part in that boy, but the sin. For that we brought him up in

Thy discipline, it was Thou, none else, had inspired us with it. I confess unto Thee Thy gifts. There is a book of ours entitled The Master; it is a dialogue between him and me. Thou know- est that all there ascribed to the person conversing with me were his ideas, in his sixteenth year. Much besides, and yet more admirable, I found in him. That talent struck awe into me. And who but Thou could be the workmaster of such won- ders? Soon didst Thou take his life from the earth: and I now remember him without anxiety, fearing nothing for his child- hood or youth, or his whole self. Him we joined with us, our contemporary in grace, to be brought up in Thy discipline: and we were baptised, and anxiety for our past life vanished from us. Nor was I sated in those days with the wondrous sweetness of considering the depth of Thy counsels concern- ing the salvation of mankind. How did I weep, in Thy Hymns and Canticles, touched to the quick by the voices of Thy sweet-attuned Church! The voices flowed into mine ears, and the Truth distilled into my heart, whence the. affections of my devotion overflowed, and tears ran down, and happy was I therein.
Not long had the Church of Milan begun to use this kind of consolation and exhortation, the brethren zealously joining with harmony of voice and hearts. For it was a year, or not much more, that Justina, mother to the Emperor Valentinian, a child, persecuted Thy servant Ambrose, in favour of her heresy, to which she was seduced by the Arians. The devout people kept watch in the Church, ready to die with their Bishop Thy servant. There my mother Thy handmaid, bearing a chief part of those anxieties and watchings, lived for prayer. We, yet unwarmed by the heat of Thy Spirit, still were stirred up by the sight of the amazed and disquieted city. Then it was first instituted that after the manner of the Eastern Churches, Hymns and Psalms should be sung, lest the people should wax
aide
faint through the tediousness of sorrow: and from that day to. this the custom is retained, divers (yea, almost all) Thy con- fi gregations, throughout other parts of the world following herein.
Then didst Thou by a vision discover to Thy forenamed Bishop where the bodies of Gervasius and Protasius the mar- tyrs lay hid (whom Thou hadst in Thy secret treasury stored uncorrupted so many years), whence Thou mightest season- ably produce them to repress the fury of a woman, but an Empress. For when they were discovered and dug up, and with due honour translated to the Ambrosian Basilica, not only they who were vexed with unclean spirits (the devils confessing themselves) were cured, but a certain man who had for many years been blind, a citizen, and well known to the city, asking and hearing the reason of the people’s con- fused joy, sprang forth desiring his guide to lead him thither. Led thither, he begged to be allowed to touch with his hand- kerchief the bier of Thy saints, whose death is precious in Thy sight. Which when he had done, and put to his eyes, they were forthwith opened. Thence did the fame spread, thence Thy praises glowed, shone; thence the mind of that enemy, though not turned to the soundness of believing, was yet turned back from her fury of persecuting. Thanks to Thee, O my God. Whence and whither hast Thou thus led my remembrance, that I should confess these things also unto Thee? which great though they be, I had passed by in forgetfulness. And yet then, when the odour of Thy ointments was so fragrant, did we not run after Thee. Therefore did I more weep among the singing of Thy Hymns, formerly sighing after Thee, and at length breathing in Thee, as far as the breath may enter into this our house of grass.
Thou that makest men to dwell of one mind in one house, didst join with us Euodius also, a young man of our own city. Who being an officer of Court, was before us converted to Thee and baptised: and quitting his secular warfare, girded himself to Thine. We were together, about to dwell together in our devout purpose. We sought where we might serve Thee most usefully, and were together returning to Africa: whither- ward being as far as Ostia, my mother departed this life. Much I omit, as hastening much. Receive my confessions and thanks- givings, O my God, for innumerable things whereof I am silent. But I will not omit whatsoever my soul would bring | forth concerning that Thy handmaid, who brought me forth, both in the flesh, that I might be born to this temporal light,
EE Ee ete tee Seer
142 / Saint Augustine rc Lat ony
and in heart,.that I might be born to Light eternal. Not her gifts, but Thine in her, would I speak of; for neither did she make nor educate herself. Thou createdst her; nor did her father and mother know what a one should come from them. And the sceptre of Thy Christ, the discipline of Thine only Son, in a Christian house, a good member of Thy Church, edu- cated her in Thy fear. Yet for her good discipline was she wont to commend not so much her mother’s diligence, as that of a certain decrepit maid-servant, who had carried her father when a child, as little ones used to be carried at the backs of elder girls. For which reason, and for her great age, and excel- lent conversation, was she, in that Christian family, well re- spected by its heads. Whence also the charge of her master’s daughters was entrusted to her, to which she gave diligent heed, restraining them earnestly, when necessary, with a holy severity, and teaching them with a grave discretion. For, ex- cept at those hours wherein they were most temporately fed at their parents’ table, she would not suffer them, though parched with thirst, to drink even water; preventing an evil custom, and adding this wholesome advice: “Ye drink water now, because you have not wine in your power; but when you come to be married, and be made mistresses of cellars and cupboards, you will scorn water, but the custom of drinking will abide.” By this method of instruction, and the authority she had, she refrained the greediness of childhood, and moulded their very thirst to such an excellent moderation that what they should not, that they would not.
And yet (as Thy handmaid told me her son) there had crept upon her a love of wine. For when (as the manner was) she, as though a sober maiden, was bidden by her parents to draw wine out of the hogshed, holding the vessel under the open- ing, before she poured the wine into the flagon, she sipped a little with the tip of her lips; for more her instinctive feelings refused. For this she did, not out of any desire of drink, but out of the exuberance of youth, whereby it boils over in mirth- ful freaks, which in youthful spirits are wont to be kept under by the gravity of their elders. And thus by adding to that little, daily littles (for whoso despiseth little things shall fall by little and little), she had fallen into such a habit as greedily to drink off her little cup brim-full almost of wine. Where was then that discreet old woman, and that her earnest countermand- ing? Would aught avail against a secret disease, if Thy heal- ing hand, O Lord, watched not over us? Father, mother, and governors absent, Thou present, who createdst, who callest,
WIRE bite Fee ar. ine ae _
%
who also by those set over us, workest something toward _ salvation of our souls, what didst Thou then, O my God? how
_ didst Thou cure her? how heal her? didst Thou not out of an- — _ other soul bring forth a hard and a sharp taunt, like a lancet out of Thy secret store, and with one touch remove all that foul stuff? For a maid-servant with whom she used to go to the cellar, falling to words (as it happens) with her little mis- tress, when alone with her, taunted her with this fault, with — most bitter insult, calling her wine-bibber. With which taunt she, stung to the quick, saw the foulness of her fault, and in- stantly condemned and forsook it. As flattering friends pervert, . so reproachful enemies mostly correct. Yet not what by them Thou doest, but what themselves purposed, dost Thou repay them. For she in her anger sought to vex her young mistress, not to amend her; and did it in private, either for that the time and place of the quarrel so found them; or lest herself also should have anger, for discovering it thus late. But Thou, Lord, Governor of all in heaven and earth, who turnest to Thy _ purposes the deepest currents, and the ruled turbulence of the tide of times, didst by the very unhealthiness of one soul heal — _ another; lest any, when he observes this, should ascribe it to his own power, even when another, whom he wished to be re- formed, is reformed through words of his.
Brought up thus modestly and soberly, and made subject rather by Thee to her parents, than by her parents to Thee, so soon as she was of marriageable age, being bestowed upon a _ husband, she served him as her lord; and did her diligence to win him unto Thee, preaching Thee unto him by her conversa- tion; by which Thou ornamentedst her, making her reverently amiable, and admirable unto her husband. And she so endured the wronging of her bed as never to have any quarrel with her husband thereon. For she looked for Thy mercy upon him, that believing in Thee, he might be made chaste. But besides this, he was fervid, as in his affections, so in anger: but she had learnt not to resist an angry husband, not in deed only, but not even in word. Only when he was smoothed and tranquil, and in a temper to receive it, she would give an account of her actions, if haply he had overhastily taken offence. In a word, while many matrons, who had milder husbands, yet bore even in their faces marks of shame, would in familiar talk blame their husbands’ lives, she would blame their tongues, giving them, as in jest, earnest advice: “That from the time they heard the marriage writings read to them, they should account them as indentures, whereby they were made servants; and so,
PeteLong ee Ae eee Ree ee
> a
144 / Saint Augustine remembering their condition, ought not to set themselves up against their lords.” And when they, knowing what a choleric husband she endured, marvelled that it had never been heard, nor by any token perceived, that Patricius had beaten his wife, or that there had been any domestic difference between them, even for one day, and confidentially asking the reason, she taught them her practice above mentioned: Those wives who observed it found the good, and returned thanks; those who observed it not, found no relief, and suffered.
Her mother-in-law also, at first by whisperings of evil serv- ants incensed against her, she so overcame by observance and persevering endurance and meekness, that she of her own.ac- cord discovered to her son the meddling tongues whereby the domestic peace betwixt her and her daughter-in-law had been disturbed, asking him to correct them. Then, when in compli- ance with his mother, and for the well-ordering of the family, he had with stripes corrected those discovered, at her will who had discovered them, she promised the like reward to any who, to please her, should speak ill of her daughter-in-law to her: and none now venturing, they lived together with a re- markable sweetness of mutual kindness.
This great gift also Thou bestowedst, O my God, my mercy, upon that good handmaid of Thine, in whose womb Thou createdst me, that between any disagreeing and dis- cordant parties where she was able, she showed herself such a peacemaker, that hearing on both sides most bitter things, such as swelling and indigested choler uses to break out into, when the crudities of enmities are. breathed out in sour discourses to a present friend against an absent enemy, she never would disclose aught of the one unto the other, but what might tend to their reconcilement. A small good this might appear to me, did I not to my grief know numberless persons, who through some horrible and wice-spreading con- tagion of sin, not only disclose to persons mutually angered things said in anger, but add withal things never spoken, whereas to humane humanity, it ought to seem a light thing not to foment or increase ill will by ill words, unless one study withal by good words to quench it. Such was she, Thy- self, her most inward Instructor, teaching her in the school of the heart.
Finally, her own husband, towards the very end of his _ earthly life, did she gain unto Thee; nor had she to com- plain of that in him as a believer, which before he was a
“believer she had borne from him. She was also the servant of Thy servants; whosoever of them knew her, did in her much praise and honour and love Thee; for that through the witness of the fruits of a holy conversation they perceived Thy presence in her heart. For she had been the wife of one man, had requited her parents, had governed her house piously, was well reported of for good works, had brought up children, so often travailing in birth of them, as she saw them swerving from Thee. Lastly, of all of us Thy servants, O Lord (whom on occasion of Thy own gift Thou sufferest to speak), us, who before her sleeping in Thee lived united together, having re- ceived the grace of Thy baptism, did she so take care of, as though she had been mother of us all; so served us, as though she had been child to us all. The day now approaching whereon she was to depart this ‘life (which day Thou well knewest, we knew not), it came to pass, Thyself, as I believe, by Thy secret ways so ordering it, that she and I stood alone, leaning in a certain window, which looked into the garden of the house where we now lay, at Ostia; where removed from the din of men, we were recruiting from the fatigues of a long journey, for the voyage. We were discoursing then together, alone, very sweetly; and forgetting those things which are behind, and reaching forth unto those things which are before, we were enquiring between ourselves in the presence of the Truth, which Thou art, of. what sort the eternal life of the saints was to be, which eye hath not seen, ‘nor ear heard, nor hath it entered into the heart of man. But yet we gasped with the mouth of our heart, after those heav- enly streams of Thy fountain, the fountain of life, which is with Thee; that being bedewed thence according to our ca- pacity, we might in some sort meditate upon so high a mystery. And when our discourse was brought to that point, that the very highest delight of the earthly senses, in the very purest — material light, was, in respect of the sweetness of that life, not only not worthy of comparison, but not even of mention; we raising up ourselves with a more glowing affection towards the “Self-same,” did by degrees pass through all things bodily, even the very heaven whence sun and moon and stars shine ‘upon the earth; yea, we were soaring higher yet, by inward musing, and discourse, and admiring of Thy works; and we came to our own minds, and went beyond them, that we might arrive at that region of never-failing plenty, where Thou feedest Israel for ever with the food of truth, and where
i
— Si -2 2 ee ae oo. eee =
146 / Saint Augustine SLE life is the Wisdom by whom all these things are made, and what have been, and what shall be, and she is not made, but is, as she hath been, and so shall she be ever; yea rather, to “have been,” and “hereafter to be,” 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 discoursing and panting after her, we slightly touched on her with the whole effort of our heart; and we sighed, and there we leave bound the first fruits of the Spirit; and returned to vocal expressions of our mouth, where the word spoken has beginning and end. And what is like unto Thy Word, our Lord, who endureth in Himself without becoming old, and maketh all things new?
We were saying then: If to any the tumult of the flesh were hushed, hushed the images of earth, and waters, and air, hushed also the pole of heaven, yea the very soul be hushed to herself, and by not thinking on self surmount self, hushed all dreams and imaginary revelations, every tongue and every sign, and whatsoever exists only in transition, since if any could hear, all these say, We made not ourselves, but He made us that abideth for ever—If then having uttered this, they too should be hushed, having roused only our ears to Him who made them, and He alone speak, not by them but by Himself, that we may hear His Word, not through any tongue of flesh, nor Angel’s voice, nor sound of thunder, nor in the dark riddle of a similitude, but might hear Whom in these things we love, might hear His Very Self without these (as we two now strained ourselves, and in swift thought touched on that Eter- nal Wisdom which abideth over all) ;—could this be continued on, and other visions of kind far unlike be withdrawn, and this one ravish, and absorb, and wrap up its beholder amid these inward joys, so that life might be for ever like that one mo- ment of understanding which now we sighed after; were not this, Enter into thy Master’s joy? And when shall that be? When we shall all rise again, though we shall not all be changed?
Such things was I speaking, and even if not in this very manner, and these same words, yet, Lord, Thou knowest that in that day when we were speaking of these things, and this world with all its delights became, as we spake, contemptible to us, my mother said, “Son, for mine own part I have no fur- ther delight in any thing in this life. What I do here any longer, and to what end I am here, I know not, now that my hopes in this world are accomplished. One thing there was for
fy O° The Conf 4 Sct ae ee wt ot . eg PF . a ‘ ay Pz) which I desired to linger for a while in this life, that I might ee thee a Catholic Christian before I died. My God hath done this for me more abundantly, that I should now see thee withal, despising earthly happiness, become His servant: what do I here?” _ What answer I made her unto these things, I remember not. For scarce five days after, or not much more, she fell sick of a fever; and in that sickness one day she fell into a swoon, and was for a while withdrawn from these visible things. We has- tened round her; but she was soon brought back to her senses; and looking on me and my brother standing by her, said to us enquiringly, “Where was I?” And then looking fixedly on us, with grief amazed: “Here,” saith she, “shall you bury your mother.” I held my peace and refrained weeping; but my brother spake something, wishing for her, as the happier lot, that she might die, not in a strange place, but in her own land. Whereat, she with anxious look, checking him with her eyes, for that he still savoured such things, and then looking upon me: “Behold,” saith she, “what he saith”: and soon after to us both, “Lay,” she saith, “this body any where; let not the care for that any way disquiet you: this only I request, that you would remember me at the Lord’s altar, wherever you be.” And having delivered this sentiment in what words she could, she held her peace, being exercised by her growing sickness. But I, considering Thy gifts, Thou unseen God, which Thou instillest into the hearts of Thy faithful ones, whence won- drous fruits do spring, did rejoice and give thanks to Thee, recalling what I before knew, how careful and anxious she had ever been as to her place of burial, which she had pro- vided and prepared for herself by the body of her husband. For because they had lived in great harmony together, she also wished (so little can the human mind embrace things divine) to have this addition to that happiness, and to have it remem- bered among men, that after her pilgrimage beyond the seas, what was earthly of this united pair had been permitted to be united beneath the same earth. But when this emptiness had through the fulness of Thy goodness begun to cease in her heart, I knew not, and rejoiced admiring what she had so dis- closed to me; though indeed in that our discourse also in the window, when she said, “What do I here any longer?” there appeared no desire of dying in her own country. I heard after- wards also, that when we were now at Ostia, she with a mother’s confidence, when I was absent, one day discoursed
L
= ee oe ae
“ a
148 / Saint Augustine
with certain of my friends about the contempt of this life, an the blessing of death: and when they were amazed at such ~ courage which Thou hadst given to a woman, and asked, “Whether she were not afraid to leave her body so far from her own city?” she replied, “Nothing is far to God; nor was it to be feared lest at the end of the world, He should not rec- ognise whence He were to raise me up.” On the ninth day then of her sickness, and the fifty-sixth year of her age, and the three-and-thirtieth of mine, was that religious and holy soul freed from the body.
I closed her eyes; and there flowed withal a mighty sorrow into my heart, which was overflowing into tears; mine eyes at the same time, by the violent command of my mind, drank up their fountain wholly dry; and woe was me in such a strife! But when she breathed her last, the boy Adeodatus burst out into a loud lament; then, checked by us all, held his peace. In like manner also a childish feeling in me, which was, through my heart’s youthful voice, finding its vent in weeping, was checked and silenced. For we thought it not fitting to sol- emnise that funeral with tearful lament, and groanings; for thereby do they for the most part express grief. for the de- parted, as though unhappy, or altogether dead; whereas she was neither unhappy in her death, nor altogether dead. Of this we were assured on good grounds, the testimony of her good conversation and her faith unfeigned.
What then was it which did grievously pain me within, but a fresh wound wrought through the sudden wrench of that most sweet and dear custom of living together? I joyed indeed in her testimony, when, in that her last sickness, mingling her endearments with my acts of duty, she called me “dutiful,” and mentioned, with great affection of love, that she never had heard any harsh or reproachful sound uttered by my mouth against her. But yet, O my God, Who madest us, what comparison is there betwixt that honour that I paid to her, and her slavery for me? Being then forsaken of so great com- fort in her, my soul was wounded, and that life rent asunder as it were, which, of hers and mine together, had been made but one.
The boy then being stilled from weeping, Euodius took up the Psalter, and began to sing, our whole house answering him, the Psalm, I will sing of mercy and judgments to Thee, O Lord. But hearing what we were doing, many brethren and religious women came together; and whilst they (whose office
Bert of the ee where I might properly), pete with those who thought not fit to leave me, discoursed upon some- thing fitting the time; and by this balm of truth assuaged that ‘torment, known to Thee, they unknowing and listening intent- hy, and conceiving me to be without all sense of sorrow. But ‘in Thy ears, where none of them heard, I blamed the weakness of my feelings, and refrained my flood of grief, which gave way a little unto me; but again came, as with a tide, yet not so as to burst out into tears, nor to change of countenance; still I knew what I was keeping down in my heart. And being very ‘much displeased that these human things had such power over me, which in the due order and appointment of our natural ‘condition must needs come to pass, with a new grief I grieved for my grief, and was thus worn by a double sorrow.
And behold, the corpse was carried to the burial; we went ‘and returned without tears. For neither in those prayers which we poured forth unto Thee, when the Sacrifice of our ransom was offered for her, when now the corpse was by the grave’s ‘side, as the manner there is, previous to its being laid therein, did I weep even during those prayers; yet was I the whole day in secret heavily sad, and with troubled mind prayed Thee, as I could, to heal my sorrow, yet Thou didst not; impressing, I believe, upon my memory by this one instance, how strong is the bond of all habit, even upon a soul, which now feeds upon no deceiving Word. It seemed also good to me to go and bathe, having heard that the bath had its name (balneum) from the Greek Sadaveiov, for that it drives sadness from the ‘mind. And this also I confess unto Thy mercy, Father of the fatherless, that I bathed, and was the same as before I bathed. For the bitterness of sorrow could not exude out of my heart. ‘Then I slept, and woke up again, and found my grief not a little softened; and as I was alone in my bed, I remembered those true verses of Thy eee For Thou art the
“Maker of all, the Lewd.
And Ruler of the height,
Who, robing day in light, hast poured Soft slumbers o’er the night,
That to our limbs the power Of toil may be renew’d,
And hearts be rais’d that sink and cower, And sorrows be subdu’d.”
ee ee.
Z
VET coe 4 ea ee
150 / Saint Augustine = | > ate
And then by little and little I recovered my former thoughts of Thy handmaid, her holy conversation towards Thee, her holy tenderness and observance towards us, whereof I was suddenly deprived: and I was minded to weep in Thy sight, for her and for myself, in her behalf and in my own. And I gave way to the tears which I before restrained, to overflow as much as they desired; reposing my heart upon them; and it found rest in them, for it was in Thy ears, not in those of man, who would have scornfully interpreted my weeping. And now, Lord, in writing I confess it unto Thee. Read it, who will, and interpret it, how he will: and if he finds sin therein, that I wept my mother for a small portion of an hour (the mother who for the time was dead to mine eyes, who had for many years wept for me that I might live in Thine eyes), let him not deride me; but rather, if he be one of large charity, let him weep himself for my sins unto Thee, the Father of all the brethren of Thy Christ.
But now, with a heart cured of that wound, wherein it might seem blameworthy for an earthly feeling, I pour out unto Thee, our God, in behalf of that Thy handmaid, a far different kind of tears, flowing from a spirit shaken by the thoughts of the dangers of every soul that dieth in Adam. And although she having been quickened in Christ, even before her release from the flesh, had lived to the praise of Thy name for her faith and conversation; yet dare I not say that from what time Thou regeneratedst her by baptism, no word issued from her mouth against Thy Commandment. Thy Son, the Truth, hath said, Whosoever shall say unto his brother, Thou fool, shall be in danger of hell fire. And woe be even unto the commend- able life of men, if, laying aside mercy, Thou shouldest exam- ine it. But because Thou art not extreme in enquiring after sins, we confidently hope to find some place with Thee. But whosoever reckons up his real merits to Thee, what reckons he up to Thee but Thine own gifts? O that men would know themselves to be men; and that he that glorieth would glory in the Lord.
I therefore, O my Praise and my Life, God of my heart, laying aside for a while her good deeds, for which I give thanks to Thee with joy, do now beseech Thee for the sins of my mother. Hearken unto me, I entreat Thee, by the Medicine of our wounds, Who hung upon the tree, and now sitting at Thy right hand maketh intercession to Thee for us. I know that she dealt mercifully, and from her heart forgave her debt-
their debts; do Thou also forgive her debts, whatever she ~ may have contracted in so many years, since the water of salva- tion. Forgive her, Lord, forgive, I beseech Thee; enter not into judgment with her. Let Thy mercy be exalted above Thy justice, since Thy words are true, and Thou hast promised mercy unto the merciful; 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.
And, I believe, Thou hast already done what I ask; but ac- cept, O Lord, the free-will offerings of my mouth. For she, the day of her dissolution now at hand, took no thought to have her body sumptuously wound up, or embalmed with spices; nor desired she a choice monument, or to be buried in her own land. These things she enjoined us not; but desired only to have her name commemorated at Thy Altar, which she had served without intermission of one day: whence she knew the holy Sacrifice to be dispensed, by which the hand-writing that was against us is blotted out; through which the enemy was triumphed over, who summing up our offences, and seek- ing what to lay to our charge, found nothing in Him, in Whom we conquer. Who shall restore to Him the innocent blood? Who repay Him the price wherewith He bought us, and so take us from. Him? Unto the Sacrament of which our ransom, Thy handmaid bound her soul by the bond of faith. Let none sever her from Thy protection: let neither the lion nor the dragon interpose himself by force or fraud. For she will not answer that she owes nothing, lest she be convicted and seized by the crafty accuser: but she will answer that her sins are forgiven her by Him, to Whom none can repay that price which He, Who owed nothing, paid for us.
May she rest then in peace with the husband before and after whom she had never any; whom she obeyed, with pa- tience bringing forth fruit unto Thee, that she might win him also unto Thee. And inspire, O Lord my God, inspire Thy servants my brethren, Thy sons my masters, whom with voice, and heart, and pen I serve, that so many as shall read these Confessions, may at Thy Altar remember Monnica Thy handmaid, with Patricius, her sometimes husband, by whose bodies Thou broughtest me into this life, how I know not. May they with devout affection remember my parents in this transitory light, my brethren under Thee our Father in our Catholic Mother, and my fellow-citizens in that eternal Jeru- salem which Thy pilgrim people sigheth after from their
;
2
re request of me, ‘may jee my conf ap jer more tl through my prayers, be, through the prayers of many, mo abundantly fulfilled to her. \9
ro a . + 1
- BOOK TEN
Having in the former books spoken of himself before his receiving the grace of Baptism, in this Augustine confesses what he then was. But first, he enquires by what faculty we can know God at all; whence he enlarges on the mysteri- ous character of the memory. Then he examines his own trials under the triple division of tempta- tion, “lust of the flesh, lust of the eyes, and ' pride”; what Christian continency prescribes as to each. On Christ the Only Mediator, Who heals and will heal all infirmities.
LET ME know Thee, O Lord, who knowest me: let me know Thee, as I am known. Power of my soul, enter into it, and fit it for Thee, that Thou mayest have and hold it without spot or wrinkle. This is my hope, therefore do I speak; and in this hope do I rejoice, when I rejoice healthfully. Other things of this life are the less to be sorrowed for, the more they are sor- rowed for; and the more to be sorrowed for, the less men sorrow for them. For behold, Thou lovest the truth, and he that doth it, cometh to the light. This would I do in my heart before Thee in confession: and in my writing, before many witnesses.
And from Thee, O Lord, unto whose eyes the abyss of man’s conscience is naked, what could be hidden in me though I would not confess it? For I should hide Thee from me, not me from Thee. But now, for that my groaning is witness, that I am displeased with myself, Thou shinest out, and art pleas- ing, and beloved, and longed for; that I may be ashamed of myself, and renounce myself, and choose Thee, and neither please Thee nor myself, but in Thee. To Thee therefore, O Lord, am I open, whatever I am; and with what fruit I con- fess unto Thee, I have said. Nor do I it with words and sounds of the flesh, but with the words of my soul, and the cry of the thought which Thy ear knoweth. For when I am evil, then to confess to Thee is nothing else than to be displeased with myself; but when holy, nothing else than not to ascribe it to myself: because Thou, O Lord, blessest the godly, but first Thou a him when ungodly. My confession then, O my 153
OS EI, re NO ae SO ae ae anes a oe
154 / Saint Augustine ee ee or ae aire God, in Thy sight, is made silently, and not silently. For in sound, it is silent; in affection, it cries aloud. For neither do I utter any thing right unto men, which Thou hast not before heard from me; nor dost Thou hear any such thing from me, which Thou hast not first said unto me.
What then have I to do with men, that they should hear my - confessions—as if they could heal all my infirmities—a race, curious to know the lives of others, slothful to amend their own? Why seek they to hear from me what I am; who will not hear from Thee what themselves are? And how know they, when from myself they hear of myself, whether I say true; see- ing no man knows what is in man, but the spirit of man which is in him? But if they hear from Thee of themselves, they can- not say, “The Lord lieth.” For what is it to hear from Thee of themselves, but to know themselves? and who knoweth and saith, “It is false,” unless himself lieth? But because charity believeth all things (that is, among those whom knitting unto itself it maketh one), I also, O Lord, will in such wise confess unto Thee, that men may hear, to whom I cannot demonstrate whether I confess truly; yet they believe me, whose ears charity openeth unto me.
But do Thou, my inmost Physician, make plain unto me what fruit I may reap by doing it. For the confessions of my past sins, which Thou hast forgiven and covered, that Thou mightest bless me in Thee, changing my soul by Faith and Thy Sacrament, when read and heard, stir up the heart, that it sleep not in despair and say “I cannot,” but awake in the love of Thy mercy and the sweetness of Thy grace, whereby whoso is weak, is strong, when by it he became conscious of his own weakness. And the good delight to hear of the past evils of such as are now freed from them, not because they are evils, but because they have been and are not. With what fruit then, O Lord my God, to Whom my conscience daily confesseth, trust- ing more in the hope of Thy mercy than in her own innocency, with what fruit, I pray, do I by this book confess to men also in Thy presence what I now am, not what I have been? For that other fruit I have seen and spoken of. But what I now am, at the very time of making these confessions, divers desire to know, who have or have not known me, who have heard from me or of me; but their ear is not at my heart where I am, what- ever I am. They wish then to hear me confess what I am within; whither neither their eye, nor ear, nor understanding can reach; they wish it, as ready to believe—but will they know? For charity, whereby they are good, telleth them that in my con-
ve

ee sok. D'
- fessions Te not; ‘and she in them, believeth me. :
But for what fruit would they hear this? Do they desire to ie with me, when they hear how near, by Thy gift, I approach unto Thee? and to pray for me, when they shall hear how much I am held back by my own weight? To such will I discover myself. For it is no mean fruit, O Lord my God, that by many thanks should be given to Thee on our behalf, and Thou be by many entreated for us. Let the brotherly mind love in me what Thou teachest is to be loved, and lament in me what Thou teachest is to be lamented. Let a brotherly, not a stranger, mind, not that of the strange children, whose mouth talketh of vanity, and their right hand is a right hand of iniquity, but that brotherly mind which when it approveth, rejoiceth for me, and when it disapproveth me, is sorry for me; because whether it approveth or disapproveth, it loveth me. To such will I discover myself: they will breathe freely at my good deeds, sigh for my ill. My good deeds are Thine appointments, and Thy gifts; my evil ones are my offences, and Thy judgments. Let them breathe freely at the one, sigh at the other; and let hymns and weeping go up into Thy sight, out of the hearts of my brethren, Thy censers. And do Thou, O Lord, be pleased with the incense of Thy holy temple, have mercy upon me according to Thy great mercy for Thine own name’s sake; and no ways forsaking what Thou hast begun, perfect my imperfections.
This is the fruit of my confessions of what I am, not of what I have been, to confess this, not before Thee only, in a secret exultation with trembling, and a secret sorrow with hope; but in the ears also of the believing sons of men, sharers of my joy, and partners in my mortality, my fellow-citizens, and fellow- pilgrims, who are gone before, or are to follow on, companions of my way. These are Thy servants, my brethren, whom Thou ~ willest to be Thy sons; my masters, whom Thou commandest me to serve, if I would live with Thee, of Thee. But this Thy Word were little did it only command by speaking, and not go before in performing. This then I do in deed and word, this I do under Thy wings; in over great peril, were not my soul sub- dued unto Thee under Thy wings, and my infirmity known unto Thee. I am a little one, but my Father ever liveth, and my Guardian is sufficient for me. For He is the same who begat me, and defends me: and Thou Thyself art all my good; Thou, Almighty, Who are with me, yea, before I am with Thee. To such then whom Thou commandest me to serve will I discover, not what I have been, but what I now am and what I yet am. But neither do I judge myself. Thus therefore I would be heard.
: Soe eS ee 7 ee pe - e oe 156 / Saint Augustine — os . 77s eee oe a =v" eh 4
¢ -”
oC ~. For Thou, Lord, dost judge me: because, although no man — knoweth the things of a man, but the spirit of a man which is in him, yet is there something of man, which neither the spirit of man that is in him, itself knoweth. But Thou, Lord, knowest all of him, Who hast made him. Yet I, though in Thy sight I despise myself, and account myself dust and ashes; yet know I something of Thee, which I know not of myself. And truly, now we see through a glass darkly, not face to face as yet. So long therefore as I be absent from Thee, I am more present with myself than with Thee; and yet know I Thee that Thou art in no ways passible; but I, what temptations I can resist, what I cannot, I know not. And there is hope, because Thou art faithful, Who wilt not suffer us to be tempted above that we are able; but wilt with the temptation also make a way to escape, that we may be able to bear it. I will confess then what I know of myself, I will confess also what I know not of myself. And that because what I do know of myself, I know by Thy shining upon me; and what I know not of myself, so long know I not it, until my darkness be made as the noon-day in Thy countenance. '
Not with doubting, but with assured consciousness, do I love Thee, Lord. Thou hast stricken my heart with Thy word, and I loved Thee. Yea also heaven, and earth, and all that therein is, behold, on every side they bid me love Thee; nor cease to say so unto all, that they may be without excuse. But more deeply wilt Thou have mercy on whom Thou wilt have mercy, and wilt have compassion on whom Thou hast had compassion: else in deaf ears do the heaven and the earth speak Thy praises. But what do I love, when I love Thee? not beauty of bodies, nor the fair harmony of time, nor the brightness of the light, so gladsome to our eyes, nor sweet melodies of varied songs, nor the fragrant smell of flowers, and ointments, and spices, not manna and honey, not limbs acceptable to embracements of - flesh. None of these I love, when I love my God; and yet I love a kind of light, and melody, and fragrance, and meat, and em- bracement when I love my God, the light, melody, fragrance, meat, embracement of my inner man: where there shineth unto my soul what space cannot contain, and there soundeth what time beareth not away, and there smelleth what breathing dis- perseth not, and there tasteth what eating diminisheth not, and there clingeth what satiety divorceth not. This is it which I love when I love my God.
And what is this? I asked the earth, and it answered me, “I am not He”; and whatsoever are in it confessed the same. I
ee ee Pie So Oe See ( : ‘ asked the sea and the deeps, and the living creeping things, and — they answered, “We are not thy God, seek above us.” I asked the moving air; and the whole air with his inhabitants answered, “Anaximenes was deceived, I am not God.” I asked the heavens, sun, moon, stars, “Nor (say they) are we the God whom thou seekest.” And I replied unto all the things which encompass the door of my flesh: “Ye have told me of my God, that ye are not He; tell me something of Him.” And they cried out with a loud voice, “He made us.” My questioning them, was my thoughts on them: and their form of beauty gave the answer. And I turned myself unto myself, and said to myself, “Who art thou?” And I answered, “A man.” And behold, in me there present themselves to me soul, and body, one without, the other within. By which of these ought I to seek my God? I had sought Him in the body from earth to heaven, so far as I could send messengers, the beams of mine eyes. But the better is the inner, for to it as presiding and judging, all the bodily mes- sengers reported the answers of heaven and earth, and all things therein, who said, “We are not God, but He made us.” These things did my inner man know by the ministry of the outer: I the inner knew them; I, the mind, through the senes of my body. I asked the whole frame of the world about my God; and it answered me, “I am not He, but He made me.”
Is not this corporeal figure apparent to all whose senses are perfect? why then speaks it not the same to all? Animals small and great see it, but they cannot ask it: because no reason is _ set over their senses to judge on what they report. But men can ask, so that the invisible things of God are clearly seen, being understood by the things that are made; but by love of them, they are made subject unto them: and subjects cannot judge. Nor yet do the creatures answer such as ask, unless they can judge; nor yet do they change their voice (i.e., their appear- ance), if one man only sees, another seeing asks, so as to appear one way to this man, another way to that, but appearing the same way to both, it is dumb to this, speaks to that; yea rather it speaks to all; but they only understand, who compare its voice received from without, with the truth within. For truth - saith unto me, “Neither heaven, nor earth, nor any other body is thy God.” This, their very nature saith to him that seeth them: “They are a mass; a mass is less in a part thereof than in the whole.” Now to thee I speak, O my soul, thou art my better part: for thou quickenest the mass of my body, giving it life, which no body can give to a body: but thy God is even unto thee the Life of thy life.
a ape we ioe) ee ee : , 158 / Saint Augustine tp LE ee!
What then do I love, when I love my God? who is He above the head of my soul? By my very soul will I ascend to Him. I will pass beyond that power whereby I am united to my body, and fill its whole frame with life. Nor can I by that power find my God; for so horse and mule that have no understanding might find Him; seeing it is the same power, whereby even their bodies live. But another power there is, not that only whereby I animate, but that too whereby I imbue with sense my flesh, which the Lord hath framed for me: commanding the eye not to hear, and the ear not to see; but the eye, that through it I should see, and the ear, that through it I should hear; and to the other senses severally, what is to each their own peculiar ‘seats and offices; which, being divers, I the one mind, do through them enact. I will pass beyond this power of mine also; for this also have the horse, and mule, for they also per- ceive through the body.
I will pass then beyond this power of my nature also, rising by degrees unto Him Who made me. And I come to the fields and spacious palaces of my memory, where are the treasures of innumerable images, brought into it from things of all sorts perceived by the senses. There is stored up, whatsoever besides we think, either by enlarging or diminishing, or any other way varying those things which the sense hath come to; and what- ever else hath been committed and laid up, which forgetful- ness hath not yet swallowed up and buried. When I enter there, I require what I will to be brought forth, and something in- stantly comes; others must be longer sought after, which are fetched, as it were, out of some inner receptacle; others rush out in troops, and while one things is desired and required, they start forth, as who should say, “Is it perchance I?” These I drive away with the hand of my heart, from the face of my remem-. brance; until what I wish for be unveiled, and appear in sight, out of its secret place. Other things come up readily, in un- broken order, as they are called for; those in front making way for the following; and as they make way, they are hidden from sight, ready to come when I will. All which takes place when I repeat a thing by heart.
There are all things preserved distinctly and under general heads, each having entered by its own avenue: as light, and all colours and forms of bodies by the eyes; by the ears all sorts of sounds; all smells by the avenue of the nostrils; all tastes by the mouth; and by the sensation of the whole body, what is’ hard or soft; hot or cold; smooth or rugged; heavy or light; either outwardly or inwardly to the body. All these doth that
great harbour of the memory receive in her numberless secret and inexpressible windings, to be forthcoming, and brought out at need; each entering in by his own gate, and there laid up.
¥
_ Nor yet do the things themselves enter in; only the images of
the things perceived are there in readiness, for thought to recall. Which images, how they are formed, who can tell, though it doth plainly appear by which sense each hath been brought in | and stored up? For even while I dwell in darkness and silence, in my memory I can produce colours, if I will, and discern betwixt black and white, and what others I will: nor yet do sounds break in and disturb the image drawn in by my eyes, which I am reviewing, though they also are there, lying dor- mant, and laid up, as it were, apart. For these too I call for, and forthwith they appear. And though my tongue be still, and my throat mute, so can I sing as much as I will; nor do those images of colours, which notwithstanding be there, intrude themselves and interrupt, when another store is called for, which flowed in by the ears. So the other things, piled in and up by the other senses, I recall at my pleasure. Yea, I discern the breath of lilies
_ from violets, though smelling nothing; and I prefer honey to _ sweet wine, smooth before rugged, at the time neither tasting
-
nor handling, but remembering only.
These things do I within, in that vast court of my memory. For there are present with me, heaven, eaith, sea, and what- ever I could think on therein, besides what I have forgotten. There also meet I with myself, and recall myself, and when, where, and what I have done, and under what feelings. There be all which I remember, either on my own experience, or other’s credit. Out of the same store do I myself with the past continually combine fresh and fresh likenesses of things which I have experienced, or, from what I have experienced, have ~ believed: and thence again infer future actions, events and _ hopes, and all these again I reflect on, as present. “I will do this or that,” say I to myself, in that great receptacle of my mind, stored with the images of things so many and so great, “and this or that will follow.” “O that this or that might be!” “God avert this or that!” So speak I to myself: and when I speak, the images of all I speak of are present, out of the same treasury of memory; nor would I speak of any thereof, were the images wanting.
Great is this force of memory, excessive great, O my God; a large and boundless chamber! who ever sounded the bottom thereof? yet is this a power of mine, and belongs unto my nature; nor do I myself comprehend all that I am. Therefore
Cae Te aga ee a hee
is the mind too strait to contain itself. And where should that ‘ _be, which. it containeth not of itself? Is it without it, and not within? how then doth it not comprehend itself? A wonderful: admiration surprises me, amazement seizes me upon this. And men go abroad to admire the heights of mountains, the mighty billows of the sea, the broad tides of rivers, the compass of the ocean, and the circuits of the stars, and pass themselves by; nor wonder that when I spake of all these things, I did not see them with mine eyes, yet could not have spoken of them, unless I then actually saw the mountains, billows, rivers, stars which I had seen, and that ocean which I believe to be, inwardly in my memory, and that, with the same vast spaces between, as if I saw them abroad. Yet did not I by seeing draw them into my- self, when with mine eyes I beheld them; nor are they them-
selves with me, but their images only. And I know by what sense of the body each was impressed upon me.
Yet not these alone does the unmeasurable capacity of my memory retain. Here also is all, learnt of the liberal sciences and as yet unforgotten; removed as it were to some inner place, which is yet no place: nor are they the images thereof, but the things themselves. For, what is literature, what the art of dis- puting, how many kinds of questions there be, whatsoever of these I know, in such manner exists in my memory, as that I have not taken in the image, and left out the thing, or that it should have sounded and passed away like a voice fixed on the ear by that impress, whereby it might be recalled, as if it sounded, when it no longer sounded; or as a smell while it passes and evaporates into air affects the sense of smell, whence it conveys into the memory an image of itself, which remem- © bering, we renew, or as meat, which verily in the belly hath now no taste, and yet in the memory still in a manner tasteth; or as any thing which the body by touch perceiveth, and which when removed from us, the memory still conceives. For those things are not transmitted into the memory, but their images only are with an admirable swiftness caught up, and stored as it were in wondrous cabinets, and thence wonderfully by the act of remembering, brought forth.
But now when I hear that there be three kinds of questions, “Whether the thing be? what it is? of what kind it is? I do indeed hold the images of the sounds of which those words be composed, and that those sounds, with a noise passed through the air, and now are not. But the things themselves which are signified by those sounds, J never reached with any sense of my body, nor ever discerned them otherwise than in my mind; yet
10ry have I laid up not their images, but themselves. — they entered into me, let them say if they can; for —
_ Ihave gone over all the avenues of my fiesh, but cannot find by _ which they entered. For the eyes say, “If those images were
_—
coloured, we reported of them.” The ears say, “If they sound, we gave knowledge of them.” The nostrils say, “If they smell, they passed by us.” The taste says, “Unless they have a savour, ask me not.” The touch says, “If it have not size, I handled it not; if I handled it not, I gave no notice of it.” Whence and how entered these things into my memory? I know not how. — For when I learned them, I gave not credit to another man’s mind; but recognised them in mine; and approving them for true, I commended them to it, laying them up as it were, whence I might bring them forth when I willed. In my heart then they were, even before I learned them, but in my memory they were not. Where then? or wherefore, when they were spoken, did I acknowledge them, and said, “So is it, it is true,” unless that they were already in the memory, but so thrown back and buried as it were in deeper recesses, that had not the suggestion
_ of another drawn them forth I had perchance been unable to
_ conceive of them?
Wherefore we find, that to learn these things whereof we imbibe not the images by our senses, but perceive within by themselves, without images, as they are, is nothing else, but by conception, to receive, and by marking to take heed that those things which the memory did before contain at random and unarranged, be laid up at hand as it were in that same memory where before they lay unknown, scattered and neglected, and so readily occur to the mind familiarised to them. And how many things of this kind does my memory bear which have been already found out, and as I said, placed as it were at hand, which we are said to have learned and come to know which were I for some short space of time to cease to call to mind, they are again so buried, and glide back, as it were, into the deeper recesses, that they must again, as if new, be thought out thence, for other abode they have none: but they must be
drawn together again, that they may be known; that is to say,
they must as it were be collected together from their disper- sion: whence the word “cogitation” is derived. For cogo (col- lect) and cogito (re-collect) have the same relation to each
_ other as ago and agito, facio and factito. But the mind hath _ appropriated to itself this word (cogitation), so that, not what
_ is “collected” any how, but what is “re-collected,” i.e., brought
—
2) eke eee a ae
162 / Saint Augustine together, in the mind, is properly said to be cogitated, or thought upon. ;
The memory containeth also reasons and laws innumerable of numbers and dimensions, none of which hath any bodily sense impressed; seeing they have neither colour, nor sound, nor taste, nor smell, nor touch. I have heard the sound of the words whereby when discussed they are denoted: but the sounds are other than the things. For the sounds are other in Greek than in Latin; but the things are neither Greek, nor Latin, nor any other language. I have seen the lines of architects, the very finest, like a spider’s thread; but those are still different, they are not the images of those lines which the eye of fiesh showed me: he knoweth them, whosoever without any conception what- soever of a body, recognises them within himself. I have per- ceived also the numbers of the things with which we number all the senses of my body; but those numbers wherewith we number are different, nor are they the images of these, and therefore they indeed are. Let him who seeth them not, deride me for saying these things, and I will pity him, while he de- rides me.
All these things I remember, and how I learnt them I remem- ber. Many things also most falsely objected against them have I heard, and remember; which though they be false, yet is it not false that I remember them; and I remember also that I have discerned betwixt those truths and these falsehoods objected to them. And I perceive that the present discerning of these things is» different from remembering that I oftentimes dis- cerned them, when I often thought upon them. I both remem- ber then to have often understood these things; and what I now discern and understand, I lay up in my memory, that hereafter I may remember that I understand it now. So then I remember | also to have remembered; as if hereafter I shall call to remem- brance, that I have now been able to remember these things, by © the force of memory shall I call it to remembrance.
The same memory contains also the affections of my mind, not in the same manner that my mind itself contains them, when it feels them; but far otherwise, according to a power of its own. For without rejoicing I remember myself to have joyed; and without sorrow do I recollect my past sorrow. And that I once feared, I review without fear; and without desire call to mind a past desire. Sometimes, on the contrary, with joy do I remember my fore-past sorrow, and with sorrow, joy. Which is not wonderful, as to the body; for mind is one thing, body another. If I therefore with joy remember some past pain
ory oe is ane: res ahs we give a nine in ec to be _kept in memory, we say, “See that you keep it in mind”; and © when we forget, we say, “It did not come to my mind,” and, “Tt slipped out of my mind,” calling the memory itself the mind); this being so, how is it that when with joy I remember my past sorrow, the mind hath joy, the memory hath sorrow; the mind upon the joyfulness which is in it, is joyful, yet the memory upon the sadness which is in it, is not sad? Does the memory perchance not belong to the mind? Who will say so? The memory then is, as it were, the belly of the mind, and joy and sadness, like sweet and bitter food; which, when com- mitted to the memory, are as it were, passed into the belly, where they may be stowed, but cannot taste. Ridiculous it is to imagine these to be alike; and yet are they not utterly unlike.
But, behold, out of my memory I bring it, when I say there be four perturbations of the mind, desire, joy, fear, sorrow; and whatsoever I can dispute thereon, by dividing each into its
_ subordinate species, and by defining it, in my memory find I what to say, and thence do I bring it: yet am I not disturbed
_ by any of these perturbations, when by calling them to mind, I remember them; yea, and before I recalled and brought them _back, they were there; and therefore could they, by recollec- tion, thence be brought. Perchance, then, as meat is by chewing the cud brought up out of the belly, so by recollection these out of the memory. Why then does not the disputer, thus recol- lecting, taste in the mouth of his musing the sweetness of joy, or the bitterness of sorrow? Is the comparison unlike in this, because not in all respects like? For who would willingly speak thereof, if so oft as we name grief or fear, we should be com- pelled to be sad or fearful? And yet could we not speak of them, did we not find in our memory, not only the sounds of the names according to the images impressed by the senses of the body, but notions of the very things themselves which we never received by any avenue of the body, but which the mind itself perceiving by the experience of its own passions, com- mitted to the memory, or the memory of itself retained, with- out being committed unto it.
But whether by images or no, who can readily say? Thus, I name a stone, I name the sun, the things themselves not being present to my senses, but their images to my memory. I name a bodily pain, yet it is not present with me, when nothing aches:
_yet unless its image were present to my memory, I should not | knew what to say thereof, nor in discoursing discern pain from
.
ae © fae? | 7 we - ve ie) a —T 7 toe “4 ~
164 / Saint Augustine int ep i ae
_ pleasure. I name bodily health; being sound in body, the thin itself is present with me; yet, unless its image also were present in my memory, I could by no means recall what the sound of this name should signify. Nor would the sick, when health were named, recognise what were spoken, unless the same image were by the force of memory retained, although the thing itself were absent from the body. I name numbers whereby we num- ber; and not their images, but themselves are present in my memory. I name the image of the sun, and that image is present in my memory. For I recall not the image of its image, but the image itself is present to me, calling it to mind. ] name mem- ory, and I recognise what I name. And where do I recognise it, but in the memory itself? Is it also present to itself by its image, and not by itself?
What, when I name forgetfulness, and withal recognise what I name? whence should I recognise it, did I not remember it? I speak not of the sound of the name, but of the thing which it signifies: which if I had forgotten, I could not recognise what that sound signifies. When then I remember memory, memory itself is, through itself, present with itself: but when I remem- ber forgetfulness, there are present both memory and forget- fulness; memory whereby I remember, forgetfulness which I remember. But what is forgetfulness, but the privation of mem- ory? How then is it present that I remember it, since when present I cannot remember? But if what we remember we hold it in memory, yet, unless we did remember forgetfulness, we could never at the hearing of the name recognise the thing thereby signified, then forgetfulness is retained by memory. Present then it is, that we forget not, and being so, we forget. It is to be understood from this that forgetfulness when we re- member it, is not present to the memory by itself but by its image: because if it were present by itself, it would not cause us to remember, but to forget. Who now shall search out this? who shall comprehend how it is?
Lord, I, truly, toil therein, yea and toil in myself; I am be- come a heavy soil requiring over much sweat of the brow. For we are not now searching out the regions of heaven, or measur- ing the distances of the stars, or enquiring the balancings of the earth. It is I myself who remember, I the mind. It is not so wonderful, if what I myself am not, be far from me. But what is nearer to me than myself? And lo, the force of mine own memory is not understood by me; though I cannot so much as name myself without it. For what shall I say, when it is clear to me that I remember forgetfulness? Shall I say that that is
ete! ._ “ ; rk:
‘not in my memory, which I remember? or shall I say that for- :
_getfulness is for this purpose in my memory, that I might not _ forget? Both were most absurd. What third way is there? How can I say that the image of forgetfulness is retained by my memory, not forgetfulness itself, when I remember it? How could I say this either, seeing that when the image of any thing is impressed on the memory, the thing itself must needs be first present, whence that image may be impressed? For thus do I
_ remember Carthage, thus all places where I have been, thus men’s faces whom I have seen, and things reported by the other senses; thus the health or sickness of the body. For when these things were present, my memory received from them images, which being present with me, I might look on and bring back in my mind, when I remembered them in their absence. If then this forgetfulness is retained in the memory through its image, not through itself, then plainly itself was once present, that its image might be taken. But when it was present, how did it write its image in the memory, seeing that forgetfulness by its
" presence effaces even what it finds already noted? And yet, in whatever way, although that way be past conceiving and ex-
_ plaining, yet certain am I that I remember forgetfulness itself also, whereby what we remember is effaced.
Great is the power of memory, a fearful thing, O my God, a deep and boundless manifoldness; and this thing is the mind, and this am I myself. What am I then, O my God? What nature am I? A life various and manifold, and exceeding immense.
Behold in the plains, and caves, and caverns of my memory, innumerable and innumerably full of innumerable kinds of things, either through images, as all bodies; or by actual pres-
ence, as the arts; or by certain notions or impressions, as the affections of the mind, which, even when the mind doth not feel, the memory retaineth, while yet whatsoever is in the memory is also in the mind—over all these do I run, I fly; I dive on this side and on that, as far as I can, and there is no end. So great is the force of memory, so great the force of life, even in the mortal life of man. What shall I do then, O Thou my true life, my God? I will pass even beyond this power of mine which is called memory: yea, I will pass beyond it, that I may approach unto Thee, O sweet Light. What sayest Thou to me? See, I am
_ mounting up through my mind towards Thee who abidest
above me. Yea, I now will pass beyond this power of mine which is called memory, desirous to arrive at Thee, whence _
_ Thou mayest be arrived at; and to cleave unto Thee, whence
one may cleave unto Thee. For even beasts and birds have
Se «7 eer eo ee ee ie
166 / Saint Augustine
memory; else could they not return to their dens and nests, nor many other things they are used unto: nor indeed could they be used to any thing, but by memory. I will pass then beyond memory also, that I may arrive at Him who hath separated me from the four-footed beasts and made me wiser than the fowls of the air, I will pass beyond memory also, and where shall I find Thee, Thou truly good and certain sweetness? And where shall I find Thee? If I find Thee without my memory, then do I not retain Thee in my memory. And how shall I find Thee, if I remember Thee not?
For the woman that had lost her groat, and sought it with a light; unless she had remembered it, she had never found it. For when it was found, whence should she know whether it were the same, unless she remembered it? I remember to have sought and found many a thing; and this I thereby know, that when I was seeking any of them, and was asked, “Is this it?” “Is that it?” so long said I “No,” until that were offered me which I sought. Which had I not remembered (whatever it were) though it were offered me, yet should I not find it, be- cause I could not recognise it. And so it ever is, when we seek and find any lost thing. Notwithstanding, when any thing is by chance lost from the sight, not from the memory (as any visible body), yet its image is still retained within, and it is sought until it be restored to sight; and when it is found, it is recog- nised by the image which is within: nor do we say that we have found what was lost, unless we recognise it; nor can we recog- nise it, unless we remember it. But this was lost to the eyes, but retained in the memory.
But what when the memory itself loses any thing, as falls out when we forget and seek that we may recollect? Where in the end do we search, but in the memory itself? and there, if one © thing be perchance offered instead of another, we reject it, until what we seek meets us; and when it doth, we say, “This is it”; which we should not unless we recognised it, nor recognise it unless we remembered it. Certainly then we had forgotten it. Or, had not the whole escaped us, but by the part whereof we had hold, was the lost part sought for; in that the memory felt that it did not carry on together all which it was wont, and maimed, as it were, by the curtailment of its ancient habit, de- manded the restoration of what it missed? For instance, if we see or think of some one known to us, and having forgotten his name, try to recover it; whatever else occurs, connects itself not therewith; because it was not wont to be thought upon to- gether with him, and therefore is rejected, until that present
~ te wy, CARI Ey, a 148 r Tee AS eer See © Tore ee whereon the knowledge reposes equably as its wonted object. And whence does that present itself, but out of the _ memory itself? for even when we recognise it, on being re- minded by another, it is thence it comes. For we do not believe
Vs
it as something new, but, upon recollection, allow what was ©
named to be right. But were it utterly blotted out of the mind, we should not remember it, even when reminded. For we have not as yet utterly forgotten that, which we remember ourselves to have forgotten. What then we have utterly forgotten, though lost, we cannot even seek after.
How then do I seek Thee, O Lord? For when I seek Thee, my God, I seek a happy life. I will seek Thee, that my soul may live. For my body liveth by my soul; and my soul by Thee. How then do I seek a happy life, seeing I have it not, until I can say, where I ought to say it, “It is enough”? How seek I it? By remembrance, as though I had forgotten it, remembering that I had forgotten it? Or, desiring to learn it as a thing un- known, either never having known, or so forgotten it, as not even to remember that I had forgotten it? is not a happy life what all will, and no one altogether wills it not? where have they known it, that they so will it? where seen it, that they so love it? Truly we have it, how, I know not. Yea, there is another way, wherein when one hath it, then is he happy; and there are, who are blessed, in hope. These have it in a lower kind, than they who have it in very deed; yet are they better off than such as are happy neither in deed nor in hope. Yet even these, had they it not in some sort, would not so will to be happy, which that they do will, is most certain. They have known it then, I know not how, and so have it by some sort of knowledge, what, I know not, and am perplexed whether it be in the memory, - which if it be, then we have been happy once; whether all sev- erally, or in that man who first sinned, in whom also we all died, and from whom we are all born with misery, I now en- quire not; but only, whether the happy life be in the memory? For neither should we love it, did we not know it. We hear the name, and we all confess that we desire the things; for we are not delighted with the mere sound. For when a Greek hears it in Latin, he is not delighted, not knowing what is spoken; but we Latins are delighted, as would he too, 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 for so earnestly. Known therefore it is to all, for could they with one voice be asked, “would they be happy?” they would answer without doubt, “they would.” And this could not be,
=s =v (eae a ae ae : 168 / Saint Augustine mas To orre unless the thing itself whereof it is the name were retained in their memory. ,
But is it so, as one remembers Carthage who hath seen it? No. For a happy life is not seen with the eye, because it is not a body. As we remember numbers then? No. For these, he that hath in his knowledge, seeks not further to attain unto; but a happy life we have in our knowledge, and therefore love it, and yet still desire to attain it, that we may be happy. As we remem- ber eloquence then? No. For although upon hearing this name also, some call to mind the thing, who still are not yet eloquent, and many who desire to be so, whence it appears that it is in their knowledge; yet these have by their bodily senses observed others to be eloquent, and been delighted, and desire to be the like (though indeed they would not be delighted but for some inward knowledge thereof, nor wish to be the like, unless they were thus delighted) ; whereas a happy life, we do by no bodily sense experience in others. As then we remember joy? Per- chance; for my joy I remember, even when sad, as a happy life, when unhappy; nor did I ever with bodily sense see, hear, smell, taste, or touch my joy; but I experienced it in my mind, when I rejoiced; and the knowledge of it clave to my memory, so that I can recall it with disgust sometimes, at others with longing, according to the nature of the things, wherein I re- member myself to have joyed. For even from foul things have I been immersed in a sort of joy; which now recalling, I detest and execrate; otherwhiles in good and honest things, which I recall with longing, although perchance no longer present; and therefore with sadness I recall former joy.
Where then and when did I experience my happy life, that I should remember, and love, and long for it? Nor is it I alone, or some few besides, but we all would fain be happy; which, unless by some certain knowledge we knew, we should not with | so certain a will desire. But how is this, that if two men be asked ~ whether they would go to the wars, one, perhance would an- swer that he would, the other, that he would not; but if they were asked whether they would be happy, both would instantly without any doubting say they would; and for no other reason would the one go to the wars, and the other not, but to be happy. Is it perchance that as one looks for his joy in this thing, another in that, all agree in their desire of being happy, as they would (if they were asked) that they wished to have joy, and this joy they call a happy life? Although then one obtains this joy by one means, another by another, all have one end, which they strive to attain, namely, joy. Which being a thing. which
a. ee eee ee ae all must say they have experienced, it is therefore found in the — ‘Memory, and recognised whenever the name of a happy life is mentioned.
Far be it, Lord, far be it from the heart of Thy servant who here confesseth unto Thee, far be it, that, be the joy what it may, I should therefore think myself happy. For there is a joy which is not given to the ungodly, but to those who love Thee for Thine own sake, whose joy Thou Thyself art. And this is the happy life, to rejoice to Thee, of Thee, for Thee; this is it, and there is no other. For they who think there is another, pur- sue some other and not the true joy. Yet is not their will turned away from some semblance of joy.
It is not certain then that all wish to be happy, inasmuch as they who wish not to joy in Thee, which is the only happy life, do not truly desire the happy life. Or do all men desire this, but because the flesh lusteth against the Spirit, and the Spirit against the flesh, that they cannot do what they would, they fall upon that which they can, and are content therewith; because, what they are not able to do, they do not will so strongly as would suffice to make them able? For I ask any one, had he rather joy in truth, or in falsehood? They will as little hesitate to say “in the truth,” as to say “that they desire to be happy,” for a happy life is joy in the truth: for this is a joying in Thee, Who are the Truth, O God my light, health of my countenance, my God. This is the happy life which all desire; this life which alone is happy, all desire; to joy in the truth all desire. I have met with many that would deceive; who would be deceived, no one. Where then did they know this happy life, save where they know the truth also? For they love it also, since they would not be deceived. And when they love a happy life, which is no other than joying in the truth, then also do they love the truth; which yet they would not love, were there not some notice of it in their memory. Why then joy they not in it? why are they not happy? because they are more strongly taken up with other things which have more power to make them miser- able, than that which they so faintly remember to make them happy. For there is yet a little light in men; let them walk, let them walk, that the darkness overtake them not.
But why doth “truth generate hatred,” and the man of Thine, preaching the truth, become an enemy to them? whereas a . happy life is loved, which is nothing else but joying in the truth; unless that truth is in that kind loved, that they who love any- thing else would gladly have that which they love to be the truth: and because they would not be deceived, would not be
E
.
SC RA ee a ee rn 5 170 / Saint Augustine Pn hel RNa Te ~ convinced that they are so? Therefore do they hate the truth for that thing’s sake which they loved instead of the truth. They — love truth when she enlightens, they hate her when she reproves. — For since they would not be deceived, and would deceive, they love her when she discovers herself unto them, and hate her when she discovers them. Whence she shall so repay them, that they who would not be made manifest by her, she both against their will makes manifest, and herself becometh not manifest unto them. Thus, thus, yea thus doth the mind of man, thus blind and sick, foul and ill-favoured, wish to be hidden, but that aught should be hidden from it, it wills not. But the contrary © is requited it, that itself should not be hidden from the Truth; but the Truth is hid from it. Yet even thus miserable, it had rather joy in truths than in falsehoods. Happy then will it be, when, no distraction interposing, it shall joy in that only Truth, by Whom all things are true.
See what a space I have gone over in my memory seeking Thee, O Lord; and I have not found Thee, without it. Nor have I found any thing concerning Thee, but what I have kept in memory, ever since I learnt Thee. For since I learnt Thee, I have not forgotten Thee. For where I found Truth, there found I my God, the Truth Itself; which since I learnt, I have not for- gotten. Since then I learnt Thee, Thou residest in my memory; and there do I find Thee, when I call Thee to remembrance, and delight in Thee. These be my holy delights, which Thou hast given me in Thy mercy, having regard to my poverty. —
But where in my memory residest Thou, O Lord, where residest Thou there? what manner of lodging hast Thou framed for Thee? what manner of sanctuary hast Thou builded for Thee? Thou hast given this honour to my memory, to reside in it; but in what quarter of it Thou residest, that am I con-— sidering. For in thinking on Thee, I passed beyond such parts of it as the beasts also have, for I found Thee not there among the images of corporeal things: and I came to those parts to which I committed the affections of my mind, nor found Thee there. And I entered into the very seat of my mind (which it hath in my memory, inasmuch as the mind remembers itself also), neither wert Thou there: for as Thou art not a corporeal image, nor the affection of a living being (as when we rejoice, condole, desire, fear, remember, forget, or the like); so neither art Thou the mind itself; because Thou art the Lord God of the mind; and all these are changed, but Thou remainest un- changeable over all, and yet hast vouchsafed to dwell in my memory, since I learnt Thee. And why seek I now in what
>. oe
place thereof Thou dwellest, as if there were places therein? Sure I am, that in it Thou dwellest, since I have remembered Thee ever since I learnt Thee, and there I find Thee, when I
call Thee to remembrance.
Where then did I find Thee, that I might learn Thee? For in my memory Thou wert not, before I learned Thee. Where then did I find Thee, that I might learn Thee, but in Thee above me?
Place there is none; we go backward and forward, and there is
.
no place. Every where, O Truth, dost Thou give audience to all who ask counsel of Thee, and at once answerest all, though on manifold matters they ask Thy counsel. Clearly dost Thou answer, though all do not clearly hear. All consult Thee on what they will, though they hear not always what they will. He is Thy best servant who looks not so much to hear that from Thee which himself willeth, as rather to will that, which from Thee he heareth.
Too late loved I Thee, O Thou Beauty of ancient days, yet ever new! too late I loved Thee! And behold, Thou wert within, and I abroad, and there I searched for Thee; deformed I, plung- ing amid those fair forms which Thou hadst made. Thou wert
with me, but I was not with Thee. Things held me far from
“
Thee, which, unless they were in Thee, were not at all. Thou
calledst, and shoutedst, and burstest my deafness. Thou flash-
edst, shonest, and scatteredst my blindness. Thou breathedst
odours, and I drew in breath and panted for Thee. I tasted, and
hunger and thirst. Thou touchedst me, and I burned for Thy ce.
When I shall with my whole self cleave to Thee, I shall no where have sorrow or labour; and my life shall wholly live, as wholly full of Thee. But now since whom Thou fillest, Thou liftest up, because I am not full of Thee Iam a burden to my- self. Lamentable joys strive with joyous sorrows: and on which
_ side is the victory, I know not. Woe is me! Lord, have pity on
me. My evil sorrows strive with my good joys; and on which side is the victory, I know not. Woe is me! Lord, have pity on me. Woe is me! lo! I hide not my wounds; Thou art the Phy- sician, I the sick; Thou merciful, I miserable. Is not the life of man upon earth all trial? Who wishes for troubles and difficul- ties? Thou commandest them to be endured, not to be loved.
_ No man loves what he endures, though he love to endure. For though he rejoices that he endures, he had rather there were nothing for him to endure. In adversity I long for prosperity,
in prosperity I fear adversity. What middle place is there be- ,
_ twixt these two, where the life of man is not all trial? Woe to
4
Ge eee {coe te eae Sm Ce F -172 / Saint Augustine
the prosperities of the world, once and again, through fear of - adversity, and corruption of joy! Woe to the adversities of the - world, once and again, and the third time, from the ‘onging for prosperity, and because adversity itself is a hard thing, and lest it shatter endurance. Is not the life of man upon earth all trial: without any interval?
And all my hope is no where but in Thy exceeding great mercy. Give what Thou enjoinest, and enjoin what Thou wilt. Thou enjoinest us continency; and when I knew, saith one, that no man can be continent, unless God give it, this also was a part of wisdom to know whose gift she is. By continency verily are we bound up and brought back into One, whence we were dissipated into many. For too little doth he love Thee, who loves any thing with Thee, which he loveth not for Thee. O love, who ever burnest and never consumest! O charity, my God, kindle me. Thou enjoinest continency: give me what Thou en- joinest, and enjoin what Thou wilt.
Verily Thou enjoinest me continency from the lust of the flesh, the lust of the eyes, and the ambition of the world. Thou enjoinest continency from concubinage; and for wedlock itself, Thou hast counselled something better than what Thou hast permitted. And since Thou gavest it, it was done, even before I became a dispenser of Thy Sacrament. But there yet live in my memory (whereof I have much spoken) the images of such things as my ill custom there fixed; which haunt me, strength- less when I am awake: but in sleep, not only so as to give pleas- ure, but even to obtain assent, and what is very like reality. Yea, so far prevails the illusion of the image, in my soul and in my flesh, that, when asleep, false visions persuade to that which when waking, the true cannot. Am I not then myself, O Lord my God? And yet there is so much difference betwixt myself and myself, within that moment wherein I pass from waking to sleeping, or return from sleeping to waking! Where is reason then, which, awake, resisteth such suggestions? And should the things themselves be urged on it, it remaineth unshaken. Is it clasped up with the eyes? is it lulled asleep with the senses of the body? And whence is it that often even in sleep we resist, and mindful of our purpose, and abiding most chastely in it, yield no assent to such enticements? And yet so much differ- ence there is, that when it happeneth otherwise, upon waking we return to peace of conscience: and ty this very difference discover that we did not, what yet we be sorry that in some way it was done in us.
Art Thou not mighty, God Almighty, so as to heal ali the
of my soul, and by Thy more abundant grace to quench _ n the impure motions of my sleep! Thou wilt increase, Lord, Thy gifts more and more in me, that my soul may follow me to Thee, disentangled from the birdlime of concupiscence; that it rebel not against itself, and even in dreams not only not, through images of sense, commit those debasing corruptions, even to pollution of the flesh, but not even to consent unto them. For that nothing of this sort should have, over the pure affections even of a sleeper, the very least influence, not even such as a thought would restrain,—to work this, not only dur- ing life, but even at my present age, is not hard for the Al- mighty, Who art able to do above all that we ask or think. But what I yet am in this kind of my evil, have I confessed unto my good Lord; rejoicing with trembling, in that which Thou hast given me, and bemoaning that wherein I am still imper- fect; hoping that Thou wilt perfect Thy mercies in me, even to perfect peace, which my outward and inward man shall have with Thee, when death shall be swallowed up in victory.
There is another evil of the day, which I would were suf- ficient for it. For by eating and drinking we repair the daily decays of our body, until Thou destroy both belly and meat, when Thou shalt slay my emptiness with a wonderful fulness, and clothe this incorruptible with an eternal incorruption. But now the necessity is sweet unto me, against which sweetness I fight, that I be not taken captive; and carry on a daily war by fastings; often bringing my body into subjection; and my pains are removed by pleasure. For hunger and thirst are in a man- ner pains; they burn and kill like a fever, unless the medicine of nourishments come to our aid. Which since it is at hand through the consolations of Thy gifts, with which land, and water, and air serve our weakness, our calamity is termed gratification.
This hast Thou taught me, that I should set myself to take food as physic. But while I am passing from the discomfort of emptiness to the content of replenishing, in the very passage the snare of concupiscence besets me. For that passing, is pleasure, nor is there any other way to pass thither, whither we needs must pass. And health being the cause of eating and drinking, there joineth itself as an attendant a dangerous pleasure, which mostly endeavours to go before it, so that I may for her sake do what I say I do, or wish to do, for health’s sake. Nor have each the same measure; for what is enough for health, is too little for pleasure. And oft it is uncertain, whether it be the necessary care of the body which is yet asking for sustenance,
a
cp gk aera Ole ae .
174 / Saint Augustine Soo a ee eee or whether a voluptuous deceivableness of greediness is prof- fering its services. In this uncertainty the unhappy soul re-~ joiceth, and therein prepares an excuse to shield itself, glad that it appeareth not what sufficeth for the moderation of health, that under the cloak of health, it may disguise the matter of gratification. These temptations I daily endeavour to resist, and I call on Thy right hand, and to Thee do I refer my perplexities; because I have as yet no settled counsel herein.
I hear the voice of my God commanding, Let not your hearts be overcharged with surfeiting and drunkenness. Drunkenness is far from me; Thou wilt have mercy, that it come not near me. But full feeding sometimes creepeth upon Thy servant; Thou wilt have mercy, that it may be far from me. For no one can be continent unless Thou give it. Many things Thou givest us, praying for them; and what good soever we have received before we prayed, from Thee we received it; yea to the end we might afterwards know this, did we before receive it. Drunkard was I never, but drunkards have I known made sober by Thee. From Thee then it was, that they who never were such, should not so be, as from Thee it was, that they who have been, should not ever so be; and from Thee it was, that both might know from Whom it was. I heard another voice of Thine, Go not after thy lusts, and from thy pleasure turn away. Yea by Thy favour have I heard that which I have much loved; neither if we eat, shall we abound; neither if we eat not, shall we lack; which is to say, neither shall the one make me plenteous, nor the other miserable. I heard also another,. for I have learned in whatsoever state I am, therewith to be content; I know how te abound, and how to suffer need. I can do all things through Christ that strengtheneth me. Behold a soldier of the heavenly camp, not the dust which we are. But remember, Lord, that we are dust, and that of dust Thou hast made man; and he was lost and is found. Nor could he of himself do this, because he whom I so loved, saying this through the in-breathing of Thy inspira- tion, was of the same dust. I can do all things (saith he) through Him that strengtheneth me. Strengthen me, that I can. Give what Thou enjoinest, and enjoin what Thou wilt. He con- fesses to have received, and when he glorieth, in the Lord he glorieth. Another have I heard begging that he might receive. Take from me (saith he) the desires of the belly; whence it appeareth, O my holy God, that Thou givest, when that is done which Thou commandest to be done.
Thou hast taught me, good Father, that to the pure, all things are pure; but that it is evil unto the man that eateth with
t $ he Confessions / Il‘ ffence; a Meg Rabirsak Thi fs pod Leite to be sofaned, which is received with thanksgiving; and that _ meat commendeth us not to God; and, that no man should judge us in meat or drink; and, that he which eateth, let him not despise him that eateth not; and let not him that eateth not, judge him that eateth. These things have I learned, thanks be to Thee, praise to Thee, my God, my Master, knocking at my ears, enlightening my heart; deliver me out of all temptation. I fear not uncleanness of meat, but the uncleanness of lusting. _I know; that Noah was permitted to eat all kind of flesh that was good for food; that Elijah was fed with flesh; that John, endued with an admirable abstinence, was not polluted by feed- ing on living creatures, locusts. I know also that Esau was de- ceived by lusting for lentiles; and that David blamed himself for desiring a draught of water; and that our King was tempted, not concerning flesh, but bread. And therefore the people in the wilderness also deserved to be reproved, not for desiring flesh, but because, in the desire of food, they murmured against the Lord.
Placed then amid these temptations, I strive daily against
-concupiscence in eating and drinking. For it is not of such nature that I can settle on cutting it off once for all, and never touching it afterward, as I could of concubinage. The bridle of the throat then is to be held attempered between slackness and stiffness. And who is he, O Lord, who is not some whit transported beyond the limits of necessity? whoever he is, he is a great one; let him make Thy Name great. But I am not such, for I am a sinful man. Yet do I too magnify Thy name; and He maketh intercession to Thee for my sins who hath overcome the world; numbering me among the weak members of His body; because Thine eyes have seen that of Him which is im- perfect, and in Thy book shall all be written.
With the allurements of smells, I am not much concerned. When absent, I do not miss them; when present, I do not refuse them; yet ever ready to be without them. So I seem to myself; perchance I am deceived. For that also is a mournful darkness whereby my abilities within me are hidden from me; so that my mind making enquiry into herself of her own powers, ven- tures not readily to believe herself; because even what is in it is mostly hidden, unless experience reveal it. And no one ought ~ to be secure in that life, the whole whereof is called a trial, that he who hath been capable of worse to be made better, may not likewise of better be made worse. Our only hope, only con- fidence, only assured promise is Thy mercy.
: 4
Sto =) eee he ei a a ee
‘ie. Sein€ Angestie’” >t ee
The delights of the ear had more firmly entangled and sub- — dued me; but Thou didst loosen and free me. Now, in those — melodies which Thy words breathe soul into, when sung with a — sweet and attuned voice, I do a little repose; yet not so as to be held thereby, but that I can disengage myself when I will. But with the words which are their life and whereby they find ad- mission into me, themselves seek in my affections a place of some estimation, and I can scarcely assign them one suitable. For at one time I seem to myself to give them more honour than is seemly, feeling our minds to be more holily and fer- vently raised unto a flame of devotion, by the holy words them- selves when thus sung, than when not; and that the several affections of our spirit, by a sweet variety, have their own proper measures in the voice and singing, by some hidden cor- respondence wherewith they are stirred up. But this content- ment of the flesh, to which the soul must not be given over to be enervated, doth oft beguile me, the sense not so waiting upon reason as patiently to follow her; but having been ad- mitted merely for her sake, it strives even to run before her, cand lead her. Thus in these things I unawares sin, but after- wards am aware of it.
At other times, shunning over-anxiously this very deception, I err in too great strictness; and sometimes to that degree, as to wish the whole melody of sweet music which is used to David’s Psalter, banished from my ears, and the Church’s too; and that mode seems to me safer, which I remember to have been often told me of Athanasius, Bishop of Alexandria, who made the reader of the psalm utter it with so slight inflection of voice, that it was nearer speaking than singing. Yet again, when I remember the tears I shed at the Psalmody of Thy Church, in the beginning of my recovered faith; and how at this time I am moved, not with the singing, but with the things sung, when they are sung with a clear voice and modulation most suitable, I acknowledge the great use of this institution. Thus I fluctuate between peril of pleasure and approved wholesomeness; in- clined the rather (though not as pronouncing an irrevocable opinion) to approve of the usage of singing in the church; that so by the delight of the ears the weaker minds may rise to the feeling of devotion. Yet when it befalls me to be more moved with the voice than the words sung, I confess to have sinned penally, and then had rather not hear music. See now my state; weep with me, and weep for me, ye, whoso regulate your feel- ings within, as that good action ensues. For you who do not act, these things touch not you. But Thou, O Lord: my God,
ps | Dad Sar awe
ee, and have mercy and heal me, Thou, _
; behold, and hose presence I is my infirmity. There remains the pleasure of these eyes of my flesh, on which to make my confessions in the hearing of the ears of Thy _ temple, those brotherly and devout ears; and so to conclude the temptations of the lust of the flesh, which yet assail me, groan- ing earnestly, and desiring to be clothed upon with my house from heaven. The eyes love fair and varied forms, and bright and soft colours. Let not these occupy my soul; let God rather occupy it, who made these things, very good indeed, yet is He my good, not they. And these affect me, waking, the whole day, nor is any rest given me from them, as there is from musical, sometimes in silence, from all voices. For this queen of colours, the light, bathing all which we behold, wherever I am through the day, gliding by me in varied forms, soothes me when en- zaged on other things, and not observing it. And so strongly doth it entwine itself, that if it be suddenly withdrawn, it is with longing sought for, and if absent long, saddeneth the mind.
O Thou Light, which Tobias saw, when, these eyes closed, he taught his son the way of life; and himself*went before with the feet of charity, never swerving. Or which Isaac saw, when uis fleshly eyes being heavy and closed by old age, it was vouch- 3.fed him, not knowingly, to bless his sons, but by blessing to snow them. Or which Jacob saw, when he also, blind through great age, with illumined heart, in the persons of his sons shed ight on the different races of the future people, in them fore- ignified; and laid his hands, mystically crossed, upon his grand- shildren by Joseph, not as their father by his outward eye cor- ected them, but as himself inwardly discerned. This is the light, t is one, and all are one, who see and love it. But that corporeal ight whereof I spake, it seasoneth the life of this world for her lind lovers, with an enticing and dangerous sweetness. But hey who know how to praise Thee for it, “O all-creating Lord,” ake it up in Thy hymns, and are not taken up with it in their leep. Such would I be. These seductions of the eyes I resist, est my feet wherewith I walk upon Thy way be ensnared; and ‘lift up mine invisible eyes to Thee, that Thou wouldest pluck ny feet out of the snare. Thou dost ever and anon pluck them ut, for they are ensnared. Thou ceasest not to pluck them out, vhile I often entangle myself in the snares on all sides laid; be- ause Thou that keepest Israel shalt neither slumber nor sleep. _ What innumerable toys, made by divers arts and manufac- ures, in our apparel, shoes, utensils and all sorts of works, in
:
have become a problem to myself; and that __
: = _k. . -— — | — J swe
178 f SaiutAggastine* > (2-2
pictures also and divers images, and these far exceeding all nec- essary and moderate use and all pious meaning, have men added to tempt their own eyes withal; outwardly following what themselves make, inwardly forsaking Him by whom themselves were made, and destroying that which themselves have been made! But I, my God and my Glory, do hence also sing a hymn to Thee, and do consecrate praise to Him who consecrateth me, because those beautiful patterns which through men’s souls are conveyed into their cunning hands, come from that Beauty, which is above our souls, which my soul day and night sigheth after. But the framers and followers of the outward beauties derive thence the rule of judging of them, but not- of using them. And He is there, though they perceive Him not, ‘that so they might not wander, but keep their strength for Thee, and not scatter it abroad upon pleasurable weariness. And I, though I speak and see this, entangle my steps with these outward beauties; but Thou pluckest me out, O Lord, Thou pluckest me out; because Thy loving-kindness is before my eyes. For I am taken miserably, and Thou pluckest me out mercifully; some- times not perceiving it, when I had but lightly lighted upon them; otherwhiles with pain, because I had stuck fast in them.
To this is added another form of temptation more manifoldly dangerous. For besides that concupiscence of the flesh which consisteth in the delight of all senses and pleasures, wherein its slaves, who go far from Thee, waste and perish, the soul hath, through the same senses of the body, a certain vain and curious desire, veiled under the title of knowledge and learn- ing, not of delighting in the flesh, but of making experiments through the flesh. The seat whereof being in the appetite of knowledge, and sight being the sense chiefly used for attaining knowledge, it is in Divine language called The lust of the eyes. For, to see, belongeth properly to the eyes; yet we use this word of the other senses also, when we employ them in seeking knowledge. For we do not say, hark how it flashes, or smell how it glows, or taste how it shines, or feel how it gleams; for all these are said to be seen. And yet we say not only, see how it shineth, which the eyes alone can perceive; but also, see how it soundeth, see how it smelleth, see how it tasteth, see how hard it is. And so the general experience of the senses, as was said, is called The lust of the eyes, because the office of seeing, wherein the eyes hold the prerogative, the other senses by way of simili- tude take to themselves, when they make search after any knowledge.
But by this may more evidently be discerned, wherein pleas-
+o? -
and wherein
but curiosity, for trial’s sake, the contrary as well, not for the sake of suffering annoyance, but out of the lust of making trial and knowing them. For what pleasure hath it, to see in a mangled carcase what will make you shudder? and yet if it be lying near, they flock thither, to be made sad, and to turn pale. Even in sleep they are afraid to see it. As if when awake, any one forced them to see it, or any report of its beauty drew them thither! Thus also in the other senses, which it were long to go through. From this disease of curiosity are all those strange sights exhibited in the theatre. Hence men go on to search out the hidden powers of nature (which is besides our end), which to know profits not, and wherein men desire nothing but to know. Hence also, if with that same end of perverted knowl- edge magical arts be enquired by. Hence also in religion itself, is God tempted, when signs and wonders are demanded of Him, not desired for any good end, but merely to make trial of.
_ -In this so vast wilderness, full of snares and dangers, behold many of them I have cut off, and thrust out of my heart, as ‘Thou hast given me, O God of my salvation. And yet when dare I say, since so many things of this kind buzz on all sides about our daily life—when dare I say that nothing of this sort engages my attention, or causes in me an idle interest? True, the theatres do not now carry me away, nor care I to know the courses of the stars, nor did my soul ever consult ghosts de- parted; all sacrilegious mysteries I detest. From Thee, O Lord my God, to whom I owe humble and single-hearted service, by what artifices and suggestions doth the enemy deal with me to desire some sign! But I beseech Thee by our King, and by our pure and holy country, Jerusalem, that as any consenting thereto is far from me, so may it ever be further and further. But when I pray Thee for the salvation of any, my end and in- tention is far different. Thou givest and wilt give me to follow ‘Thee willingly, doing what Thou wilt.
Notwithstanding, in how many most petty and contemptible
things is our curiosity daily tempted, and how often we give way, who can recount? How often do we begin as if we were tolerating people telling vain stories, lest we offend the weak; ‘then by degrees we take interest therein! I go not now to the circus to see a dog coursing a hare; but in the field, if passing, ‘that coursing peradventure will distract me even from some weighty thought, and draw me after it: not that I turn aside ‘the body of my beast, yet still incline my mind thither. And
,
eth objects beautiful, melodious, fragrant, savoury, soft; —
¢- eu Ft oo ey. 2 eel eee eee ; Fives A ae
180 / Saint Augustine a ES eae
unless Thou, having made me see my infirmity didst speedily —
admonish me either through the sight itself by some contem-
plation to rise towards Thee, or altogether to despise and pass —
it by, I dully stand fixed therein. What, when sitting at home, a lizard catching flies, or a spider entangling them rushing into her nets, oft-times takes my attention? Is the thing different, because they are but small creatures? I go on from them to praise Thee the wonderful Creator and Orderer of all, but this does not first draw my attention. It is one thing to rise quickly, another not to fall. And of such things is my life full; and my one hope is Thy wonderful great mercy. For when our heart becomes the receptacle of such things, and is overcharged with throngs of this abundant vanity, then are our prayers also thereby often interrupted and distracted, and whilst in Thy presence we direct the voice of our heart to Thine ears, this so great concern is broken off by the rushing in of I know not what idle thoughts. Shall we then account this also among things of slight concernment, or shall aught bring us back to hope, save Thy complete mercy, since Thou hast begun to change us?
And Thou knowest how far Thou hast already changed me, who first healedst me of the lust of vindicating myself, that so Thou mightest forgive all the rest of my iniquities, and heal all my infirmities, and redeem my life from corruption, and crown me with mercy and pity, and satisfy my desire with good things: who didst curb my pride with Thy fear, and tame my neck to _ Thy yoke. And now I bear it and it is light unto me, because so hast Thou promised, and hast made it; and verily so it was, and I knew it not, when I feared to take it.
But, O-Lord, Thou alone Lord without pride, because Thou art the only true Lord, who hast no lord; hath this third kind of temptation also ceased from me, or can it cease through this whole life? To wish, namely, to be feared and loved of men, for no other end, but that we may have a joy therein which is no joy? A miserable life this and a foul boastfulness! Hence espe- cially it comes that men do neither purely love nor fear Thee. And therefore dost Thou resist the proud, and givest grace to the humble: yea, Thou thunderest down upon the ambitions of the world, and the foundations of the mountains tremble. Be- cause now certain offices of human society make it necessary to be loved and feared of men, the adversary of our true blessedness layeth hard at us, every where spreading his snares of “well-done, well-done”; that greedily catching at them, we may be taken unawares, and sever our joy from Thy truth, and
4
ni essions
Bie ee hd ees,” ms pe Ly S set it in the deceivingness of men; and be pleased at being lov _ and feared, not for Thy sake, but in Thy stead: and thus hav- | _ ing been made like him, he may have them for his own, notin — ' the bands of charity, but in the bonds of punishment: who purposed to set his throne in the north, that dark and chilled they might serve him, pervertedly and crookedly imitating _ Thee. But we, O Lord, behold we are Thy little flock; possess us as Thine, stretch Thy wings over us, and let us fly under them. Be Thou our glory; let us be loved for Thee, and Thy word feared in us. Who would be praised of men when Thou blamest, will not be defended of men when Thou judgest; nor delivered when Thou condemnest. But when—not the sinner is praised in the desires of his soul, nor he blessed who doth ungodlily, but—a man is praised for some gift which Thou hast iven him, and he rejoices more at the praise for himself than " that he hath the gift for which he is praised, he also is praised, while Thou dispraisest; and better is he who praised than he who is praised. For the one took pleasure in the gift of God _ in man; the other was better pleased with the gift of man, than _ of God.
By these temptations we are assailed daily, O Lord; without ceasing are we assailed. Our daily furnace is the tongue of men. And in this way also Thou commandest us continence. Give what Thou enjoinest, and enjoin what Thou wilt. Thou know- est on this matter the groans of my heart, and the floods of mine eyes. For I cannot learn how far I am more cleansed from
this plague, and I much fear my secret sins, which Thine eyes know, mine do not. For in other kinds of temptations I have some sort of means of examining myself; in this, scarce any. For, in refraining my mind from the pleasures of the flesh and idle curiosity, I see how much I have attained to, when I do without them; foregoing, or not having them. For then I ask myself how much more or less troublesome it is to me not to have them? Then, riches, which are desired, that they may serve to some one or two or all of the three concupiscences, if the soul cannot discern whether, when it hath them, it despiseth them, they may be cast aside, that so it may prove itself. But to be without praise, and therein essay our powers, must we live ill, yea so abandonedly and atrociously, that no one should know without detesting us? What greater madness can be said or thought of? But if praise useth and ought to accompany a good life and good works, we ought as little to forego its com- pany, as good life itself. Yet I know not whether I can well or
- ill be without anything, unless it be absent.
.
Ne
ed
a | ye aoa E
s ee are ‘ 3
182 / Saint Augustine . 2 een
What then do I confess unto Thee in this kind of tempta- — tion, O Lord? What, but that I am delighted with praise, but _ with truth itself, more than with praise? For were it proposed to me, whether I would, being frenzied in error on all things, be praised by all men, or being consistent and most settled in the truth be blamed by all, I see which I should choose. Yet fain would I that the approbation of another should not even increase my joy for any good in me. Yet I own, it doth increase it, and not so only, but dispraise doth diminish it. And when I am troubled at this my misery, an excuse occurs to me, which of what value it is, Thou God knowest, for it leaves me uncer- tain. For since Thou hast commanded us not continency:alone, that is, from what things to refrain our love, but righteousness also, that is, whereon to bestow it, and hast willed us to love not Thee only, but our neighbour also; often, when pleased with intelligent praise, I seem to myself to be pleased with the proficiency or towardliness of my neighbour, or to be grieved for evil in him, when I hear him dispraise either what he under- stands not, or is good. For sometimes I am grieved at my own praise, either when those things be praised in me, in which I mislike myself, or even lesser and slight goods are more esteemed than they ought. But again how know I whether I am therefore thus affected, because I would not have him who praiseth me differ from me about myself; not as being influ- enced by concern for him, but because those same good things which please me in myself, please me more when they please another also? For some how I am not praised when my judg- ment of myself is not praised; forasmuch as either those things are praised, which displease me; or those more, which please me less. Am I then doubtful of myself in this matter?
Behold, in Thee, O Truth, I see that I ought not to be moved at my own’praises, for my own sake, but for the good of my neighbour. And whether it be so with me, I know not. For herein I know less of myself than of Thee. I beseech now, O my God, discover to me myself also, that I may confess unto my brethren, who are to pray for me, wherein I find myself maimed. Let me examine myself again more diligently. If in my praise I am moved with the good of my neighbour, why am I less moved if another be unjustly dispraised than if it be my- self? Why am I more stung by reproach cast upon myself, than at that cast upon another, with the same injustice, before me? Know I not this also? or is it at last that I deceive myself, and do not the truth before Thee in my heart and tongue? This madness put far from me, O Lord, lest mine own mouth be to
PW
ye Ns 3
me the sinner’s oil to make fat my head. I am poor and need yet best, while in hidden groanings I displease myself, and
seek Thy mercy, until what is lacking in my defective state be renewed and perfected, on to that peace which the eye of the proud knoweth not.
_ Yet the word which cometh out of the mouth, and deeds Known to men, bring with them a most dangerous temptation through the love of praise: which, to establish a certain excel- lency of our own, solicits and collects men’s suffrages. It tempts, even when it is reproved by myself-in myself, on the very ground that it is reproved; and often glories more vainly of the very contempt of vain-glory; and so it is no longer con- tempt of vain-glory, whereof it glories; for it doth not contemn when it glorieth.
Within also, within is another evil, arising out of a like temptation; whereby men become vain, pleasing themselves in themselves, though they please not, or displease or care not to please others. But pleasing themselves, they much displease Thee, not only taking pleasure in things not good, as if good, but in Thy good things, as though their own; or even if as Thine, yet as though for their own merits; or even if as though from Thy grace, yet not with brotherly rejoicing, but envying that grace to others. In all these and the like perils and trav- ails, Thou seest the trembling of my heart; and I rather feel my wounds to be cured by Thee, than not inflicted by me.
Where hast Thou not walked with me, O Truth, teaching me what to beware, and what to desire; when I referred to Thee what I could discover here below, and consulted Thee? With my outward senses, as I might, I surveyed the world, and observed the life, which my body hath from me, and these my senses. Thence entered I the recesses of my memory, those manifold and spacious chambers, wonderfully furnished with innumerable stores; and I considered, and stood aghast; being able to discern nothing of these things without Thee, and find- ing none of them to be Thee. Nor was I myself, who found out these things, who went over them all, and laboured to distin- guish and to value every thing according to its dignity, taking some things upon the report of my senses, questioning about others which I felt to be mingled with myself, numbering and distinguishing the reporters themselves, and in the large treas- ure-house of my memory revolving some things, storing up others, drawing out others. Nor yet was I myself when I did this, i.e., that my power whereby I did it, neither was it Thou, for Thou art the abiding light, which I consulted concerning
.
Me OO a a oe
184 / Saint Augustine Pees all these, whether they were, what they were, and how to be © valued; and I heard Thee directing and commanding me; and _ this I often do, this delights me, and as far as I may be freed - from necessary duties, unto this pleasure have I recourse. Nor in all these which I run over consulting Thee can I find any safe place for my soul, but in Thee; whither my scattered members may be gathered, and nothing of me depart from Thee. And sometimes Thou admittest me to an affection, very unusual, in my inmost soul; rising to a strange sweetness, which if it were perfected in me, I know not what in it would not belong to the life to come. But through my miserable en- — cumbrances I sink down again into these lower things, and am swept back by former custom, and am held, and greatly weep, but am greatly held. So much doth the burden of a bad cus- tom weigh us down. Here I can stay, but would not; there I would, but cannot; both ways, miserable.
Thus then have I considered the sicknesses of my sins in | that threefold concupiscence, and have called Thy right hand to my help. For with a wounded heart have I beheld Thy brightness, and stricken back I said, “Who can attain thither? I am cast away from the sight of Thine eyes.” Thou art the Truth who presidest over all, but I through my covetousness would not indeed forego Thee, but would with Thee possess a lie; as no man would in such wise speak falsely, as himself to be ignorant of the truth. So then I lost Thee, because Thou vouchsafest not to be possessed with a lie.
Whom could I find to reconcile me to Thee? was I to have recourse to Angels? by what prayers? by what sacraments? Many endeavouring to return unto Thee, and of themselves unable, have, as I hear, tried this, and fallen into the desire of curious visions, and been accounted worthy to be deluded. For they, being high minded, sought Thee by the pride of learning, swelling out rather than smiting upon their breasts, and so by the agreement of their heart, drew unto themselves the princes of the air, the fellow-conspirators of their pride, by whom, through magical influences, they were deceived, seek- ing a mediator, by whom they might be purged, and there was none. For the devil it was, transforming himself into an Angel of light. And it much enticed proud flesh, that he had no body of flesh. For they were mortal, and sinners; but Thou, Lord, to whom they proudly sought to be reconciled, art im- mortal, and without sin. But a mediator between God and man must have something like to God, something like to men; lest being in both like to man, he should be far from God: or if in
Pian mn et 0 on! sectone! i 18 Past ic
th like God, too unlike man: and so not be a mediator. That _ ceitful mediator then, by whom in Thy secret judgments pride deserved to be deluded, hath one thing in common with man, that is sin; another he would seem to have in common with God; and not being clothed with the mortality of flesh, would vaunt himself to be immortal. But since the wages of sin is death, this hath he in common with men, that with them
he should be condemned to death.
But the true Mediator, Whom in Thy secret mercy Thou hast showed to the humble, and sentest, that by His example also they, might learn that same humility, that Mediator be- tween God and man, the Man Christ Jesus, appeared betwixt mortal sinners and the immortal Just One; mortal with men, just with God: that because the wages of righteousness is life and peace, He might by a righteousness conjoined with God make void that death of sinners, now made righteous, which He willed to have in common with them. Hence He was showed forth to holy men of old; that so they, through faith in His Passion to come, as we through faith of it passed, might be saved. For as Man, He was a Mediator; but as the Word, not in the middle between God and man, because equal to God, and God with God, and together one God.
How hast Thou loved us, good Father, who sparedst not Thine only Son, but deliveredst Him up for us ungodly! How hast Thou loved us, for whom He that thought it no robbery io be equal with Thee, was made subject even to the death of he cross, He alone, free among the dead, having power to lay Jown His life, and power to take it again: for us to Thee both Victor and Victim, and therefore Victor, because the Victim; ‘or us to Thee Priest and Sacrifice, and therefore Priest be- sause the Sacrifice; making us to Thee, of servants, sons by cing born of Thee, and serving us. Well then is my hope trong in Him, that Thou wilt heal all my infirmities, by Him Nho sitteth at Thy right hand and maketh intercession for us; Ise should I despair. For many and great are my infirmities, nany they are, and great; but Thy medicine is mightier. We night imagine that Thy Word was far from any union with nan, and despair of ourselves, unless He had been made flesh nd dwelt among us.
Affrighted with my sins and the burden of my misery, I had ast in my heart, and had purposed to flee to the wilderness: ut Thou forbadest me, and strengthenedst me, saying, There- ore Christ died for all, that they which live may now no anger live unto themselves, but unto Him that died for them.
‘See, Lares 1 crak my care ace Thee, that I may live, a on- sider wondrous things out of Thy law. Thou lant my un skilfulness, and my infirmities; teach me, and heal me. He, Thine only Son, in Whom are hid all the treasures of wisdom and knowledge, hath redeemed me with His blood. Let not the proud speak evil of me; because I meditate on my ransom, — and eat and drink, and communicate it; and poor, desired to — be satisfied from Him, amongst those that eat and are satisfied, : and they shall praise the Lord who seek Him. |
ee -- BOOK ELEVEN .. eeee ee
Augustine breaks off the history of the mode whereby God led him to holy Orders, in order to “confess” God’s mercies in opening to him the Scripture. Moses is not to be understood, but in Christ, not even the first words In the be-
A ginning God created the heaven and the earth. Answer to cavillers who asked, “What did God before He created the heaven and the earth?” Inquiry into the nature of Time.
LorpD, SINCE eternity is Thine, art Thou ignorant of what I say to Thee? or dost Thou see in time, what passeth in time? Why then do I lay in order before Thee so many relations? Not, of _a truth, that Thou mightest learn them through me, but to stir “up mine own and my readers’ devotions towards Thee, that we “may all say, Great is the Lord, and greatly to be praised. I have said already; and again will say, for love of Thy love do _I this. For we pray also, and yet Truth hath said, Your Father knoweth what you have need of, before you ask. It is then our _ affections which we lay open unto Thee, confessing our own miseries, and Thy mercies upon us, that Thou mayest free us wholly, since Thou hast begun, that we may cease to be wretched in ourselves, and be blessed in Thee; seeing Thou _ has called us, to become poor in spirit, and meek, and mourn- _ ers, and hungering and athirst after righteousness, and merci- ful, and pure in heart, and peace-makers. See, I have told Thee many things, as I could and as I would, because Thou first wouldest that I should confess unto Thee, my Lord God. For Thou are good, for Thy mercy endureth for ever. But how shall I suffice with the tongue of my pen to utter all Thy exhortations, and all Thy terrors, and comforts, and guidances, whereby Thou broughtest me to preach Thy Word, and dispense Thy Sacrament to Thy people? And if I suffice to utter them in order, the drops of time are precious with me; and long have I burned to meditate in Thy law, and _ therein to confess to Thee my skill and unskilfulness, the day- _ break of Thy enlightening, and the remnants of my darkness, until infirmity be swallowed up by strength. And I would not _ have aught besides steal away those hours which I find free
. 187
188 / Saint Augustine er from the necessities of refreshing my body and the powers © of my mind, and of the service which we owe to men, or which though we owe not, we yet pay.
O Lord my God, give ear unto my prayer, and let Thy _mercy hearken unto my desire: because it is anxious not for myself alone, but would serve brotherly charity; and Thou seest my heart, that so it is. | would sacrifice to Thee the serv- ice of my thought and tongue; do Thou give me, what I may
offer Thee. For I am poor and needy, Thou rich to all that ~ call upon Thee; Who, inaccessible to care, carest for us. Cir- . cumcise from all rashness and all lying both my inward and outward lips: let Thy Scriptures be my pure delights: let me not be deceived in them, nor deceive out of them. Lord, hearken and pity, O Lord my God, Light of the blind, and Strength of the weak; yea also Light of those that see, and Strength of the strong; hearken unto my soul, and hear it cry- ing out of the depths. For if Thine ears be not with us in the depths also, whither shall we go? whither cry? The day is Thine, and the night is Thine; at Thy beck the moments flee by. Grant thereof a space for our meditations in the hidden things of Thy law, and close it not against us who knock. For not in vain wouldest Thou have the darksome secrets of so many pages written; nor are those forests without their harts which retire therein and range and walk; feed, lie down, and ruminate. Perfect me, O Lord, and reveal them unto me. Be- hold, Thy voice is my joy; Thy voice exceedeth the abundance of pleasures. Give what I love: for I do love; and this hast Thou given: forsake not Thy own gifts, nor despise Thy green herb that thirsteth. Let me confess unto Thee whatsoever I shall find in Thy books, and hear the voice of praise, and drink in Thee, and meditate on the wonderful things out of Thy law; even from the beginning, wherein Thou madest the » heaven and the earth, unto the everlasting reigning of Thy holy city with Thee.
Lord, have mercy on me, and hear my desire. For it is not, I deem, of the earth, not of gold and silver, and precious stones, or gorgeous apparel, or honours and offices, or the pleasures of the flesh, or necessaries for the body and for this life of our pilgrimage: all which shall be added unto those that seek Thy kingdom and Thy righteousness. Behold, O Lord my God, wherein is my desire. The wicked have told me of delights, but not such as Thy law, O Lord. Behold, wherein is my desire. Behold, Father, behold, and see and approve; and be it pleasing in the sight of Thy mercy, that I may find grace
the Confessions 189. efore Thee, that the inward parts of Thy words be opened
o me knocking. I beseech by our Lord Jesus Christ Thy Son,
he Man of Thy right hand, the Son of man, whom Thou hast established for Thyself, as Thy Mediator and ours, through Whom Thou soughtest us, not seeking Thee, but soughtest us, that we might seek Thee,—Thy Word, through Whom Thou madest all things, and among them, me also;—Thy Only-Be- gotten, through Whom Thou calledst to adoption the believ- ing people, and therein me also;—I beseech Thee by Him, who sitteth at Thy right hand, and intercedeth with Thee for us, in Whom are hidden all the treasures of wisdom and knowl- edge. These do I seek in Thy books. Of Him did Moses write; this saith Himself; this saith the Truth.
I would hear and understand, how “In the Beginning Thou madest the heaven and earth.” Moses wrote this, wrote and departed, passed hence from Thee to Thee; nor is he now be- fore me. For if he were, I would hold him and ask him, and beseech him by Thee to open these things unto me, and would lay the ears of my body to the sounds bursting out of his mouth, And should he speak Hebrew, in vain will it strike on my senses, nor would aught of it touch my mind; but if Latin, I should know what he said. But whence should I know, whether he spake truth? Yea, and if I knew this also, should I know it from him? Truly within me, within, in the chamber of my thoughts, Truth, neither Hebrew, nor Greek, nor Latin, nor barbarian, without organs of voice or tongue, or sound of syllables, would say, “It is truth,” and I forthwith should say confidently to that man of Thine, “thou sayest truly.” Whereas then I cannot enquire of him, Thee, Thee I beseech, O Truth, full of Whom he spake truth, Thee, my God, I beseech, for- give my sins; and Thou, who gavest him Thy servant to speak these things, give to me also to understand them.
Behold, the heavens and the earth are; they proclaim that they were created; for they change and vary. Whereas whatso- ever hath not been made, and yet is, hath nothing in it, which before it had not; and this it is, to change and vary. They pro- claim also, that they made not themselves; “therefore we are, because we have been made; we were not therefore, before we were, so as to make ourselves.” Now the evidence of the thing, is the voice of the speakers. Thou therefore, Lord, madest them; who art beautiful, for they are beautiful; who art good, for they are good; who art, for they are; yet are they not beautiful nor good, nor are they, as Thou their Creator
art; compared, with Whom, they are neither beautiful, nor
i
190 / Saint Augustine EE ee
«i
good, nor are. This we know, thanks be to Thee. And ou knowledge, compared with Thy knowledge, is ignorance.
But how didst Thou make the heaven and the earth? and what the engine of Thy so mighty fabric? For it was not as a human artificer, forming one body from another, according to the discretion of his mind, which can in some way invest with such a form, as it seeth in itself by its inward eye. And whence should he be able to do this, unless Thou hadst made that mind? and he invests with a form what already existeth, and hath a being, as clay, or stone, or wood, or gold, or the like. And whence should they be, hadst not Thou appointed them? Thou madest the artificer his body, Thou the mind command- ing the limbs, Thou the matter whereof he makes any thing; Thou the apprehension whereby to take in his art, and see within what he doth without; Thou the sense of his body, whereby, as by an interpreter, he may from mind to matter, convey that which he doth, and report to his mind what is done; that it within may consult the truth, which presideth over itself, whether it be well done or no. All these praise Thee, the Creator of all. But how dost Thou make them? how, O God, didst Thou make heaven and earth? Verily, neither in the heaven, nor in the earth, didst Thou make heaven and earth; nor in the air, or waters, seeing these also belong to the heaven and the earth; nor in the whole world didst Thou make the whole world; because there was no place where to. make it, before it was made, that it might be. Nor didst Thou hold any thing in Thy hand, whereof to make heaven and earth. For whence shouldest Thou have this, which Thou hadst not made, thereof to make any thing? For what is, but because Thou art? Therefore Thou spakest, and they were made, and in Thy Word Thou madest them.
But how didst Thou speak? In the way that the voice came — out of the cloud, saying, This is my beloved Son? For that voice passed by and passed away, began and ended; the syl- lables sounded and passed away, the second after the first, the third after the second, and so forth in order, until the last after the rest, and silence after the last. Whence it is abundantly clear and plain that the motion of a creature expressed it, it- self temporal, serving Thy eternal will. And these Thy words, created for a time, the outward ear reported to the intelligent soul, whose inward ear lay listening to Thy Eternal Word. But she compared these words sounding in time, with that Thy Eternal Word in silence, and said “It is different, far dif- ferent. These words are far beneath me, nor are they, because
tl pyblice end pass away; but the Word o of my Ges abideth above me for ever.” If then in sounding and passing words _ Thou saidst that heaven and earth should be made, and so _ madest heaven and earth, there was a corporeal creature be- fore heaven and earth, by whose motions in time that voice might take his course in time. But there was nought corporeal before heaven and earth; or if there were, surely Thou hadst, without such a passing voice, created that, whereof to make this passing voice, by which to say, Let the heaven and the _ earth be made. For whatsoever that were, whereof such a voice were made, unless by Thee it were made, it could not be at all. By what Word then didst Thou speak, that a body might be made, whereby these words again might be made?
Thou callest us then to understand the Word, God, with Thee God, Which is spoken eternally, and by It are all things spoken eternally. For what was spoken was not spoken suc- cessively, one thing concluded that the next might be spoken,
_ but all things together and eternally. Else have we time and _ change; and not a true eternity nor true immortality. This I _ know, O my God, and give thanks. I know, I confess to Thee, _ O Lord, and with me there knows and blesses Thee, whoso is - not unthankful to assure Truth. We know, Lord, we know; since inasmuch as anything is not which was, and is, which _ was not, so far forth it dieth and ariseth. Nothing then of Thy _ Word doth give place or replace, because It is truly immortal _ and eternal. And therefore unto the Word coeternal with Thee _ Thou dost at once and eternally say all that Thou dost say; _ and whatever Thou sayest shall be made is made; nor dost _ Thou make, otherwise than by saying; and yet are not all things made together, or everlasting, which Thou makest by saying.
Why, I beseech Thee, O Lord my God? I see it in a way; but how to express it, I know not, unless it be, that whatsoever begins to be, and leaves off to be, begins then, and leaves off then, when in Thy eternal Reason it is known, that it ought to begin or leave off; in which Reason nothing beginneth or
- leaveth off. This is Thy Word, which is also “the Beginning, - because also It speaketh unto us.” Thus in the Gospel He speaketh through the flesh; and this sounded outwardly in the ears of men; that it might be believed and sought inwardly, and found in the eternal Verity; where the good and only _ Master teacheth all His disciples. There, Lord, hear I Thy ‘voice speaking unto me; because He speaketh unto us, who teacheth us; but He that teacheth us not, though He speaketh,
i
192 f° Saint*Augosime -—).>— > > 3 ese ee to us He speaketh not. Who now teacheth us, but the un- changeable Truth? for even when we are admonished through — a changeable creature; we are but led to the unchangeable Truth; where we learn truly, while we stand and hear Him, and rejoice greatly because of the Bridegroom’s voice, restor- ing us to Him, from Whom we are. And therefore the Begin- ning, because unless It abided, there should not, when we went astray, be whither to return. But when we return from error, it is through knowing; and that we may know, He teach- eth us, because He is the Beginning, and speaking unto us.
In this Beginning, O God, hast Thou made heaven and earth, in Thy Word, in Thy Son, in Thy Power, in Thy Wis- dom, in Thy Truth; wondrously speaking, and wondrously making. Who shall comprehend? Who declare it? What is that which gleams through me, and strikes my heart without hurting it; and I shudder and kindle? I shudder, inasmuch as I am unlike it; I kindle, inasmuch as I am like it. It is Wisdom, Wisdom’s self which gleameth through me; severing my cloudiness which yet again mantles over me, fainting from it, through the darkness which for my punishment gathers upon me. For my strength is brought down in need, so that I can- not support my blessings, till Thou, Lord, Who hast been gracious to all mine iniquities, shalt heal all my infirmities. For Thou shalt also redeem my life from corruption, and crown me with loving kindness and tender mercies, and shalt satisfy my desire with good things, because my youth shall be renewed like an eagle’s. For in hope we are saved, wherefore we through patience wait for Thy promises. Let him that is able, Hear Thee inwardly discoursing out of Thy oracle: I will boldly cry out, How wonderful are Thy works, O Lord, in Wisdom hast Thou made them all; and this Wisdom is the ~ Beginning, and in that Beginning didst Thou make heaven and earth.
Lo, are they not full of their old leaven, who say to us, “What was God doing before He made heaven and earth? For if (say they) He were unemployed and wrought not, why does He not also henceforth, and for ever, as He did heretofore? For did any new motion arise in God, and a new will to make a creature, which He had never before made, how then would that be a true eternity, where there ariseth a will, which was not? For the will of God is not a creature, but before the crea- ture; seeing nothing could be created, unless the will of the Creator had preceded. The will of God then belongeth to His very Substance. And if aught have arisen in God’s Substance,
oe ee :
See ae ee ks Rm ot eee which before was not, that Substance cannot be truly called’
eternal. But if the will of God has been from eternity that —
the creature should be, why was not the creature also from
eternity?”
Who speak thus, do not yet understand Thee, O Wisdom of God, Light of souls, understand not yet how the things be
' made, which by Thee, and in Thee are made: yet they strive
“
to comprehend things eternal, whilst their heart fluttereth be- tween the motions of things past and to come, and is still un- stable. Who shall hold it, and fix it, that it be settled awhile, and awhile catch the glory of that ever-fixed Eternity, and compare it with the times which are never fixed, and see that it cannot be compared; and that a long time cannot become Jong, but out of many motions passing by, which cannot. be prolonged altogether; but that in the Eternal nothing passeth, but the whole is present; whereas no time is all at once pres- ent: and that all time past, is driven on by time to come, and all to come followeth upon the past; and all past and to come, is created, and flows out of that which is ever present? Who shall hold the heart of man, that it may stand still, and see how eternity ever still-standing, neither past nor to come, ut-
- tereth the times past and to come? Can my hand do this, or
the hand of my mouth by speech bring about a thing so great?
See, I answer him that asketh, “What did God before He made heaven and earth?” I answer not as one is said to have done merrily (eluding the pressure of the question), “He was
_ preparing hell (saith he) for pryers into mysteries.” It is one
thing to answer enquiries, another to make sport of enquirers. So I answer not; for rather had I answer, “I know not,” what I know not, than so as to raise a laugh at him who asketh deep
_ things and gain praise for one who answereth false things. But
I say that Thou, our God, art the Creator of every creature: and if by the name “heaven and earth,” every creature be un- derstood; I boldly say, “that before God made heaven and earth, He did not make any thing.” For if He made, what did He make but a creature? And would I knew whatsoever I de-
sire to know to my profit, as I know, that no creature was _ made, before there was made any creature.
But if any excursive brain rove over the images of fore- passed times, and wonder that Thou the God Almighty and
- All-creating and All-supporting, Maker of heaven and earth,
!
didst for innumerable ages forbear from so great a work, be- fore Thou wouldest make it; let him awake and consider, that he wonders at false conceits. For whence could innumerable
; pe BS, Gre ne ie oe ae ae _ 194 / Saint Augustine ages pass by, which Thou madest not, Thou the Author and Creator of all ages? or what times should there be, which were not made by Thee? or how should they pass by, if they never were? Seeing then Thou art the Creator of all times, if any time was before Thou madest heaven and earth, why say they that Thou didst forego working? For that very time didst Thou make, nor could times pass by, before Thou madest those times. But if before heaven and earth there was no time, why is it demanded, what Thou then didst? For there was no “then,” when there was no time.
Nor dost Thou by time, precede time: else shouldest Thou not precede all times. But Thou precedest all things past, by the sublimity of an ever-present eternity; and surpassest all future because they are future, and when they come, they shall be past; but Thou art the Same, and Thy years fail not. Thy years neither come nor go; whereas ours both come and go, that they all may come. Thy years stand together, because they do stand; nor are departing thrust out by coming years, for they pass not away; but ours shall all be, when they shall no more be. Thy years are one day; and Thy day is not daily, but To-day, seeing Thy To-day gives not place unto to-mor- row, for neither doth it replace yesterday. Thy To-day, is Eternity; therefore didst Thou beget The Coeternal, to whom Thou saidst, This day have I begotten Thee. Thou hast made all things; and before all times Thou art: neither in any time was time not.
At no time then hadst Thou not made any thing, because time itself Thou madest. And no times are coeternal with Thee, because Thou abidest; but if they abode, they should not be times. For what is time? Who can readily and briefly explain this? Who can even in thought comprehend it, so as to utter a word about it? But what in discourse do we mention more familiarly and knowingly, than time? And, we under- stand, when we speak of it; we understand also, when we hear it spoken of by another. What then is time? If no one asks me, I know: if I wish to explain it to one that asketh, I know not: yet I say boldly that I know, that if nothing passed away, time past were not; and if nothing were coming, a time to come were not; and if nothing were, time present were not. Those two times then, past and to come, how are they, seeing the past now is not, and that to come is not yet? But the present, should it always be present, and never pass into time past, verily it should not be time, but eternity. If time present (if it is to be time) only cometh into existence, because it passeth
into ime past, how can we say that either this is is, hone cause of being is, that it shall not be; so, namely, that we cannot
truly say that time is, but because it is tending not to be?
_ And yet we say, “a long time” and “a short time”; still, only of time past or to come. A long time past (for example) we call an hundred years since; and a long time to come, an hun- dred years hence. But a short time past, we call (suppose) ten days since; and a short time to come, ten days hence. But in what sense is that long or short, which is not? For the past, is
not now; and the future, is not yet. Let us not then say, “it is long”; but of the past, “it hath been long”; and of the future, “it will be long.” O my Lord, my Light, shall not here also Thy Truth mock at man? For that past time which was long, ~ was it long when it was now past, or when it was yet present? For then might it be long, when there was, what could be ‘long; but when past, it was no longer; wherefore neither could that be long, which was not at all. Let us not then say, “time past hath been long”: for we shall not find, what hath been
_long, seeing that since it was past, it is no more, but let us say, -
“that present time was long”; because, when it was present, it
was long. For it had not yet passed away, so as not to be;
and therefore there was, what could be long; but after it was past, that ceased also to be long, which ceased to be. |
Let us see then, thou soul of man, whether present time can
be long: for to thee it is given to feel and to measure length of
e. What wilt thou answer me? Are an hundred years, when
present, a long time? See first, whether an hundred years can
_be present. For if the first of these years be now current, it is present, but the other ninety and nine are to come, and there- fore are not yet, but if the second year be current, one is now past, another present, the rest to come. And so if we assume any middle year of this hundred to be present, all before it, are past; all after it, to come; wherefore an hundred years can- not be present. But see at least whether that one which is now current, itself is present; for if the current month be its first, the rest are to come; if the second,-the first is already past, and the rest are not yet. Therefore, neither is the year now current present; and if not present as a whole, then is not the
_ year present. For twelve months are a year; of which whatever
_be the current month is present; the rest past, or to come. Al- though neither is that current month present; but one day only; the rest being to come, if it be the first; past, if the last;
if any of the middle, then amid past and to come.
See how the present time, which alone we found could be
.
- AP oTy Pe “Sa eran s 196 / Saint Augustine
» ee
called long, is abridged to the length scarce of one day. But let us examine that also; because neither is one day present as _ a whole. For it is made up of four and twenty hours of night and day: of which, the first hath the rest to come; the last hath them past; and any of the middle hath those before it past, those behind it to come. Yea, that one hour passeth away in flying particles. Whatsoever of it hath flown away, is past; whatsoever remaineth, is to come. If an instant of time be con- ceived, which cannot be divided into the smallest particles of moments, that alone is it, which may be called present. Which yet flies with such speed from future to past, as not to be lengthened out with the least stay. For if it be, it is divided into past and future. The present hath no space. Where then is the time, which we may Call long? Is it to come? Of it we do not say, “it is long”; because it is not yet, so as to be long; but we say, “it will be long.” When therefore will it be? For if even then, when it is yet to come, it shall not be long (be- cause what can be long, as yet is not), and so it shall then be long, when from future which as yet is not, it shall begin now to be, and have become present, that so there should exist what may be long; then does time present cry out in the words above, that it cannot be long.
And yet, Lord, we perceive intervals of times, and compare them, and say, some are shorter, and others longer. We meas- ure also, how much longer or shorter this time is than that; and we answer, “This is double, or treble; and that, but once, or only just so much as that.” But we measure times as they are passing, by perceiving them; but past, which now are not, or the future, which are not yet, who can measure? unless a man shall presume to say, that can be measured, which is not. When then time is passing, it may be perceived and measured; but when it is past, it cannot, because it is not.
I ask, Father, I affirm not: O my God, rule and guide me. — “Who will tell me that there are not three times (as we learned when boys, and taught boys), past, present, and fu- ture; but present only, because those two are not? Or are they also; and when from future it becometh present, doth it come out of some secret place; and so, when retiring, from present it becometh past? For where did they, who foretold things to come, see them, if as yet they be not? For that which is not, cannot be seen. And they who relate things past, could not relate them, if in mind they did not discern them, and if they —
were not, they could no way be discerned. Things then past and to come, are.”
the Confessions / 197 a Sa ane ‘ Permit me, Lord, to seek further. _ purpose be confounded. For if times past and to come be, I would know where they be. Which yet if I cannot, yet I know, _ wherever they be, they are not there as future, or past, but present. For if there also they be future, they are not yet there; if there also they be past, they are no longer there. Wheresoever then is whatsoever is, it is only as present. Al- though when past facts are related, there are drawn out of the memory, not the things themselves which are past, but words which, conceived by the images of the things, they, in passing, have through the senses left as traces in the mind. Thus my childhood, which now is not, is in time past, which _ now is not: but now when I recall its image, and tell of it, I behold it in the present, because it is still in my memory. Whether there be a like cause of foretelling things to come also; that of things which as yet are not, the images may be perceived before, already existing, I confess, O my God, I know not. This indeed I know, that we generally think be- fore on our future actions, and that that forethinking is pres- “ent, but the action whereof we forethink is not yet, because it is to come. Which, when we have set upon, and have be- gun to do what we were forethinking, then shall that action be; because then it is no longer future, but present.
Which way soever then this secret fore-perceiving of things to come be; that only can be seen, which is. But what now is, is not future, but present. When then things to come are said
to be seen, it is not themselves which as yet are not (that is, which are to be), but their causes perchance or signs are seen, which already are. Therefore they are not future but present to those who now see that, from which the future, being fore- conceived in the mind, is foretold. Which fore-conceptions again now are; and those who foretell those things, do behold the conceptions present before them. Let now the numerous variety of things furnish me some example. I behold the day- break, I foreshow, that the sun, is about to rise. What I be- hold, is present; what I foresignify, to come; not the sun, _ which already is; but the sun-rising, which is not yet. And yet did I not in my mind imagine the sun-rising itself (as now while I speak of it), I could not foretell it. But neither is that daybreak which I discern in the sky, the sun-rising, although it goes before it; nor that imagination of my mind; which two _are seen now present, that the other which is to be may be foretold. Future things then are not yet: and if they be not yet, they are not: and if they are not, they cannot be seen;
9

Baas 4 a O my hope, let not my —
* Si eg Sie ae Sa eas
198: /. Saint Augusting; '> "5"
- yet foretold they may be from things present, which are al- ready, and are seen. ;
Thou then, Ruler of Thy creation, by what way dost Thou teach souls things to come? For Thou didst teach Thy Proph- ets. By what way dost Thou, to whom nothing is to come, teach things to come; or rather of the future, dost teach things present? For, what is not, neither can it be taught. Too far is this way out of my ken: it is too mighty for me, I cannot attain unto it; but from Thee I can, when Thou shalt vouchsafe it, O sweet light of my hidden eyes.
What now is clear and plain is, that neither things to come nor past are. Nor is it properly said, “there be three times, past, present, and to come”: yet perchance it might be prop- erly said, “there be three times; a present of things past, a present of things present, and a present of things future.” For these three do exist in some sort, in the soul, but otherwhere do I not see them; present of things past, memory; present of things present, sight; present of things future, expectation. If thus we be permitted to speak, I see three times, and I con- fess there are three. Let it be said too, “there be three times, past, present, and to come”: in our incorrect way. See, I ob-
ject not, nor gainsay, nor find fault, if what is so said be but understood, that neither what is to be, now is, nor what is past. For but few things are there, which we speak properly, most things improperly; still the things intended are under- stood.
I said then even now, we measure times as they pass, in order to be able to say, this time is twice so much as that one; or, this is just so much as that; and so of any other parts of time, which be measurable. Wherefore, as I said, we measure times as they pass. And if any should ask me, “How knowest thou?” I might answer, “I know, that we do measure, nor can we measure things that are not; and things past and to come, are not.” But time present how do we measure, seeing it hath no space? It is measured while passing, but when it shall have passed, it is not measured; for there will be nothing to be measured. But whence, by what way, and whither passes it while it is a measuring? whence, but from the future? Which way, but through the present? whither, but into the past? From that therefore, which is not yet, through that, which hath no space, into that, which now is not. Yet what do we measure, if not time in some space? For we do not say, single, and double, and triple, and equal, or any other like way that we speak of time, except of spaces of times. In what space
then do we measure time passing? In the future, whence ee passeth through? But what is not yet, we measure not. Or in the present, by which it passes? but no space, we do not meas- ure: or in the past, to which it passes? But neither do we measure that, which now is not.
My soul is on fire to know this most intricate enigma. Shut it not up, O Lord my God, good Father; through Christ I be- seech Thee, do not shut up these usual, yet hidden things, from my desire, that it be hindered from piercing into them; but let them dawn through Thy enlightening mercy, O Lord. Whom shall I enquire of concerning these things? and to whom shall I more fruitfully confess my ignorance, than to Thee, to Whom these my studies, so vehemently kindled to- ward Thy Scriptures, are not troublesome? Give what I love; for I do love, and this hast Thou given me. Give, Father, _ Who truly knowest to give good gifts unto Thy children. Give, because I have taken upon me to know, and trouble is before me until Thou openest it. By Christ I beseech Thee, in His Name, Holy of holies, let no man disturb me. For I be- _ lieved, and therefore do I speak. This is my hope, for this do _ I live, that I may contemplate the delights of the Lord. Be-
hold, Thou hast made my days old, and they pass away, and
how, I know not. And we talk of time, and time, and times,
and times, “How long time is it since he said this”; “how long
time since he did this”; and “how long time since I saw that”;
and “this syllable hath double time to that single short syl- _ lable.” These words we speak, and these we hear, and are un- derstood, and understand. Most manifest and ordinary they are, and the self-same things again are but too deeply hid- den, and the discovery of them were new.
I heard once from a learned man, that the motions of the sun, moon, and stars, constituted time, and I assented not. For why should not the motions of all bodies rather be times? Or, if the lights of heaven should cease, and a potter’s wheel run round, should there be no time by which we might measure those whirlings, and say, that either it moved with equal pauses, or if it turned sometimes slower, otherwhiles quicker, that some rounds were longer, other shorter? Or, while we were saying this, should we not also be speaking in time? Or, should there in our words be some syllables short, others long, - but because those sounded in a shorter time, these in a longer?
God, grant to men to see in a small thing notices common to re things great and small. The stars and lights of heaven, are also _ for signs, and for seasons, and for years, and for days; they
3
Bont
Ng ie i eee 200 / Saint Augustine = ee en RR
are; yet neither should I say, that the going round of that wooden wheel was a day, nor yet he, that it was therefore no _ time.
I desire to know the force and nature of time, by which we measure the motions of bodies, and say (for example) this motion is twice as long as that. For I ask, Seeing “day” de- notes not the stay only of the sun upon the earth (according to which day is one thing, night another); but also its whole circuit from east to east again; according to which we say, “there passed so many days,” the night being included when we say, “so many days,” and the nights not reckoned apart;— seeing then a day is completed by the motion of the sun and by his circuit from east to east again, I ask, does the motion alone make the day, or the stay in which that motion is com- pleted, or both? For if the first be the day; then should we have a day, although the sun should finish that course in so small a space of time, as one hour comes to. If the second, then should not that make a day, if between one sun-rise and another there were but so short a stay, as one hour comes to; but the sun must go four and twenty times about, to complete one day. If both, then neither could that be called a day; if the sun should run his whole round in the space of one hour; nor that, if, while the sun stood still, so much time should overpass, as the sun usually makes his whole course in, from morning to morning. I will not therefore now ask, what that is which is called day; but, what time is, whereby we, meas- uring the circuit of the sun, should say that it was finished in half the time it was wont, if so be it was finished in so small a space as twelve hours; and comparing both times, should call this a single time, that a double time; even supposing the sun to run his round from east to east, sometimes in that single, - sometimes in that double time. Let no man then tell me, that the motions of the heavenly bodies constitute times, because, when at the prayer of one, the sun had stood still, till he could achieve his victorious battle, the sun stood still, but time went on. For in its own allotted space of time was that battle waged and ended. I perceive time then to be a certain exten- sion. But do I perceive it, or seem to perceive it? Thou, Light and Truth, wilt show me.
Dost Thou bid me assent, if any define time to be “motion of a body?” Thou dost not bid me. For that no body is moved, but in time, I hear; this Thou sayest; but that the motion of a body is time, I hear not; Thou sayest it not. For when a body is moved, I by time measure, how long it moveth, from the
time Dera to move until it left off? And if I did not see whence it began; and it continue to move so that I see not when it ends, I cannot measure, save perchance from the time I began, until I cease to see. And if I look long, I can only pronounce it to be a long time, but not how long; because when we say “how long,” we do it by comparison; as, “this is as long as that,” or “twice so long as that,” or the like. But when we can mark the distances of the places, whence and whither goeth the body moved, or his parts, if it moved as ina lathe, then can we say precisely, in how much time the mo- tion of that body or his part, from this place unto that, was finished. Seeing therefore the motion of a body is one thing, that by which we measure how long it is, another; who sees not, which of the two is rather to be called time? For and if a body be sometimes moved, sometimes stands still, then we measure, not his motion only, but his standing still too by time; and we say, “it stood still, as much as it moved”; or “it stood still twice or thrice so long as it moved”; or any other ‘space which our measuring hath either ascertained, or guessed; more or less, as we use to say. Time then is not the motion of a body.
_ And I confess to Thee, O Lord, that I yet know not what time is, and again I confess unto Thee, O Lord, that I know that I speak this in time, and that having long spoken of time, that very “long” is not long, but by the pause of time. How then know I this, seeing I know not what time is? or is it per- chance that I know not how to express what I know? Woe is me, that do not even know, what I know not. Behold, O my God, before Thee I lie not; but as I speak, so is my heart. Thou shalt light my candle; Thou, O Lord my God, wilt enlighten my darkness.
Does not my soul most truly confess unto Thee, that I do measure times? Do I then measure, O my God, and know not what I measure? I measure the motion of a body in time; and the time itself do I not measure? Or could I indeed measure the motion of a body how long it were, and in how long space it could come from this place to that, without measuring the time in which it is moved? This same time then, how do I measure? do we by a shorter time measure a longer, as by the space of a cubit, the space of a rood? for so indeed we seem by the space of a short syllable, to measure the space of a long syllable, and to say that this is double the other. Thus measure we the spaces of stanzas, by the spaces of the verses, and the spaces of the verses, by the spaces of the feet, and the spaces
.
Ly Re Lo ne ET RE 202° | / CSsin€/Angustine 2-3" 1s ee eee
of the feet, by the spaces of the syllables, and the spaces of long, by the space of short syllables; not measuring by pages. (for then we measure spaces, not times); but when we utter the words and they pass by, and we say “it is a long stanza, because composed of so many verses; long verses, because consisting of so many feet; long feet, because prolonged by so many syllables; a long syllable because double to a short one.” But neither do we this way obtain any certain measure of time; because it may be, that a shorter verse, pronounced more fully, may take up more time than a longer, pronounced hurriedly. And so for a verse, a foot, a syllable. Whence it seemed to me, that time is nothing else than protraction; but of what, I know not; and I marvel, if it be not of the mind it- self? For what, I beseech Thee, O my God, do I measure, when I say, either indefinitely “this is a longer time than that,” or definitely “this is double that”? That I measure time, I know; and yet I measure not time to come, for it is not yet; nor present, because it is not protracted by any space; nor past, because it now is not. What then do I measure? Times passing, not past? for so I said.
Courage, my mind, and press on mightily. God is our helper, He made us, and not we ourselves. Press on where truth be- gins to dawn. Suppose, now, the voice of a body begins to sound, and does sound, and sounds on, and list, it ceases; it is silence now, and that voice is past, and is no more a voice. Be- fore it sounded, it was to come, and could not be measured, because as yet it was not, and now it cannot, because it is no longer. Then therefore while it sounded, it might; because there then was what might be measured. But yet even then it was not at a stay; for it was passing on, and passing away. Could it be measured the rather, for that? For while passing, it was being extended into some space of time, so that it might be measured, since the present hath no space. If therefore then it might, then, lo, suppose another voice hath begun to sound, and still soundeth in one continued tenor without any interruption; let us measure it while it sounds; seeing when it hath left sounding, it will then be past, and nothing left to be measured; let us measure it verily, and tell how much it is. But it sounds still, nor can it be measured but from the in- stant it began in, unto the end it left in. For the very space between is the thing we measure, namely, from some begin- ning unto some end. Wherefore, a voice that is not yet ended, cannot be measured, so that it may be said how long, or short it is; nor can it be called equal to another, or double to a
Se eee oe Pe The | Con essions / 203 ‘
single, or the like. But when ended, it no longer is. How may
it then be measured? And yet we measure times; but yet
neither those which are not yet, nor those which no longer are, nor those which are not lengthened out by some pause, nor those which have no bounds. We measure neither times to come, nor past, nor present, nor passing; and yet we do measure times.
“Deus Creator omnium,” this verse of eight syllables alter- nates between short and long syllables. The four short then, the first, third, fifth, and seventh, are but single, in respect of the four long, the second, fourth, sixth, and eighth. Every one of these to every one of those, hath a double time: I pro-
- nounce them, report on them, and find it so, as one’s plain sense perceives. By plain sense then, I measure a long syllable by a short, and I sensibly find it to have twice so much; but when one sounds after the other, if the former be short, the latter long, how shall I detain the short one, and how, meas- ‘uring, shall I apply it to the long, that I may find this to have _twice so much; seeing the long does not begin to sound, un- less the short leaves sounding? And that very long one do I “measure as present, seeing I measure it not till it be ended? Now his ending is his passing away. What then is it I meas- ure? where is the short syllable by which I measure? where the long which I measure? Both have sounded, have flown, passed away, are no more; and yet I measure, and confidently answer (so far as is presumed on a practised sense) that as to space of time this syllable is but single, that double. And yet I could not do this, unless they were already past and ended. It is not then themselves, which now are not, that I measure, but something in my memory, which there remains fixed.
It is in thee, my mind, that I measure times. Interrupt me not, that is, interrupt not thyself with the tumults of thy im- pressions. In thee I measure times; the impression, which things as they pass by cause in thee, remains even when they are gone; this it is which still present, I measure, not the things which pass by to make this impression. This I measure, when I measure times. Either then this is time, or I do not measure times. What when we measure silence, and say that this silence hath held as long time as did that voice? do we not stretch out our thought to the measure of a voice, as if it sounded, that 80 we may be able to report of the intervals of silence in a given ‘space of time? For though both voice and tongue be still, yet in thought we go over poems, and verses, and any other dis- *
L
aed P 7 3
204 / Saint Augustine are . course, or dimensions of motions, and report as to the spaces — of times, how much this is in respect of that, no othewise than if vocally we did pronounce them. If a man would utter a lengthened sound, and had settled in thought how long it should be, he hath in silence already gone through a space of time, and committing it to memory, begins to utter that speech, which sounds on, until it be brought unto the end proposed. Yea it hath sounded, and will sound; for so much of it as is finished, hath sounded already, and the rest will sound. And thus passeth it on, until the present intent conveys over the future into the past; the past increasing by the diminution of the future, until by the consumption of the future, all is past. a
But how is that future diminished or consumed, which as . yet is not? or how that past increased, which is now no longer, save that in the mind which enacteth this, there be three things done? For it expects, it considers, it remembers; that so that which it expecteth, through that which it considereth, passeth into that which it remembereth. Who therefore denieth, that things to come are not as yet? and yet, there is in the mind an expectation of things to come. And who denies past things to be now no longer? and yet is there still in the mind a memory of things past. And who denieth the present time hath no space, because it passeth away in a moment? and yet our consideration continueth, through which that which shall be present pro- ceedeth to become absent. It is not then future time, that is long, for as yet it is not: but a long future, is “a long expecta- tion of the future,” nor is it time past, which now is not, that is long; but a long past, is “a long memory of the past.” °
I am about to repeat a Psalm that I know. Before I begin, my expectation is extended over the whole; but when I have begun, how much soever of it I shall separate off into the past, © is extended along my memory; thus the life of this action of mine is divided between my memory as to what I have re- — peated, and expectation as to what I am about to repeat; but “consideration” is present with me, that through it what was future, may be conveyed over, so as to become past. Which the more it is done again and again, so much the more the expectation being shortened, is the memory enlarged: till the whole expectation be at length exhausted, when that whole action being ended, shall have passed into memory. And this which takes place in the whole Psalm, the same takes place in each several portion of it, and each several syllable; the same holds in that longer action, whereof this Psalm may be a part; the same holds in the whole life of man, whereof all the actions
~~.
7 =
f man are parts; the same ¢ holds (anton d the whole a age of the
Sass of men, whereof all the lives of men are parts.
_ But because Thy loving-kindness is better than all lives, be-
hold, my life is but a distraction, and Thy right hand upheld me, in my Lord the Son of man, the Mediator betwixt Thee, The One, and us many, many also through our manifold dis- tractions amid many things, that by Him I may apprehend in Whom I have been apprehended, and may be re-collected from my old conversation, to follow The One, forgetting what is be- hind, and not distended but extended, not to things which shall be and shall pass away, but to those things which are before, not distractedly but intently, I follow on for the prize of my heavenly calling, where I may hear the voice of Thy praise, and contemplate Thy delights, neither to come, nor to pass away. But now are my years spent in mourning. And Thou, O Lord, art my comfort, my Father everlasting, but I have been severed amid times, whose order I know not; and my thoughts, even ‘the inmost bowels of my soul, are rent and mangled with tu- -multuous varieties, until I flow together into Thee, purified and “molten by the fire of Thy love.
_ And now will I stand, and become firm in Thee, in my ‘mould, Thy truth; nor will I endure the questions of men, who by a penal disease thirst for more than they can contain, and say, “what did God before He made heaven and earth?” Or, “How came it into His mind to make any thing, having never before made any thing?” Give them, O Lord, well to bethink themselves what they say, and to find, that “never” cannot be predicated, when “time” is not. This then that He is said “never to have made”; what else is it to say, than “in ‘no time’ to have made?” Let them see therefore, that time cannot be without created being, and cease to speak that vanity. May they also be extended towards those things which are before; and under- stand Thee before all times, the eternal Creator of all times, and that no times be coeternal with Thee, nor any creature, even if there be any creature before all times.
O Lord my God, what a depth is that recess of Thy mys- teries, and how far from it have the consequences of my trans- gressions cast me! Heal mine eyes, that I may share the joy of Thy light. Certainly, if there be a mind gifted with such vast knowledge and foreknowledge, as to know all things past and
to come, as I know one well-known Psalm, truly that mind is _passing wonderful, and fearfully amazing; in that nothing past, ‘nothing to come in after-ages, is any more hidden from him, than when I sung that Psalm, was hidden from me what, and 7
S
ey Hee oe Pahoa ME ae Se ht ae eee x 206 / ‘Saint Augustine frre
how much of it had passed away from the beginning, cehit: ariel
how much there remained unto the end. But far be it that Thou |
the Creator of the Universe, the Creator of souls and bodies, far be it, that Thou shouldest in such wise know all things past and to come. Far, far more wonderfully, and far more mys- teriously, dost Thou know them. For not, as the feelings of one who singeth what he knoweth, or heareth some well-known song, are through expectation of the words to come, and the remembering of those that are past, varied, and his senses di- vided,—not so doth any thing happen unto Thee, unchangeably
eternal, that is, the eternal Creator of minds. Like then as Thou .
in the Beginning knewest the heaven and the earth, without any variety of Thy knowledge, so madest Thou in the Beginning heaven and earth, without any distraction of Thy action. Whoso understandeth, let him confess unto Thee; and whoso under- standeth not, let him confess unto Thee. Oh how high art Thou, and yet the humble in heart are Thy dwelling-place; for Thou raisest up those that are bowed down, and they fall not, whose elevation Thou art.
BOOK TWELVE
ep
Augustine proceeds to comment on Genesis I, i. and explains the “heaven” to mean that spiritual and incorporeal creation, which cleaves to God unintermittingly; “earth,” the formless matter whereof the corporeal creation was afterwards formed. He does not reject, however, other in-. terpretations, but rather confesses that such is the depth of Holy Scripture, that manifold senses may and ought to be extracted from it, and that whatever truth can be obtained from its words, does, in fact, lie concealed in them.
ea as
My HEarT, O Lord, touched with the words of Thy Holy Scripture, is much busied, amid this poverty of my life. And therefore most times, is the poverty of human understanding copious in words, because enquiring hath more to say than dis- covering, and demanding is longer than obtaining, and our hand that knocks, hath more work to do, than our hand that receives. We hold the promise, who shall make it null? If God be for us, who can be against us? Ask, and ye shall have; seek, and ye shall find; knock, and it shall be opened unto you. For every one that asketh, receiveth; and he that seeketh, findeth; and to him that knocketh, shall it be opened. These be Thine own promises: and who need fear to be deceived, when the Truth promiseth?
The lowliness of my tongue confesseth unto Thy Highness, that Thou madest heaven and earth; this heaven which I see, and this earth that I tread upon it, whence is this earth that I bear about me; Thou madest it. But where is that heaven of heavens, O Lord, which we hear of in the words of the Psalm. The heaven of heavens are the Lord’s; but the earth hath He given to the children of men? Where is that heaven which we see not, to which all this which we see is earth? For this cor- poreal whole, not being wholly every where, hath in such wise Teceived its portion of beauty in these lower parts, whereof the lowest is this our earth; but to that heaven of heavens, even the heaven of our earth, is but earth: yea both these great bodies, may not absurdly be called earth, to that unknown heaven, which is the Lord’s, not the sons’ of men. , i, ‘
e
207
P. -f_
a Nation, eau 208 / Saint Augustine Z
And now this earth was invisible and without form, and there ~ was I know not what depth of abyss, upon which there was no ~ light, because it had no shape. Therefore didst Thou command it to be written, that darkness was upon the face of the deep; what else than the absence of light? For had there been light, where ‘should it have been but by being over all, aloft, and enlightening? Where then light was not, what was the presence of darkness, but the absence of light? Darkness therefore was upon it, because light was not upon it; as where sound is not, there is silence. And what is it to have silence there, but to have no sound there? Hast not Thou, O Lord, taught his soul, which confesseth unto Thee? Hast not Thou taught me, Lord, that before Thou formedst and diversifiedst this formless matter, there was nothing, neither colour, nor figure, nor body, nor spirit? and yet not altogether nothing; for there was a certain formlessness, without any beauty.
How then should it be called, that it might be in some meas- ure conveyed to those of duller mind, but by some ordinary word? And what, among all parts of the world can be found nearer to an absolute formlessness, than earth and deep? For, occupying the lowest stage, they are less beautiful than the other higher parts are, transparent all and shining. Wherefore then may I not conceive the formlessness of matter (which Thou hadst created without beauty, whereof to make this beau- tiful world) to be suitably intimated unto men, by the name of earth invisible and without form.
So that when thought seeketh what the sense may conceive
ae *
he
‘under this, and saith to itself, “It is no intellectual form, as life,
or justice; because it is the matter of bodies; nor object of sense, because being invisible, and without form, there was in it no object of sight or sense”;—while man’s thought thus saith to itself, it may endeavour either to know it, by being ignorant of it; or to be ignorant, by knowing it.
But I, Lord, if I would, by my tongue and my pen, confess unto Thee the whole, whatever Thyself hath taught me of that matter,—the name whereof hearing before, and not under- standing, when they who understood it not, told me of it, so I conceived of it as having innumerable forms and diverse, and therefore did not conceive it at all, my mind tossed up and down foul and horrible “forms” out of all order, but yet “forms” and I called it without form not that it wanted all form, but because it had such as my mind would, if presented to it, — turn from, as unwonted and jarring, and human frailness would be troubled at. And still that which I conceived, was without
form, not as being deprived of all form, but in comparison of 7 more beautiful forms; and true reason did persuade me, that I penust utterly uncase it of all remnants of form whatsoever, if I would conceive matter absolutely without form; and I could not; for sooner could I imagine that not to be at all, which should be deprived of all form, than conceive a thing betwixt ; _ form and nothing, neither formed, nor nothing, a formless al- most nothing. So my mind gave over to question thereupon with my spirit, it being filled with the images of formed bodies, _ and changing and varying them, as it willed; and I bent myself _to the ‘bodies themselves, and looked more deeply into their _changeableness, by which they cease to be what they have _ been, and begin to be what they were not; and this same shift- _ing from form to form, I suspected to-be through a certain formless state, not through a mere nothing; yet this I longed to know, not to suspect only.—If then my voice and pen would confess unto Thee the whole, whatsoever knots Thou didst open for me in this question, what reader would hold out to take in - the whole? Nor shall my heart for all this cease to give Thee honour, and a song of praise, for those things which it is not _ able to express. For the changeableness of changeable things, is _ itself capable of all those forms, into which these changeable _ things are changed. And this changeableness, what is it? Is it _ soul? Is it body? Is it that which constituteth soul or body? _ Might one say, “a nothing something,” an “is, is not,” I would say, this were it: and yet in some way was it even then, as being _ capable of receiving these visible and compound figures. __ But whence had it this degree of being, but from Thee, from _ Whom are all things, so far forth as they are? But so much the further from Thee, as the unliker Thee; for it is not farness of _ place. Thou therefore, Lord, Who art not one in one place, and otherwise in another, but the Self-same, and the Self-same, and the Self-same, Holy, Holy, Holy, Lord God Almighty, didst in . the Beginning, which is of Thee, in Thy Wisdom, which was born of Thine own Substance, create something, and that out of nothing. For Thou createdst heaven and earth; not out of _ Thyself; for so should they have been equal to Thine Only Begotten Son, and thereby to Thee also; whereas no way were it right that aught should be equal to Thee, which was not of _ Thee. And aught else besides Thee was there not, whereof Thou mightest create them, O God, One Trinity, and Trine _ Unity; and therefore out of nothing didst Thou create heaven ; and earth; a great thing, and a small thing; for Thou art Al- mighty and Good, to make all things good, even the great
TS ae eee Se Aen
210 / Saint Augustine heaven, and the petty earth. Thou wert, and nothing was there — besides, out of which Thou createdst heaven and earth; things of two sorts; one near Thee, the other near to nothing; one to which Thou alone shouldest be superior; the other, to which nothing should be inferior.
But that heaven of heavens was for Thyself, O Lord; but the earth which Thou gavest to the sons of men, to be seen and felt, was not such as we now see and feel. For it was in- visible, without form, and there was a deep, upon which there was no light; or, darkness was above the deep, that is, more than in the deep. Because this deep of waters, visible now, hath even in his depths, a light proper for its nature; perceivable in whatever degree unto the fishes, and creeping things in the bot- tom of it. But that whole deep was almost nothing, because hitherto it was altogether without form; yet there was already that which could be formed. For Thou, Lord, madest the world of a matter without form, which out of nothing, Thou madest next to nothing, thereof to make those great things, which we sons of men wonder at. For very wonderful is this corporeal heaven; of which firmament between water and water, the sec- ond day, after the creation of light, Thou saidst, Let it be made, and it was made. Which firmament Thou calledst heaven; the heaven, that is, to this earth and sea, which Thou madest the third day, by giving a visible figure to the formless matter, which Thou madest before all days. For already hadst Thou made both an heaven, before all days; but that was the heaven of this heaven; because In the beginning Thou hadst made heaven and earth. But this same earth which Thou madest was formless matter, because it was invisible and without form, and darkness was upon the deep, of which invisible earth and without form, of which formlessness, of which almost nothing,
.Thou mightest make all these things of which this changeable world consists, but subsists not; whose very changeableness ap- pears therein, that times can be observed and numbered in it. For times are made by the alterations of things, while the fig- ures, the matter whereof is the invisible earth aforesaid, are varied and turned.
And therefore the Spirit, the Teacher of Thy servant, when It recounts Thee to have In the Beginning created heaven and earth, speaks nothing of times, nothing of days. For verily that heaven of heavens which Thou createdst in the Beginning, is some intellectual creature, which, although no ways coeternal unto Thee, the Trinity, yet partaketh of Thy eternity, and doth through the sweetness of that most happy contemplation of
a = Fi
.* =e Seo r PP sy lf, sti ongly restrain its and without — y fall since its first creation, cleaving close unto Thee, is ; placed beyond all the rolling vicissitude of times. Yea, neither is this very formlessness of the earth, invisible, and without form, numbered among the days. For where no figure nor order is, there does nothing come, or go; and where this is not, there lainly are no days, nor any vicissitude of spaces of times.
_ O let the Light, the Truth, the Light of my heart, not mine own darkness, speak unto me. I fell off into that, and became darkened; but even thence, even thence I love Thee. I went astray,.and remembered Thee. I heard Thy voice behind me, calling to me to return, and scarcely heard it, through the tu- multuousness of the enemies of peace. And now, behold, I re- turn in distress and panting after Thy fountain. Let no man forbid me! of this will I drink, and so live. Let me not be mine own life; from myself I lived ill, death was I to myself; and I revive in Thee. Do Thou speak unto me, do Thou discourse unto me. I have believed Thy Books, and their words be most full of mystery.
_ Already Thou hast told me with a strong voice, O Lord, in “my inner ear, that Thou art eternal, Who only hast immortal- ity; since Thou canst not be changed as to figure or motion, nor is Thy will altered by times: seeing no will which varies is im- ‘mortal. This is in Thy sight clear to me, and let it be more and ‘more cleared to me, I beseech Thee; and in the manifestation thereof, let me with sobriety abide under Thy wings Thou hast told me also with a strong voice, O Lord, in my inner ear, that Thou hast made all natures and substances, which are not what Thyself is, and yet are; and that only is not from Thee, which is not, and the motion of the will from Thee who art, unto that which in a less degree is, because such motion is transgression and sin; and that no man’s sin doth either hurt Thee, or disturb the order of Thy government, first or last. This is in Thy sight clear unto me, and let it be more and more cleared to me, I beseech Thee: and in the manifestation thereof, Tet me with sobriety abide under Thy wings.
_ Thou hast told me also with a strong voice, in my inner ear, that neither is that creature coeternal unto Thyself, whose hap- piness Thou only art, and which with a most persevering purity, drawing its nourishment from Thee, doth in no place and at no time put forth its natural mutability; and, Thyself being ever present with it, unto Whom with its whole affection it ae itself, having neither future to expect, nor conveying into the past what it remembereth, is neither altered by any change,
nor distracted into any times. O blessed creature, if such there be, for cleaving unto Thy Blessedness; blest in Thee, its eternal | Inhabitant and its Enlightener! Nor do I find by what name I may the rather call the heaven of heavens which is the Lord’s, than Thine house, which contemplateth Thy delights without any defection of going forth to another; one pure mind, most harmoniously one, by that settled estate of peace of holy spirits, the citizens of Thy city in heavenly places; far above those heavenly places that we see.
By this may the soul, whose pilgrimage is made long and far away, by this may she understand, if she now thirsts for Thee, if her tears be now-become her bread, while they daily say unto her, Where is Thy God? if she now seeks of Thee one thing, and desireth it, that she may dwell in Thy house all the days of her life (and what is her life, but Thou? and what Thy days, but Thy eternity, as Thy years which fail not, because Thou art ever the same?); by this then may the soul that is able, understand how far Thou art, above all times, eternal; seeing Thy house which at no time went into a far country, al- though it be not coeternal with Thee, yet by continually and unfailingly cleaving unto Thee, suffers no changeableness of times. This is in Thy sight clear unto me, and let it be more and more cleared unto me, I beseech Thee, and in the manifestation thereof, let me with sobriety abide under Thy wings.
There. is, behold, I know not what formlessness in those — changes of these last and lowest creatures; and who shall tell me (unless such a one as through the emptiness of his own heart, wonders and tosses himself up and down amid his own fancies?), who but such a one would tell me, that if all figure be so wasted and consumed away, that there should only re- main that formlessness, through which the thing was changed © and turned from one figure to another, that that could exhibit the vicissitudes, of times? For plainly it could not, because, with- out the variety of motions, there are no times: and no variety, where there is no figure.
These things considered, as much as Thou givest, O my God, as much as Thou stirrest me up to knock, and as much as Thou openest to me knocking, two things I find that Thou hast made, not within the compass of time, neither of which is coeternal with Thee. One, which is so formed, that without any ceasing of contemplation, without any interval of change, though changeable, yet not changed, it may thoroughly enjoy Thy eternity and unchangeabless; the other which was so formless, that it had not that, which could be changed from one. form
a ees ee essiong f/ 213 another, whether of motion, or of repose, so as to become ect unto time. But this Thou didst not leave thus formless, — because before all days, Thou in the Beginning didst create Heaven and Earth; the two things that I spake of. But the Earth was invisible and without form, and darkness was upon the deep. In which words, is the formlessness conveyed unto us (that such capacities may hereby be drawn on by degrees, as are not able to conceive an utter privation of all form, without yet coming to nothing), out of which another Heaven might be created, together with a visible and well-formed earth: and the waters diversly ordered, and whatsoever further is in the forma- tion of the world, recorded to have been, not without days, created; and that, as being of such nature, that the successive changes of times may take place in them, as being subject to appointed alterations of motions and of forms.
This then is what I conceive, O my God, when I hear Thy Scripture saying, In the beginning God made Heaven and Earth: and the Earth was invisible and without form, and dark- ness was upon the deep, and not mentioning what day Thou createdst them; this is what I conceive, that because of the Heaven of heavens,—that intellectual Heaven, whose Intelli- gences know all at once, not in part, not darkly, not through a glass, but as a whole, in manifestation, face to face; not, this thing now, and that thing anon; but (as I said) know all at once, without any succession of times;—and because of the earth invisible and without form, without any succession of times, which succession presents “this thing now, that thing anon”; because where is no form, there is no distinction of things:—it is, then, on account of these two, a primitive formed, and a primtive formless; the one, heaven but the Heaven of heaven, the other earth but the earth invisible and without form; because of these two do I conceive, did Thy Scripture say without mention of days, In the Beginning God created Heaven and Earth. For forthwith it subjoined what earth it spake of; and also, in that the Firmament is recorded to be created the second day, and called Heaven, it conveys to us of which Heaven He before spake, without mention of days.
‘ Reonarous depth of Thy words! whose surface, behold! is before us, inviting to little ones; yet are they a wondrous depth. O my God, a wondrous depth! It is awful to look therein; an awfulness of honour, and a trembling of love. The enemies thereof I hate vehemently; oh that Thou wouldest slay them with Thy two-edged sword, that they might no longer be enemies
a ee ee eee 3 ‘ot es ele Fe 1 ao
914 / “Saint Augustine
unto it: for so do I love to have them slain unto themselves, that they may live unto Thee. But behold others not fault- — finders, but extollers of the book of Genesis; “The Spirit of © God,” say they, “Who by His servant Moses wrote these things, would not have those words thus understood; He would not have it understood, as thou sayest, but otherwise, as we say.” Unto Whom Thyself, O Thou God of us all, being Judge, do I thus answer.
“Will you affirm that to be false, which with a strong voice Truth tells me in my inner ear, concerning the Eternity of the Creator, that His substance is no ways changed by time, nor His will separate from His substance? Wherefore He willeth not one thing now, another anon, but once, and at once, and al- ways, He willeth all things that He willeth; not again and again, nor now this, now that; nor willeth afterwards, what before He willed not, nor willeth not, what before He willed; because such a will is mutable; and no mutable thing is eternal: but our God is eternal. Again, what He tells me in my inner ear, the expectation of things to come becomes sight, when they are come, and this same sight becomes memory, when they be past. Now all thought which thus varies is mutable; and no mutable is eternal: but our God is eternal.” These things I infer, and put together, and find that my God, the eternal God, hath not upon any new will made any creature, nor doth His knowledge admit of any thing transitory. “What will ye say then, O ye gainsayers? Are these things false?” “No,” they say; “What then? Is it false, that every nature already formed, or matter capable of form, is not, but from Him Who is supremely good, because He is supremely?” “Neither do we deny this,” say they. “What then? do you deny this, that there is a certain sublime creature, with so chaste a love cleaving unto the true and truly eternal God, that although not coeternal with Him, yet is it not detached from Him, nor dissolved into the variety and vicissitude of times, but reposeth in the most true con- templation of Him only?” Because Thou, O God, unto him that loveth Thee so much as Thou commandest, dost show Thy-— self, and sufficest him; and therefore doth he not decline from Thee, nor toward himself. This is the house of God, not of earthly mould, nor of any celestial bulk corporeal but spiritual, and partaker of Thy eternity, because without defection for ever. For Thou hast made it fast for ever and ever, Thou hast given it a law which it shall not pass. Nor yet is it coeternal with Thee, O God, because not without beginning; for it was made,
equal and coeternal unto Thee, our God, His Father, and by Whom all things were created, and in Whom, as the Beginning, Thou createdst heaven and earth; but that wisdom which is created, that is, the intellectual nature, which by contemplating the light, is light. For this, though created, is also called wis- dom. But what difference there is betwixt the Light which en- lighteneth, and which is enlightened, so much is there betwixt the Wisdom that createth, and that created; as betwixt the Righteousness which justifieth, and the righteousness which is made by justification. For we also are called Thy righteousness; for so saith a certain servant of Thine, That we might be made the righteousness of God in Him. Therefore since a certain created wisdom was created before all things, the rational and intellectual mind of that chaste city of Thine, our mother which is above, and is free and eternal in the heavens (in what heavens, if not in those that praise Thee, the Heaven of heavens? Because this is also the Heaven of heavens for the Lord) ;—though we find no time before it (because that which hath been created before all things, precedeth also the creature ‘of time), yet is the Eternity of the Creator Himself before it, from Whom, being created, it took the beginning, not indeed of time (for time itself was not yet), but of its creation.
_ Hence it is so of Thee, our God, as to be altogether other than Thou, and not the Self-same: because though we find time neither before it, nor even in it (it being meet ever to behold Thy face, nor is ever drawn away from it, wherefore it is not varied by any change), yet is there in it a liability to change, whence it would wax dark, and chill, but that by a strong affection cleaving unto Thee, like perpetual noon, it shineth and gloweth from Thee. O house most lightsome and delightsome! I have loved thy beauty, and the place of the habitation of the glory of my Lord, thy builder and possessor. Let my wayfaring sigh after thee, and I say to Him that made thee, let Him take possession of me also in thee, seeing He hath made me likewise. I have gone astray like a lost sheep: yet upon the shoulders of my Shepherd, thy builder, hope I to be brought back to thee.
_ “What say ye to me, O ye gainsayers that I was speaking , who yet believe Moses to have been the holy servant of God, and his books the oracles of the Holy Ghost? Is not this house of God, not coeternal indeed with God, yet after its ‘measure, eternal in the heavens, when you seek for changes of
sr alt . rs eated before all things; not that Wisdom which is altogether — oe
re a oe a eee
216 7 Saint Augustine 3 ee
=v
times in vain, because you will not find them? For that, to which it is ever good to cleave fast to God, surpasses all ex- tension, and all revolving periods of time.” “It is,” say they. ~ “What then of all that which my heart loudly uttered unto my God, when inwardly it heard the voice of His praise, what part thereof do you affirm to be false? Is it that the matter was with- out form, in which because there was no form, there was no order? But where no order was, there could be no vicissitude of times: and yet this ‘almost nothing,’ inasmuch as it was not altogether nothing, was from Him certainly, from Whom is whatsoever is, in what degree soever it is.” “This also,” say they, “do we not deny.” 4
With these would I now parley a little in Thy presence, O my God, who grant all these things to be true, which Thy Truth whispers unto my soul. For those who deny these things, let them bark and deafen themselves as much as they please; I will essay to persuade them to quiet, and to open in them a way for Thy word. But if they refuse, and repel me; I beseech, O my God, be not Thou silent to me. Speak Thou truly in my heart; for only Thou so speakest: and I will let them alone blowing upon the dust without, and raising it up into their own eyes: and myself will enter my chamber, and sing there a song of loves unto Thee; groaning with groanings unutterable, in my wayfaring, and remembering Jerusalem, with heart lifted up towards it, Jerusalem my country, Jerusalem my mother, and Thyself that rulest over it, the Enlightener, Father, Guardian, Husband, the pure and strong delight, and solid joy, and all good things unspeakable, yea all at once, because the One Sovereign and true Good. Nor will I be turned away, until Thou gather all that I am, from this dispersed and disordered estate, into the peace of that our most dear mother, where the ~ first-fruits of my spirit be already (whence I am ascertained of these things), and Thou conform and confirm it for ever,O my . God, my Mercy. But those who do not affirm all these truths to be false, who honour Thy holy Scripture, set forth by holy Moses, placing it, as we, on the summit of authority to be fol- lowed, and do yet contradict me in some thing, I answer thus; Be Thyself Judge, O our God, between my Confessions and these men’s contradictions.
For they say, “Though these things be true, yet did not Moses intend those two, when, by revelation of the Spirit, he said, In the beginning God created heaven and earth. He did not under the name of heaven, signify that spiritual or intellectual crea- ture which always beholds the face of God; nor under the name _
od,” say they, “meant as we say, this declared he by those words.” “What?” “By the name of heaven and earth would he t signify,” say they, “universally and compendiously, all this visible world; so as afterwards by the enumeration of the sev- eral days, to arrange in detail, and, as it were, piece by piece, all those things, which it pleased the Holy Ghost thus to enounce, For such were that rude and carnal people to which he spake, that he thought them fit to be entrusted with the knowledge of such works of God only as were visible.” They agree, however, that under the words earth invisible and with- out form, and that darksome deep (out of which it is subse- quently shown, that all these visible things which we all know, were made and arranged during those “days”) may, not in- congruously, be understood of this formless first matter. _ What now if another should say that “this same formlessness and confusedness of matter, was for this reason first conveyed under the name of heaven and earth, because out of it was this Visible world with all those natures which most manifestly ap- pear in it, which is ofttimes called by the name of heaven and earth, created and perfected?” What again if another say that “invisible and visible nature is not indeed inappropriately called heaven and earth; and so, that the universal creation, which God made in His Wisdom, that is, in the Beginning, was comprehended under those two words? Notwithstanding, since all things be made not of the substance of God, but out of nothing (because they are not the same that God is, and there is a mutable nature in them all, whether they abide, as doth the eternal house of God, or be changed, as the soul and body of man are): therefore the common matter of all things visible and invisible (as yet unformed though capable of form), out of which was to be created both heaven and earth (i.e. the invisible and visible creature when formed), was entitled by the same names given to the earth invisible and without form and the darkness upon the deep, but with this distinction, that by the earth invisible and without form is understood corporeal mat- ter, antecedent to its being qualified by any form; and by the darkness upon the deep, spiritual matter, before it underwent any restraint of its unlimited fluidness, or received any light from Wisdom?” _ It yet remains for a man to say, if he will, that “the already perfected and formed natures, visible and invisible, are not signified under the name of heaven and earth, when we read, In the beginning God made heaven and earth, but that the yet
3
4 he Ee
218 / Saint Augustine — : a unformed commencement of things, the stuff apt to receive form and making, was called by these names, because therein ~ were confusedly contained, not as yet distinguished by their qualities and forms, all those things which being now digested into order, are called Heaven and Earth, the one being the spiritual, the other the corporeal, creation.”
All which things being heard and well considered, I will not strive about words: for that is profitable to nothing, but the subversion of the héarers. But the law is good to edify, if a man use it lawfully: for that the end of it is charity, out of a pure heart and good conscience, and faith unfeigned. And well did our Master know, upon which two commandments He hung all the Law and the Prophets. And what doth it prej- udice me, O my God, Thou light of my eyes in secret, zealously confessing these things, since divers things may be understood under these words which yet are all true,—what, I say, doth it prejudice me, if I think otherwise than another thinketh the writer thought? All we readers verily strive to trace out and to understand his meaning whom we read; and seeing we believe him to speak truly, we dare not imagine him to have said any thing, which ourselves either know or think to be false. While every man endeavours then to understand in the Holy Scrip- tures, the same as the writer understood, what hurt is it, if a man understand what Thou, the light of all true-speaking minds, dost show him to be true, although he whom he reads, understood not this, seeing he also understood a Truth, though not this truth? ,
For true it is, O Lord, that Thou madest heaven and earth; and it is true too, that the Beginning is Thy Wisdom, in Which Thou createst all: and true again, that this visible world hath for its greater part the heaven and the earth, which. briefly comprise all made and created natures. And true too, that what- soever is mutable, gives us to understand a certain want of form, whereby it receiveth a form, or is changed, or turned. It is true, that that is subject to no times, which so cleaveth to the unchangeable Form, as though subject to change, never to be changed. It is true, that that formlessness which is almost nothing, cannot be subject to the alteration of times. It is true, that that whereof a thing is made, may by a certain mode of speech, be called by the name of the thing made of it; whence that formlessness, whereof heaven and earth were made, might be called heaven and earth. It is true, that of things having form, there is not any nearer to having no form, than the earth and the deep. It is true, that not only every created and formed —
et, Whe. Contesion /°210-
ne ~? “: - 7 + . ae fT ee thing, but whatsoever is capable of being created and formed, _ Thou madest, of Whom are all things. It is true, that whatso- ever is formed out of that which had no form, was unformed before it was formed.
Out of these truths, of which they doubt not whose inward eye Thou hast enabled to see such things, and who unshakenly _ believe Thy servant Moses to have spoken in the Spirit of truth;
of all these then, he taketh one, who saith, In the Beginning _ God made the heaven and the earth; that is, “in His Word co- sb with Himself, God made the intelligible and the sen-
sible, or the spiritual and the corporeal creature.” He another, that saith, In the Beginning God made heaven and earth; that is, “in His Word coeternal with Himself, did God make the universal bulk of this corporeal world, together with all those apparent and known creatures, which it containeth.” He an- _ other, that saith, In the Beginning God made heaven and earth; _that is, “in His Word coeternal with Himself, did God make _ the formless matter of creatures spiritual and corporeal.” He another, that saith, In the Beginning God created heaven and earth; that is, “in His Word coeternal with Himself, did God create the formless matter of the creature corporeal, wherein heaven and earth lay as yet confused, which, being now dis- tinguished and formed, we at this day see in the bulk of this _world.” He another, who saith, In the Beginning God made _ heaven and earth; that is, “in the very beginning of creating pand working, did God make that formless matter, confusedly containing in itself both heaven and earth; out of which, being _ formed, do they now stand out, and are apparent, with all that _is in them.” _ And with regard to the understanding of the words follow- ing, out of all those truths, he chooses one to himself, who saith, But the earth was invisible, and without form, and dark- _ ness was upon the deep; that is, “that corporeal thing that God made, was as yet a formless matter of corporeal things, without order, without light.” Another he who says, The earth was in- visible and without form, and darkness was upon the deep; that is, “this all, which is called heaven and earth, was still a form- less and darksome matter, of which the corporeal heaven and a corporeal earth were to be made, with all things in them, which are known to our corporeal senses.” Another he who says, The earth was invisible and without form, and darkness was upon the deep; that is, “this all, which is called heaven and earth, was-still a formless and a darksome matter; out of which was to be made, both that intelligible heaven, other-
>“,
220 / Saint Augustine Mah tan Oe ee where called the Heaven of heavens, and the earth, that is, the whole corporeal nature, under which name is comprised this - corporeal heaven also; in a word, out of which every visible and invisible creature was to be created.” Another he who says, The earth was invisible and without form, and darkness was upon the deep, “the Scripture did not call that formlessness by the name of heaven and earth; but that formlessness, saith he, already was, which he called the earth invisible without form, and darkness upon the deep; of which he had before said, that God had made heaven and earth, namely, the spiritual and corporeal creature.” Another he who says, The earth was in- visible and without form, and darkness was upon the deep; that is, “there already was a certain formless matter, of which the Scripture said before, that God made heaven and earth; namely, the whole corporeal bulk of the world, divided into — two great parts, upper and lower, with all the common and known creatures in them.”
For should any attempt to dispute against these two last opinions, thus, “If you will not allow, that this formlessness of matter seems to be called by the name of heaven and earth; Ergo, there was something which God had not made, out of. which to make heaven and earth; for neither hath Scripture told us, that God made this matter, unless we understand it to be signified by the name of heaven and earth, or of earth alone, when it is said, In the Beginning God made the heaven and earth; that so in what follows, and the earth was invisible and without form, (although it pleased Him so to call the formless matter), we are to understand no other matter, but that which God made, whereof is written above, God made heaven and earth.” The maintainers of either of those two latter opinions — will, upon hearing this, return for answer, “we do not deny this formless matter to be indeed created by God, that God of | Whom are all things, very good; for as we affirm that to be a greater good, which is created and formed, so we confess that to be a lesser good which is made capable of creation and form, yet still good. We say however that Scripture hath not set down, that God made this formlessness, as also it hath not many others; as the Cherubim, and Seraphim, and those which the Apostle distinctly speaks of, Thrones, Dominions, Principali- ties, Powers. All which that God made, is most apparent. Or if in that which is said, He made heaven and earth, all things be comprehended, what shall we say of the waters, upon which the Spirit of God moved? For if they be comprised in this word earth; how then can formless matter be meant in that name of —
h, whe see the waters so beautiful? Or if it be so taken; _ why then is it written, that out of the same formlessness, the firmament was made, and called heaven; and that the waters Were made, is not written? For the waters remain not formless nd invisible, seeing we behold them flowing in so comely a ‘Manner. But if they then received that beauty, when God said, Let the waters under the firmament be gathered together, that so the gathering together be itself the forming of them; what will be said as to those waters above the firmament? Seeing _ neither if formless would they have been worthy of so honour- able a seat, nor is it written, by what word they were formed. If then Genesis is silent as to God’s making of any thing, which yet that God did make neither sound faith nor well-grounded understanding doubteth, nor again will any sober teaching dare to affirm these waters to be coeternal with God, on the ground that we find them to be mentioned in the book of Genesis, but when they were created, we do not find; why (seeing truth teaches us) should we not understand that formless matter (which this Scripture calls the earth invisible and without form, “and darksome deep) to have been created of God out of noth- ing, and therefore not to be coeternal to Him; notwithstanding this history hath omitted to show when it was created?” These things then being heard and perceived, according to e weakness of my capacity (which I confess unto Thee, O Lord, that knowest it), two sorts of disagreements I see may ise, when a thing is in-words related by true reporters; one, concerning the truth of the things, the other, concerning the eaning of the relater. For we enquire one way about the mak- of the creature, what is true; another way, what Moses, that excellent minister of Thy Faith, would have his reader and hearer understand by those words. For the first sort, away with all those who imagine themselves to know as a truth, what is ‘alse; and for this other, away with all them too, which imagine ‘Moses to have written things that be false. But let me be united in Thee, O Lord, with those and delight myself in Thee, with them that feed on Thy truth, in the largeness of charity, and let us approach together unto the words of Thy book, and seek in them for Thy meaning, through the meaning of Thy servant, by whose pen Thou hast dispensed them. But which of us shall, among those so many truths, which occur to enquirers in those words, as they are differently under- stood, so discover that one meaning, as to affirm, “this Moses hought,” and “this would he have understood in that history”; with the same confidence as he would, “this is true,” whether
-
SR ee, on ae
oe
990 / Saint Acieutene re a] op oe oe A aoe , Moses thought this or that? For behold, O my God, I Thy —
servant, who have in this book vowed a sacrifice of confession — unto Thee, and pray, that by Thy mercy I may pay my vows ~
unto Thee, can I, with the same confidence wherewith I af- firm, that in Thy incommutable world Thou createdst all things visible and invisible, affirm also, that Moses meant no other than this, when he wrote, In the Beginning God made heaven and earth? No. Because I see not in his mind, that he thought of this when he wrote these things, as I do see it in Thy truth to be certain. For he might have his thoughts upon God’s com- mencement of creating, when he said In the beginning; and by heaven and earth, in this place he might intend no formed and perfected nature whether spiritual or corporeal, but both of them inchoate and as yet formless. For I perceive, that which- soever of the two had been said, it might have been truly said; but which of the two he thought of in these words, I do not so perceive. Although, whether it were either of these, or any sense beside (that I have not here mentioned), which this so great man saw in his mind, when he uttered these words, I doubt not but that he saw it truly, and expressed it aptly.
Let no man harass me then, by saying, Moses thought not as you say, but as I say: for if he should ask me, “How know you that Moses thought that which you infer out of his words?” I ought to take it in good part, and would answer perchance as I have above, or something more at large, if he were unyield- ing. But when he saith, “Moses meant not what you say, but what I say,” yet denieth not that what each of us say, may both be true, O my God, life of the poor, in Whose bosom is no con- tradiction, pour down a softening dew into my heart, that I may patiently bear with such as say this to me, not because they have a divine Spirit, and have seen in the heart of Thy servant what they speak, but because they be proud; not knowing
Moses’ opinion, but loving their own, not because it is truth, —
but because it is theirs. Otherwise they would equally love an- other true opinion, as I love what they say, when they say true: not because it is theirs, but because it is true; and on that very ground not theirs because it is true. But if they therefore love it, because it is true, then is it both theirs, and mine; as being in common to all lovers of truth. But whereas they contend that Moses did not mean what I say, but. what they say, this I like not, love not: for though it were so, yet that their rashness be-
longs not to knowledge, but to overboldness, and not insight but |
vanity was its parent. And therefore, O Lord, are Thy judg- ments terrible; seeing Thy truth is neither mine, nor his, nor
rs
5 The Confessions / 223 — -another’s; but belonging to us all, whom Thou callest publicly to partake of it, warning us terribly, not to account it private to ourselves, lest we be deprived of it. For whosoever chal- enges that as proper to himself, which Thou propoundest to all to enjoy, and would have that his own which belongs to all, is iven from what is in common to his own; that is, from truth, oa lie. For he that speaketh a lie, speaketh it of his own. Hearken, O God, Thou best Judge; Truth Itself, hearken to hat I shall say to this gainsayer, hearken, for before Thee do speak, and before my brethren, who employ Thy law law- y, to the end of charity: hearken and behold, if it please Thee, what I shall say to him. For this brotherly and peaceful word do I return unto him: “If we both see that to be true that ‘Thou sayest, and both see that to be true that I say, where, I ray Thee, do we see it? Neither I in Thee, nor Thou in me; but both in the unchangeable Truth itself, which is above our souls.” Seeing then we strive not about the very light of the Lord our God, why strive we about the thoughts of our neigh- ‘bour which we cannot so see, as the unchangeable Truth is “seen: for that, if Moses himself had appeared to us and said, “This I meant”; neither so should we see it, but should believe it. Let us not then be puffed up for one against another, above thet which is written: let us love the Lord our God with all our heart, with all our soul, and with all our mind: and our neigh- our as ourself. With a view to which two precepts of charity, ‘unless we believe that Moses meant, whatsoever in those books he did mean, we shall make God a liar, imagining otherwise of our fellow servant’s mind, than he hath taught us. Behold now, ‘how foolish it is, in such abundance of most true meanings, as ‘may be extracted out of those words, rashly to affirm, which of them Moses principally meant; and with pernicious contentions to offend charity itself, for whose sake he spake every thing, whose words we go about to expound. And yet I, O my God, Thou lifter up of my humility, and rest of my labour, Who hearest my confessions, and forgivest y sins: seeing Thou commandest me to love my .neighbour cE: myself, I cannot believe that Thou gavest a less gift unto Moses Thy faithful servant, than I would wish or desire Thee to have given me, had I been born in the time he was, and hadst Thou set me in that office, that by the service of my heart and tongue those books might be dispensed, which for so long after ere to profit all nations, and through the whole world from such an eminence of authority, were to surmount all sayings of ‘alse and proud teachings. I should have desired verily, had I
294 / Seint-Atgustine =a)" Ere eee then been Moses (for we all come from the same lump, an what is man, saving that Thou art mindful of him?), I would then, had I been then what he was, and been enjoined by Thee to write the book of Genesis, have desired such a power of expression and such a style to be given me, that neither they who cannot yet understand how God created, might reject the sayings, as beyond their capacity; and they who had attained thereto, might find what true opinion soever they had by thought arrived at, not passed over in those few words of that Thy servant: and should another man by the light of truth have discovered another, neither should that fail of being dis- coverable in those same words.
For as a fountain within a narrow compass, is more plenti- ful, and supplies a tide for more streams over larger spaces, than any one of those streams, which, after a wide interval, is derived from the same fountain; so the relation of that dis- penser of Thine, which was to benefit many who were to dis- course thereon, does out of a narrow scantling of language, overfiow into streams of clearest truth, whence every man may draw out for himself such truth as he can upon these subjects, one, one truth, another, another, by larger circumlocutions of — discourse. For some, when they read, or hear these words, con- ceive that God like a man or some mass endued with un-- bounded power, by some new and sudden resolution, did, ex-
‘terior to itself, as it were at a certain distance, create heaven and earth, two great bodies above and below, wherein all things were to be contained. And when they hear, God said, Let itZ be made, and it was made; they conceive of words begun and ended, sounding in time, and passing away; after whose depar- ture, that came into being, which was commanded so to do; and whatever of the like sort, men’s acquaintance with the - material world would suggest. In whom, being yet little ones and carnal, while their weakness is by this humble kind of speech, carried on, as in a mother’s bosom, their faith is whole- somely built up, whereby they hold assured, that God made all natures, which in admirable variety their eye beholdeth around. Which words, if any despising, as too simple, with a proud - weakness, shall stretch himself beyond the guardian nest; he - will, alas, fall miserably. Have pity, O Lord God, lest they who go by the way trample on the unfledged bird, and send Thine angel to replace it into the nest, that it may live, till it‘can fly.
But others, unto whom these words are no longer a nest, but deep shady fruit-bowers, see the fruits concealed therein, fly joyously around, and with cheerful notes seek out, and pluck
q
them. Fc ing these words, times past and to come, are surpassed by Thy eternal and stab abiding; and yet that there is no creature formed in time, not | of Thy making. Whose will, because it is the same that Thou © __ art, Thou madest all things, not by any change of will, nor by a will, which before was not, and that these things were not out _ of Thyself, in Thine own likeness, which is the form of all _ things; but out of nothing, a formless unlikeness, which should _ be formed by Thy likeness (recurring to Thy Unity, according _ to their appointed capacity, so far as is given to each thing in his kind), and might all be made very good; whether they abide around Thee, or being in gradation removed in time and place, _ made or undergo the beautiful variations of the Universe. _ These things they see, and rejoice, in the little degree they here _ May, in the light of Thy truth.
Another bends his mind on that which is said, In the Begin- ning God made heaven and earth; and beholdeth therein Wis- _ dom, the Beginning because It also speaketh unto us. Another _ likewise bends his mind on the same words, and by Beginning. _ understands the commencement of things created; In the be- ginning He made, as if it were said, He at first made. And 7 among them that understand In the Beginning to mean, “In: Thy Wisdom Thou createdst heaven and earth,” one believes the matter out of which the heaven and earth were to be cre- ; ated, to be there called heaven and earth; another, natures al- . i ready formed and distinguished; another, one formed nature, 4 e §
tty
¢ + t
_and that a spiritual, under the name Heaven, the other form- less, a corporeal matter, under the name Earth. They again who by the names heaven and earth, understand matter as yet formless, out of which heaven and earth were to be formed, _ neither do they understand it in one way; but the one, that _ matter out of which both the intelligible and the sensible crea- ture were to be perfected; another, that only, out of which this _ sensible corporeal mass was to be made, containing in its vast _ bosom these visible and ordinary natures. Neither do they, who _ believe the creatures already ordered and arranged, to be in f this place called heaven and earth, understand the same; but - the one, both the invisible and visible, the other, the visible ? only, in which we behold this lightsome heaven, and darksome _ earth, with the things in them contained. But he that no otherwise understands In the Beginning He _ made, than if it were said, At first He made, can only truly . understand heaven and earth of the matter of heaven and earth, that is, of the universal intelligible and corporeal creation. For
a ah = Ba
226 / Saint Augustine —
if he would understand thereby the universe, as already formed, ’
it may be rightly demanded of him, “If God made this first, what made He afterwards?” and after the universe, he will find nothing; whereupon must he against his will hear another ques- tion; “How did God make this first, if nothing after?” But when he says, God made matter first formless, then formed, there is no absurdity, if he be but qualified to discern, what precedes by eternity, what by time, what by choice, and what in original. By eternity, as God is before all things; by time, as the flower before the fruit; by choice, as the fruit before the flower; by original, as the sound before the tune. Of these four, the first and last mentioned, are with extreme difficulty understodd, the two middle, easily. For a rare and too lofty a vision is it, to behold Thy Eternity, O Lord, unchangeably making things changeable; and thereby before them. And who, again, is of so sharpsighted understanding, as to be able without great pains to discern, how the sound is therefore before the tune; because a tune is a formed sound; and a thing not formed, may exist; whereas that which existeth not, cannot be formed. Thus is the matter before the thing made; not because it maketh it, seeing itself is rather made; nor is it before by interval of time; for we do not first in time utter formless sounds without singing, and subsequently adapt or fashion them into the form of a chant, as wood or silver, whereof a chest or vessel is fashioned. For such materials do by time also precede the forms of the things made of them, but in singing it is not so; for when it is sung, its sound is heard; for there is not first a formless sound, which is afterwards formed into a chant. For each sound, so soon as made, passeth away, nor canst thou find ought to recall and by art to compose. So then the chant is concentrated in its sound, which sound of his is his matter. And this indeed is formed, that it may be a tune; and therefore (as I said) the matter of the sound is before the form of the tune; not before, through any power it hath to make it a tune; for a sound is no way the work- master of the tune; but is something corporeal, subjected to the soul which singeth, whereof to make a tune. Nor is it first in time; for it is given forth together with the tune; nor first in choice, for a sound is not better than a tune, a tune being not only a sound, but a beautiful sound. But it is first in original, because a tune receives not form to become a sound, but a sound receives a form to become a tune. By this example, let him that is able, understand how the matter of things was first made, and called heaven and earth, because heaven and earth were made out of it. Yet was it not made first in time: because
af things give rise to ti without — form; but now is, in time, an object of sense together with its — _ form. And yet nothing can be related of that matter, but as
_ though prior in time, whereas in value it is last (because things formed are superior to things without form) and is preceded by the Eternity of the Creator: that so there might be out of nothing, whereof somewhat might be created.
In this diversity of the true opinions, let Truth herself pro- duce concord. And our God have mercy upon us, that we may use the law lawfully, the end of the commandment, pure char-
ity. By this if a man demands of me, “which of these was the meaning of Thy servant Moses”; this were not the language of my Confessions, should I not confess unto Thee, “I know not”; and yet I know that those senses are true, those carnal ones excepted, of which I have spoken what seemed necessary. And even those hopeful little ones who so think, have this benefit, that the words of Thy Book affright them not, deliver- ing high things lowlily, and with few words a copious mean- ing. And all we who, I confess, see and express the truth de- livered in those words, let us love one another, and jointly love Thee our God, the fountain of truth, if we are athirst for it, and not for vanities; yea, let us so honour this Thy servant, the dispenser of this Scripture, full of Thy Spirit, as to believe that, when by Thy revelation he wrote these things, he in- tended ‘that, which among them chiefly excels both for light of truth, and fruitfulness of profit.
So when one says, “Moses meant as I do”; and another, “Nay, but as I do,” I suppose that I speak more reverently, “Why not rather as both, if both be true?” And if there be a third, or a fourth, yea if any other seeth any other truth in those words, why may not he be believed to have seen all these, through whom the One God hath tempered the holy Scriptures to the senses of many, who should see therein things true but divers? For I certainly (and fearlessly I speak it from my heart), that were I to indite any thing to have supreme au- thority, I should prefer so to write, that whatever truth any could apprehend on those matters, might be conveyed in my words, rather than set down my own meaning so clearly as to exclude the rest, which not being false, could not offend me. I will not therefore, O my God, be so rash, as not to believe, that Thou vouchsafedst as much to that great man. He without doubt, when he wrote those words, perceived and thought on _ what truth soever we have been able to find, yea and whatso-
5 z aS € ‘
PEO LD 2 ekeheret oy Pom sete Fame Cotte oo
oe Rytna!= ww ers
f
La a Pog ee a.) Fe ee te 2 Ke ao
i kes = See ae roe: “Sa * ; 4% : 228 / Saint Augustine i ee ce ere ees
ever we have not been able, nor yet are, but which may be
found in them.
Lastly, O Lord, who art God and not flesh and blood, if man did see less, could any thing be concealed from Thy good Spirit (who shall lead me into the land of uprightness), which Thou Thyself by those words wert about to reveal to readers in times to come, though he through whom they were spoken, perhaps among many true meanings, thought on some one? which if so it be, let that which he thought on be of all the highest. But to us, O Lord, do Thou, either reveal that same, or any other true one which Thou pleasest; that so, whether Thou discoverest the same to us, as to that Thy servant, or some other by occasion of those words, yet Thou mayest feed us, not error deceive us. Behold, O Lord my God, how much we have written upon a few words, how much I beseech Thee! What strength of ours, yea what ages would suffice for all Thy books in this manner? Permit me then in these more briefly to confess unto Thee, and to choose some one true, certain, and good sense that Thou shalt inspire me, although many should occur, where many may occur; this being the law of my con- fession, that if I should say that which Thy minister intended, that is right and best; for this should I endeavour, which if I should not attain, yet I should say that, which Thy Truth willed by his words to tell me, which revealed also unto him, what It willed.
t
BOOK THIRTEEN
Continuation of the exposition of Genesis I; it contains the mystery of the Trinity, and a type of the formation, extension, and support of the Church.
_I cat upon Thee, O my God, my mercy, Who createdst me, and forgattest not me, forgetting Thee. I call Thee into my _ soul which, by the longing Thyself inspirest into her, Thou reparest for Thee. Forsake me not now calling upon Thee, whom Thou preventedst before I called, and urgedst me with much variety of repeated calls, that I would hear Thee from afar, and be converted, and call upon Thee, that calledst after _ me; for Thou, Lord, blottedst out all my evil deservings, so as not to repay into my hands, wherewith I fell from Thee; and Thou hast prevented all my well deservings, so as to repay the work of Thy hands wherewith Thou madest me; because before I was, Thou wert; nor was I any thing, to which Thou mightest grant to be; and yet behold, I am, out of Thy good- ness, preventing all this which Thou hast made me, and whereof Thou hast made me. For neither hadst Thou need of me, nor am I any such good, as to be helpful unto Thee, my Lord and God; not in serving Thee, as though Thou wouldest tire in working; or lest Thy power might be less, if lacking my service: nor cultivating Thy service, as a land, that must remain un- cultivated, unless I cultivated Thee: but serving and worship- ping Thee, that I might receive a well-being from Thee, from whom it comes, that I have a being capable of well-being.
For of the fulness of Thy goodness, doth Thy creature sub- sist, that so a good, which could no ways profit Thee, nor was of Thee, (lest so it should be equal to Thee), might yet be since it could be made of Thee. For what did heaven and earth, which Thou madest in the Beginning, deserve of Thee? Let those spiritual and corporeal natures which Thou madest in Thy Wisdom, say wherein they deserved of Thee, to depend thereon (even in that their several inchoate and formless state, whether spiritual or corporeal, ready to fall away into an immoderate liberty and far-distant unlikeliness unto Thee; _—the spiritual, though without form, superior to the corporeal
though formed, and the corporeal though without form, better co 229
2
>
230 / Saint Augustine eee en orl Ge eee oe than were it altogether nothing), and so to depend upon Thy Word, as formless, unless by the same Word they were brought back to Thy Unity, indued with form and from Thee the One © Sovereign Good were made all very good. How did they de- serve of Thee, to be even without form, since they had not been even this, but from Thee?
How did corporeal matter deserve of Thee, to be even in- visible and without form? seeing it were not even this, but that Thou madest it, and therefore because it was not, could not deserve of Thee to be made. Or how could the inchoate spirit- ual creature deserve of Thee, even to ebb and flow darksomely like the deep,—unlike Thee, unless it had been by the same Word turned to that, by Whom it was created, and by Him so enlightened, become light; though not equally, yet conform- ably to that Form which is equal unto Thee? For as in a body, to be, is not one with being beautiful, else could it not be de- formed; so likewise to a created spirit to live, is not one with living wisely; else should it be wise unchangeably. But good it is for it always to hold fast to Thee; lest what light it hath obtained by turning to Thee, it lose by turning from Thee, and relapse into life resembling the darksome deep. For we our- selves also, who as to the soul are a spiritual creature, turned away from Thee our light, were in that life sometimes dark- ness; and still labour amidst the relics of our darkness, until in Thy Only One we become Thy righteousness, like the moun- tains of God. For we have been Thy judgments, which are like the great deep.
That which Thou saidst in the beginning of the creation, Let there be light, and there was light; I do, not unsuitably, understand of the spiritual creature: because there was already a sort of life, which Thou mightest illuminate. But as it had no claim on Thee for a life, which could be enlightened, so neither now that it was, had it any, to be enlightened. For neither could its formless estate be pleasing unto Thee, unless it became light, and that not by existing simply, but by be- holding the illuminating light, and cleaving to it; so that, that it lived, and lived happily, it owes to nothing but Thy grace, being turned by a better change unto That, which, cannot be changed into worse or better; which Thou alone art, because Thou alone simply art; unto Thee it being not one thing to live, another to live blessedly, seeing Thyself art Thine own Blessedness.
What then could be wanting unto Thy good, which Thou Thyself art, although these things had either never been, or
SR a ARR CD Tae einai. Foe
ut out of the fulness of Thy eee restraining ie
and converting them to form, not as though Thy joy were ful-
filled by them? For to Thee being perfect, is their imperfec-
_ tion displeasing, and hence were they perfected by Thee, and
please Thee; not as wert Thou imperfect, and by their perfect- ing wert also to be perfected. For Thy good Spirit indeed was borne over the waters, not borne up by them, as if He rested upon them. For those, on whom Thy good Spirit is said to
_ rest, He causes to rest in Himself. But Thy incorruptible and _ unchangeable will, in itself all-sufficient for itself, was borne _ upon that life which Thou hadst created; to which, living is _ not one with happy living, seeing it liveth also, ebbing and
flowing in its own darkness: for which it remaineth to be con- verted unto Him, by Whom it was made, and to live more and more by the fountain of life, and in His light to see light, and to be perfected, and enlightened, and beautified.
Lo, now the Trinity appears unto me in a glass darkly, which is Thou my God, because Thou, O Father, in Him Who is the Beginning of our wisdom, Which is Thy Wisdom, born of Thyself, equal unto Thee and coeternal, that is, in Thy Son, createdst heaven and earth. Much now have we said of the Heaven of heavens, and of the earth invisible and without form, and of the darksome deep, in reference to the wandering instability of its spiritual deformity, unless it had been con- verted unto Him, from Whom it had its then degree of life, and by His enlightening became a beauteous life, and the heaven of that heaven, which was afterwards set between water and water. And under the name of God, I now held the Father, who made these things, and under the name of Be- ginning, the Son, in whom He made these things; and believ-
' ing, as I did, my God as the Trinity, I searched further in His
holy words, and lo, Thy Spirit moved upon the waters. Be- hold the Trinity, my God, Father, and Son, and Holy Ghost, Creator of all creation.
But what was the cause, O true-speaking Light?—unto Thee lift I up my heart, let it not teach me vanities, dispel its dark-
_ ness; and tell me, I beseech Thee, by our mother charity, tell _ me the reason, I beseech Thee, why after the mention of
_ heaven, and of the earth invisible and without form, and dark- _ -Ness upon the deep, Thy Scripture should then at length men- _ tion Thy Spirit? Was it because it was meet that the knowl-
edge of Him should be conveyed, as being “borne above”; and
* this could not be said, unless that were first mentioned, over
, = ye. Pe we
232 / Saint Augustine nea which Thy Spirit may be understood to have been borne. For neither was He borne above the Father, nor the Son, nor could He rightly be said to be borne above, if He were borne over nothing. First then was that to be spoken of, over which He might be borne; and then He, whom it was meet not otherwise to be spoken of than as being borne. But wherefore was it not meet that the knowledge of Him should be conveyed other- wise, than as being borne above?
Hence let him that is able, follow with his understanding Thy Apostle, where he thus speaks, Because Thy love is shed abroad in our hearts by the Holy Ghost which is given unto us: and where concerning spiritual gifts, he teacheth ‘and showeth unto us a more excellent way of charity; and where he bows his knee unto Thee for us, that we may know the su- pereminent knowledge of the love of Christ. And therefore from the beginning, was He borne supereminent above the waters. To whom shall I speak this? how speak of the weight of evil desires, downwards to the steep abyss; and how charity raises up again by Thy Spirit which was borne above the waters? to whom shall I speak it? how speak it? For it is not in space that we are merged and emerge. What can be more, and yet what less like? They be affections, they be loves; the uncleanness of our spirit flowing away downwards with the love of cares, and the holiness of Thine raising us upward by love of unanxious repose; that we may lift our hearts unto Thee, where Thy Spirit is borne above the waters; and come to that supereminent repose, when our soul shall have passed through the waters which yield no support. -
Angels fell away, man’s soul fell away, and thereby pointed out the abyss in that dark depth, ready for the whole spiritual creation, hadst not Thou said from the beginning, Let there be light, and there had been light, and every obedient intelligence of Thy heavenly City had cleaved to Thee, and rested in Thy Spirit, Which is borne unchangeably over every thing change- able. Otherwise, had even the heaven of heavens been in itself a darksome deep; but now it is light in the Lord. For even in that miserable restlessness of the spirits, who fell away and discovered their own darkness, when bared of the clothing of Thy light, dost Thou sufficiently reveal how noble Thou madest the reasonable creature; to which nothing will suffice to yield
a happy rest, less than Thee; and so not even herself. For Thou, —
O our God, shalt lighten our darkness: from Thee riseth our garment of light; and then shall our darkness be as the noon day. Give Thyself unto me, O my God, restore Thyself unto
ee
=" 2
st Rey iu cannot measure so as to ees how much love there yet lacketh to me, ere my life may run into Thy embracements, hor turn away, until it be hidden in the hidden place of Thy Presence. This only I know, that woe is me except in Thee: “not only without but within myself also; and all abundance, hich is not my God, is emptiness to me.
But was not either the Father, or the Son, borne above the waters? if this means, in space, like a body, then neither was he Holy Spirit; but if the unchangeable supereminence of
ivinity above all things changeable, then were both Father, and Son, and Holy Ghost borne upon the waters. Why then
this said of Thy Spirit only, why is it said only of Him? As
if He had been in place, Who is not in place, of Whom only it is written, that He is Thy gift? In Thy Gift we rest; there we enjoy Thee. Our rest is our place. Love lifts us up thither, and el good Spirit lifts up our lowliness from the gates of death. Thy good pleasure is our peace. The body by its own eight strives towards its own place. Weight makes not down- ward only, but to his own place. Fire tends upward, a stone ‘downward. They are urged by their own weight, they seek their own places. Oil poured below water, is raised above the ‘water; water poured upon oil, sinks below the oil. They are ged by their own weights to seek their own places. When out of their order, they are restless; restored to order, they are at rest. My weight, is my love; thereby am I borne, whither- ‘soever I am borne. We are inflamed, by Thy Gift we are kin- died; and are carried upwards; we glow inwardly, and go for- wards. We ascend Thy ways that be in our heart, and sing a song of degrees; we glow inwardly with Thy fire, with Thy good fire, and we go; because we go upwards to the peace of Jerusalem: for gladdened was I in those who said unto me, We will go up to the house of the Lord. There hath Thy good pleasure placed us, that we may desire nothing else, but to abide there for ever. ; _ Blessed creature, which being itself other than Thou, has known no other condition, than that, so soon as it was made, it was, without any interval, by Thy Gift, Which is borne above every thing changeable, borne aloft by that calling whereby Thou saidst, Let there be light, and there was light. Whereas in us this took place at different times, in that we were darkness, and are made light: but of that is only said, what it would have been, had it not been enlightened. And, his is so spoken, as if it had been unsettled and darksome be-
234 / Saint Augustine — ne fore; that so the cause whereby it was made otherwise, might appear, namely, that being turned to the Light unfailing it be- came light. Whoso can, let him understand this; let him ask of Thee. Why should he trouble me, as if I could enlighten any man that cometh into this world?
Which of us comprehendeth the Almighty Trinity? and yet which speaks not of It, if indeed it be It? Rare is the soul, which while it speaks of It, knows what it speaks of. And they contend and strive, yet, without peace, no man sees that vision. I would that men would consider these three, that are in them- — selves. These three be indeed far other than the Trinity: I da but tell, where they may practise themselves, and there prove and feel how far they be. Now the three I spake of are, To Be, to Know, and to Will. For I Am, and Know, and Will: I Am Knowing and Willing: and I Know myself to Be, and to Will: and I Will to Be, and to Know. In these three then, let him — discern that can, how inseparable a life there is, yea one life, ~ one mind, and one essence, yea lastly how inseparable a dis- — tinction there is, and yet a distinction. Surely a man hath it before him; let him look into himself, and see, and tell me. But — when he discovers and can say any thing of these, let him not — therefore think that he has found that which is above these — Unchangeable, which Is unchangeably, and Knows unchange- ably, and Wills unchangeably; and whether because of the three, there is in God also a Trinity, or whether all three be in Each, so that the three belong to Each; or whether both way at once, wondrously, simply and yet manifoldly, Itself a bound unto Itself within Itself, yet unbounded; whereby It is, and is Known unto Itself and sufficeth to Itself, unchangeably th Self-same, by the abundant greatness of its Unity—who can readily conceive this? who could any ways express it? who would, any way, pronounce thereon rashly? "
Proceed in thy confession, say to the Lord thy God, O my” faith, Holy, Holy, Holy, O Lord my God, in. Thy Name have we been baptised, Father, Son, and Holy Ghost; in Thy Name do we baptise, Father, Son, and Holy Ghost, because among us also, in His Christ did God make heaven and earth, namely, the spiritual and carnal people of His Church. Yea and our earth, before it received the form of doctrine, was invisible and without form; and we were covered with the darkness of ignorance. For Thou chastenedst man for iniquity, and Thy judgments were like the great deep unto him. But because Thy Spirit was borne above the waters, Thy mercy forsook not our misery, and Thou saidst, Let there be light, Repent ye, for
(de aa ee
1e kingdom nd. Repent ye, let there be ight. And because our soul was troubled within us, we re- tmembered Thee, O Lord, from the land of Jordan, and that ‘Mountain equal unto Thyself, but little for our sakes: and our darkness displeased us, we turned unto Thee and there was light. And, behold, we were sometimes darkness, but now light in the Lord. _ But as yet by faith and not by sight, for by hope we are saved; but hope that is seen, is not hope. As yet doth deep call unto deep, but now in the voice of Thy waterspouts. As yet doth he that saith, I could not speak unto you as unto spir- itual, but as unto carnal, even he as yet, doth not think himself to have apprehended, and forgetteth those things which are behind, and reacheth forth to those which are before, and _groaneth being burthened, and his soul thirsteth after the Liv- ing God, as the hart after the water-brooks, and saith, When shall I come? desiring to be clothed upon with his house which is from heaven, and calleth upon this lower deep, saying, Be not conformed to this world, but be ye transformed by the re- “newing of your mind. And, be not children in understanding, but in malice, be ye children, that in understanding ye may be if rfect; and O foolish Galatians, who hath bewitched you? But now no longer in his own voice; but in Thine who sentest fut Spirit from above; through Him who ascended up on high, and set open the flood-gates of His gifts, that the force _of His streams might make glad the city of God. Him doth this friend of the bridegroom sigh after, having now the first-fruits of the Spirit laid up with Him, yet still groaning within him- elf, waiting for the adoption, to wit, the redemption of his ‘body; to Him he sighs, a member of the Bride; for Him he is jealous, as being a friend of the Bridegroom; for Him he is ‘jealous, not for himself; because in the voice of Thy water- ‘spouts, not in his own voice, doth he call to that other depth, over whom being jealous he feareth, lest as the serpent be- guiled Eve through his subtilty, so their minds should be cor- Tupted from the purity that is in our Bridegroom Thy only Son. O what a light of beauty will that be, when we shall see Jim as He is, and those tears be passed away, which have been my meat day and night, whilst they daily say unto me, Where is now Thy God? _ Behold, I too say, O my God, Where art Thou? see, where ‘Thou art! in Thee I breathe a little, when I pour out my soul by myself in the voice of joy and praise, the sound of him that keeps holy-day. And yet again it is sad, because it relapseth,
a
SES ee GB Oe aie ae ee = 236 / Saint Augustine Voy ate oe ee ae
and becomes a deep, or rather perceives itself still to be a — deep. Unto it speaks my faith which Thou hast kindled to enlighten my feet in the night, Why art thou sad, O my soul, and why dost thou trouble me? Hope in the Lord; His word is a lanthorn unto thy feet: hope and endure, until the night, the mother of the wicked, until the wrath of the Lord, be over- past, whereof we also were once children, who were some- — times darkness, relics whereof we bear about us in our body, dead because of sin; until the day break, and the shadows fly away. Hope thou in the Lord; in the morning I shall stand in Thy presence, and contemplate Thee: I shall for ever confess — unto Thee. In the morning I shall stand in Thy presence, and shall see the health of my countenance, my God, who also shall quicken our mortal bodies, by the Spirit that dwelleth in us, because He hath in mercy been borne over our inner dark- some and floating deep: from Whom we have in this pilgrim- age received an earnest, that we should now be light: whilst we are saved by hope, and are the children of light, and the children of the day, not the children of the night, nor of the darkness, which yet sometimes we were. Betwixt whom and us, in this uncertainty of human knowledge, Thou only divid- est; Thou, who provest our hearts, and callest the light, day, and the darkness, night. For who discerneth us, but Thou? And what have we, that we have not.received of Thee? out of the same lump vessels are made unto honour, whereof others also are made unto dishonour.
Or who, except Thou, our God, made for us that firmament of authority over us in Thy Divine Scripture? as it is said, For heaven shall be folded up like a scroll; and now is it stretched over us like a skin. For Thy Divine Scripture is of more emi- nent authority, since those mortals by whom Thou dispensest it unto us, underwent mortality. And Thou knowest, Lord, Thou knowest, how Thou with skins didst clothe men, when — they by sin became mortal. Whence Thou hast like a skin — stretched out the firmament of Thy book, that is, Thy har- monizing words, which by the ministry of mortal men Thou spreadest over us. For by their very death was that solid firma- ment of authority, in Thy discourses set forth by them, more eminently extended over all that be under it; which whilst — they lived here, was not so eminently extended. Thou hadst — not as yet spread abroad the heaven like a skin; Thou hadst not as yet enlarged in all directions the glory of their deaths. —
Let us look, O Lord, upon the heavens, the work of Thy — fingers; clear from our eyes that cloud, which Thou hast spread ~
4
’ a
a
as > rie NA tae
ve ey aS “The Confe essions ye 237
as ?
unto the little ones: perfect, O my God, Thy praise out of the mouth of babes and sucklings. For we know no other books,
defender, who resisteth Thy reconciliation by defending his own sins. I know not, Lord, I know not any other such pure words, which so persuade me to confess, and make my neck pliant to Thy yoke, and invite me to serve Thee for nought. Let me understand them, good Father: grant this to me, who am placed under them: because for those placed under them, hast Thou established them.
Other waters there be above this firmament, I believe im- Mortal, and separated from earthly corruption. Let them praise Thy Name, let them praise Thee, the supercelestial peo- _ ple, Thine angels, who have no need to gaze up at this firma- _ ment, or by reading to know of Thy Word. For they always _ behold Thy face, and there read without any syllables in time, _ what willeth Thy eternal will; they read, they choose, they _ love. They are ever reading; and that never passes away which they read; for by choosing, and by loving, they read the very unchangeableness of Thy counsel. Their book is never closed, nor their scroll folded up; seeing Thou Thyself art this to _ them, and art eternally; because Thou hast ordained them _ above this firmament, which Thou hast firmly settled over the _ infirmity of the lower people, where they might gaze up and learn Thy mercy, announcing in time Thee Who madest times. For Thy mercy, O. Lord, is in the heavens, and Thy truth -Teacheth unto the clouds. The clouds pass away, but the heaven -abideth. The preachers of Thy word pass out of this life into another; but Thy Scripture is spread abroad over the people, even unto the end of the world. Yet heaven and earth also shall pass away, but Thy words shall not pass away. Because the scroll shall be rolled together: and the grass over which it was spread, shall with the goodliness of it pass away; but Thy Word remaineth for ever, which now appeareth unto us under the dark image of the clouds, and through the glass of the heavens, not as it is: because we also, though the well-beloved of Thy Son, yet it hath not yet appeared what we shall be. He looketh through the lattice of our flesh, and He spake us tenderly, and kindled us, and we ran after His odours. But v yhen He shall appear, then shall we be like Him, for we shall see Him as He is. As He is, Lord, will our sight be.
. For altogether, as Thou art, Thou only knowest; Who art
J
unchangeably,, and knowest unchangeably, and willest un-
under een! There is Thy testimony, which giveth wisdom —
which so destroy pride, which so destroy the enemy and the
Sg ee eG ae
238 / Saint Augustine ;
changeably. And Thy Essence Knoweth, and Willeth un-_
changeably; and Thy Knowledge Is, and Willeth unchangeably; and Thy Will Is, and knoweth unchangeably. Nor seemeth it right in Thine eyes, that as the Unchangeable Light knoweth Itself, so should it be known by the thing enlightened, and changeable. Therefore is my soul like a land where no water is, because as it cannot of itself enlighten itself, so can it not of itself satisfy itself. For so is the fountain of life with Thee, like as in Thy light we shall see light.
Who gathered the embittered together into one society? For they have all one end, a temporal and earthly felicity, for at- taining whereof they do all things, though they waver up and down with an innumerable variety of cares. Who, Lord, but Thou, saidst, Let the waters be gathered together into one place, and let the dry land appear, which thirsteth after Thee? For the sea also is Thine, and Thou hast made it, and Thy hands prepared the dry land. Nor is the bitterness of men’s wills, but the gathering together of the waters, called sea; for Thou restrainest the wicked desires of men’s souls, and settest them their bounds, how far they may be allowed to pass, that their waves may break one against another: and thus makest Thou it a sea, by the order of Thy dominion over all things.
But the souls that thirst after Thee, and that appear before Thee (being by other bounds divided from the society of the sea), Thou waterest by a sweet spring, that the earth may bring forth her fruit, and Thou, Lord God, so commanding, our soul may bud forth works of mercy according to their kind, loving our neighbour in the relief of his bodily necessities, hav- ing seed in itself according to its likeness, when from feeling of our infirmity, we compassionate so as to relieve the needy; helping them, as we would be helped; if we were in like need; not only in things easy, as in herb yielding seed, but also in the protection of our assistance, with our best strength, like the tree yielding fruit: that is, well-doing in rescuing him that suf- fers wrong, from the hand of the powerful, and giving him the shelter of protection, by the mighty strength of just judgment.
So, Lord, so, I beseech Thee, let there spring up, as Thou doest, as Thou givest cheerfulness and ability, let truth spring out of the earth, and righteousness look down from heaven,
and let there be lights in the firmament. Let us break our
bread to the hungry, and bring the houseless poor to our house. Let us clothe the naked, and despise not those of our own
5 .
— eS
flesh. Which fruits having sprung out of the earth, see it is —
good: and let our temporary light break forth; and ourselves,
,
fulness of contemplation, obtaining the Word of Life above,
appear like lights in the world, cleaving to the firmament of Thy Scripture. For there Thou instructest us, to divide be- tween the things intellectual, and things of sense, as betwixt the day and the night; or between souls, given either to things intellectual, or things of sense, so that now not Thou only in ‘the secret of Thy judgment, as before the firmament was made, dividest between the light and the darkness, but Thy spiritual children also set and ranked in the same firmament, (now that Thy grace is laid open throughout the world), may give light upon the earth, and divide betwixt the day and the night, and be for signs of times, that old things are passed away, and, behold, all things are become new; and that our salvation is nearer than when we believed: and that the night is far spent, and the day is at hand: and that Thou wilt crown Thy year with blessing, sending the labourers of Thy goodness into Thy harvest, in sowing whereof, others have laboured, “sending also into another field, whose harvest shall be in the end. Thus grantest Thou the prayers of him that asketh, and ‘blessest the years of the just; but Thou art the same, and in Thy years which fail not, Thou preparest a garner for our pass- ing years. For Thou by an eternal counsel dost in their proper ‘seasons bestow heavenly blessings upon the earth. For to one is given by the Spirit the word of wisdom, as it were the lesser light: to another faith; to another the gift with the light of perspicuous truth, as it were for the rule of the day. To an- other the word of knowledge by the same Spirit, as it were the lesser light: to another faith; to another the gift of healing; to another the working of miracles; to another prophecy; to an- other discerning of spirits; to another divers kinds of tongues. And all these as it were stars. For all these worketh the one and self-same spirit, dividing to every man his own as He will; and causing stars to appear manifestly, to profit withal. But the word of knowledge, wherein are contained all Sacraments, which are varied in their seasons as it were the moon, and those other notices of gifts, which are reckoned up in order, as it were stars, inasmuch as they come short of that brightness of wisdom, which gladdens the forementioned day, are only for the rule of the night. For they are necessary to such, as that Thy most prudent servant could not speak unto as unto spiritual, but as unto carnal; even he, who speaketh wisdom among those that are perfect. But the natural man, as it were a babe in Christ and fed on milk, until he be ‘strengthened for
240 / Saint Augustine Sea
: *
solid meat and his eye be enabled to behold the Sun, let him
not dwell in a night forsaken of all light, but be content with the light of the moon and the stars. So dost Thou speak to us, our All-wise God, in Thy Book, Thy firmament; that we may discern all things, in an admirable contemplation; though as yet in signs and in times, and in days, and in years.
But first, wash you, be clean; put away evil from your souls, and from before mine eyes, that the dry land may appear. Learn to do good, judge the fatherless, plead for the widow, that the earth may bring forth the green herb for meat, and the tree bearing fruit; and come, let us reason together, saith the Lord, that there may be lights in the firmament ofthe heaven, and they may shine upon the earth. That rich man
asked of the good Master, what he should do to attain eternal ~
life. Let the good Master tell him (whom he thought no more than man; but He is good because He is God), let Him tell him, if he would enter into life, he must keep the command- ments: let him put away from him the bitterness of malice and wickedness; not kill, not commit adultery, not steal, not bear false witness; that the dry land may appear, and bring forth the honouring of father and mother, and the love of our neigh- bour. All these (saith he) have I kept. Whence then so many thorns, if the earth be fruitful? Go, root up the spreading thickets of covetousness; sell that thou hast, and be filled with fruit, by giving to the poor, and thou shalt have treasure in heaven; and follow the Lord if thou wilt be perfect, associated with them, among whom He speaketh wisdom, Who knoweth what to distribute to the day, and to the night, that thou also mayest know it, and for thee there may be lights in the firma- ment of heaven; which will not be, unless thy heart be there: nor will that either be, unless there thy treasure be; as thou hast heard of the good Master. But that barren earth was grieved; and the thorns choked the word.
But you, chosen generation, you weak things of the world, who have forsaken all, that ye may follow the Lord; go after Him, and confound the mighty; go after Him, ye beautiful feet, and shine ye in the firmament, that the heavens may de- clare His glory, dividing between the light of the perfect, though not as the angels, and the darkness of the little ones, though not despised. Shine over the earth; and let the day,
lightened by the sun, utter unto day, speech of wisdom; and —
night, shining with the moon, show unto night, the word of knowledge. The moon and stars shine for the night; yet doth not the night obscure them, seeing they give it light in its de-
a
y
behold God saying, as it were he firmament of heaven; there came suddenly a sound from heaven, as it had been the rushing of a mighty wind, and there appeared cloven tongues like as of fire, and it sat upon each of em. And there were made lights in the firmament of heaven,
having the word of life. Run ye to and fro every where, ye
nor are ye put under a bushel; He whom you cleave unto, is exalted, and hath exalted you. Run ye to and fro, and be nown unto all nations.
Let the sea also conceive and bring forth your works; and let the waters bring forth the moving creature that hath life. a ye, separating the precious from the vile, are made the mouth of God, by whom He saith, Let the waters bring forth, not the living creature which the earth brings forth, but the moving creature having life, and the fowls that fly above the earth. For Thy Sacraments, O God, by the ministry of Thy he ly ones, have moved amid the waves of temptations of the world, to hallow the Gentiles in Thy Name, in Thy Baptism. nd amid these things, many great wonders were wrought, as were great whales: and the voices of Thy messengers flying bove the earth, in the open firmament of Thy Book; that be- ing set over them, as their authority under which they were to fly, whithersoever they went. For there is no speech nor lan- guage, where their voice is not heard: seeing their sound is ne through all the earth, and their words to the end of the jorld, because Thou, Lord, multipliedst them by blessing.
_ Speak I untruly, or do I mingle and confound, and not dis- nguish between the lucid knowledge of these things in the mament of heaven, and the material works in the wavy sea, d under the firmament of heaven? For of those things hereof the knowledge is substantial and defined, without any increase by generation, as it were lights of wisdom and knowl- sdge, yet even of them, the material operations are many and vers; and one thing growing out of another, they are multi- lied by Thy blessing, O God, who hast refreshed the fastidi- usness of mortal senses; that so one thing in the understanding ‘our mind, may, by the motions of the body, be many ways out, and expressed. These Sacraments have the waters ‘ought forth; but in Thy word. The necessities of the people tranged from the eternity of Thy truth, have brought them rth, but in Thy Gospel; because the waters themselves cast em forth, the diseased bitterness whereof was the cause, why
7 were sent forth in Thy Word.
a r : i” ¥: en ee I ae ee an oe aT Pane est . aod ‘he Co nfession ay g 4) ty ; ir ors eae
holy fires, ye beauteous fires; for ye are the light of the world,
ro ceases Paes Fon oo ‘ - on
242 / Saint Augustine
Now are all things fair that Thou hast made; but behold, Thyself art unutterably fairer, that madest all; from whom had not Adam fallen, the brackishness of the sea had never flowed out of him, that is, the human race so profoundly curious, and tempestuously swelling, and restlessly tumbling up and down; and then had there been no need of Thy dispensers to work in many waters, after a corporeal and sensible manner, mys- terious doings and sayings. For such those moving and flying creatures now seem to me to mean, whereby people being initiated and consecrated by corporeal Sacraments, should not further profit, unless their soul had a spiritual life, and unless after the word of admission, it looked forwards to perfection.
And hereby, in Thy Word, not the deepness of the sea, but the earth separated from the bitterness of the waters, brings forth, not the moving creature that hath life, but the living soul. For now hath it no more need of baptism, as the heathen have, and as itself had, when it was covered with the waters; (for no other entrance is there into the kingdom of heaven, since Thou hast appointed that this should be the entrance:) nor does it seek after wonderfulness of miracles to work belief; for it is not such, that unless it sees signs and wonders, it will not believe, now that the faithful earth is separated from the waters that were bitter with infidelity; and tongues are for a sign, not to them that believe, but to them that believe not. Neither then does that earth which Thou hast founded upon the waters, need that flying kind, which at Thy word the waters brought forth. Send Thou Thy word into it by Thy messengers: for we speak of their working, yet it is Thou that workest in them that they may work out a living soul in it. The earth brings it forth, because the earth is the cause that they work this in the soul; as the sea was the cause that they wrought upon the moving creatures that have life, and the fowls that fly under the firmament of heaven, of whom the earth hath no need; although it feeds upon that fish which was taken out of the deep, upon that table which Thou hast prepared in the presence of them that believe. For therefore was He taken out of the deep, that He might feed the dry land; and the fowl, though bred in the sea, is yet multiplied upon the earth. For of the first preachings of the Evangelists, man’s infidelity was the cause; yet are the faithful also exhorted and blessed by them manifoldly, from day to day. But the living soul takes his beginning from the earth: for it profits only those already among the Faithful, to contain themselves from the love of this world, that so their soul may live unto Thee, which was
.
while it lived in pleasures; in death-bringing pleasures, hs i, for Thou, Lord, art the life-giving delight of the pure
Now then let Thy ministers work upon the earth,—not as on the waters of infidelity, by preaching and speaking by acles, and Sacraments, and mystic words; wherein igno- nce; the mother of admiration, might be intent upon them, tt of a reverence towards those secret signs. For such is the trance unto the Faith for the sons of Adam forgetful of aee, while they hide themselves from Thy face, and become a darksome deep. But—let Thy ministers work now as on the dry land, separated from the whirlpools of the great deep: and let them be a pattern unto the Faithful, by living before them, nd stirring them up to imitation. For thus do men hear, so as not to hear only, but to do also. Seek the Lord, and your soul shall live, that the earth may bring forth the living soul. Be not conformed to the world. Contain yourselves from it: ae soul lives by avoiding what it dies by affecting. Contain murselves from the ungoverned wildness of pride, the sluggish foluptuousness of luxury, and the false name of knowledge: that so the wild beasts may be tamed, the cattle broken to the yoke, the serpents, harmless. For these be the motions of our ind under an allegory; that is to say, the haughtiness of © ide, the delight of lust, and the poison of curiosity, are the motions of a dead soul; for the soul dies not so as to lose all motion; because it dies by forsaking the fountain of life, and is taken up by this transitory world, and is conformed unto
_ But Thy word, O God, is the fountain of life eternal; and
ysseth not away: wherefore this departure of the soul is re- strained by Thy word, when it is said unto us, Be not con-
med unto this world; that so the earth may in the fountain life bring forth a living soul; that is, a soul made continent in Thy Word, by Thy Evangelists, by following the followers f Thy Christ. For this is after his kind; because a man is wont — ) imitate his friend. Be ye (saith he) as I am, for I also am as u are. Thus in this living soul shall there be good beasts, in eekness of action (for Thou hast commanded, Go on with y business in meekness, so shalt thou be beloved by all ); and good cattle, which neither if they eat, shall they -abound, nor, if they eat not, have any lack; and good ser- s, not dangerous, to do hurt, but wise to take heed; and ‘making so much search into this temporal nature, as may ce that eternity be clearly seen, being understood by the
ee yt ee et a re ee Tar : The Confessions / 243 ~~
- Jie > mes 7. 2
944 / Saint Augustine
things that are made. For these creatures are obedient unto” reason, when being restrained from deadly prevailing upon us, they live, and are good. {
For behold, O Lord, our God, our Creator, when our affec- tions have been restrained from the love of the world, by — which we died through evil-living; and begun to be a living soul, through good living; and Thy word which Thou spakest by Thy apostle, is made good in us, Be not conformed to this world: there follows that also, which Thou presently sub- joinedst, saying, But be ye transformed by the renewing of your mind; not now after your kind, as though following your neighbour who went before you, nor as living after the ex- ample of some better man (for Thou saidst not, “Let man be made after his kind,” but, Let us make man after our own © image and similitude), that we might prove what Thy will is. For to this purpose said that dispenser of Thine (who begat — children by the Gospel), that he might not for ever have them ~ babes, whom he must be fain to feed with milk, and cherish as — a nurse; be ye transformed (saith he) by the renewing of your — mind, that ye may prove what is that good and acceptable and perfect will of God. Wherefore Thou sayest not, “Let man be made,” but Let us make man. Nor saidst Thou, “according to his kind”; but, after our image and likeness. For man being ~ renewed in his mind, and beholding and understanding Thy — truth, needs not man as his director, so as to follow after his kind; but by Thy direction proveth what is that good, that — acceptable, and perfect will of Thine: yea, Thou teachest him, now made capable, to discern the Trinity. of the Unity, and the Unity of the Trinity. Wherefore to that said in the plural. © Let us make man, is yet subjoined in the singular, And God — made man: and to that said in the plural. After our likeness, is subjoined in the singular, After the image of God. Thus is — man renewed in the knowledge of God, after the image of Him that created him: and being made spiritual, he judgeth all things (all things which are to be judged), yet himself is judged of no man.
But that he judgeth all things, this answers to his having dominion over the fish of the sea, and over the fowls of air, and over all cattle and wild beasts, and over all the earth. and over every creeping thing that creepeth upon the earth. For this he doth by the understanding of his mind, whereby he perceiveth the things of the Spirit of God; whereas other- wise, man being placed in honour, had no understanding, and is compared unto the brute beasts, and is become like unte
| A 7 s
: Pape of i s +h ES Pak a ae oo an fe : . In Thy C hurch herefore, O our God, aieedine to Thy which Thou hast bestowed upon it (for we are Thy manship created unto good works), not those only who re spiritually set over, but they also who spiritually are sub- ject to those that are set over them,—for in this way didst Thou make man male and female, in Thy grace spiritual, where, according to the sex of body, there is neither male nor emale, because neither Jew nor Grecian, neither bond nor e.—Spiritual persons (whether such as are set over, or such obey); do judge spiritually; not of that spiritual knowledge ich shines in the firmament (for they ought not to judge as to so supreme authority), nor may they judge of Thy Book tself, even though something there shineth not clearly; for we submit our understanding unto it, and hold for certain, that even what is closed to our sight, is yet rightly and truly spoken. For so man, though now spiritual and renewed in the knowl- edge of God after His image that created him, ought to be a doer of the law, not a judge. Neither doth he judge of that distinction of spiritual and carnal men, who are known unto ‘Thine eyes, O our God, and have not as yet discovered them- elves unto us by works, that by their fruits we might know them: but Thou, Lord, dost even now know them, and hast divided and called them in secret, or ever the firmament was made. Nor doth he, though spiritual, judge the unquiet peo- ole of this world; for what hath he to do, to judge them that are without, knowing not which of them shall hereafter come into the sweetness of Thy grace; and which continue in the ‘perpetual bitterness of ungodliness? ' Man therefore, whom Thou hast made after Thine own “image, received not dominion over the lights of heaven, nor ‘over that hidden heaven itself, nor over the day and the night, which Thou calledst before the foundation of the heaven, nor over the gathering together of the waters, which is the sea; but He received dominion over the fishes of the sea, and the fowls f the air, and over all cattle, and over all the earth, and over ll creeping things which creep upon the earth. For He udgeth and approveth what He findeth right, and He dis- loweth what He findeth amiss, whether in the celebration ‘ those Sacraments by which such are initiated, as Thy mercy earches out in many waters: or in that, in which that Fish set forth, which, taken out of the deep, the devout earth deth upon: or in the expressions and signs of words, sub- t to the authority of Thy Book,—such signs, as proceed out of the mouth, and sound forth, fiying as it were under the
Ae
Bs oa
~
Pei j
The Gonfertions 9/245
The Confessions / 245 |. ee -
ca 4
te “4a
PRIN en Gn PR Se
“is
t cee SPS 246 / Saint Augustine eae ee
: : : ee firmament, by interpreting, expounding, discoursing, disput- ing, consecrating, or praying unto Thee, so that the people may answer, Amen. The vocal pronouncing of all which words, is occasioned by the deep of this world, and the blindness of the flesh, which cannot see thoughts; so that there is need to speak aloud into the ears; so that, although flying fowls be multiplied upon the earth, yet they derive their beginning from the waters. The spiritual man judgeth also by allowing of what is right, and disallowing what he finds amiss, in th works and lives of the faithful; their alms, as it were the earth bringing forth fruit, and of the living soul, living by the tam- ing of the affections, in chastity, in fasting, in holy medita tions; and of those things, which are perceived by the senses of the body. Upon all these is he now said to judge, wherein he hath also power of correction.
But what is this, and what kind of mystery? Behold, Thou blessest mankind, O Lord, that they may increase and mul- tiply, and replenish the earth; dost Thou not therby give us a hint to understand something? why didst Thou not as well bless the light, which Thou calledst day; nor the firmament of heaven, nor the lights, nor the stars, nor the earth, nor the sea? I might say that Thou, O God, who created us after Thine Image, I might say, that it had been Thy good pleasure to be- stow this blessing peculiarly upon man; hadst Thou not in like manner blessed the fishes and the whales, that they should increase and multiply, and replenish the waters of the sea, and that the fowls should be multiplied upon the earth. I migh say likewise, that this blessing pertained properly unto such’ creatures, as are bred of their own kind, had I found it given to the fruit-trees, and plants, and beasts of the earth. But now neither unto the herbs, nor the trees, nor the beasts, nor ser-- pents is it said, Increase and multiply; notwithstanding all these as well as the fishes, fowls, or men, do by generation increase and continue their kind.
What then shall I say, O Truth my Light? “that it was idly said, and without meaning?” Not so, O Father of piety, far be it from a minister of Thy word to say so. And if I understand not what Thou meanest by that phrase, let my betters, that is those of more understanding than myself, make better use of it, according as Thou, my God, hast given to each man to un- derstand. But let my confession also be pleasing in Thine eyes, wherein I confess unto Thee, that I believe, O Lord, tha Thou spakest not so in vain; nor will I suppress, what thi: lesson suggests to me. For it is true, nor do I see what should
Pha”
& Pt ‘ aid Con fe ns m thus understanding the figurative sayings o: . For I know a thing to be manifoldly signified by
mind; and that understood many ways in the mind, which is signified one way by corporeal expression. Behold, the single love of God and our neighbour, by what manifold sacraments, and innumerable languages, and in each several language, in
multiply. Observe again, whosoever readest this; behold, what _ Scripture delivers, and the voice pronounces one only way, In _ the Beginning God created heaven and earth; is it not under-
various kinds of true senses? Thus do man’s offspring increase and multiply.
_ If therefore we conceive of the natures of the things them- - selves, not allegorically, but properly, then does the phrase increase and multiply, agree unto all things, that come of seed. But if we treat of the words as figuratively spoken (which I tather suppose to be the purpose of the Scripture, which doth “not, surely, superfluously ascribe this benediction to the off- spring of aquatic animals and man only); then do we find “multitude” to belong to creatures spiritual as well as corpo- ‘eal, as in heaven and earth, and to souls both righteous and unrighteous, as in light and darkness; and to holy authors ‘who have been the ministers of the Law unto us, as in the _ firmament which is settled betwixt the waters and the waters; and to the society of people yet in the bitterness of infidelity, as in the sea; and to the zeal of holy souls, as in the dry land; and to works of mercy belonging to this present life, as in the herbs bearing seed, and in trees bearing fruit; and to spiritual gifts set forth for edification, as in the lights of heaven; and to affections formed unto temperance, as in the living soul. In all _ these instances we meet with multitudes, abundance, and in- crease; but what shall in such wise increase and multiply that one thing may be expressed many ways, and one expression understood many ways; we find not, except in signs corporeal- ly expressed, and in things mentally conceived. By signs Corpo- _Teally pronounced we understand the generations of the waters, necessarily occasioned by the depth of the flesh; by things mentally conceived, human generations, on account of the
fruitfulness of reason. And for this end do we believe Thee, Lord, to have said to these kinds, Increase and multiply. For
re
_ corporeal expressions, which is understood one way by the
Poe one
248. / Saint Augustine ae
and a faculty, both to express several ways what we under- stand but one; and to understand several ways, what we read to be obscurely delivered but in one. Thus are the waters of the sea replenished, which are not moved but by several signifi- cations: thus with human increase is the earth also replenished, whose dryness appeareth in its longing, and reason ruleth over it.
I would also say, O Lord my God, what the following Scrip- ture minds me of; yea, I will say, and not fear. For I will say the truth, Thyself inspiring me with what Thou willedst me to deliver out of those words. But by no other inspiration than Thine, do I believe myself to speak truth, seeing Thou art the Truth, and every man a liar. He therefore that speaketh a lie, speaketh of his own; that therefore I may speak truth, I will speak of Thine. Behold, Thou hast given unto us for food every herb bearing seed which is upon all the earth; and every tree, in which is the fruit of a tree yielding seed. And not to us alone, but also to all the fowls of the air, and to the beasts — of the earth, and to all creeping things; but unto the fishes and to the great whales, has Thou not given them. Now we said that by these fruits of the earth were signified, and fig- ured in an allegory, the works of mercy which are provided for the necessities of this life out of the fruitful earth. Such an earth was the devout Onesiphorus, unto whose house Thou gavest mercy, because he often refreshed Thy Paul, and was not ashamed of his chain. Thus did also the brethren, and such fruit did they bear, who out of Macedonia supplied what was lacking to him. But how grieved he for some trees, which did not afford him the fruit due unto him, where he saith, At my first answer no man stood by me, but all men forsook me. ~ I pray God that it may not be laid to their charge. For these fruits are due to such as minister the spiritual doctrine unto us out of their understanding of the divine mysteries; and they are due to them, as men; yea and due to them also, as the living soul, which giveth itself as an example, in all con- tinency; and due unto them also, as flying creatures, for their blessings which are multiplied upon the earth, because their sound went out into all lands.
But they are fed by these fruits, that are delighted with them; nor are they delighted with them, whose God is their belly. For neither in them that yield them, are the things yielded the fruit, but with what mind they yield them. He therefore that served God, and not his own belly, I plainly see why he rejoiced; I see it, and I rejoice with him. For he had received from the Philip-
The Confessions / 249
pians, what they had sent by Epaphroditus unto him: and yet I perceive why he rejoiced. For whereat he rejoiced upon that he fed; for, speaking in truth, I rejoiced (saith he) greatly in the Lord, that now at the last your care of me hath flourished again, wherein ye were also careful, but it had become wearisome unto you. These Philippians then had now dried up, with a long Weariness, and withered as it were as to bearing this fruit of a good work; and he rejoiceth for them, that they flourished again, not for himself, that they supplied his wants. Therefore subjoins he, not that I speak in respect of want, for I have learned in whatsoever state I am, therewith to be content. I know both how to be abased, and I know how to abound; every where and in all things I am instructed both to be full, and to be hungry; both to abound, and to suffer need. I can do all things through Him which strengtheneth me.
Whereat then rejoicest thou, O great Paul? whereat rejoicest thou? whereon feedest thou, O man, renewed in the knowledge of God, after the image of Him that created thee, thou living soul, of so much continency, thou tongue like flying fowls, speaking mysteries? (for to such creatures, is this food due;) what is it that feeds thee? Joy. Hear we what follows: notwith- Standing, ye have well done, that ye did communicate with my affliction. Hereat he rejoiceth, hereon feedeth; because they had well done, not because his strait was eased, who saith unto Thee, Thou hast enlarged me when I was in distress; for that he knew to abound, and to suffer want, in Thee Who strength- enest him. For ye Philippians also know (saith he), that in the beginning of the Gospel, when I departed from Macedonia, no Church communicated with me as concerning giving and re- ceiving, but ye only. For even in Thessalonica ye sent once and again unto my necessity. Unto these good works, he now re- joiceth that they are returned; and is gladdened that they flour- ished again, as when a fruitful field resumes its green.
Was it for his own necessities, because he said, Ye sent unto my necessity? Rejoiceth he for that? Verily not for that. But how know we this? Because himself says immediately, not be- cause I desire a gift, but I desire fruit. I have learned of Thee, my God, to distinguish betwixt a gift, and fruit. A gift, is the thing itself which he gives, that imparts these necessaries unto us; as money, meat, drink, clothing, shelter, help: but the fruit, is the good and right will of the giver. For the Good Master said not only, He that receiveth a prophet, but added, in the name of a prophet: nor did He only say, He that receiveth a righteous man, but added, in the name of a righteous man.
*
a OE ee
en r a os re er a
950 f Saint Augustine So verily shall the one receive the reward of a proph other, the reward of a righteous man: nor saith He only, } that shall give to drink a cup of cold water to one of my litth ones; but added, in the name of a disciple: and so conclude Verily I say unto you, he shall not lose his reward. The i is, to receive a prophet, to receive a righteous man, to giv a cup of cold water to a disciple: but the fruit, to do this i the name of a prophet, in the name of a righteous man, in the name of a disciple. With fruit was Elijah fed by the widow the knew she fed a man of God, and therefore fed him: but by th raven was he fed with a gift. Nor was the inner man of Elijak so fed, but the outer only; which might also for want-of that
food have perished. ‘I will then speak what is true in Thy sight, O Lord, that when carnal men and infidels (for the gaining and initiating whom, the initiatory Sacraments and the mighty workings of miracles are necessary, which we suppose to be signified by the name of fishes and whales) undertake the bodily refreshment, or other- wise succour Thy servant with something useful for this pres- ent life; whereas they be ignorant, why this is to be done, and to what end; neither do they feed these, nor are these fed b them; because neither do the one do it out of an holy and rig intent; nor do the other rejoice at their gifts, whose fruit they as yet behold not. For upon that is the mind fed, of which it is glad. And therefore do not the fishes and whales feed upon such meats, as the earth brings not forth until after it was separated and divided from the bitterness of the waves of the sea.
And Thou, O God, sawest every thing that Thou hadst made and, behold, it was very good. Yea we also see the same, behold, all things are very good. Of the several kinds of ° works, when Thou hadst said “let them be,” and they wer Thou sawest each that it was good. Seven times have I countet it to be written, that Thou sawest that that which Thou mad was good: and this is the eighth, that Thou sawest every th that Thou hadst made, and, behold, it was not only good, also very good, as being now altogether. For severally, were only good; but altogether, both good, and very good. Al beautiful bodies express the same; by reason that a body cor sisting of members all beautiful, is far more beautiful than same members by themselves are, by whose well-ordered ble: ing the whole is perfected; notwithstanding that the mem severally be also beautiful. }
And I looked narrowly to find, whether seven, or eight tit Thou sawest that Thy works were good, when they please
The Confessions / 251
Thee; but in Thy seeing I found no times, whereby I might understand that Thou sawest so often, what Thou madest. And I said, “Lord, is not this Thy Scripture true, since Thou art true, and being Truth, hast set it forth? why then dost Thou say unto me, ‘that in Thy seeing there be no times’; whereas this Thy Scripture tells me, that what Thou madest each day, Thou sawest that it was good: and when I counted them, I found how often.” Unto this Thou answerest me, for Thou art my God, and with a strong voice tellest Thy servant in his inner ear, breaking through my deafness and crying, “O man, that which My Scripture saith, I say: and yet doth that speak in time; but time has no relation to My Word; because My Word exists in equal eternity with Myself. So the things which ye see through My Spirit, I see; like as what ye speak by My Spirit, I speak. And so when ye see those things in time, I see them not in time; as when ye speak in time, I speak them not in time.”
And I heard, O Lord my God, and drank up a drop of sweet- ness out of Thy truth, and understood, that certain men there be who mislike Thy works; and say, that many of them Thou madest, compelled by necessity; such as the fabric of the heavens, and harmony of the stars; and that Thou madest them not of what was Thine, but that they were otherwhere and from other sources created, for Thee to bring together and com- pact and combine, when out of Thy conquered enemies Thou Taisedst up the walls of the universe; that they, bound down by the structure, might not again be able to rebel against Thee. For other things, they say Thou neither madest them, nor even com- pactedst them, such as all flesh and all very minute creatures, and whatsoever hath its root in the earth; but that a mind at enmity with Thee, and another nature not created by Thee, and contrary unto Thee, did, in these lower stages of the world, beget and frame these things. Frenzied are they who say thus, because they see not Thy works by Thy Spirit, nor recognise Thee in them.
But they who by Thy Spirit see these things, Thou seest in them. Therefore when they see that these things are good, Thou Seest that they are good; and whatsoever things for Thy sake please, Thou pleasest in them, and what through Thy Spirit please us, they please Thee in us. For what man knoweth the things of a man, save the spirit of a man, which is in him? even so the things of God knoweth no one, but the Spirit of God. Now we (saith he) have received, not the spirit of this world, but the Spirit which is of God, that we might know the things that are freely given to us of God. And I am admonished,
a
CaM aig eee “Truly the things of God knoweth no one, but the Spirit of God: how then do we also know, what things are given us of God?” Answer is made me; “because the things which we know by His Spirit, even these no one knoweth, but the Spirit of God. For as it is rightly said unto those that were to speak by the Spirit of God, it is not ye that speak: so is it rightly said to them that know through the Spirit of God, ‘It is not ye that know.” And no less then is it rightly said to those that see through the Spirit of God, ‘It is not ye that see’; so whatsoever through the Spirit of God they see to be good, it is not they, but God that sees that it is good.” It is one thing then for a man to think that to be ill which is good, as the forenamed do; another, that that which is good, a man should see that it is good (as Thy creatures be pleasing unto many, because they be good, whom yet Thou © pleasest not in them, when they prefer to enjoy them, to Thee); and another, that when a man sees a thing that it is good, God should in him see that it is good, so, namely, that He should be ~ loved in that which He made, Who cannot be loved, but by the Holy Ghost which He hath given. Because the love of God is” shed abroad in our hearts by the Holy Ghost, Which is given unto us: by Whom we see that whatsoever in any degree is, is good. For from Him it is, who.Himself Is not in degree, but what He Is, Is. 4 Thanks to Thee, O Lord. We behold the heaven and earth, - whether the corporeal part, superior and inferior, or the spirit- ual and corporeal creature; and in the adorning of these parts, whereof the universal pile of the world, or rather the universal creation, doth consist, we see light made, and divided from the darkness. We see the firmament of heaven, whether that pri- mary body of the world, between the spiritual upper waters and the inferior corporeal waters, or (since this also is called heaven) this space of air through which wander the fowls of heaven, betwixt those waters which are in vapours borne above them, and in clear nights distill down in dew; and those heavier waters which flow along the earth. We behold a face of waters gathered together in the fields of the sea; and the dry land both void, and formed so as to be visible and harmonized, yea and the matter of herbs and trees. We behold the lights shining from above, the sun to suffice for the day, the moon and the stars to cheer the night; and that by all these, times should be markec and signified. We behold on all sides a moist element, replen- ished with fishes, beasts, and birds; because the grossness of the air, which bears up the flights: of birds, thickeneth itself by the exhalation of the waters. We behold the face of the earth decked
aint Au ¥
ke ass
Me eat out with earthly creatures, and man, created after Thy image and likeness, even through that Thy very image and likeness, at is the power of reason and understanding), set over all irra- ional creatures. And as in his soul there is one power which has minion by directing, another made subject, that it might obey; so was there for the man, corporeally also, made a woman, who n the mind of her reasonable understanding should have a ity of nature, but in the sex of her body, should be in like nner subject to the sex of her husband, as the appetite of ding is fain to conceive the skill of right-doing from the reason the mind. These things we behold, and they are severally od, and altogether very good. Let Thy works praise Thee, that we may love Thee; and let love Thee, that Thy works may praise Thee, which from me have beginning and ending, rising and setting, growth and ecay, form and privation. They have then their succession of iorning and evening, part secretly, part apparently; for they vere made of nothing, by Thee, not of Thee; not of any matter Thine, or that was before, but of matter concreated (that at the same time created by Thee), because to its state with- out form, Thou without any interval of time didst give form. lor seeing the matter of heaven and earth is one thing, and the orm another, Thou madest the matter of merely nothing, but e form of the world out of the matter without form: yet both ether, so that the form should follow the matter, without any rval of delay. Ve have also examined what Thou willedst to be shadowed th, whether by the creation, or the relation of things in such order. And we have seen, that things singly are good, and together very good, in Thy Word, in Thy Only-Begotten, both eaven and earth, the Head and the body of the Church, in Thy redestination before all times, without morning and evening. t when Thou begannest to execute in time the things pre- stinated, to the end Thou mightest reveal hidden things, and tify our disorders; for our sins hung over us, and we had k into the dark deep; and Thy good Spirit was borne over to help us in due season; and Thou didst justify the ungodly, dividest them from the wicked; and Thou madest the firma- nt of authority of Thy Book between those placed above, vho were to be docile unto Thee, and those under, who were be subject to them: and Thou gatheredst together the society unbelievers into one conspiracy, that the zeal of the faith- ight appear, and they might bring forth works of mercy, distributing to the poor their earthly riches, to obtain
_ Perey a, ae a hin The Confessions / 253 — Yeas
ay
rey)
eae “a . J ee J r m 3
‘ ‘ 5 o +e - ; O54 ‘AP Saint “Augualeee
heavenly. And after this didst Thou kindle certain lights in the firmament, Thy Holy ones, having the word of life; and shin- ing with an eminent authority set on high through spiritual gifts; — after that again, for the initiation of the unbelieving Gentiles, didst Thou out of corporeal matter produce the Sacraments, and visible miracles, and forms of words according to the firma- ment of Thy Book, by which the faithful should be blessed and multiplied. Next didst Thou form the living soul of the faithful, through affections well ordered by the vigour of continency: and after that, the mind subjected to Thee alone and needing to — imitate no human authority, hast Thou renewed after Thy im- age and likeness; and didst subject its rational actions to the excellency of the understanding, as the woman to the man; and to all Offices of Thy Ministry, necessary for the perfecting of | the faithful in this life, Thou willedst, that for their some, Be uses, good things, fruitful to themselves in time to come, be
given by the same faithful. All these we see, and they are very- good, because Thou seest them in us, Who hast given unto us
Thy Spirit, by which we might see them, and in them love Thee. —
O Lord God, give peace unto us: (for Thou hast given us all things;) the peace of rest, the peace of the Sabbath, which hath no evening. For all this most goodly array of things very good, © having finished their courses, is to pass away, for in them there was morning and evening.
But the seventh day hath no evening, nor hath it setting; be- cause Thou hast sanctified it to an everlasting continuance; that that which Thou didst after Thy works which were very good, resting the seventh day, although Thou madest them in un- broken rest, that may the voice of Thy. Book announce before- hand unto us, that we also after our works (therefore very good, because Thou hast given them us), shall rest in Thee also in the Sabbath of eternal life.
For then shalt Thou so rest in us, as now Thou workest in-us; and so shall that be Thy rest through us, as these are Thy works through us. But Thou, Lord, ever workest, and art ever at rest. Nor dost Thou see in time, nor art moved in time, nor restest in a time; and yet Thou makest things seen in time, yea th times themselves, and the rest which results from time.
We therefore see these things which Thou madest, becaus they are: but they are, because Thou seest them. And we se without, that they are, and within, that they are good, but Thou sawest them there, when made, where Thou sawest them, yet to be made. And we were at a later time moved to do well, afte: our hearts had conceived of Thy Spirit; but in the former tim
a & ee od works, of Thy oh but not ieraah after them we — o rest in Thy great hallowing. But Thou, being the Good _ ch needeth no good, art ever at rest, because Thy rest is | Thyself. And what man can teach man to understand is! or what Angel, an Angel? or what Angel, a man? Let it
GRATIAS TIBI DOMINE
PHILOSOPHY
“Seek for yourself, O man; search for your true self. He who seeks shall find himself in God.”
In The Confessions, Saint Augustine addressed himself elo-
quently and passionately to the enduring spiritual questions ©
that have stirred the minds and hearts of thoughtful men since time began. Written A.D. 397, The Confessions are a history of the young Augustine’s fierce struggle to overcome his profligate ways and achieve a life of spiritual grace.
The first ten books of the work relate the story of Augus- tine’s childhood in Numidia; his licentious and riotous youth and early manhood in Carthage, Rome, and Milan; his con- tinuous struggle with evil; his attempts to find an anchor for his faith among the Manicheans and the Neoplatonists; the untiring efforts of his mother, Saint Monnica, to save him from self-destruction; and his ultimate conversion to the Christian faith at the age of thirty-two.
The last three books of The Confessions, unrelated to the preceding account of Saint Augustine’s early life, are an alle- gorical explanation of the Mosaic account of Creation. Throughout the work, the narrative, addressed to God, is in- terspersed with prayers, meditations, and instructions, many of which today are to be found in the liturgies of all sects of the Christian Church.
The Confessions constitute perhaps the most moving diary ever recorded of a soul’s journey to grace. Appearing midway in Saint Augustine’s prodigious body of theological writings, they stand among the most persuasive works of the sinner- turned-priest who was to exercise a greater influence on Christian thought than any of the other Church fathers.
This Collier Books edition of The Confessions of Saint Augustine contains the complete Edward B. Pusey transla-
tion of the original Latin text.
A
) |
80020642305 4
ieee 10:49-2 866