.
1), and Paul into Arabia after his conversion (Gal. i. 17), so did
Augustin here find in his retirement a preparation for his future
work. He tells us of this time of his life (De Ordin. i. 6) that his
habit was to spend the beginning or end, and often almost half the
night, in watching and searching for truth, and says further (ibid.
29), that "he almost daily asked God with tears that his wounds might
be healed, and often proved to himself that he was unworthy to be
healed as soon as he wished."
[713] These books are (Con. Acad. i. 4) his three disputations Against
the Academics, his De Vita Beata, begun (ibid. 6) "Idibus Novembris
die ejus natali;" and (Retract. i. 3) his two books De Ordine.
[714] That is, his two books of Soliloquies. In his Retractations, i.
4, sec 1, he tells us that in these books he held an argument,--me
interrogans, mihique respondens, tanquam duo essemus, ratio et ego.
[715] Several of these letters to Nebridius will be found in the two
vols. of Letters in this series.
[716] Luke iii. 5.
[717] Ps. xxix. 5.
[718] Reference may with advantage be made to Archbishop Trench's
Hulsean Lectures (1845), who in his third lect., on "The Manifoldness
of Scripture," adverts to this very passage, and shows in an
interesting way how the Psalms have ever been to the saints of God, as
Luther said, "a Bible in little," affording satisfaction to their
needs in every kind of trial, emergency, and experience.
[719] Ps. xix. 6.
[720] Ps. iv. 1.
[721] Ibid. ver. 23.
[722] Eph. i. 20.
[723] Luke xxiv. 49.
[724] John xiv. 16, 17.
[725] Acts ii. 1-4.
[726] John vii. 39.
[727] Ps. iv. 1.
[728] See v. 16, note, above.
[729] Rom. viii. 34.
[730] Eph. iv. 26.
[731] See iv. 26, note, above.
[732] Rom. ii. 5.
[733] Ps. iv. 6.
[734] See v. 12, note, above.
[735] Ps. iv. 6.
[736] Ibid.
[737] John i. 9.
[738] Eph. v. 8.
[739] Internum æternum, but some mss. read internum lumen æternum.
[740] Ps. iv. 5.
[741] Ps. iv. 7.
[742] That is, lest they should distract him from the true riches.
For, as he says in his exposition of the fourth Psalm, "Cum dedita
temporalibus voluptatibus anima semper exardescit cupiditate, nec
satiari potest." He knew that the prosperity of the soul (3 John 2)
might be injuriously affected by the prosperity of the body; and
disregarding the lower life (bios) and its "worldly goods," he pressed
on to increase the treasure he had within,--the true life (zoe) which
he had received from God. See also Enarr. in Ps. xxxviii. 6.
[743] Ps. iv. 7.
[744] Ibid. ver. 8, Vulg.
[745] Ps. iv. 8; in his comment whereon, Augustin applies this passage
as above.
[746] 1 Cor. xv. 54.
[747] Ps. iv. 9, Vulg.
[748] Compare the beautiful Talmudical legend quoted by Jeremy Taylor
(Works, viii. 397, Eden's ed.), that of the two archangels, Gabriel
and Michael, Gabriel has two wings that he may "fly swiftly" (Dan. ix.
21) to bring the message of peace, while Michael has but one, that he
may labour in his flight when he comes forth on his ministries of
justice.
[749] In his Soliloquies (see note, sec. 7, above), he refers in i. 21
to this period. He there tells us that his pain was so great that it
prevented his learning anything afresh, and only permitted him to
revolve in his mind what he had already learnt. Compare De Quincey's
description of the agonies he had to endure from tooth ache in his
Confessions of an Opium Eater.
[750] That is, on the waxen tablet used by the ancients. The iron
stilus, or pencil, used for writing, was pointed at one end and
flattened at the other--the flattened circular end being used to erase
the writing by smoothing down the wax. Hence vertere stilum signifies
to put out or correct. See sec. 19, below.
Chapter V.--At the Recommendation of Ambrose, He Reads the Prophecies
of Isaiah, But Does Not Understand Them.
13. The vintage vacation being ended, I gave the citizens of Milan
notice that they might provide their scholars with another seller of
words; because both of my election to serve Thee, and my inability, by
reason of the difficulty of breathing and the pain in my chest, to
continue the Professorship. And by letters I notified to Thy bishop,
[751] the holy man Ambrose, my former errors and present resolutions,
with a view to his advising me which of Thy books it was best for me
to read, so that I might be readier and fitter for the reception of
such great grace. He recommended Isaiah the Prophet; [752] I believe,
because he foreshows more clearly than others the gospel, and the
calling of the Gentiles. But I, not understanding the first portion of
the book, and imagining the whole to be like it, laid it aside,
intending to take it up hereafter, when better practised in our Lord's
words.
Footnotes
[751] Antistiti.
[752] In his De Civ. Dei, xviii. 29, he likewise alludes to the
evangelical character of the writings of Isaiah.
Chapter VI.--He is Baptized at Milan with Alypius and His Son
Adeodatus. The Book "De Magistro."
14. Thence, when the time had arrived at which I was to give in my
name, [753] having left the country, we returned to Milan. Alypius
also was pleased to be born again with me in Thee, being now clothed
with the humility appropriate to Thy sacraments, and being so brave a
tamer of the body, as with unusual fortitude to tread the frozen soil
of Italy with his naked feet. We took into our company the boy
Adeodatus, born of me carnally, of my sin. Well hadst Thou made him.
He was barely fifteen years, yet in wit excelled many grave and
learned men. [754] I confess unto Thee Thy gifts, O Lord my God,
Creator of all, and of exceeding power to reform our deformities; for
of me was there naught in that boy but the sin. For that we fostered
him in Thy discipline, Thou inspiredst us, none other,--Thy gifts I
confess unto Thee. There is a book of ours, which is entitled The
Master. [755] It is a dialogue between him and me. Thou knowest that
all things there put into the mouth of the person in argument with me
were his thoughts in his sixteenth year. Many others more wonderful
did I find in him. That talent was a source of awe to me. And who but
Thou could be the worker of such marvels? Quickly didst Thou remove
his life from the earth; and now I recall him to mind with a sense of
security, in that I fear nothing for his childhood or youth, or for
his whole self. We took him coeval with us in Thy grace, to be
educated in Thy discipline; and we were baptized, [756] and solicitude
about our past life left us. Nor was I satiated in those days with the
wondrous sweetness of considering the depth of Thy counsels concerning
the salvation of the human race. How greatly did I weep in Thy hymns
and canticles, deeply moved by the voices of Thy sweet-speaking
Church! The voices flowed into mine ears, and the truth was poured
forth into my heart, whence the agitation of my piety overflowed, and
my tears ran over, and blessed was I therein.
Footnotes
[753] "They were baptized at Easter, and gave up their names before
the second Sunday in Lent, the rest of which they were to spend in
fasting, humility, prayer, and being examined in the scrutinies
(Tertull. Lib. de Bapt. c. 20). Therefore went they to Milan, that the
bishop might see their preparation. Adjoining to the cathedrals were
there certain lower houses for them to lodge and be exercised in, till
the day of baptism" (Euseb. x. 4).--W. W. See also Bingham, x. 2, sec.
6; and above, note 4, p. 89; note 4, p. 118, and note 8, p. 118.
[754] In his De Vita Beata, sec. 6, he makes a similar illusion to the
genius of Adeodatus.
[755] This book, in which he and his son are the interlocutors, will
be found in vol. i. of the Benedictine edition, and is by the editors
assumed to be written about A.D. 389. Augustin briefly gives its
argument in his Retractations, i. 12. He says: "There it is disputed,
sought, and discovered that there is no master who teaches man
knowledge save God, as it is written in the gospel (Matt. xxiii. 10),
`One is your Master, even Christ.'"
[756] He was baptized by Ambrose, and tradition says, as he came out
of the water, they sang alternate verses of the Te Deum (ascribed by
some to Ambrose), which, in the old offices of the English Church is
called "The Song of Ambrose and Augustin." In his Con. Julian. Pelag.
i. 10, he speaks of Ambrose as being one whose devoted labours and
perils were known throughout the whole Roman world, and says: "In
Christo enim Jesu per evangelium ipse me genuit, et eo Christi
ministro lavacrum regenerationis accepti." See also the last sec. of
his De Nupt. et Concup., and Ep. cxlvii. 23. In notes 3, p. 50, and 4,
p. 89, will be found references to the usages of the early Church as
to baptism.
Chapter VII.--Of the Church Hymns Instituted at Milan; Of the
Ambrosian Persecution Raised by Justina; And of the Discovery of the
Bodies of Two Martyrs.
15. Not long had the Church of Milan begun to employ this kind of
consolation and exhortation, the brethren singing together with great
earnestness of voice and heart. For it was about a year, or not much
more, since Justina, the mother of the boy-Emperor Valentinian,
persecuted [757] Thy servant Ambrose in the interest of her heresy, to
which she had been seduced by the Arians. The pious people kept guard
in the church, prepared to die with their bishop, Thy servant. There
my mother, Thy handmaid, bearing a chief part of those cares and
watchings, lived in prayer. We, still unmelted by the heat of Thy
Spirit, were yet moved by the astonished and disturbed city. At this
time it was instituted that, after the manner of the Eastern Church,
hymns and psalms should be sung, lest the people should pine away in
the tediousness of sorrow; which custom, retained from then till now,
is imitated by many, yea, by almost all of Thy congregations
throughout the rest of the world.
16. Then didst Thou by a vision make known to Thy renowned bishop
[758] the spot where lay the bodies of Gervasius and Protasius, the
martyrs (whom Thou hadst in Thy secret storehouse preserved
uncorrupted for so many years), whence Thou mightest at the fitting
time produce them to repress the feminine but royal fury. For when
they were revealed and dug up and with due honour transferred to the
Ambrosian Basilica, not only they who were troubled with unclean
spirits (the devils confessing themselves) were healed, but a certain
man also, who had been blind [759] many years, a well-known citizen of
that city, having asked and been told the reason of the people's
tumultuous joy, rushed forth, asking his guide to lead him thither.
Arrived there, he begged to be permitted to touch with his
handkerchief the bier of Thy saints, whose death is precious in Thy
sight. [760] When he had done this, and put it to his eyes, they were
forthwith opened. Thence did the fame spread; thence did Thy praises
burn,--shine; thence was the mind of that enemy, though not yet
enlarged to the wholeness of believing, restrained from the fury of
persecuting. Thanks be to Thee, O my God. Whence and whither hast Thou
thus led my remembrance, that I should confess these things also unto
Thee,--great, though I, forgetful, had passed them over? And yet then,
when the "savour" of Thy "ointments" was so fragrant, did we not "run
after Thee." [761] And so I did the more abundantly weep at the
singing of Thy hymns, formerly panting for Thee, and at last breathing
in Thee, as far as the air can play in this house of grass.
Footnotes
[757] The Bishop of Milan who preceded Ambrose was an Arian, and
though Valentinian the First approved the choice of Ambrose as bishop,
Justina, on his death, greatly troubled the Church. Ambrose
subsequently had great influence over both Valentinian the Second and
his brother Gratian. The persecution referred to above, says Pusey,
was "to induce him to give up to the Arians a church,--the Portian
Basilica without the walls; afterwards she asked for the new Basilica
within the walls, which was larger." See Ambrose, Epp. 20-22; Serm. c.
Auxentium de Basilicis Tradendis, pp. 852-880, ed. Bened.; cf.
Tillemont, Hist. Eccl. St. Ambroise, art. 44-48, pp. 76-82.
Valentinian was then at Milan. See next sec., the beginning of note.
[758] Antistiti.
[759] Augustin alludes to this, amongst other supposed miracles, in
his De Civ. Dei, xxii. 8; and again in Serm. cclxxxvi. sec. 4, where
he tells us that the man, after being cured, made a vow that he would
for the remainder of his life serve in that Basilica where the bodies
of the martyrs lay. St. Ambrose also examines the miracle at great
length in one of his sermons. We have already referred in note 5, p.
69 to the origin of these false miracles in the early Church. Lecture
vi. series 2, of Blunt's Lectures on the Right Use of the Early
Fathers, is devoted to an examination of the various passages in the
Ante-Nicene Fathers where the continuance of miracles in the Church is
either expressed or implied. The reader should also refer to the note
on p. 485 of vol. ii. of the City of God, in this series.
[760] Ps. cxvi. 15.
[761] Cant. i. 3, 4.
Chapter VIII.--Of the Conversion of Evodius, and the Death of His
Mother When Returning with Him to Africa; And Whose Education He
Tenderly Relates.
17. Thou, who makest men to dwell of one mind in a house, [762] didst
associate with us Evodius also, a young man of our city, who, when
serving as an agent for Public Affairs, [763] was converted unto Thee
and baptized prior to us; and relinquishing his secular service,
prepared himself for Thine. We were together, [764] and together were
we about to dwell with a holy purpose. We sought for some place where
we might be most useful in our service to Thee, and were going back
together to Africa. And when we were at the Tiberine Ostia my mother
died. Much I omit, having much to hasten. Receive my confessions and
thanksgivings, O my God, for innumerable things concerning which I am
silent. But I will not omit aught that my soul has brought forth as to
that Thy handmaid who brought me forth,--in her flesh, that I might be
born to this temporal light, and in her heart, that I might be born to
life eternal. [765] I will speak not of her gifts, but Thine in her;
for she neither made herself nor educated herself. Thou createdst her,
nor did her father nor her mother know what a being was to proceed
from them. And it was the rod of Thy Christ, the discipline of Thine
only Son, that trained her in Thy fear, in the house of one of Thy
faithful ones, who was a sound member of Thy Church. Yet this good
discipline did she not so much attribute to the diligence of her
mother, as that of a certain decrepid maid-servant, who had carried
about her father when an infant, as little ones are wont to be carried
on the backs of elder girls. For which reason, and on account of her
extreme age and very good character, was she much respected by the
heads of that Christian house. Whence also was committed to her the
care of her master's daughters, which she with diligence performed,
and was earnest in restraining them when necessary, with a holy
severity, and instructing them with a sober sagacity. For, excepting
at the hours in which they were very temperately fed at their parents'
table, she used not to permit them, though parched with thirst, to
drink even water; thereby taking precautions against an evil custom,
and adding the wholesome advice, "You drink water only because you
have not control of wine; but when you have come to be married, and
made mistresses of storeroom and cellar, you will despise water, but
the habit of drinking will remain." By this method of instruction, and
power of command, she restrained the longing of their tender age, and
regulated the very thirst of the girls to such a becoming limit, as
that what was not seemly they did not long for.
18. And yet--as Thine handmaid related to me, her son--there had
stolen upon her a love of wine. For when she, as being a sober maiden,
was as usual bidden by her parents to draw wine from the cask, the
vessel being held under the opening, before she poured the wine into
the bottle, she would wet the tips of her lips with a little, for more
than that her inclination refused. For this she did not from any
craving for drink, but out of the overflowing buoyancy of her time of
life, which bubbles up with sportiveness, and is, in youthful spirits,
wont to be repressed by the gravity of elders. And so unto that
little, adding daily littles (for "he that contemneth small things
shall fall by little and little"), [766] she contracted such a habit
as, to drink off eagerly her little cup nearly full of wine. Where,
then, was the sagacious old woman with her earnest restraint? Could
anything prevail against a secret disease if Thy medicine, O Lord, did
not watch over us? Father, mother, and nurturers absent, Thou present,
who hast created, who callest, who also by those who are set over us
workest some good for the salvation of our souls, what didst Thou at
that time, O my God? How didst Thou heal her? How didst Thou make her
whole? Didst Thou not out of another woman's soul evoke a hard and
bitter insult, as a surgeon's knife from Thy secret store, and with
one thrust remove all that putrefaction? [767] For the maidservant who
used to accompany her to the cellar, falling out, as it happens, with
her little mistress, when she was alone with her, cast in her teeth
this vice, with very bitter insult, calling her a "wine-bibber." Stung
by this taunt, she perceived her foulness, and immediately condemned
and renounced it. Even as friends by their flattery pervert, so do
enemies by their taunts often correct us. Yet Thou renderest not unto
them what Thou dost by them, but what was proposed by them. For she,
being angry, desired to irritate her young mistress, not to cure her;
and did it in secret, either because the time and place of the dispute
found them thus, or perhaps lest she herself should be exposed to
danger for disclosing it so late. But Thou, Lord, Governor of heavenly
and earthly things, who convertest to Thy purposes the deepest
torrents, and disposest the turbulent current of the ages, [768]
healest one soul by the unsoundness of another; lest any man, when he
remarks this, should attribute it unto his own power if another, whom
he wishes to be reformed, is so through a word of his.
Footnotes
[762] Ps. lxviii. 6.
[763] See viii. sec. 15, note, above.
[764] We find from his Retractations (i. 7, sec. 1), that at this time
he wrote his De Moribus Ecclesiæ Catholicæ and his De Moribus
Manichæorum. He also wrote (ibid. 8, sec. I) his De Animæ Quantitate,
and (ibid. 9, sec. I) his three books De Libero Arbitrio.
[765] In his De Vita Beata and in his De Dono Persev. he attributes
all that he was to his mother's tears and prayers.
[766] Ecclus. xix. 1. Augustin frequently alludes to the subtle power
of little things. As when he says,--illustrating (Serm. cclxxviii.) by
the plagues of Egypt,--tiny insects, if they be numerous enough, will
be as harmful as the bite of great beasts; and (Serm. lvi.) a hill of
sand, though composed of tiny grains, will crush a man as surely as
the same weight of lead. Little drops (Serm. lviii.) make the river,
and little leaks sink the ship; wherefore, he urges, little things
must not be despised. "Men have usually," says Sedgwick in his Anatomy
of Secret Sins, "been first wading in lesser sins who are now swimming
in great transgressions." It is in the little things of evil that
temptation has its greatest strength. The snowflake is little and not
to be accounted of, but from its multitudinous accumulation results
the dread power of the avalanche. Satan often seems to act as it is
said Pompey did, when he could not gain entrance to a city. He
persuaded the citizens to admit a few of his weak and wounded
soldiers, who, when they had become strong, opened the gates to his
whole army. But if little things have such subtlety in temptation,
they have likewise higher ministries. The Jews, in their Talmudical
writings, have many parables illustrating how God by little things
tries and proves men to see if they are fitted for greater things.
They say, for example, that He tried David when keeping sheep in the
wilderness, to see whether he would be worthy to rule over Israel, the
sheep of his inheritance. See Ch. Schoettgen, Hor. Heb. et Talmud, i.
300.
[767] "`Animam oportet assiduis saliri tentationibus,' says St.
Ambrose. Some errors and offences do rub salt upon a good man's
integrity, that it may not putrefy with presumption."--Bishop Hacket's
Sermons, p 210.
[768] Not only is this true in private, but in public concerns. Even
in the crucifixion of our Lord, the wicked rulers did (Acts. iv. 26)
what God's hand and God's counsel had before determined to be done.
Perhaps by reason of His infinite knowledge it is that God, who knows
our thoughts long before (Ps. cxxxix. 2, 4), weaves man's self-willed
purposes into the pattern which His inscrutable providence has before
ordained. Or, to use Augustin's own words (De Civ. Dei, xxii. 2), "It
is true that wicked men do many things contrary to God's will; but so
great is His wisdom and power, that all things which seem adverse to
His purpose do still tend towards those just and good ends and issues
which He Himself has foreknown."
Chapter IX.--He Describes the Praiseworthy Habits of His Mother; Her
Kindness Towards Her Husband and Her Sons.
19. Being thus modestly and soberly trained, and rather made subject
by Thee to her parents, than by her parents to Thee, when she had
arrived at a marriageable age, she was given to a husband whom she
served as her lord. And she busied herself to gain him to Thee,
preaching Thee unto him by her behaviour; by which Thou madest her
fair, and reverently amiable, and admirable unto her husband. For she
so bore the wronging of her bed as never to have any dissension with
her husband on account of it. For she waited for Thy mercy upon him,
that by believing in Thee he might become chaste. And besides this, as
he was earnest in friendship, so was he violent in anger; but she had
learned that an angry husband should not be resisted, neither in deed,
nor even in word. But so soon as he was grown calm and tranquil, and
she saw a fitting moment, she would give him a reason for her conduct,
should he have been excited without cause. In short, while many
matrons, whose husbands were more gentle, carried the marks of blows
on their dishonoured faces, and would in private conversation blame
the lives of their husbands, she would blame their tongues, monishing
them gravely, as if in jest: "That from the hour they heard what are
called the matrimonial tablets [769] read to them, they should think
of them as instruments whereby they were made servants; so, being
always mindful of their condition, they ought not to set themselves in
opposition to their lords." And when they, knowing what a furious
husband she endured, marvelled that it had never been reported, nor
appeared by any indication, that Patricius had beaten his wife, or
that there had been any domestic strife between them, even for a day,
and asked her in confidence the reason of this, she taught them her
rule, which I have mentioned above. They who observed it experienced
the wisdom of it, and rejoiced; those who observed it not were kept in
subjection, and suffered.
20. Her mother-in-law, also, being at first prejudiced against her by
the whisperings of evil-disposed servants, she so conquered by
submission, persevering in it with patience and meekness, that she
voluntarily disclosed to her son the tongues of the meddling servants,
whereby the domestic peace between herself and her daughter-in-law had
been agitated, begging him to punish them for it. When, therefore, he
had--in conformity with his mother's wish, and with a view to the
discipline of his family, and to ensure the future harmony of its
members--corrected with stripes those discovered, according to the
will of her who had discovered them, she promised a similar reward to
any who, to please her, should say anything evil to her of her
daughter-in-law. And, none now daring to do so, they lived together
with a wonderful sweetness of mutual good-will.
21. This great gift Thou bestowedst also, my God, my mercy, upon that
good handmaid of Thine, out of whose womb Thou createdst me, even
that, whenever she could, she showed herself such a peacemaker between
any differing and discordant spirits, that when she had heard on both
sides most bitter things, such as swelling and undigested discord is
wont to give vent to, when the crudities of enmities are breathed out
in bitter speeches to a present friend against an absent enemy, she
would disclose nothing about the one unto the other, save what might
avail to their reconcilement. A small good this might seem to me, did
I not know to my sorrow countless persons, who, through some horrible
and far-spreading infection of sin, not only disclose to enemies
mutually enraged the things said in passion against each other, but
add some things that were never spoken at all; whereas, to a generous
man, it ought to seem a small thing not to incite or increase the
enmities of men by ill-speaking, unless he endeavour likewise by kind
words to extinguish them. Such a one was she,--Thou, her most intimate
Instructor, teaching her in the school of her heart.
22. Finally, her own husband, now towards the end of his earthly
existence, did she gain over unto Thee; and she had not to complain of
that in him, as one of the faithful, which, before he became so, she
had endured. She was also the servant of Thy servants. Whosoever of
them knew her, did in her much magnify, honour, and love Thee; for
that through the testimony of the fruits of a holy conversation, they
perceived Thee to be present in her heart. For she had "been the wife
of one man," had requited her parents, had guided her house piously,
was "well-reported of for good works," had "brought up children,"
[770] as often travailing in birth of them [771] as she saw them
swerving from Thee. Lastly, to all of us, O Lord (since of Thy favour
Thou sufferest Thy servants to speak), who, before her sleeping in
Thee, [772] lived associated together, having received the grace of
Thy baptism, did she devote, care such as she might if she had been
mother of us all; served us as if she had been child of all.
Footnotes
[769] That is, not only from the time of actual marriage, but from the
time of betrothal, when the contract was written upon tablets (see
note 10, p. 133), and signed by the contracting parties. The future
wife was then called sponsa sperata or pacta. Augustin alludes to this
above (vii. sec. 7), when he says, "It is also the custom that the
affianced bride (pactæ sponsæ) should not immediately be given up,
that the husband may not less esteem her whom, as betrothed, he longed
not for" (non suspiraverit sponsus). It should be remembered, in
reading this section, that women amongst the Romans were not confined
after the Eastern fashion of the Greeks to separate apartments, but
had charge of the domestic arrangements and the training of the
children.
[770] 1 Tim. v. 4, 9, 10, 14.
[771] Gal. iv. 19.
[772] 1 Thess. iv. 14.
Chapter X.--A Conversation He Had with His Mother Concerning the
Kingdom of Heaven.
23. As the day now approached on which she was to depart this life
(which day Thou knewest, we did not), it fell out--Thou, as I believe,
by Thy secret ways arranging it--that she and I stood alone, leaning
in a certain window, from which the garden of the house we occupied at
Ostia could be seen; at which place, removed from the crowd, we were
resting ourselves for the voyage, after the fatigues of a long
journey. We then were conversing alone very pleasantly; and,
"forgetting those things which are behind, and reaching forth unto
those things which are before," [773] we were seeking between
ourselves in the presence of the Truth, which Thou art, of what nature
the eternal life of the saints would be, which eye hath not seen, nor
ear heard, neither hath entered into the heart of man. [774] But yet
we opened wide the mouth of our heart, after those supernal streams of
Thy fountain, "the fountain of life," which is "with Thee;" [775] that
being sprinkled with it according to our capacity, we might in some
measure weigh so high a mystery.
24. And when our conversation had arrived at that point, that the very
highest pleasure of the carnal senses, and that in the very brightest
material light, seemed by reason of the sweetness of that life not
only not worthy of comparison, but not even of mention, we, lifting
ourselves with a more ardent affection towards "the Selfsame," [776]
did gradually pass through all corporeal things, and even the heaven
itself, whence sun, and moon, and stars shine upon the earth; yea, we
soared higher yet by inward musing, and discoursing, and admiring Thy
works; and we came to our own minds, and went beyond them, that we
might advance as high as that region of unfailing plenty, where Thou
feedest Israel [777] for ever with the food of truth, and where life
is that Wisdom by whom all these things are made, both which have
been, and which are to come; and she is not made, but is as she hath
been, and so shall ever be; yea, rather, to "have been," and "to be
hereafter," are not in her, but only "to be," seeing she is eternal,
for to "have been" and "to be hereafter" are not eternal. And while we
were thus speaking, and straining after her, we slightly touched her
with the whole effort of our heart; and we sighed, and there left
bound "the first-fruits of the Spirit;" [778] and returned to the
noise of our own mouth, where the word uttered has both beginning and
end. And what is like unto Thy Word, our Lord, who remaineth in
Himself without becoming old, and "maketh all things new"? [779]
25. We were saying, then, If to any man the tumult of the flesh were
silenced,--silenced the phantasies of earth, waters, and
air,--silenced, too, the poles; yea, the very soul be silenced to
herself, and go beyond herself by not thinking of herself,--silenced
fancies and imaginary revelations, every tongue, and every sign, and
whatsoever exists by passing away, since, if any could hearken, all
these say, "We created not ourselves, but were created by Him who
abideth for ever:" If, having uttered this, they now should be
silenced, having only quickened our ears to Him who created them, and
He alone speak not by them, but by Himself, that we may hear His word,
not by fleshly tongue, nor angelic voice, nor sound of thunder, nor
the obscurity of a similitude, but might hear Him--Him whom in these
we love--without these, like as we two now strained ourselves, and
with rapid thought touched on that Eternal Wisdom which remaineth over
all. If this could be sustained, and other visions of a far different
kind be withdrawn, and this one ravish, and absorb, and envelope its
beholder amid these inward joys, so that his life might be eternally
like that one moment of knowledge which we now sighed after, were not
this "Enter thou into the joy of Thy Lord"? [780] And when shall that
be? When we shall all rise again; but all shall not be changed. [781]
26. Such things was I saying; and if not after this manner, and in
these words, yet, Lord, Thou knowest, that in that day when we were
talking thus, this world with all its delights grew contemptible to
us, even while we spake. Then said my mother, "Son, for myself, I have
no longer any pleasure in aught in this life. What I want here
further, and why I am here, I know not, now that my hopes in this
world are satisfied. There was indeed one thing for which I wished to
tarry a little in this life, and that was that I might see thee a
Catholic Christian before I died. [782] My God has exceeded this
abundantly, so that I see thee despising all earthly felicity, made
His servant,--what do I here?"
Footnotes
[773] Phil. iii. 13.
[774] 1 Cor. ii. 9.; Isa. lxiv. 4.
[775] Ps. xxxvi. 9.
[776] Ps. iv. 8, Vulg.
[777] Ps. lxxx. 5.
[778] Rom. viii. 23.
[779] Wisd. vii. 27.
[780] Matt. xxv. 21.
[781] 1 Cor. xv. 51, however, is, "we shall all be changed."
[782] Dean Stanley (Canterbury Sermons, serm. 10) draws the following,
amongst other lessons, from God's dealings with Augustin. "It is an
example," he says, "like the conversion of St. Paul, of the fact that
from time to time God calls His servants not by gradual, but by sudden
changes. These conversions are, it is true, the exceptions and not the
rule of Providence, but such examples as Augustin show us that we must
acknowledge the truth of the exceptions when they do occur. It is also
an instance how, even in such sudden conversions, previous good
influences have their weight. The prayers of his mother, the silent
influence of his friend, the high character of Ambrose, the
preparation for Christian truth in the writings of heathen
philosophers, were all laid up, as it were, waiting for the spark,
and, when it came, the fire flashed at once through every corner of
his soul."
Chapter XI.--His Mother, Attacked by Fever, Dies at Ostia.
27. What reply I made unto her to these things I do not well remember.
However, scarcely five days after, or not much more, she was
prostrated by fever; and while she was sick, she one day sank into a
swoon, and was for a short time unconscious of visible things. We
hurried up to her; but she soon regained her senses, and gazing on me
and my brother as we stood by her, she said to us inquiringly, "Where
was I?" Then looking intently at us stupefied with grief, "Here,"
saith she, "shall you bury your mother." I was silent, and refrained
from weeping; but my brother said something, wishing her, as the
happier lot, to die in her own country and not abroad. She, when she
heard this, with anxious countenance arrested him with her eye, as
savouring of such things, and then gazing at me, "Behold," saith she,
"what he saith;" and soon after to us both she saith, "Lay this body
anywhere, let not the care for it trouble you at all. This only I ask,
that you will remember me at the Lord's altar, wherever you be." And
when she had given forth this opinion in such words as she could, she
was silent, being in pain with her increasing sickness.
28. But, as I reflected on Thy gifts, O thou invisible God, which Thou
instillest into the hearts of Thy faithful ones, whence such
marvellous fruits do spring, I did rejoice and give thanks unto Thee,
calling to mind what I knew before, how she had ever burned with
anxiety respecting her burial-place, which she had provided and
prepared for herself by the body of her husband. For as they had lived
very peacefully together, her desire had also been (so little is the
human mind capable of grasping things divine) that this should be
added to that happiness, and be talked of among men, that after her
wandering beyond the sea, it had been granted her that they both, so
united on earth, should lie in the same grave. But when this
uselessness had, through the bounty of Thy goodness, begun to be no
longer in her heart, I knew not, and I was full of joy admiring what
she had thus disclosed to me; though indeed in that our conversation
in the window also, when she said, "What do I here any longer?" she
appeared not to desire to die in her own country. I heard afterwards,
too, that at the time we were at Ostia, with a maternal confidence she
one day, when I was absent, was speaking with certain of my friends on
the contemning of this life, and the blessing of death; and when
they--amazed at the courage which Thou hadst given to her, a
woman--asked her whether she did not dread leaving her body at such a
distance from her own city, she replied, "Nothing is far to God; nor
need I fear lest He should be ignorant at the end of the world of the
place whence He is to raise me up." On the ninth day, then, of her
sickness, the fifty-sixth year of her age, and the thirty-third of
mine, was that religious and devout soul set free from the body.
Chapter XII.--How He Mourned His Dead Mother.
29. I closed her eyes; and there flowed a great sadness into my heart,
and it was passing into tears, when mine eyes at the same time, by the
violent control of my mind, sucked back the fountain dry, and woe was
me in such a struggle! But, as soon as she breathed her last the boy
Adeodatus burst out into wailing, but, being checked by us all, he
became quiet. In like manner also my own childish feeling, which was,
through the youthful voice of my heart, finding escape in tears, was
restrained and silenced. For we did not consider it fitting to
celebrate that funeral with tearful plaints and groanings; [783] for
on such wise are they who die unhappy, or are altogether dead, wont to
be mourned. But she neither died unhappy, nor did she altogether die.
For of this were we assured by the witness of her good conversation,
her "faith unfeigned," [784] and other sufficient grounds.
30. What, then, was that which did grievously pain me within, but the
newly-made wound, from having that most sweet and dear habit of living
together suddenly broken off? I was full of joy indeed in her
testimony, when, in that her last illness, flattering my dutifulness,
she called me "kind," and recalled, with great affection of love, that
she had never heard any harsh or reproachful sound come out of my
mouth against her. But yet, O my God, who madest us, how can the
honour which I paid to her be compared with her slavery for me? As,
then, I was left destitute of so great comfort in her, my soul was
stricken, and that life torn apart as it were, which, of hers and mine
together, had been made but one.
31. The boy then being restrained from weeping, Evodius took up the
Psalter, and began to sing--the whole house responding--the Psalm, "I
will sing of mercy and judgment: unto Thee, O Lord." [785] But when
they heard what we were doing, many brethren and religious women came
together; and whilst they whose office it was were, according to
custom, making ready for the funeral, I, in a part of the house where
I conveniently could, together with those who thought that I ought not
to be left alone, discoursed on what was suited to the occasion; and
by this alleviation of truth mitigated the anguish known unto
Thee--they being unconscious of it, listened intently, and thought me
to be devoid of any sense of sorrow. But in Thine ears, where none of
them heard, did I blame the softness of my feelings, and restrained
the flow of my grief, which yielded a little unto me; but the paroxysm
returned again, though not so as to burst forth into tears, nor to a
change of countenance, though I knew what I repressed in my heart. And
as I was exceedingly annoyed that these human things had such power
over me, [786] which in the due order and destiny of our natural
condition must of necessity come to pass, with a new sorrow I sorrowed
for my sorrow, and was wasted by a twofold sadness.
32. So, when the body was carried forth, we both went and returned
without tears. For neither in those prayers which we poured forth unto
Thee when the sacrifice of our redemption [787] was offered up unto
Thee for her,--the dead body being now placed by the side of the
grave, as the custom there is, prior to its being laid
therein,--neither in their prayers did I shed tears; yet was I most
grievously sad in secret all the day, and with a troubled mind
entreated Thee, as I was able, to heal my sorrow, but Thou didst not;
fixing, I believe, in my memory by this one lesson the power of the
bonds of all habit, even upon a mind which now feeds not upon a
fallacious word. It appeared to me also a good thing to go and bathe,
I having heard that the bath [balneum] took its name from the Greek
balaneion, because it drives trouble from the mind. Lo, this also I
confess unto Thy mercy, "Father of the fatherless," [788] that I
bathed, and felt the same as before I had done so. For the bitterness
of my grief exuded not from my heart. Then I slept, and on awaking
found my grief not a little mitigated; and as I lay alone upon my bed,
there came into my mind those true verses of Thy Ambrose, for Thou
art--
"Deus creator omnium,
Polique rector, vestiens
Diem decora lumine,
Noctem sopora gratia;
Artus solutos ut quies
Reddat laboris usui,
Mentesque fessas allevet,
Luctusque solvat anxios." [789]
33. And then little by little did I bring back my former thoughts of
Thine handmaid, her devout conversation towards Thee, her holy
tenderness and attentiveness towards us, which was suddenly taken away
from me; and it was pleasant to me to weep in Thy sight, for her and
for me, concerning her and concerning myself. And I set free the tears
which before I repressed, that they might flow at their will,
spreading them beneath my heart; and it rested in them, for Thy ears
were nigh me,--not those of man, who would have put a scornful
interpretation on my weeping. But now in writing I confess it unto
Thee, O Lord! Read it who will, and interpret how he will; and if he
finds me to have sinned in weeping for my mother during so small a
part of an hour,--that mother who was for a while dead to mine eyes,
who had for many years wept for me, that I might live in Thine
eyes,--let him not laugh at me, but rather, if he be a man of a noble
charity, let him weep for my sins against Thee, the Father of all the
brethren of Thy Christ.
Footnotes
[783] For this would be to sorrow as those that have no hope.
Chrysostom accordingly frequently rebukes the Roman custom of hiring
persons to wail for the dead (see e.g. Hom. xxxii. in Matt.); and
Augustin in Serm. 2 of his De Consol. Mor. makes the same objection,
and also reproves those Christians who imitated the Romans in wearing
black as the sign of mourning. But still (as in his own case on the
death of his mother) he admits that there is a grief at the departure
of friends that is both natural and seemly. In a beautiful passage in
his De Civ. Dei (xix. 8), he says: "That he who will have none of this
sadness must, if possible, have no friendly intercourse....Let him
burst with ruthless insensibility the bonds of every human
relationship;" and he continues: "Though the cure is effected all the
more easily and rapidly the better condition the soul is in, we must
not on this account suppose that there is nothing at all to heal." See
p. 140, note 2, below.
[784] 1 Tim. i. 5.
[785] Ps. ci. 1. "I suppose they continued to the end of Psalm cii.
This was the primitive fashion; Nazianzen says that his speechless
sister Gorgonia's lips muttered the fourth Psalm: `I will lie down in
peace and sleep.' As St. Austen lay a dying, the company prayed
(Possid.). That they had prayers between the departure and burial, see
Tertull. De Anima, c. 51. They used to sing both at the departure and
burial. Nazianzen, Orat. 10, says, the dead Cæsarius was carried from
hymns to hymns. The priests were called to sing (Chrysost. Hom. 70, ad
Antioch). They sang the 116th Psalm usually (see Chrysost. Hom. 4, in
c. 2, ad Hebræos)."--W. W. See also note 13, p. 141, below.
[786] In addition to the remarks quoted in note 1, see Augustin's
recognition of the naturalness and necessity of exercising human
affections, such as sorrow, in his De Civ. Dei, xiv. 9.
[787] "Here my Popish translator says, that the sacrifice of the mass
was offered for the dead. That the ancients had communion with their
burials, I confess. But for what? (1) To testify their dying in the
communion of the Church. (2) To give thanks for their departure. (3)
To Pray God to give them place in His Paradise, (4) and a part in the
first resurrection; but not as a propitiatory sacrifice to deliver
them out of purgatory, which the mass is now only meant for."--W. W.
See also note 13, p. 141.
[788] Ps. lxviii. 5.
[789] Rendered as follows in a translation of the first ten books of
the Confessions, described on the title-page as "Printed by J. C., for
John Crook, and are to be sold at the sign of the `Ship,' in St.
Paul's Churchyard. 1660":-- "O God, the world's great Architect, Who
dost heaven's rowling orbs direct; Cloathing the day with beauteous
light, And with sweet slumbers silent night; When wearied limbs new
vigour gain From rest, new labours to sustain, When hearts oppressed
do meet relief, And anxious minds forget their grief." See x. sec. 52,
below, where this hymn is referred to.
Chapter XIII.--He Entreats God for Her Sins, and Admonishes His
Readers to Remember Her Piously.
34. But,--my heart being now healed of that wound, in so far as it
could be convicted of a carnal [790] affection,--I pour out unto Thee,
O our God, on behalf of that Thine handmaid, tears of a far different
sort, even that which flows from a spirit broken by the thoughts of
the dangers of every soul that dieth in Adam. And although she, having
been "made alive" in Christ [791] even before she was freed from the
flesh had so lived as to praise Thy name both by her faith and
conversation, yet dare I not say [792] that from the time Thou didst
regenerate her by baptism, no word went forth from her mouth against
Thy precepts. [793] And it hath been declared by Thy Son, the Truth,
that "Whosoever shall say to his brother, Thou fool, shall be in
danger of hell fire." [794] And woe even unto the praiseworthy life of
man, if, putting away mercy, Thou shouldest investigate it. But
because Thou dost not narrowly inquire after sins, we hope with
confidence to find some place of indulgence with Thee. But whosoever
recounts his true merits [795] to Thee, what is it that he recounts to
Thee but Thine own gifts? Oh, if men would know themselves to be men;
and that "he that glorieth" would "glory in the Lord!" [796]
35. I then, O my Praise and my Life, Thou God of my heart, putting
aside for a little her good deeds, for which I joyfully give thanks to
Thee, do now beseech Thee for the sins of my mother. Hearken unto me,
through that Medicine of our wounds who hung upon the tree, and who,
sitting at Thy right hand, "maketh intercession for us." [797] I know
that she acted mercifully, and from the heart [798] forgave her
debtors their debts; do Thou also forgive her debts, [799] whatever
she contracted during so many years since the water of salvation.
Forgive her, O Lord, forgive her, I beseech Thee; "enter not into
judgment" with her. [800] Let Thy mercy be exalted above Thy justice,
[801] because Thy words are true, and Thou hast promised mercy unto
"the merciful;" [802] which Thou gavest them to be who wilt "have
mercy" on whom Thou wilt "have mercy," and wilt "have compassion" on
whom Thou hast had compassion. [803]
36. And I believe Thou hast already done that which I ask Thee; but
"accept the free-will offerings of my mouth, O Lord." [804] For she,
when the day of her dissolution was near at hand, took no thought to
have her body sumptuously covered, or embalmed with spices; nor did
she covet a choice monument, or desire her paternal burial-place.
These things she entrusted not to us, but only desired to have her
name remembered at Thy altar, which she had served without the
omission of a single day; [805] whence she knew that the holy
sacrifice was dispensed, by which the handwriting that was against us
is blotted out; [806] by which the enemy was triumphed over, [807]
who, summing up our offences, and searching for something to bring
against us, found nothing in Him [808] in whom we conquer. Who will
restore to Him the innocent blood? Who will repay Him the price with
which He bought us, so as to take us from Him? Unto the sacrament of
which our ransom did Thy handmaid bind her soul by the bond of faith.
Let none separate her from Thy protection. Let not the "lion" and the
"dragon" [809] introduce himself by force or fraud. For she will not
reply that she owes nothing, lest she be convicted and got the better
of by the wily deceiver; but she will answer that her "sins are
forgiven" [810] by Him to whom no one is able to repay that price
which He, owing nothing, laid down for us.
37. May she therefore rest in peace with her husband, before or after
whom she married none; whom she obeyed, with patience bringing forth
fruit [811] unto Thee, that she might gain him also for Thee. And
inspire, O my Lord my God, inspire Thy servants my brethren, Thy sons
my masters, who with voice and heart and writings I serve, that so
many of them as shall read these confessions may at Thy altar remember
Monica, Thy handmaid, together with Patricius, her sometime husband,
by whose flesh Thou introducedst me into this life, in what manner I
know not. May they with pious affection be mindful of my parents in
this transitory light, of my brethren that are under Thee our Father
in our Catholic mother, and of my fellow-citizens in the eternal
Jerusalem, which the wandering of Thy people sigheth for from their
departure until their return. That so my mother's last entreaty to me
may, through my confessions more than through my prayers, be more
abundantly fulfilled to her through the prayers of many. [812]
Footnotes
[790] Rom. viii. 7.
[791] 1 Cor. xv. 22. The universalists of every age have interpreted
the word "all" here so as to make salvation by Christ Jesus extend to
every child of Adam. If their interpretation were true, Monica's
spirit need not have been troubled at the thought of the danger of
unregenerate souls. But Augustin in his De Civ. Dei, xiii. 23, gives
the import of the word: "Not that all who die in Adam shall be members
of Christ--for the great majority shall be punished in eternal
death,--but he uses the word `all' in both clauses because, as no one
dies in an animal body except in Adam, so no one is quickened a
spiritual body save in Christ." See x. sec. 68, note 1, below.
[792] For to have done so would have been to go perilously near to the
heresy of the Pelagians, who laid claim to the possibility of
attaining perfection in this life by the power of free-will, and
without the assistance of divine grace; and went even so far, he tells
us (Ep. clxxvi. 2), as to say that those who had so attained need not
utter the petition for forgiveness in the Lord's Prayer,--ut ei non
sit jam necessarium dicere "Dimitte nobis debita nostra." Those in our
own day who enunciate perfectionist theories,-- though, it is true,
not denying the grace of God as did these,--may well ponder Augustin's
forcible words in his De Pecc. Mer. et Rem. iii. 13: "Optandum est ut
fiat, conandum est ut fiat, supplicandum est ut fiat; non tamen quasi
factum fuerit, confitendum." We are indeed commanded to be perfect
(Matt. v. 48); and the philosophy underlying the command is embalmed
in the words of the proverb, "Aim high, and you will strike high." But
he who lives nearest to God will have the humility of heart which will
make him ready to confess that in His sight he is a "miserable
sinner." Some interesting remarks on this subject will be found in
Augustin's De Civ. Dei, xiv. 9, on the text, "If we say we have no
sin," etc. (1 John i. 8.) On sins after baptism, see note on next
section.
[793] Matt. xii. 36.
[794] Matt. v. 22.
[795] There is a passage parallel to this in his Ep. to Sextus (cxciv.
19). "Merits" therefore would appear to be used simply in the sense of
good actions. Compare sec. 17, above, xiii. sec. 1, below, and Ep. cv.
That righteousness is not by merit, appears from Ep. cxciv.; Ep.
clxxvii., to Innocent; and Serm.ccxciii.
[796] 2 Cor. x. 17.
[797] Rom. viii. 34.
[798] Matt. xviii. 35.
[799] Matt. vi. 12. Augustin here as elsewhere applies this petition
in the Lord's Prayer to the forgiveness of sins after baptism. He does
so constantly. For example, in his Ep. cclxv. he says: "We do not ask
for those to be forgiven which we doubt not were forgiven in baptism;
but those which, though small, are frequent, and spring from the
frailty of human nature." Again, in his Con Ep. Parmen. ii. 10, after
using almost the same words, he points out that it is a prayer against
daily sins; and in his De Civ. Dei, xxi. 27, where he examines the
passage in relation to various erroneous beliefs, he says it "was a
daily prayer He [Christ] was teaching, and it was certainly to
disciples already justified He was speaking. What, then, does He mean
by `your sins' (Matt. vi. 14), but those sins from which not even you
who are justified and sanctified can be free?" See note on the
previous section; and also for the feeling in the early Church as to
sins after baptism, the note on i. sec. 17, above.
[800] Ps. cxliii. 2.
[801] Jas. ii. 13.
[802] Matt. v. 7.
[803] Rom. ix. 15.
[804] Ps. cxix. 108.
[805] See v. sec. 17, above.
[806] Col. ii. 14.
[807] See his De Trin. xiii. 18, the passage beginning, "What then is
the righteousness by which the devil was conquered?"
[808] John xiv. 30.
[809] Ps. xci. 13.
[810] Matt. ix. 2.
[811] Luke viii. 15.
[812] The origin of prayers for the dead dates back probably to the
close of the second century. In note 1, p. 90, we have quoted from
Tertullian's De Corona Militis, where he says "Oblationes pro
defunctis pro natalitiis annua die facimus." In his De Monogamia, he
speaks of a widow praying for her departed husband, that "he might
have rest, and be a partaker in the first resurrection." From this
time a catena of quotations from the Fathers might be given, if space
permitted, showing how, beginning with early expressions of hope for
the dead, there, in process of time, arose prayers even for the
unregenerate, until at last there was developed purgatory on the one
side, and creature-worship on the other. That Augustin did not
entertain the idea of creature-worship will be seen from his Ep. to
Maximus, xvii. 5. In his De Dulcit. Quæst. 2 (where he discusses the
whole question), he concludes that prayer must not be made for all,
because all have not led the same life in the flesh. Still, in his
Enarr. in Ps. cviii. 17, he argues from the case of the rich man in
the parable, that the departed do certainly "have a care for us."
Aërius, towards the close of the fourth century, objected to prayers
for the dead, chiefly on the ground (see Usher's Answer to a Jesuit,
iii. 258) of their uselessness. In the Church of England, as will be
seen by reference to Keeling's Liturgicæ Britannicæ, pp. 210, 335,
339, and 341, prayers for the dead were eliminated from the second
Prayer Book; and to the prudence of this step Palmer bears testimony
in his Origines Liturgicæ, iv. 10, justifying it on the ground that
the retaining of these prayers implied a belief in her holding the
doctrine of purgatory. Reference may be made to Epiphanius, Adv. Hær.
75; Bishop Bull, Sermon 3; and Bingham, xv. 3, secs. 15, 16, and
xxiii. 3, sec. 13.
.
Book X.
Having manifested what he was and what he is, he shows the great fruit
of his confession; and being about to examine by what method God and
the happy life may be found, he enlarges on the nature and power of
memory. Then he examines his own acts, thoughts and affections, viewed
under the threefold division of temptation; and commemorates the Lord,
the one mediator of God and men.
Chapter I.--In God Alone is the Hope and Joy of Man.
1. Let me know Thee, O Thou who knowest me; let me know Thee, as I am
known. [813] O Thou strength of my soul, enter into it, and prepare it
for Thyself, that Thou mayest have and hold it without "spot or
wrinkle." [814] This is my hope, "therefore have I spoken;" [815] and
in this hope do I rejoice, when I rejoice soberly. Other things of
this life ought the less to be sorrowed for, the more they are
sorrowed for; and ought the more to be sorrowed for, the less men do
sorrow for them. For behold, "Thou desirest truth," [816] seeing that
he who does it "cometh to the light." [817] This wish I to do in
confession in my heart before Thee, and in my writing before many
witnesses.
Footnotes
[813] 1 Cor. xiii. 12.
[814] Eph. v. 27.
[815] Ps. cxvi. 10.
[816] Ps. 1i. 6.
[817] John iii. 20.
Chapter II.--That All Things are Manifest to God. That Confession Unto
Him is Not Made by the Words of the Flesh, But of the Soul, and the
Cry of Reflection.
2. And from Thee, O Lord, unto whose eyes the depths of man's
conscience are naked, [818] what in me could be hidden though I were
unwilling to confess to Thee? For so should I hide Thee from myself,
not myself from Thee. But now, because my groaning witnesseth that I
am dissatisfied with myself, Thou shinest forth, and satisfiest, and
art beloved and desired; that I may blush for myself, and renounce
myself, and choose Thee, and may neither please Thee nor myself,
except in Thee. To Thee, then, O Lord, am I manifest, whatever I am,
and with what fruit I may confess unto Thee I have spoken. Nor do I it
with words and sounds of the flesh, but with the words of the soul,
and that cry of reflection which Thine ear knoweth. For when I am
wicked, to confess to Thee is naught but to be dissatisfied with
myself; but when I am truly devout, it is naught but not to attribute
it to myself, because Thou, O Lord, dost "bless the righteous;" [819]
but first Thou justifiest him "ungodly." [820] My confession,
therefore, O my God, in Thy sight, is made unto Thee silently, and yet
not silently. For in noise it is silent, in affection it cries aloud.
For neither do I give utterance to anything that is right unto men
which Thou hast not heard from me before, nor dost Thou hear anything
of the kind from me which Thyself saidst not first unto me.
Footnotes
[818] Heb. iv. 13.
[819] Ps. v. 12.
[820] Rom. iv. 5.
Chapter III.--He Who Confesseth Rightly Unto God Best Knoweth Himself.
3. What then have I to do with men, that they should hear my
confessions, as if they were going to cure all my diseases? [821] A
people curious to know the lives of others, but slow to correct their
own. Why do they desire to hear from me what I am, who are unwilling
to hear from Thee what they are? And how can they tell, when they hear
from me of myself, whether I speak the truth, seeing that no man
knoweth what is in man, "save the spirit of man which is in him "?
[822] But if they hear from Thee aught concerning themselves, they
will not be able to say, "The Lord lieth." For what is it to hear from
Thee of themselves, but to know themselves? And who is he that knoweth
himself and saith, "It is false," unless he himself lieth? But because
"charity believeth all things" [823] (amongst those at all events whom
by union with itself it maketh one), I too, O Lord, also so confess
unto Thee that men may hear, to whom I cannot prove whether I confess
the truth, yet do they believe me whose ears charity openeth unto me.
4. But yet do Thou, my most secret Physician, make clear to me what
fruit I may reap by doing it. For the confessions of my past
sins,--which Thou hast "forgiven" and "covered," [824] that Thou
mightest make me happy in Thee, changing my soul by faith and Thy
sacrament,--when they are read and heard, stir up the heart, that it
sleep not in despair and say, "I cannot;" but that it may awake in the
love of Thy mercy and the sweetness of Thy grace, by which he that is
weak is strong, [825] if by it he is made conscious of his own
weakness. As for the good, they take delight in hearing of the past
errors of such as are now freed from them; and they delight, not
because they are errors, but because they have been and are so no
longer. For what fruit, then, O Lord my God, to whom my conscience
maketh her daily confession, more confident in the hope of Thy mercy
than in her own innocency,--for what fruit, I beseech Thee, do I
confess even to men in Thy presence by this book what I am at this
time, not what I have been? For that fruit I have both seen and spoken
of, but what I am at this time, at the very moment of making my
confessions, divers people desire to know, both who knew me and who
knew me not,--who have heard of or from me,--but their ear is not at
my heart, where I am whatsoever I am. They are desirous, then, of
hearing me confess what I am within, where they can neither stretch
eye, nor ear, nor mind; they desire it as those willing to
believe,--but will they understand? For charity, by which they are
good, says unto them that I do not lie in my confessions, and she in
them believes me.
Footnotes
[821] Ps. ciii. 3.
[822] 1 Cor. ii. 11.
[823] 1 Cor. xiii. 7.
[824] Ps. xxxii. 1.
[825] 2 Cor. xii. 10.
Chapter IV.--That in His Confessions He May Do Good, He Considers
Others.
5. But for what fruit do they desire this? Do they wish me happiness
when they learn how near, by Thy gift, I come unto Thee; and to pray
for me, when they learn how much I am kept back by my own weight? To
such will I declare myself. For it is no small fruit, O Lord my God,
that by many thanks should be given to Thee on our behalf, [826] and
that by many Thou shouldest be entreated for us. Let the fraternal
soul love that in me which Thou teachest should be loved, and lament
that in me which Thou teachest should be lamented. Let a fraternal and
not an alien soul do this, nor that "of strange children, whose mouth
speaketh vanity, and their right hand is a right hand of falsehood,"
[827] but that fraternal one which, when it approves me, rejoices for
me, but when it disapproves me, is sorry for me; because whether it
approves or disapproves it loves me. To such will I declare myself;
let them breathe freely at my good deeds, and sigh over my evil ones.
My good deeds are Thy institutions and Thy gifts, my evil ones are my
delinquencies and Thy judgments. [828] Let them breathe freely at the
one, and sigh over the other; and let hymns and tears ascend into Thy
sight out of the fraternal hearts--Thy censers. [829] And do Thou, O
Lord, who takest delight in the incense of Thy holy temple, have mercy
upon me according to Thy great mercy, [830] "for Thy name's sake;"
[831] and on no account leaving what Thou hast begun in me, do Thou
complete what is imperfect in me.
6. This is the fruit of my confessions, not of what I was, but of what
I am, that I may confess this not before Thee only, in a secret
exultation with trembling, [832] and a secret sorrow with hope, but in
the ears also of the believing sons of men,--partakers of my joy, and
sharers of my mortality, my fellow-citizens and the companions of my
pilgrimage, those who are gone before, and those that are to follow
after, and the comrades of my way. These are Thy servants, my
brethren, those whom Thou wishest to be Thy sons; my masters, whom
Thou hast commanded me to serve, if I desire to live with and of Thee.
But this Thy word were little to me did it command in speaking,
without going before in acting. This then do I both in deed and word,
this I do under Thy wings, in too great danger, were it not that my
soul, under Thy wings, is subject unto Thee, and my weakness known
unto Thee. I am a little one, but my Father liveth for ever, and my
Defender is "sufficient" [833] for me. For He is the same who begat me
and who defends me; and Thou Thyself art all my good; even Thou, the
Omnipotent, who art with me, and that before I am with Thee. To such,
therefore, whom Thou commandest me to serve will I declare, not what I
was, but what I now am, and what I still am. But neither do I judge
myself. [834] Thus then I would be heard.
Footnotes
[826] 2 Cor. i. 11.
[827] Ps. cxliv. 11.
[828] In note 9, p. 79, we have seen how God makes man's sin its own
punishment. Reference may also be made to Augustin's Con. Advers. Leg.
et Proph. i. 14, where he argues that "the punishment of a man's
disobedience is found in himself, when he in his turn cannot get
obedience even from himself." And again, in his De Lib. Arb. v. 18, he
says, God punishes by taking from him that which he does not use well,
"et qui recte facere cum possit noluit amittat posse cum velit." See
also Serm. clxxi. 4, and Ep. cliii.
[829] Rev. viii. 3.
[830] Ps. li. l.
[831] Ps. xxv. 11.
[832] Ps. ii. 11.
[833] 2 Cor. xii. 9.
[834] 1 Cor. iv. 3.
Chapter V.--That Man Knoweth Not Himself Wholly.
7. For it is Thou, Lord, that judgest me; [835] for although no "man
knoweth the things of a man, save the spirit of man which is in him,"
[836] yet is there something of man which "the spirit of man which is
in him" itself knoweth not. But Thou, Lord, who hast made him, knowest
him wholly. I indeed, though in Thy sight I despise myself, and reckon
"myself but dust and ashes," [837] yet know something concerning Thee,
which I know not concerning myself. And assuredly "now we see through
a glass darkly," not yet "face to face." [838] So long, therefore, as
I be "absent" from Thee, I am more "present" with myself than with
Thee; [839] and yet know I that Thou canst not suffer violence; [840]
but for myself I know not what temptations I am able to resist, and
what I am not able. [841] But there is hope, because Thou art
faithful, who wilt not suffer us to be tempted above that we are able,
but wilt with the temptation also make a way to escape, that we may be
able to bear it. [842] I would therefore confess what I know
concerning myself; I will confess also what I know not concerning
myself. And because what I do know of myself, I know by Thee
enlightening me; and what I know not of myself, so long I know not
until the time when my "darkness be as the noonday" [843] in Thy
sight.
Footnotes
[835] 1 Cor. iv. 4.
[836] 1 Cor. ii. 11.
[837] Gen. xviii. 27.
[838] 1 Cor. xiii. 12.
[839] 2 Cor. v. 6.
[840] See Nebridius' argument against the Manichæans, as to God's not
being violable, in vii. sec. 3, above, and the note thereon.
[841] See his Enarr. in Ps. lv. 8 and xciii. 19, where he beautifully
describes how the winds and waves of temptation will be stilled if
Christ be present in the ship. See also Serm. lxiii.; and Eps. cxxx.
22, and clxxvii. 4.
[842] 1 Cor. x. 13.
[843] Isa. lviii. 10.
Chapter VI.--The Love of God, in His Nature Superior to All Creatures,
is Acquired by the Knowledge of the Senses and the Exercise of Reason.
8. Not with uncertain, but with assured consciousness do I love Thee,
O Lord. Thou hast stricken my heart with Thy word, and I loved Thee.
And also the heaven, and earth, and all that is therein, behold, on
every side they say that I should love Thee; nor do they cease to
speak unto all, "so that they are without excuse." [844] But more
profoundly wilt Thou have mercy on whom Thou wilt have mercy, and
compassion on whom Thou wilt have compassion, [845] otherwise do both
heaven and earth tell forth Thy praises to deaf ears. But what is it
that I love in loving Thee? Not corporeal beauty, nor the splendour of
time, nor the radiance of the light, so pleasant to our eyes, nor the
sweet melodies of songs of all kinds, nor the fragrant smell of
flowers, and ointments, and spices, not manna and honey, not limbs
pleasant to the embracements of flesh. I love not these things when I
love my God; and yet I love a certain kind of light, and sound, and
fragrance, and food, and embracement in loving my God, who is the
light, sound, fragrance, food, and embracement of my inner man--where
that light shineth unto my soul which no place can contain, where that
soundeth which time snatcheth not away, where there is a fragrance
which no breeze disperseth, where there is a food which no eating can
diminish, and where that clingeth which no satiety can sunder. This is
what I love, when I love my God.
9. And what is this? I asked the earth; and it answered, "I am not
He;" and whatsoever are therein made the same confession. I asked the
sea and the deeps, and the creeping things that lived, and they
replied, "We are not thy God, seek higher than we." I asked the breezy
air, and the universal air with its inhabitants answered, "Anaximenes
[846] was deceived, I am not God." I asked the heavens, the sun, moon,
and stars: "Neither," say they, "are we the God whom thou seekest."
And I answered unto all these things which stand about the door of my
flesh, "Ye have told me concerning my God, that ye are not He; tell me
something about Him." And with a loud voice they exclaimed, "He made
us." My questioning was my observing of them; and their beauty was
their reply. [847] And I directed my thoughts to myself, and said,
"Who art thou?" And I answered, "A man." And lo, in me there appear
both body and soul, the one without, the other within. By which of
these should I seek my God, whom I had sought through the body from
earth to heaven, as far as I was able to send messengers--the beams of
mine eyes? But the better part is that which is inner; for to it, as
both president and judge, did all these my corporeal messengers render
the answers of heaven and earth and all things therein, who said, "We
are not God, but He made us." These things was my inner man cognizant
of by the ministry of the outer; I, the inner man, knew all this--I,
the soul, through the senses of my body. I asked the vast bulk of the
earth of my God, and it answered me, "I am not He, but He made me."
10. Is not this beauty visible to all whose senses are unimpaired? Why
then doth it not speak the same things unto all? Animals, the very
small and the great, see it, but they are unable to question it,
because their senses are not endowed with reason to enable them to
judge on what they report. But men can question it, so that "the
invisible things of Him . . . are clearly seen, being understood by
the things that are made;" [848] but by loving them, they are brought
into subjection to them; and subjects are not able to judge. Neither
do the creatures reply to such as question them, unless they can
judge; nor will they alter their voice (that is, their beauty), [849]
if so be one man only sees, another both sees and questions, so as to
appear one way to this man, and another to that; but appearing the
same way to both, it is mute to this, it speaks to that--yea, verily,
it speaks unto all but they only understand it who compare that voice
received from without with the truth within. For the truth declareth
unto me, "Neither heaven, nor earth, nor any body is thy God." This,
their nature declareth unto him that beholdeth them. "They are a mass;
a mass is less in part than in the whole." Now, O my soul, thou art my
better part, unto thee I speak; for thou animatest the mass of thy
body, giving it life, which no body furnishes to a body but thy God is
even unto thee the Life of life.
Footnotes
[844] Rom. i. 20.
[845] Rom. ix. 15.
[846] Anaximenes of Miletus was born about 520 B.C. According to his
philosophy the air was animate, and from it, as from a first
principle, all things in heaven, earth, and sea sprung, first by
condensation (puknosis), and after that by a process of rarefaction
(araiosis). See Ep. cxviii. 23; and Aristotle, Phys. iii. 4. Compare
this theory and that of Epicurus (p. 100, above) with those of modern
physicists; and see thereon The Unseen Universe, arts. 85, etc., and
117, etc.
[847] In Ps. cxliv. 13, the earth he describes as "dumb," but as
speaking to us while we meditate upon its beauty--Ipsa inquisitio
interrogatio est.
[848] Rom. i. 20.
[849] See note 2 to previous section.
Chapter VII.--That God is to Be Found Neither from the Powers of the
Body Nor of the Soul.
11. What then is it that I love when I love my God? Who is He that is
above the head of my soul? By my soul itself will I mount up unto Him.
I will soar beyond that power of mine whereby I cling to the body, and
fill the whole structure of it with life. Not by that power do I find
my God; for then the horse and the mule, "which have no
understanding," [850] might find Him, since it is the same power by
which their bodies also live. But there is another power, not that
only by which I quicken, but that also by which I endow with sense my
flesh, which the Lord hath made for me; bidding the eye not to hear,
and the ear not to see; but that, for me to see by, and this, for me
to hear by; and to each of the other senses its own proper seat and
office, which being different, I, the single mind, do through them
govern. I will soar also beyond this power of mine; for this the horse
and mule possess, for they too discern through the body.
Footnotes
[850] Ps. xxxii. 9.
Chapter VIII.----Of the Nature and the Amazing Power of Memory.
12. I will soar, then, beyond this power of my nature also, ascending
by degrees unto Him who made me. And I enter the fields and roomy
chambers of memory, where are the treasures of countless images,
imported into it from all manner of things by the senses. There is
treasured up whatsoever likewise we think, either by enlarging or
diminishing, or by varying in any way whatever those things which the
sense hath arrived at; yea, and whatever else hath been entrusted to
it and stored up, which oblivion hath not yet engulfed and buried.
When I am in this storehouse, I demand that what I wish should be
brought forth, and some things immediately appear; others require to
be longer sought after, and are dragged, as it were, out of some
hidden receptacle; others, again, hurry forth in crowds, and while
another thing is sought and inquired for, they leap into view, as if
to say, "Is it not we, perchance?" These I drive away with the hand of
my heart from before the face of my remembrance, until what I wish be
discovered making its appearance out of its secret cell. Other things
suggest themselves without effort, and in continuous order, just as
they are called for,--those in front giving place to those that
follow, and in giving place are treasured up again to be forthcoming
when I wish it. All of which takes place when I repeat a thing from
memory.
13. All these things, each of which entered by its own avenue, are
distinctly and under general heads there laid up: as, for example,
light, and all colours and forms of bodies, by the eyes; sounds of all
kinds by the ears; all smells by the passage of the nostrils; all
flavours by that of the mouth; and by the sensation of the whole body
is brought in what is hard or soft, hot or cold, smooth or rough,
heavy or light, whether external or internal to the body. All these
doth that great receptacle of memory, with its many and indescribable
departments, receive, to be recalled and brought forth when required;
each, entering by its own door, is hid up in it. And yet the things
themselves do not enter it, but only the images of the things
perceived are there ready at hand for thought to recall. And who can
tell how these images are formed, notwithstanding that it is evident
by which of the senses each has been fetched in and treasured up? For
even while I live in darkness and silence, I can bring out colours in
memory if I wish, and discern between black and white, and what others
I wish; nor yet do sounds break in and disturb what is drawn in by
mine eyes, and which I am considering, seeing that they also are
there, and are concealed, laid up, as it were, apart. For these too I
can summon if I please, and immediately they appear. And though my
tongue be at rest, and my throat silent, yet can I sing as much as I
will; and those images of colours, which notwithstanding are there, do
not interpose themselves and interrupt when another treasure is under
consideration which flowed in through the ears. So the remaining
things carried in and heaped up by the other senses, I recall at my
pleasure. And I discern the scent of lilies from that of violets while
smelling nothing; and I prefer honey to grape-syrup, a smooth thing to
a rough, though then I neither taste nor handle, but only remember.
14. These things do I within, in that vast chamber of my memory. For
there are nigh me heaven, earth, sea, and whatever I can think upon in
them, besides those which I have forgotten. There also do I meet with
myself, and recall myself,--what, when, or where I did a thing, and
how I was affected when I did it. There are all which I remember,
either by personal experience or on the faith of others. Out of the
same supply do I myself with the past construct now this, now that
likeness of things, which either I have experienced, or, from having
experienced, have believed; and thence again future actions, events,
and hopes, and upon all these again do I meditate as if they were
present. "I will do this or that," say I to myself in that vast womb
of my mind, filled with the images of things so many and so great,
"and this or that shall follow upon it." "Oh that this or that might
come to pass!" "God avert this or that!" Thus speak I to myself; and
when I speak, the images of all I speak about are present, out of the
same treasury of memory; nor could I say anything at all about them
were the images absent.
15. Great is this power of memory, exceeding great, O my God,--an
inner chamber large and boundless! Who has plumbed the depths thereof?
Yet it is a power of mine, and appertains unto my nature; nor do I
myself grasp all that I am. Therefore is the mind too narrow to
contain itself. And where should that be which it doth not contain of
itself? Is it outside and not in itself? How is it, then, that it doth
not grasp itself? A great admiration rises upon me; astonishment
seizes me. And men go forth to wonder at the heights of mountains, the
huge waves of the sea, the broad flow of the rivers, the extent of the
ocean, and the courses of the stars, and omit to wonder at themselves;
nor do they marvel that when I spoke of all these things, I was not
looking on them with my eyes, and yet could not speak of them unless
those mountains, and waves, and rivers, and stars which I saw, and
that ocean which I believe in, I saw inwardly in my memory, and with
the same vast spaces between as when I saw them abroad. But I did not
by seeing appropriate them when I looked on them with my eyes; nor are
the things themselves with me, but their images. And I knew by what
corporeal sense each made impression on me.
Chapter IX.--Not Only Things, But Also Literature and Images, are
Taken from the Memory, and are Brought Forth by the Act of
Remembering.
16. And yet are not these all that the illimitable capacity of my
memory retains. Here also is all that is apprehended of the liberal
sciences, and not yet forgotten--removed as it were into an inner
place, which is not a place; nor are they the images which are
retained, but the things themselves. For what is literature, what
skill in disputation, whatsoever I know of all the many kinds of
questions there are, is so in my memory, as that I have not taken in
the image and left the thing without, or that it should have sounded
and passed away like a voice imprinted on the ear by that trace,
whereby it might be recorded, as though it sounded when it no longer
did so; or as an odour while it passes away, and vanishes into wind,
affects the sense of smell, whence it conveys the image of itself into
the memory, which we realize in recollecting; or like food, which
assuredly in the belly hath now no taste, and yet hath a kind of taste
in the memory, or like anything that is by touching felt by the body,
and which even when removed from us is imagined by the memory. For
these things themselves are not put into it, but the images of them
only are caught up, with a marvellous quickness, and laid up, as it
were, in most wonderful garners, and wonderfully brought forth when we
remember.
Chapter X.--Literature is Not Introduced to the Memory Through the
Senses, But is Brought Forth from Its More Secret Places.
17. But truly when I hear that there are three kinds of questions,
"Whether a thing is?--what it is?--of what kind it is?" I do indeed
hold fast the images of the sounds of which these words are composed,
and I know that those sounds passed through the air with a noise, and
now are not. But the things themselves which are signified by these
sounds I never arrived at by any sense of the body, nor ever perceived
them otherwise than by my mind; and in my memory have I laid up not
their images, but themselves, which, how they entered into me, let
them tell if they are able. For I examine all the gates of my flesh,
but find not by which of them they entered. For the eyes say, "If they
were coloured, we announced them." The ears say, "If they sounded, we
gave notice of them." The nostrils say, "If they smell, they passed in
by us." The sense of taste says, "If they have no flavour, ask not
me." The touch says, "If it have not body, I handled it not, and if I
never handled it, I gave no notice of it." Whence and how did these
things enter into my memory? I know not how. For when I learned them,
I gave not credit to the heart of another man, but perceived them in
my own; and I approved them as true, and committed them to it, laying
them up, as it were, whence I might fetch them when I willed. There,
then, they were, even before I learned them, but were not in my
memory. Where were they, then, or wherefore, when they were spoken,
did I acknowledge them, and say, "So it is, it is true," unless as
being already in the memory, though so put back and concealed, as it
were, in more secret caverns, that had they not been drawn forth by
the advice of another I would not, perchance, have been able to
conceive of them?
Chapter XI.--What It is to Learn and to Think.
18. Wherefore we find that to learn these things, whose images we
drink not in by our senses, but perceive within as they are by
themselves, without images, is nothing else but by meditation as it
were to concentrate, and by observing to take care that those notions
which the memory did before contain scattered and confused, be laid up
at hand, as it were, in that same memory, where before they lay
concealed, scattered and neglected, and so the more easily present
themselves to the mind well accustomed to observe them. And how many
things of this sort does my memory retain which have been found out
already, and, as I said, are, as it were, laid up ready to hand, which
we are said to have learned and to have known; which, should we for
small intervals of time cease to recall, they are again so submerged
and slide back, as it were, into the more remote chambers, that they
must be evolved thence again as if new (for other sphere they have
none), and must be marshalled [cogenda] again that they may become
known; that is to say, they must be collected [colligenda], as it
were, from their dispersion; whence we have the word cogitare. For
cogo [I collect] and cogito [I recollect] have the same relation to
each other as ago and agito, facio and factito. But the mind has
appropriated to itself this word [cogitation], so that not that which
is collected anywhere, but what is collected, [851] that is
marshalled, [852] in the mind, is properly said to be "cogitated."
[853]
Footnotes
[851] Colligitur.
[852] Cogitur.
[853] Cogitari.
Chapter XII.--On the Recollection of Things Mathematical.
19. The memory containeth also the reasons and innumerable laws of
numbers and dimensions, none of which hath any sense of the body
impressed, seeing they have neither colour, nor sound, nor taste, nor
smell, nor sense of touch. I have heard the sound of the words by
which these things are signified when they are discussed; but the
sounds are one thing, the things another. For the sounds are one thing
in Greek, another in Latin; but the things themselves are neither
Greek, nor Latin, nor any other language. I have seen the lines of the
craftsmen, even the finest, like a spider's web; but these are of
another kind, they are not the images of those which the eye of my
flesh showed me; he knoweth them who, without any idea whatsoever of a
body, perceives them within himself. I have also observed the numbers
of the things with which we number all the senses of the body; but
those by which we number are of another kind, nor are they the images
of these, and therefore they certainly are. Let him who sees not these
things mock me for saying them; and I will pity him, whilst he mocks
me.
Chapter XIII.--Memory Retains All Things.
20. All these things I retain in my memory, and how I learnt them I
retain. I retain also many things which I have heard most falsely
objected against them, which though they be false, yet is it not false
that I have remembered them; and I remember, too, that I have
distinguished between those truths and these falsehoods uttered
against them; and I now see that it is one thing to distinguish these
things, another to remember that I often distinguished them, when I
often reflected upon them. I both remember, then, that I have often
understood these things, and what I now distinguish and comprehend I
store away in my memory, that hereafter I may remember that I
understood it now. Therefore also I remember that I have remembered;
so that if afterwards I shall call to mind that I have been able to
remember these things, it will be through the power of memory that I
shall call it to mind.
Chapter XIV.--Concerning the Manner in Which Joy and Sadness May Be
Brought Back to the Mind and Memory.
21. This same memory contains also the affections of my mind; not in
the manner in which the mind itself contains them when it suffers
them, but very differently according to a power peculiar to memory.
For without being joyous, I remember myself to have had joy; and
without being sad, I call to mind my past sadness; and that of which I
was once afraid, I remember without fear; and without desire recall a
former desire. Again, on the contrary, I at times remember when joyous
my past sadness, and when sad my joy. Which is not to be wondered at
as regards the body; for the mind is one thing, the body another. If
I, therefore, when happy, recall some past bodily pain, it is not so
strange a thing. But now, as this very memory itself is mind (for when
we give orders to have a thing kept in memory, we say, "See that you
bear this in mind;" and when we forget a thing, we say, "It did not
enter my mind," and, "It slipped from my mind," thus calling the
memory itself mind), as this is so, how comes it to pass that when
being joyful I remember my past sorrow, the mind has joy, the memory
sorrow,--the mind, from the joy than is in it, is joyful, yet the
memory, from the sadness that is in it, is not sad? Does not the
memory perchance belong unto the mind? Who will say so? The memory
doubtless is, so to say, the belly of the mind, and joy and sadness
like sweet and bitter food, which, when entrusted to the memory, are,
as it were, passed into the belly, where they can be reposited, but
cannot taste. It is ridiculous to imagine these to be alike; and yet
they are not utterly unlike.
22. But behold, out of my memory I educe it, when I affirm that there
be four perturbations of the mind,--desire, joy, fear, sorrow; and
whatsoever I shall be able to dispute on these, by dividing each into
its peculiar species, and by defining it, there I find what I may say,
and thence I educe it; yet am I not disturbed by any of these
perturbations when by remembering them I call them to mind; and before
I recollected and reviewed them, they were there; wherefore by
remembrance could they be brought thence. Perchance, then, even as
meat is in ruminating brought up out of the belly, so by calling to
mind are these educed from the memory. Why, then, does not the
disputant, thus recollecting, perceive in the mouth of his meditation
the sweetness of joy or the bitterness of sorrow? Is the comparison
unlike in this because not like in all points? For who would willingly
discourse on these subjects, if, as often as we name sorrow or fear,
we should be compelled to be sorrowful or fearful? And yet we could
never speak of them, did we not find in our memory not merely the
sounds of the names, according to the images imprinted on it by the
senses of the body, but the notions of the things themselves, which we
never received by any door of the flesh, but which the mind itself,
recognising by the experience of its own passions, entrusted to the
memory, or else which the memory itself retained without their being
entrusted to it.
Chapter XV.--In Memory There are Also Images of Things Which are
Absent.
23. But whether by images or no, who can well affirm? For I name a
stone, I name the sun, and the things themselves are not present to my
senses, but their images are near to my memory. I name some pain of
the body, yet it is not present when there is no pain; yet if its
image were not in my memory, I should be ignorant what to say
concerning it, nor in arguing be able to distinguish it from pleasure.
I name bodily health when sound in body; the thing itself is indeed
present with me, but unless its image also were in my memory, I could
by no means call to mind what the sound of this name signified. Nor
would sick people know, when health was named, what was said, unless
the same image were retained by the power of memory, although the
thing itself were absent from the body. I name numbers whereby we
enumerate; and not their images, but they themselves are in my memory.
I name the image of the sun, and this, too, is in my memory. For I do
not recall the image of that image, but itself, for the image itself
is present when I remember it. I name memory, and I know what I name.
But where do I know it, except in the memory itself? Is it also
present to itself by its image, and not by itself?
Chapter XVI.--The Privation of Memory is Forgetfulness.
24. When I name forgetfulness, and know, too, what I name, whence
should I know it if I did not remember it? I do not say the sound of
the name, but the thing which it signifies which, had I forgotten, I
could not know what that sound signified. When, therefore, I remember
memory, then is memory present with itself, through itself. But when I
remember forgetfulness, there are present both memory and
forgetfulness,--memory, whereby I remember, forgetfulness, which I
remember. But what is forgetfulness but the privation of memory? How,
then, is that present for me to remember, since, when it is so, I
cannot remember? But if what we remember we retain in memory, yet,
unless we remembered forgetfulness, we could never at the hearing of
the name know the thing meant by it, then is forgetfulness retained by
memory. Present, therefore, it is, lest we should forget it; and being
so, we do forget. Is it to be inferred from this that forgetfulness,
when we remember it, is not present to the memory through itself, but
through its image; because, were forgetfulness present through itself,
it would not lead us to remember, but to forget? Who will now
investigate this? Who shall understand how it is?
25. Truly, O Lord, I labour therein, and labour in myself. I am become
a troublesome soil that requires overmuch labour. For we are not now
searching out the tracts of heaven, or measuring the distances of the
stars, or inquiring about the weight of the earth. It is I myself--I,
the mind--who remember. It is not much to be wondered at, if what I
myself am not be far from me. But what is nearer to me than myself?
And, behold, I am not able to comprehend the force of my own memory,
though I cannot name myself without it. For what shall I say when it
is plain to me that I remember forgetfulness? Shall I affirm that
which I remember is not in my memory? Or shall I say that
forgetfulness is in my memory with the view of my not forgetting? Both
of these are most absurd. What third view is there? How can I assert
that the image of forgetfulness is retained by my memory, and not
forgetfulness itself, when I remember it? And how can I assert this,
seeing that when the image of anything is imprinted on the memory, the
thing itself must of necessity be present first by which that image
may be imprinted? For thus do I remember Carthage; thus, all the
places to which I have been; thus, the faces of men whom I have seen,
and things reported by the other senses; thus, the health or sickness
of the body. For when these objects were present, my memory received
images from them, which, when they were present, I might gaze on and
reconsider in my mind, as I remembered them when they were absent. If,
therefore, forgetfulness is retained in the memory through its image,
and not through itself, then itself was once present, that its image
might be taken. But when it was present, how did it write its image on
the memory, seeing that forgetfulness by its presence blots out even
what it finds already noted? And yet, in whatever way, though it be
incomprehensible and inexplicable, yet most certain I am that I
remember also forgetfulness itself, whereby what we do remember is
blotted out.
Chapter XVII.--God Cannot Be Attained Unto by the Power of Memory,
Which Beasts and Birds Possess.
26. Great is the power of memory; very wonderful is it, O my God, a
profound and infinite manifoldness; and this thing is the mind, and
this I myself am. What then am I, O my God? Of what nature am I? A
life various and manifold, and exceeding vast. Behold, in the
numberless fields, and caves, and caverns of my memory, full without
number of numberless kinds of things, either through images, as all
bodies are; or by the presence of the things themselves, as are the
arts; or by some notion or observation, as the affections of the mind
are, which, even though the mind doth not suffer, the memory retains,
while whatsoever is in the memory is also in the mind: through all
these do I run to and fro, and fly; I penetrate on this side and that,
as far as I am able, and nowhere is there an end. So great is the
power of memory, so great the power of life in man, whose life is
mortal. What then shall I do, O Thou my true life, my God? I will pass
even beyond this power of mine which is called memory--I will pass
beyond it, that I may proceed to Thee, O Thou sweet Light. What sayest
Thou to me? Behold, I am soaring by my mind towards Thee who remainest
above me. I will also pass beyond this power of mine which is called
memory, wishful to reach Thee whence Thou canst be reached, and to
cleave unto Thee whence it is possible to cleave unto Thee. For even
beasts and birds possess memory, else could they never find their
lairs and nests again, nor many other things to which they are used;
neither indeed could they become used to anything, but by their
memory. I will pass, then, beyond memory also, that I may reach Him
who has separated me from the four-footed beasts and the fowls of the
air, making me wiser than they. I will pass beyond memory also, but
where shall I find Thee, O Thou truly good and assured sweetness? But
where shall I find Thee? If I find Thee without memory, then am I
unmindful of Thee. And how now shall I find Thee, if I do not remember
Thee?
Chapter XVIII.--A Thing When Lost Could Not Be Found Unless It Were
Retained in the Memory.
27. For the woman who lost her drachma, and searched for it with a
lamp, [854] unless she had remembered it, would never have found it.
For when it was found, whence could she know whether it were the same,
had she not remembered it? I remember to have lost and found many
things; and this I know thereby, that when I was searching for any of
them, and was asked, "Is this it?" "Is that it?" I answered "No,"
until such time as that which I sought were offered to me. Which had I
not remembered,--whatever it were,--though it were offered me, yet
would I not find it, because I could not recognise it. And thus it is
always, when we search for and find anything that is lost.
Notwithstanding, if anything be by accident lost from the sight, not
from the memory,--as any visible body,--the image of it is retained
within, and is searched for until it be restored to sight; and when it
is found, it is recognised by the image which is within. Nor do we say
that we have found what we had lost unless we recognise it; nor can we
recognise it unless we remember it. But this, though lost to the
sight, was retained in the memory.
Footnotes
[854] Luke xv. 8.
Chapter XIX.--What It is to Remember.
28. But how is it when the memory itself loses anything, as it happens
when we forget anything and try to recall it? Where finally do we
search, but in the memory itself? And there, if perchance one thing be
offered for another, we refuse it, until we meet with what we seek;
and when we do, we exclaim, "This is it!" which we should not do
unless we knew it again, nor should we recognise it unless we
remembered it. Assuredly, therefore, we had forgotten it. Or, had not
the whole of it slipped our memory, but by the part by which we had
hold was the other part sought for; since the memory perceived that it
did not revolve together as much as it was accustomed to do, and
halting, as if from the mutilation of its old habit, demanded the
restoration of that which was wanting. For example, if we see or think
of some man known to us, and, having forgotten his name, endeavour to
recover it, whatsoever other thing presents itself is not connected
with it; because it was not used to be thought of in connection with
him, and is consequently rejected, until that is present whereon the
knowledge reposes fittingly as its accustomed object. And whence, save
from the memory itself, does that present itself? For even when we
recognise it as put in mind of it by another, it is thence it comes.
For we do not believe it as something new, but, as we recall it, admit
what was said to be correct. But if it were entirely blotted out of
the mind, we should not, even when put in mind of it, recollect it.
For we have not as yet entirely forgotten what we remember that we
have forgotten. A lost notion, then, which we have entirely forgotten,
we cannot even search for.
Chapter XX.--We Should Not Seek for God and the Happy Life Unless We
Had Known It.
29. How, then, do I seek Thee, O Lord? For when I seek Thee, my God, I
seek a happy life. [855] I will seek Thee, that my soul may live.
[856] For my body liveth by my soul, and my soul liveth by Thee. How,
then, do I seek a happy life, seeing that it is not mine till I can
say, "It is enough!" in that place where I ought to say it? How do I
seek it? Is it by remembrance, as though I had forgotten it, knowing
too that I had forgotten it? or, longing to learn it as a thing
unknown, which either I had never known, or had so forgotten it as not
even to remember that I had forgotten it? Is not a happy life the
thing that all desire, and is there any one who altogether desires it
not? But where did they acquire the knowledge of it, that they so
desire it? Where have they seen it, that they so love it? Truly we
have it, but how I know not. Yea, there is another way in which, when
any one hath it, he is happy; and some there be that are happy in
hope. These have it in an inferior kind to those that are happy in
fact; and yet are they better off than they who are happy neither in
fact nor in hope. And even these, had they it not in some way, would
not so much desire to be happy, which that they do desire is most
certain. How they come to know it, I cannot tell, but they have it by
some kind of knowledge unknown to me, who am in much doubt as to
whether it be in the memory; for if it be there, then have we been
happy once; whether all individually, or as in that man who first
sinned, in whom also we all died, [857] and from whom we are all born
with misery, I do not now ask; but I ask whether the happy life be in
the memory? For did we not know it, we should not love it. We hear the
name, and we all acknowledge that we desire the thing; for we are not
delighted with the sound only. For when a Greek hears it spoken in
Latin, he does not feel delighted, for he knows not what is spoken;
but we are delighted, [858] as he too would be if he heard it in
Greek; because the thing itself is neither Greek nor Latin, which
Greeks and Latins, and men of all other tongues, long so earnestly to
obtain. It is then known unto all, and could they with one voice be
asked whether they wished to be happy, without doubt they would all
answer that they would. And this could not be unless the thing itself,
of which it is the name, were retained in their memory.
Footnotes
[855] See note, p. 75, above.
[856] Amos v. 4.
[857] 1 Cor. xv. 22; see p. 140, note 3, and note p. 73, above.
[858] That is, as knowing Latin.
Chapter XXI.--How a Happy Life May Be Retained in the Memory.
30. But is it so as one who has seen Carthage remembers it? No. For a
happy life is not visible to the eye, because it is not a body. Is it,
then, as we remember numbers? No. For he that hath these in his
knowledge strives not to attain further; but a happy life we have in
our knowledge, and, therefore, do we love it, while yet we wish
further to attain it that we may be happy. Is it, then, as we remember
eloquence? No. For although some, when they hear this name, call the
thing to mind, who, indeed, are not yet eloquent, and many who wish to
be so, whence it appears to be in their knowledge; yet have these by
their bodily perceptions noticed that others are eloquent, and been
delighted with it, and long to be so,--although they would not be
delighted save for some interior knowledge, nor desire to be so unless
they were delighted,--but a happy life we can by no bodily perception
make experience of in others. Is it, then, as we remember joy? It may
be so; for my joy I remember, even when sad, like as I do a happy life
when I am miserable. Nor did I ever with perception of the body either
see, hear, smell, taste, or touch my joy; but I experienced it in my
mind when I rejoiced; and the knowledge of it clung to my memory, so
that I can call it to mind sometimes with disdain and at others with
desire, according to the difference of the things wherein I now
remember that I rejoiced. For even from unclean things have I been
bathed with a certain joy, which now calling to mind, I detest and
execrate; at other times, from good and honest things, which, with
longing, I call to mind, though perchance they be not nigh at hand,
and then with sadness do I call to mind a former joy.
31. Where and when, then, did I experience my happy life, that I
should call it to mind, and love and long for it? Nor is it I alone or
a few others who wish to be happy, but truly all; which, unless by
certain knowledge we knew, we should not wish with so certain a will.
But how is this, that if two men be asked whether they would wish to
serve as soldiers one, it may be, would reply that he would, the other
that he would not; but if they were asked whether they would wish to
be happy, both of them would unhesitatingly say that they would; and
this one would wish to serve, and the other not, from no other motive
but to be happy? Is it, perchance, that as one joys in this, and
another in that, so do all men agree in their wish for happiness, as
they would agree, were they asked, in wishing to have joy,--and this
joy they call a happy life? Although, then, one pursues joy in this
way, and another in that, all have one goal, which they strive to
attain, namely, to have joy. This life, being a thing which no one can
say he has not experienced, it is on that account found in the memory,
and recognised whenever the name of a happy life is heard.
Chapter XXII.--A Happy Life is to Rejoice in God, and for God.
32. Let it be far, O Lord,--let it be far from the heart of Thy
servant who confesseth unto Thee; let it be far from me to think
myself happy, be the joy what it may. For there is a joy which is not
granted to the "wicked," [859]