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           Title: NPNF1-01. The Confessions and Letters of St. Augustine, with a
                  Sketch of his Life and Work
      Creator(s):
                  Schaff, Philip (1819-1893) (Editor)
     Print Basis: New York: Christian Literature Publishing Co., 1886
          Rights: Public Domain
   CCEL Subjects: All; Proofed;Early Church;Classic;
      LC Call no: BR60
     LC Subjects:

                  Christianity

                  Early Christian Literature. Fathers of the Church, etc.
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   A SELECT LIBRARY

   OF THE

   NICENE AND

   POST-NICENE FATHERS

   OF

   THE CHRISTIAN CHURCH.

   EDITED BY

   PHILIP SCHAFF, D.D., LL.D.,

   PROFESSOR IN THE UNION THEOLOGICAL SEMINARY, NEW YORK,

   IN CONNECTION WITH A NUMBER OF PATRISTIC SCHOLARS OF EUROPE AND
   AMERICA.

   VOLUME I

   THE CONFESSIONS AND LETTERS OF ST. AUGUSTIN,

   WITH A SKETCH OF HIS LIFE AND WORK

   T&T CLARK

   EDINBURGH

   __________________________________________________

   WM. B. EERDMANS PUBLISHING COMPANY

   GRAND RAPIDS, MICHIGAN
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   Preface

   ------------------------

   Encouraged by the assured co-operation of competent Patristic scholars
   of Great Britain and the United States, I have undertaken the general
   editorship of a Select Library of the Nicene and Post-Nicene Fathers of
   the Christian Church. It is to embrace in about twenty-five large
   volumes the most important works of the Greek Fathers from Eusebius to
   Photius, and of the Latin Fathers from Ambrose to Gregory the Great.

   The series opens with St. Augustin, the greatest and most influential
   of all the Christian Fathers. Protestants and Catholics are equally
   interested in his writings, and most of all in his Confessions, which
   are contained in this volume. They will be followed by the works of St.
   Chrysostom, and the Church History of Eusebius.

   A few words are necessary to define the object of this Library, and its
   relation to similar collections.

   My purpose is to furnish ministers and intelligent laymen who have no
   access to the original texts, or are not sufficiently familiar with
   ecclesiastical Greek and Latin, with a complete apparatus for the study
   of ancient Christianity. Whatever may be the estimate we put upon the
   opinions of the Fathers, their historical value is beyond all dispute.
   They are to this day and will continue to be the chief authorities for
   the doctrines and usages of the Greek and Roman Churches, and the
   sources for the knowledge of ancient Christianity down to the age of
   Charlemagne. But very few can afford to buy, or are able to use such
   collections as Migne's Greek Patrology, which embraces 167 quarto
   volumes, and Migne's Latin Patrology which embraces 222 volumes.

   The three leaders of the now historic Anglo-Catholic movement of
   Oxford, Drs. Pusey, Newman, and Keble, began, in 1837, the publication
   of "A Library of Fathers of the Holy Catholic Church, anterior to the
   Division of the East and West. Translated by Members of the English
   Church," Oxford (John Henry Parker) and London (J. G. F. & J.
   Rivington). It is dedicated to "William Lord Archbishop of Canterbury,
   Primate of all England." The editors were aided by a number of able
   classical and ecclesiastical scholars. Dr. Pusey, the chief editor and
   proprietor, and Dr. Keble died in the communion of the church of their
   fathers to which they were loyally attached; Dr. Newman alone remains,
   though no more an Anglican, but a Cardinal of the Church of Rome. His
   connection with the enterprise ceased with his secession (1845).

   The Oxford Library was undertaken not so much for an historical, as for
   an apologetic and dogmatic purpose. It was to furnish authentic proof
   for the supposed or real agreement of the Anglo-Catholic school with
   the faith and practice of the ancient church before the Greek schism.
   The selection was made accordingly. The series embraces 48 vols. It is
   very valuable as far as it goes, but incomplete and unequal. Volume
   followed volume as it happened to get ready. An undue proportion is
   given to exegetical works; six volumes are taken up with Augustin's
   Commentary on the Psalms, six with Gregory's Commentary on Job, sixteen
   with Commentaries of Chrysostom; while many of the most important
   doctrinal, ethical, and historical works of the Fathers, as Eusebius,
   Basil, the two Gregorys, Theodoret, Maximus Confessor, John of
   Damascus, Hilary, Jerome, Leo the Great, were never reached.

   In 1866, Mr. T. Clark, Lord Provost of Edinburgh, and an Elder in the
   Free Church of Scotland, who has done more than any publisher for the
   introduction of German and other foreign theological literature to the
   English reading community, began to issue the valuable "Ante-Nicene
   Christian Library", edited by Rev. Alexander Roberts, D. D., and James
   Donaldson, LL. D., which was completed in 1872 in 24 volumes, and is
   now being republished, by arrangement with Mr. Clark, in America in 8
   volumes under the editorship of Bishop A. Cleveland Coxe, D. D.
   (1884-1886). Mr. Clark, in 1871, undertook also the publication of a
   translation of select works of St. Augustin under the editorial care of
   Rev. Marcus Dods, D. D., of Glasgow, which was completed in 15 volumes.
   The projected translation of Chrysostom was abandoned from want of
   encouragement.

   Thus Episcopal divines of England, and Presbyterian divines of Scotland
   have prepared the way for our American enterprise, and made it
   possible.

   We must also briefly mention a similar collection which was prepared by
   Roman Catholic scholars of Germany in the interest of their Church,
   namely the Bibliothek der Kirchenväter. Auswahl der vorzüglichsten
   patristichen Werke in deutscher Uebersetzung, herausgegeben unter der
   Oberleitung von Dr. Valentin Thalhofer (Domdekan und Prof. der Theol.
   in Eichstätt, formerly Professor in Munich). Kempten., Köselsche
   Buchhandlung. 1869-1886. Published in over 400 small numbers, three or
   four of which make a volume. An alphabetical Index vol. is now in
   course of preparation by Ulrich Uhle (Nos. 405 sqq.). The series was
   begun in 1869 by Dr. Fr. X. Reithmayr, Prof. of Theol. in Munich, who
   died in 1872. It embraces select writings of most of the Fathers. Seven
   volumes are devoted to Letters of the Popes from Linus to Pelagius II.
   (a.d. 67-590).

   "The Christian Literature Company," who republish Clark's "Ante-Nicene
   Library," asked me to undertake the editorship of a Nicene and
   Post-Nicene Library to complete the scheme. Satisfactory arrangements
   have been made with Mr. Clark and with Mr. Walter Smith, representing
   Dr. Pusey's heirs, for the use of their translations, as far as our
   plan will permit. Without such a preliminary arrangement I would not
   have considered the proposal for a moment.

   I have invited surviving authors of older translations to revise and
   edit their work for the American series, and I am happy to state that I
   received favorable replies. Some of them are among the list of
   contributors, others (including Cardinal Newman) have, at least,
   expressed a kindly interest in the enterprise, and wish it success.

   The Nicene and Post-Nicene Library will be more complete and more
   systematic as well as much cheaper than any which has yet appeared in
   the English language. By omitting the voluminous Patristic commentaries
   on the Old Testament we shall gain room for more important and
   interesting works not embraced in the Oxford or Edinburgh series; and
   by condensing three or more of these volumes into one, and counting
   upon a large number of subscribers, the publishers think themselves
   justified in offering the Library on terms which are exceedingly
   liberal, considering the great expense and risk. It will be published
   in the same handsome style as their Ante-Nicene Library.

   May the blessing of the Great Head of the Church accompany and crown
   this work.

   Philip Schaff.

   New York, October, 1886.
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   Contents.

   __________

   I.      Prolegomena: St. Augustin's Life and Work

   By Philip Schaff, D.D.

   Chapter I.--Literature

   Chapter II.--Sketch of the Life of St. Augustin

   Chapter III.--Estimate of St. Augustin

   Chapter IV.--Writings of St. Augustin

   Chapter V.--The Influence of St. Augustin upon Posterity and his
   Relation to Catholicism and Protestantism

   Chief Events in the Life of St. Augustin

   II.   The Confessions of St. Augustin:

   Translated by J.G. Pilkington, M.A.

   Translator's Preface

   St. Augustin's Opinion on his Confessions

   The Confessions

   III. The Letters of St. Augustin:

   Translated by J.G. Cunningham, M.A.

   Translator's Preface

   The Letters
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   Prolegomena.

   ------------

   St. Augustin's Life and Work

   From Schaff's Church History, Revised Edition.

   New York 1884. Vol. III. 988-1028.

   Revised and enlarged with additions to literature till 1886.
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   CHAPTER I.--Literature.
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   I. sources.

   Augustin's Works. S. Aurelii Augustini Hipponensis episcopi
   Opera...Post Lovaniensium theologorum recensionem [which appeared at
   Antwerp in 1577 in 11 vols.], castigatus [referring to tomus primus,
   etc.] denuo ad MSS. codd. Gallicanos, etc. Opera et studio monachorum
   ordinis S. Benedicti e congregatione S. Mauri [Fr. Delfau, Th. Blampin,
   P. Coustant, and Cl. Guesnié]. Paris, 1679-1700, 11 tom. in 8 fol.
   vols. The same edition reprinted, with additions, at Antwerp,
   1700-1703, 12 parts in 9 fol.; and at Venice, 1729-'34, in 11 tom. in 8
   fol. (this edition is not to be confounded with another Venice edition
   of 1756-'69 in 18 vols. 4to, which is full of printing errors); also at
   Bassano, 1807, in 18 vols.; by Gaume fratres, Paris, 1836-'39, in 11
   tom. in 22 parts (a very elegant edition); and lastly by J. P. Migne,
   Petit-Montrouge, 1841-'49, in 12 tom. ("Patrol. Lat." tom.
   xxxii.-xlvii.). Migne's edition gives, in a supplementary volume (tom.
   xii.), the valuable Notitia literaria de vita, scriptis et editionibus
   Aug. from Schönemann's "Bibliotheca historico-literaria Patrum Lat."
   vol. ii. Lips. 1794, the Vindiciæ Augustinianæ of Cardinal Noris
   (Norisius), and the writings of Augustin first published by Fontanini
   and Angelo Mai. So far the most complete and convenient edition.

   But a thoroughly reliable critical edition of Augustin is still a
   desideratum and will be issued before long by a number of scholars
   under the direction of the Imperial Academy of Vienna in the "Corpus
   Scriptorum ecclesiasticorum Latinorum."

   On the controversies relating to the merits of the Bened. edition,
   which was sharply criticized by Richard Simon, and the Jesuits, but is
   still the best and defended by the Benedictines, see the supplementary
   volume of Migne, xxi. p. 40 sqq., and Thuillier: Histoire de la
   nouvelle éd. de S. Aug. par les PP. Bénédictins, Par. 1736.

   The first printed edition of Augustin appeared at Basle, 1489-'95;
   another, in 1509, in 11 vols.; then the edition of Erasmus published by
   Frobenius, Bas. 1528-'29, in 10 vols., fol.; the Editio Lovaniensis, of
   sixteen divines of Louvain, Antw. 1577, in 11 vols. and often reprinted
   at Paris, Geneva, and Cologne.

   Several works of Augustin have been often separately edited, especially
   the Confessions and the City of God. Compare a full list of the
   editions down to 1794 in Schönemann's Bibliotheca, vol. ii. p. 73 sqq.;
   for later editions see Brunet, Manuel du libraire, Paris 1860, tom. I.
   vol. 557-567. Since then William Bright (Prof. of Ecclesiast. Hist. at
   Oxford) has published the Latin text of Select Anti-Pelagian Treatises
   of St. Aug. and the Acts of the Second Council of Orange. Oxford
   (Clarendon Press) 1880. With a valuable Introduction of 68 pages.

   English translations of select works of Augustin are found in the
   "Oxford Library of the Fathers," ed. by Drs. Pusey, Keble, and Newman,
   viz.: The Confessions, vol. I., 1838, 4th ed., 1853; Sermons on the N.
   T., vol. xvi., 1844, and vol. xx. 1845; Short Treatises, vol. xxii.,
   1847; Exposition of the Psalms, vols. xxiv., xxv., xxx., xxxii.,
   xxxvii., xxxix., 1847, 1849, 1850, 1853, 1854; Homilies on John, vols.
   xxvi. and xxix., 1848 and 1849. Another translation by Marcus Dods and
   others, Edinb. (T. & T. Clark), 1871-'76, 15 vols., containing the City
   of God, the Anti-Donatist, the Anti-Pelagian, the Anti-Manichæan
   writings, Letters, On the Trinity, On Christian Doctrine, the
   Enchiridion, On Catechising, On Faith and the Creed, Commentaries on
   the Sermon on the Mount, and the Harmony of the Gospels, Lectures on
   John, and Confessions. There are several separate translations and
   editions of the Confessions: the first by Sir Tobias Matthews (a Roman
   Catholic) 1624, said, by Dr. Pusey, to be very inaccurate and
   subservient to Romanism; a second by Rev. W. Watts, D.D., 1631, 1650; a
   third by Abr. Woodhead (only the first 9 books). Dr. Pusey, in the
   first vol. of the Oxford Library of the Fathers, 1838 (new ed. 1883),
   republished the translation of Watts, with improvements and explanatory
   notes, mostly borrowed from Dubois's Latin ed. Dr. Shedd's edition,
   Andover, 1860, is a reprint of Watts (as republished in Boston in
   1843), preceded by a thoughtful introduction, pp. v.-xxxvi. H. de
   Romestin translated minor doctrinal tracts in Saint Augustin. Oxford
   1885.

   German translations of select writings of Aug. in the Kempten
   Bibliothek der Kirchenväter, 1871-79, 8 vols. There are also separate
   translations and editions of the Confessions (by Silbert, 5th ed.,
   Vienna, 1861; by Kautz, Arnsberg, 1840; by Gröninger, 4th ed., Münster,
   1859; by Wilden, Schaffhausen, 1865; by Rapp, 7th ed., Gotha, 1878), of
   the Enchiridion, the Meditations, and the City of God (Die Stadt
   Gottes, by Silbert, Vienna, 1827, 2 vols.).

   French translations: Les Confessions, by Dubois, Paris, 1688, 1715,
   1758, 1776; and by Janet, Paris, 1857; a new translation with a preface
   by Abbé de la Mennais, Paris, 1822, 2 vols.; another by L. Moreau,
   Paris, 1854. La Cité de Dieu, by Emile Saisset, Paris, 1855, with
   introd. and notes, 4 vols.; older translations by Raoul de Præsles,
   Abbeville, 1486; Savetier, Par. 1531; P. Lombert, Par. 1675, and 1701;
   Abbé Goujet, Par. 1736 and 1764, reprinted at Bourges 1818; L. Moreau,
   with the Latin text, Par. 1846, 3 vols. Les Soliloques, by Pélissier,
   Paris, 1853. Les Lettres, by Poujoulat, Paris, 1858, 4 vols. Le Manuel,
   by d'Avenel, Rennes, 1861.
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   II. BIOGRAPHIES.

   Possidius (Calamensis episcopus, a pupil and friend of Aug.): Vita
   Augustini (brief, but authentic, written 432, two years after his
   death, in tom. x. Append. 257-280, ed. Bened., and in nearly all other
   editions).

   Benedictini Editores: Vita Augustini ex ejus potissimum scriptis
   concinnata, in 8 books (very elaborate and extensive), in tom. xi.
   1-492, ed. Bened. (in Migne's reprint, tom. i. col. 66-578).

   The biographies of Aug. by Tillemont (Mém. tom. xiii.); Ellies Dupin
   (in "Nouvelle bibliothèque des auteurs ecclésiastiques," tom. ii. and
   iii.); P. Bayle (in his "Dictionnaire historique et critique," art.
   Augustin); Remi Ceillier (in "Histoire générale des auteurs sacrés et
   ecclés.," vol. xi. and xii.); Cave (in "Lives of the Fathers," vol.
   ii.); Kloth (Der heil Aug., Aachen, 1840, 2 vols.); Böhringer
   (Kirchengeschichte in Biographien, vol. i. P. iii. p. 99 sqq., revised
   ed. Leipzig, 1877-'78, 2 parts); Poujoulat (Histoire de S. Aug. Par.
   1843 and 1852, 2 vols.; the same in German by Fr. Hurter, Schaff h.
   1847, 2 vols.); Eisenbarth (Stuttg. 1853); C. Bindemann (Der heil. Aug.
   Berlin, 1844, 55, 69, 3 vols., the best work in German); Edw. L. Cutts
   (St. Augustin, London, 1880); E. de Pressensé (in Smith and Wace,
   "Dictionary of Christ. Biogr." I. 216-225); Ph. Schaff (St. Augustin,
   Berlin, 1854; English ed. New York and London, 1854, revised and
   enlarged in St. Augustin, Melanchthon and Neander; three biographies,
   New York and London, 1886, pp. 1-106). On Monnica see Braune: Monnica
   and Augustin. Grimma, 1846.
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   III. special treatises on the system of augustin.

   (1) The Theology of Augustin. The Church Histories of Neander, Baur,
   Hase (his large work, 1885, vol. I. 514 sqq.), and the Doctrine
   Histories of Neander, Gieseler, Baur, Hagenbach, Shedd, Nitzsch,
   Schwane, Bach, Harnack (in preparation, first vol., 1886).

   The voluminous literature on the Pelagian controversy embraces works of
   G. J. Voss, Garnier, Jansen (died 1638; Augustinus, 1640, 3 vols.; he
   read Aug. twenty times and revived his system in the R. Cath. Church,
   but was condemned by the Pope), Cardinal Noris (Historia Pelagiana,
   Florence, 1673), Walch (Ketzergeschichte, vols. IV. and V., 1768 and
   1770), Wiggers (Augustinismus und Pelagianismus, 1821 and 1833), Bersot
   (Doctr. de St. Aug. sur la liberté et la Providence, Paris, 1843),
   Jacobi (Lehre des Pelagius, 1842), Jul. Müller (Lehre von der Sünde,
   5th ed. 1866, Engl. transl. by Urwick, 1868), Mozley (Augustinian
   Doctrine of Predestination, London, 1855, very able), W. Bright
   (Introduction to his ed. of the Anti-Pelag. writings of Aug. Oxford
   1880), and others. See Schaff, vol III. 783-785.

   Van Goens: De Aur. August. apologeta, sec. 1 de Civitate Dei. Amstel.
   1838.

   Nirschl (Rom. Cath.). Ursprung und Wesen des Bösen nach der Lehre des
   heil. Augustin. 1854.

   F. Ribbeck: Donatus und Augustinus, oder der erste entscheidende Kampf
   zwischen Separatismus und Kirche. Elberfeld, 1858, 2 vols.

   Fr. Nitzsch: Augustin's Lehre vom Wunder. Berlin, 1865.

   Gangauf: Des heil. August. Lehre von Gott dem dreieinigen. Augsburg,
   1866. Emil Feuerlein: Ueber die Stellung Augustin's in der Kirchen=und
   Kulturgeschichte, in Sybel's "Histor. Zeitschrift" for 1869, vol. XI.
   270-313. Naville: Saint Augustin, Etude sur le développement de sa
   pensée. Genève, 1872. Ernst: Die Werke und Tugenden der Ungläubigen
   nach Augustin. Freiburg, 1872. Aug. Dorner (son of Is. A. D.):
   Augustinus, sein theol. System und seine religionsphilosophische
   Anschauung. Berlin, 1873 (comp. his art. in Herzog's "Encycl." 2d ed.
   I. 781-795, abridged in Schaff-Herzog I. 174 sqq.). Ch. H. Collett: St.
   Aug., a Sketch of his Life and Writings as affecting the controversy
   with Rome. London, 1883. H. Reuter (Prof. of Church History in
   Göttingen): Augustinische Studien, in Brieger's "Zeitschrift für
   Kirchengeschichte," for 1880-'86 (several articles on Aug.'s doctrine
   of the church, of predestination, the kingdom of God, etc.,--very
   valuable).

   (2) The Philosophy of Augustin is discussed in the larger Histories of
   Philosophy by Brucker, Tennemann, Rixner, H. Ritter (vol. vi. pp.
   153-443), Erdmann (Grundriss der Gesch. der Philos. I. 231 sqq.),
   Ueberweg (Hist. of Philos., transl. by Morris, New York, vol. I.
   333-346); Prantl (Geschichte der Logik im Abendlande, Leipzig, 1853, I.
   665-672); Huber (Philosophie der Kirchenväter, München, 1859), and in
   the following special works:

   Theod. Gangauf: Metaphysische Psychologie des heil. Augustinus. 1ste
   Abtheilung, Augsburg, 1852. T. Théry: Le génie philosophique et
   littéraire de saint Augustin. Par. 1861. Abbé Flottes: Études sur saint
   Aug., son génie, son âme, sa philosophie. Montpèllier, 1861.
   Nourrisson: La philosophie de saint Augustin (ouvrage couronné par
   l'Institut de France), deuxiéme éd. Par. 1866, 2 vols. Reinkens:
   Geschichtsphilosophie des Aug. Schaffhausen, 1866. Ferraz: De la
   psychologie de S. Augustin, 2d ed. Paris, 1869. Schütz: Augustinum non
   esse ontologum. Monast. 1867. A. F. Hewitt: The Problems of the Age,
   with Studies in St. Augustin. New York, 1868. G. Loesche: De Augustino
   Plotinizante. Jenae, 1880 (68 pages).

   (3) On Aug. as a Latin author see Bähr: Geschichte der röm Literatur,
   Suppl. II. Ebert: Geschichte der latein. Literatur (Leipzig, 1874, I.
   203 sqq.). Villemain: Tableau de l'éloquence chrétienne au IV^e siècle
   (Paris, 1849).
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   CHAPTER II.--A Sketch of the Life of St. Augustin.

   It is a venturesome and delicate undertaking to write one's own life,
   even though that life be a masterpiece of nature and the grace of God,
   and therefore most worthy to be described. Of all autobiographies none
   has so happily avoided the reef of vanity and self-praise, and none has
   won so much esteem and love through its honesty and humility as that of
   St. Augustin.

   The "Confessions," which he wrote in the forty-fourth year of his life,
   still burning in the ardor of his first love, are full of the fire and
   unction of the Holy Spirit. They are a sublime composition, in which
   Augustin, like David in the fifty-first Psalm, confesses to God, in
   view of his own and of succeeding generations, without reserve the sins
   of his youth; and they are at the same time a hymn of praise to the
   grace of God, which led him out of darkness into light, and called him
   to service in the kingdom of Christ. [1] Here we see the great church
   teacher of all times "prostrate in the dust, conversing with God,
   basking in his love; his readers hovering before him only as a shadow."
   He puts away from himself all honor, all greatness, all merit, and lays
   them gratefully at the feet of the All-merciful. The reader feels on
   every hand that Christianity is no dream nor illusion, but truth and
   life, and he is carried along in adoration of the wonderful grace of
   God.

   Aurelius Augustinus, born on the 13th of November, 354, [2] at Tagaste,
   an unimportant village of the fertile province of Numidia in North
   Africa, not far from Hippo Regius, inherited from his heathen father,
   Patricius, [3] a passionate sensibility, from his Christian mother,
   Monnica (one of the noblest women in the history of Christianity, of a
   highly intellectual and spiritual cast, of fervent piety, most tender
   affection, and all-conquering love), the deep yearning towards God so
   grandly expressed in his sentence: "Thou hast made us for Thyself, and
   our heart is restless till it rests in Thee." [4] This yearning, and
   his reverence for the sweet and holy name of Jesus, though crowded into
   the background, attended him in his studies at the schools of Madaura
   and Carthage, on his journeys to Rome and Milan, and on his tedious
   wanderings through the labyrinth of carnal pleasures, Manichæan
   mock-wisdom, Academic skepticism, and Platonic idealism; till at last
   the prayers of his mother, the sermons of Ambrose, the biography of St.
   Anthony, and above all, the Epistles of Paul, as so many instruments in
   the hand of the Holy Spirit, wrought in the man of three and thirty
   years that wonderful change which made him an incalculable blessing to
   the whole Christian world, and brought even the sins and errors of his
   youth into the service of the truth. [5]

   A son of so many prayers and tears could not be lost, and the faithful
   mother who travailed with him in spirit with greater pain than her body
   had in bringing him into the world, [6] was permitted, for the
   encouragement of future mothers, to receive shortly before her death an
   answer to her prayers and expectations, and was able to leave this
   world with joy without revisiting her earthly home. For Monnica died on
   a homeward journey, in Ostia at the mouth of the Tiber, in her
   fifty-sixth year, in the arms of her son, after enjoying with him a
   glorious conversation that soared above the confines of space and time,
   and was a foretaste of the eternal Sabbath-rest of the saints. If those
   moments, he says, could be prolonged for ever, they would more than
   suffice for his happiness in heaven. She regretted not to die in a
   foreign land, because she was not far from God, who would raise her up
   at the last day. "Bury my body anywhere, "was her last request, "and
   trouble not yourselves for it; only this one thing I ask, that you
   remember me at the altar of my God, wherever you may be." [7] Augustin,
   in his Confessions, has erected to Monnica a noble monument that can
   never perish.

   If ever there was a thorough and fruitful conversion, next to that of
   Paul on the way to Damascus, it was that of Augustin, when, in a garden
   of the Villa Cassiciacum, not far from Milan, in September of the year
   386, amidst the most violent struggles of mind and heart--the
   birth-throes of the new life--he heard that divine voice of a child:
   "Take, read!" and he "put on the Lord Jesus Christ" (Rom. xiii. 14). It
   is a touching lamentation of his: "I have loved Thee late, Thou Beauty,
   so old and so new; I have loved Thee late! And lo! Thou wast within,
   but I was without, and was seeking Thee there. And into Thy fair
   creation I plunged myself in my ugliness; for Thou was with me, and I
   was not with Thee! Those things kept me away from Thee, which had not
   been, except they had been in Thee! Thou didst call, and didst cry
   aloud, and break through my deafness. Thou didst glimmer, Thou didst
   shine, and didst drive away my blindness. Thou didst breathe, and I
   drew breath, and breathed in Thee. I tasted Thee, and I hunger and
   thirst. Thou didst touch me, and I burn for Thy peace. If I, with all
   that is within me, may once live in Thee, then shall pain and trouble
   forsake me; entirely filled with Thee, all shall be life to me."

   He received baptism from Ambrose in Milan on Easter Sunday, 387, in
   company with his friend and fellow-convert Alypius, and his natural son
   Adeodatus (given by God). It impressed the divine seal upon the inward
   transformation. He broke radically with the world; abandoned the
   brilliant and lucrative vocation of a teacher of rhetoric, which he had
   followed in Rome and Milan; sold his goods for the benefit of the poor;
   and thenceforth devoted his rare gifts exclusively to the service of
   Christ, and to that service he continued faithful to his latest breath.
   After the death of his mother, whom he revered and loved with the most
   tender affection, he went a second time to Rome for several months, and
   wrote books in defence of true Christianity against false philosophy
   and against the Manichæan heresy. Returning to Africa, he spent three
   years, with his friends Alypius and Evodius, on an estate in his native
   Tagaste, in contemplative and literary retirement.

   Then, in 391, he was chosen presbyter against his will, by the voice of
   the people, which, as in the similar cases of Cyprian and Ambrose,
   proved to be the voice of God, in the Numidian maritime city of Hippo
   Regius (now Bona); and in 395 he was elected bishop in the same city.
   For eight and thirty years, until his death, he labored in this place,
   and made it the intellectual centre of Western Christendom. [8]

   His outward mode of life was extremely simple, and mildly ascetic. He
   lived with his clergy in one house in an apostolic community of goods,
   and made this house a seminary of theology, out of which ten bishops
   and many lower clergy went forth. Females, even his sister, were
   excluded from his house, and could see him only in the presence of
   others. But he founded religious societies of women; and over one of
   these his sister, a saintly widow, presided. [9] He once said in a
   sermon, that he had nowhere found better men, and he had nowhere found
   worse, than in monasteries. Combining, as he did, the clerical life
   with the monastic, he became unwittingly the founder of the Augustinian
   order, which gave the reformer Luther to the world. He wore the black
   dress of the Easter coenobites, with a cowl and a leathern girdle. He
   lived almost entirely on vegetables, and seasoned the common meal with
   reading or free conversation, in which it was a rule that the character
   of an absent person should never be touched. He had this couplet
   engraved on the table:

   "Quisquis amat dictis absentum rodere vitam,

   Hanc mensam vetitam noverit esse sibi."

   He often preached five days in succession, sometimes twice a day, and
   set it as the object of his preaching, that all might live with him,
   and he with all, in Christ. Wherever he went in Africa, he was begged
   to preach the world of salvation. [10] He faithfully administered the
   external affairs connected with his office, though he found his chief
   delight in contemplation. He was specially devoted to the poor, and,
   like Ambrose, upon exigency, caused the church vessels to be melted
   down to redeem prisoners. But he refused legacies by which injustice
   was done to natural heirs, and commended the bishop Aurelius of
   Carthage for giving back unasked some property which a man has
   bequeathed to the church, when his wife unexpectedly bore him children.

   Augustin's labors extended far beyond his little diocese. He was the
   intellectual head of the North African and the entire Western church of
   his time. He took active interest in all theological and ecclesiastical
   questions. He was the champion of the orthodox doctrine against
   Manichæan, Donatist, and Pelagian. In him was concentrated the whole
   polemic power of the catholic church of the time against heresy and
   schism; and in him it won the victory over them.

   In his last years he took a critical review of his literary
   productions, and gave them a thorough sifting in his Retractations. His
   latest controversial works, against the Semi-Pelagians, written in a
   gentle spirit, date from the same period. He bore the duties of his
   office alone till his seventy-second year, when his people unanimously
   elected his friend Heraclius to be his assistant.

   The evening of his life was troubled by increasing infirmities of body
   and by the unspeakable wretchedness which the barbarian Vandals spread
   over his country in their victorious invasion, destroying cities,
   villages, and churches, without mercy, and even besieging the fortified
   city of Hippo. [11] Yet he faithfully persevered in his work. The last
   ten days of his life he spent in close retirement, in prayers and tears
   and repeated reading of the penitential Psalms, which he can caused to
   be written on the wall over his bed, that he might have them always
   before his eyes. Thus with an act of penitence he closed his life. In
   the midst of the terrors of the siege and the despair of his people he
   could not suspect what abundant seed he had sown for the future.

   In the third month of the siege of Hippo, on the 28th of August, 430,
   in the seventy-sixth year of his age, in full possession of his
   faculties, and in the presence of many friends and pupils, he past
   gently and peacefully into that eternity to which he had so long
   aspired. "O how wonderful," wrote he in his Meditations, [12] "how
   beautiful and lovely are the dwellings of Thy house, Almighty God! I
   burn with longing to behold Thy beauty in Thy bridal-chamber....O
   Jerusalem, holy city of God, dear bride of Christ, my heart loves thee,
   my soul has already long sighed for thy beauty!...The King of kings
   Himself is in the midst of thee, and His children are within thy walls.
   There are the hymning choirs of angels, the fellowship of heavenly
   citizens. There is the wedding-feast of all who from this sad earthly
   pilgrimage have reached thy joys. There is the far-seeing choir of the
   prophets; there the company of the twelve apostles; there the
   triumphant army of innumerable martyrs and holy confessors. Full and
   perfect love there reigns, for God is all in all. They love and praise,
   they praise and love Him evermore....Blessed, perfectly and forever
   blessed, shall I too be, if, when my poor body shall be dissolved,... I
   may stand before my King and God, and see Him in His glory, as He
   Himself hath deigned to promise: Father, I will that they also whom
   Thou hast given Me be with Me where I am; that they may behold My glory
   which I had with Thee before the world was.'" This aspiration after the
   heavenly Jerusalem found grand expression in the hymn De gloria et
   gaudiis Paradisi:

   "Ad perennis vitæ fontem mens sativit arida."

   It is incorporated in the Meditations of Augustin, and the ideas
   originated in part with him, but were not brought into poetical form
   till long afterwards by Peter Damiani. [13]

   He left no will, for in his voluntary poverty he had no earthly
   property to dispose of, except his library; this he bequeathed to the
   church, and it was fortunately preserved from the depredations of the
   Arian barbarians. [14]

   Soon after his death Hippo was taken and destroyed by the Vandals. [15]
   Africa was lost to the Romans. A few decades later the whole West-Roman
   empire fell in ruins. The culmination of the African church was the
   beginning of its decline. But the work of Augustin could not perish.
   His ideas fell like living seed into the soil of Europe, and produced
   abundant fruits in nations and countries of which he had never heard.
   [16]
     __________________________________________________________________

   [1] Augustin himself says of his Confessions: "Confessionum mearum
   libri tredecim et de malis et de bonis meis Deum laudant justum et
   bonum, atque in eum excitant humanum intellectum et affectum." Retract.
   1. ii. c. 6. He refers to his Confessions also in his Epistola ad
   Darium, Ep. CCXXXI. cap. 5; and in his De dono perseverantiæ, cap. 20
   (53).

   [2] He died, according to the Chronicle of his friend and pupil Prosper
   Aquitanus, the 28th of August, 430 (in the third month of the siege of
   Hippo by the Vandals); according to his biographer Possidius he lived
   seventy-six years. The day of his birth Augustin states himself, De
   vita beata, § 6 (tom. i. 300): "Idibus Novemoris mihi natalis dies
   erat."

   [3] He received baptism shortly before his death.

   [4] Conf. i. 1: "Fecisti nos ad Te, et inquietum est cor nostrum, donec
   requiescat in Te." In all his aberrations, which we would hardly know,
   if it were not from his own free confession, he never sunk to anything
   mean, but remained, like Paul in his Jewish fanaticism, a noble
   intellect and an honorable character, with burning love for the true
   and the good.

   [5] For particulars respecting the course of Augustin's life, see my
   work above cited, and other monographs. Comp. also the fine remarks of
   Dr. Baur in his posthumous Lectures on Doctrine-History (1866), vol. i.
   Part ii. p. 26 sqq. He compares the development of Augustin with the
   course of Christianity from the beginning to his time, and draws a
   parallel between Augustin and Origen.

   [6] Conf. ix. c. 8: "Quæ me parturivit et carne, ut in hanc temporalem,
   et carde, ut in æternam lucem nascerer." L. v. 9: "Non enim satis
   eloquor, quid erga me habebat anima, et quanto majore sollicitudine nie
   partur iebat spiritu, quam carne pepererat." In De dono persev. c. 20,
   he ascribes his conversion under God "to the faithful and daily tears"
   of his mother.

   [7] Conf. l. ix. c. 11: "Tantum illud vos rogo, ut ad Domini altare
   memineritis mei, ubs fuertis." This must be explained from the already
   prevailing custom of offering prayers for the dead, which, however, had
   rather the form of thanksgiving for the mercy of God shown to them,
   than the later form of intercession for them.

   [8] He is still known among the inhabitants of the place as "the great
   Christian" (Rumi Kebir). Gibbon (ch. xxxiii. ad ann. 430) thus
   describes the place which became so famous through Augustin: "The
   maritime colony of Hippo, about two hundred miles westward of Carthage,
   had formerly acquired the distinguishing epithet of Regius, from the
   residence of the Numidian kings; and some remains of trade and
   populousness still adhere to the modern city, which is known in Europe
   by the corrupted name of Bona." Sallust mentions Hippo once in his
   history of the Jugurthine War. A part of the wealth with which Sallust
   built and beautified his splendid mansion and gardens in Rome, was
   extorted from this and other towns of North Africa while governor of
   Numidia. Since the French conquest of Algiers Hippo Regius was rebuilt
   under the name of Bona and is now one of the finest towns in North
   Africa, numbering over 10,000 inhabitants, French, Moors, and Jews.

   [9] He mentions a sister, "soror mea, sancta proposita" [monasterii],
   without naming her, Epist. 211, n. 4 (ed. Bened.), alias Ep. 109. He
   also had a brother by the name of Navigius.

   [10] Possidius says, in his Vita Aug.: "Cæterum episcopatu suscepto
   multo instantius ac ferventius, majore auctoritate, non in una tantum
   regione, sed ubicunque rogatus venisset, verbum satutis alacriter, ac
   suaviter pullulante atque crescente Domini ecclesia, prædicavit."

   [11] Possidius, c. 28, gives a vivid picture of the ravages of the
   Vandals, which have become proverbial. Comp. also Gibbon, ch. xxxiii.

   [12] I freely combine several passages.

   [13] Comp. Opera, tom. vi. p. 117 (Append.); Daniel: Thesaurus hymnol.
   i. 116 sqq., and iv. 203 sq., and Mone: Lat. Hymner, i. 422 sqq. Mone
   ascribes the poem to an unknown writer of the sixth century, but Trench
   (Sacred Latin Poetry, 2d ed., 315) and others attribute it to Cardinal
   Peter Damiani, the friend of Pope Hildebrand (d. 1072). Augustin wrote
   his poetry in prose.

   [14] Possidius says, Vita, c. 31: "Testamentum nullum fecit, guia unde
   faceret, pauper Dei non habuit. Ecclesiæ bibliothecam omnesgue codices
   diligenter posteris custodiendos semper jubebat."

   [15] The inhabitants escaped to the sea. There appears no bishop of
   Hippo after Augustin. In the seventh century the old city was utterly
   destroyed by the Arabians, but two miles from it Bona was built of its
   ruins. Comp. Tillemont, xiii. 945, and Gibbon, ch. xxxiii. Gibbon says,
   that Bona, "in the sixteenth century, contained about three hundred
   families of industrious, but turbulent manufacturers. The adjacent
   territory is renowned for a pure air, a fertile soil, and plenty of
   exquisite fruits." Since the French conquest of Algiers, Bona was
   rebuilt in 1832, and is gradually assuming a French aspect. It is now
   one of the finest towns in Algeria, the key to the province of
   Constantine, has a public garden, several schools, considerable
   commerce, and a population of over ten thousand of French, Moors, and
   Jews, the great majority of whom are foreigners. The relics of St.
   Augustin have been recently transferred from Pavia to Bona. See the
   letters of abbé Sibour to Poujoulat sur la translation de ia relique de
   saint Augustin de Pavie à Hippone, in Poujoulat's Histoire de saint
   Augustin, tom. i. p. 413 sqq.

   [16] Even in Africa Augustin's spirit reappeared from time to time
   notwithstanding the barbarian confusion, as a light in darkness, first
   in Vigilius, bishop of Thapsus, who, at the close of the fifth century,
   ably defended the orthodox doctrine of the Trinity and the person of
   Christ, and to whom the authorship of the so-called Athanasian Creed
   has sometimes been ascribed; in Fulgentius, bishop of Ruspe, one of the
   chief opponents of Semi-Pelagianism, and the later Arianism, who with
   sixty catholic bishops of Africa was banished for several years by the
   Arian Vandals to the island of Sardinia, and who was called the
   Augustin of the sixth century (died 533); and in Facundus of Hermiane
   (died 570), and Fulgentius Ferrandus, and Liberatus, two deacons of
   Carthage, who took a prominent part in the Three Chapter controversy.
     __________________________________________________________________

   CHAPTER III.--Estimate of St. Augustin.

   Augustin, the man with upturned eye, with pen in the left hand, and a
   burning heart in the right (as he is usually represented), is a
   philosophical and theological genius of the first order, towering like
   a pyramid above his age, and looking down commandingly upon succeeding
   centuries. He had a mind uncommonly fertile and deep, bold and soaring;
   and with it, what is better, a heart full of Christian love and
   humility. He stands of right by the side of the greatest philosophers
   of antiquity and of modern times. We meet him alike on the broad
   highways and the narrow footpaths, on the giddy Alpine heights and in
   the awful depths of speculation, wherever philosophical thinkers before
   him or after him have trod. As a theologian he is facile princeps, at
   least surpassed by no church father, schoolman, or reformer. With royal
   munificence he scattered ideas in passing, which have set in mighty
   motion other lands and later times. He combined the creative power of
   Tertullian with the churchly spirit of Cyprian, the speculative
   intellect of the Greek church with the practical tact of the Latin. He
   was a Christian philosopher and a philosophical theologian to the full.
   It was his need and his delight to wrestle again and again with the
   hardest problems of thought, and to comprehend to the utmost the
   divinely revealed matter of the faith. [17] He always asserted, indeed,
   the primacy of faith, according to his maxim: Fides præcedit
   intellectum; appealing, with theologians before him, to the well known
   passage of Isaiah vii. 9 (in the LXX.): "Nisi credideritis, non
   intelligetis." [18] But to him faith itself was an acting of reason,
   and from faith to knowledge, therefore, there was a necessary
   transition. [19] He constantly looked below the surface to the hidden
   motives of actions and to the universal laws of diverse events. The
   Metaphysician and the Christian believer coalesced in him. His
   meditatio passes with the utmost ease into oratio, and his oratio into
   meditatio. With profundity he combined an equal clearness and sharpness
   of thought. He was an extremely skilful and a successful dialectician,
   inexhaustible in arguments and in answers to the objections of his
   adversaries.

   He has enriched Latin literature with a greater store of beautiful,
   original, and pregnant proverbial sayings, than any classic author, or
   any other teacher of the church. [20]

   He had a creative and decisive hand in almost every dogma of the Latin
   church, completing some, and advancing others. The centre of his system
   is the free redeeming grace of God in Christ, operating through the
   actual, historical church. He is evangelical or Pauline in his doctrine
   of sin and grace, but catholic (that is, old-catholic, not Roman
   Catholic) in his doctrine of the church. The Pauline element comes
   forward mainly in the Pelagian controversy, the catholic-churchly in
   the Donatist; but each is modified by the other.

   Dr. Baur incorrectly makes freedom the fundamental idea of the
   Augustinian system. But this much better suits the Pelagian; while
   Augustin started (like Calvin and Schleiermacher) from the idea of the
   absolute dependence of man upon God. He changed his idea of freedom
   during the Pelagian controversy. Baur draws an ingenious and suggestive
   comparison between Augustin and Origen, the two greatest intellects
   among the church fathers. "There is no church teacher of the ancient
   period," says he, [21] "who, in intellect and in grandeur and
   consistency of view, can more justly be placed by the side of Origen
   than Augustin; none who, with all the difference in individuality and
   in mode of thought, so closely resembles him. How far both towered
   above their times, is most clearly manifest in the very fact that they
   alone, of all the theologians of the first six centuries, became the
   creators of distinct systems, each proceeding from a definite idea, and
   each completely carried out; and this fact proves also how much the one
   system has that is analogous to the other. The one system, like the
   other, is founded upon the idea of freedom; in both there is a specific
   act, by which the entire development of human life is determined; and
   in both this is an act which lies far outside of the temporal
   consciousness of the individual; with this difference alone, that in
   one system the act belongs to each separate individual himself, and
   only falls outside of his temporal life and consciousness; in the
   other, it lies within the sphere of the temporal history of man, but is
   only the act of one individual. If in the system of Origen nothing
   gives greater offence than the idea of the pre-existence and fall of
   souls, which seems to adopt heathen ideas into the Christian faith,
   there is in the system of Augustin the same overleaping of individual
   life and consciousness, in order to explain from an act in the past the
   present sinful condition of man; but the pagan Platonic point of view
   is exchanged for one taken from the Old Testament....What therefore
   essentially distinguishes the system of Augustin from that of Origen,
   is only this: the fall of Adam is substituted for the pre-temporal fall
   of souls, and what in Origen still wears a heathen garb, puts on in
   Augustin a purely Old Testament form."

   The learning of Augustin was not equal to his genius, nor as extensive
   as that of Origen and Eusebius, but still considerable for his time,
   and superior to that of any of the Latin fathers, with the single
   exception of Jerome. He had received in the schools of Madaura and
   Carthage the usual philosophical and rhetorical preparation for the
   forum, which stood him in good stead also in theology. He was familiar
   with Latin literature, and was by no means blind to the excellencies of
   the classics, though he placed them far below the higher beauty of the
   Holy Scriptures. The Hortensius of Cicero (a lost work) inspired him
   during his university course with enthusiasm for philosophy and for the
   knowledge of truth for its own sake; the study of Platonic and
   Neo-Platonic works (in the Latin version of the rhetorician Victorinus)
   kindled in him an incredible fire [22] ; though in both he missed the
   holy name of Jesus and the cardinal virtues of love and humility, and
   found in them only beautiful ideals without power to conform him to
   them. His City of God, his book on heresies, and other writings, show
   an extensive knowledge of ancient philosophy, poetry, and history,
   sacred and secular. He refers to the most distinguished persons of
   Greece and Rome; he often alludes to Pythagoras, Plato, Aristotle,
   Plotin, Porphyry, Cicero, Seneca, Horace, Vergil, to the earlier Greek
   and Latin fathers, to Eastern and Western heretics. But his knowledge
   of Greek literature was mostly derived from Latin translations. With
   the Greek language, as he himself frankly and modestly confesses, he
   had, in comparison with Jerome, but a superficial acquaintance. [23]
   Hebrew he did not understand at all. Hence, with all his extraordinary
   familiarity with the Latin Bible, he made many mistakes in exposition.
   He was rather a thinker than a scholar, and depended mainly on his own
   resources, which were always abundant.

   Notes.--We note some of the most intelligent and appreciative estimates
   of Augustin. Erasmus (Ep. dedicat. ad Alfons. archiep. Tolet. 1529)
   says, with an ingenious play upon the name Aurelius Augustinus: "Quid
   habet orbis christianus hoc scriptore magis aureum vel augustius? ut
   ipsa vocabula nequaquam fortuito, sed numinis providentia videantur
   indita viro. Auro sapientiæ nihil pretiosius: fulgore eloquentiæ cum
   sapientia conjunctæ nihil mirabilius....Non arbitror alium esse
   doctorem, in quem opulentus ille ac benignus Spiritus dotes suas omnes
   largius effuderit, quam in Augustinum." The great philosopher Leibnitz
   (Præfat. ad Theodic. §34) calls him "virum sane magnum et ingenii
   stupendi," and "vastissimo ingenio præditum." Dr. Baur, without
   sympathy with his views, speaks enthusiastically of the man and his
   genius. Among other things he says (Vorlesungen über Dogmengeschichte,
   i. i. p. 61): "There is scarcely another theological author so fertile
   and withal so able as Augustin. His scholarship was not equal to his
   intellect; yet even that is sometimes set too low, when it is asserted
   that he had no acquaintance at all with the Greek language; for this is
   incorrect, though he had attained no great proficiency in Greek." C.
   Bindemann (a Lutheran divine) begins his thorough monograph (vol. i.
   preface) with the well-deserved eulogium: "St. Augustin is one of the
   greatest personages in the church. He is second in importance to none
   of the teachers who have wrought most in the church since the apostolic
   times; and it can well be said that among the church fathers the first
   place is due to him, and in the time of the Reformation a Luther alone,
   for fulness and depth of thought and grandeur of character, may stand
   by his side. He is the summit of the development of the mediæval
   Western church; from him descended the mysticism, no less than the
   scholasticism, of the middle age; he was one of the strongest pillars
   of the Roman Catholicism, and from his works, next to the Holy
   Scriptures, especially the Epistles of Paul, the leader of the
   Reformation drew most of that conviction by which a new age was
   introduced." Staudenmaier, a Roman Catholic theologian, counts Augustin
   among those minds in which an hundred others dwell (Scotus Erigena, i.
   p. 274). The Roman Catholic philosophers A. Günther and Th. Gangauf,
   put him on an equality with the greatest philosophers, and discern in
   him a providential personage endowed by the Spirit of God for the
   instruction of all ages. A striking characterization is that of the Old
   Catholic Dr. Huber (in his instructive work: Die Philosophie der
   Kirchenväter, Munich, 1859, p. 312 sq.): "Augustin is a unique
   phenomenon in Christian history. No one of the other fathers has left
   so luminous traces of his existence. Though we find among them many
   rich and powerful minds, yet we find in none the forces of personal
   character, mind, heart, and will, so largely developed and so
   harmoniously working. No one surpasses him in wealth of perceptions and
   dialectical sharpness of thoughts, in depth and fervour of religious
   sensibility, in greatness of aims and energy of action. He therefore
   also marks the culmination of the patristic age, and has been elevated
   by the acknowledgment of succeeding times as the first and the
   universal church father.--His whole character reminds us in many
   respects of Paul, with whom he has also in common the experience of
   being called from manifold errors to the service of the gospel, and
   like whom he could boast that he had laboured in it more abundantly
   than all the others. And as Paul among the Apostles pre-eminently
   determined the development of Christianity, and became, more than all
   the others, the expression of the Christian mind, to which men ever
   afterwards return, as often as in the life of the church that mind
   becomes turbid, to draw from him, as the purest fountain, a fresh
   understanding of the gospel doctrine,--so has Augustin turned the
   Christian nations since his time for the most part into his paths, and
   become pre-eminently their trainer and teacher, in the study of whom
   they always gain a renewal and deepening of their Christian
   consciousness. Not the middle age alone, but the Reformation also, was
   ruled by him, and whatever to this day boasts of the Christian spirit,
   is connected at least in part with Augustin." Villemain, in his able
   and eloquent, "Tableau de l'éloquence Chrétienne au IV^e siècle"
   (Paris, 1849, p. 373), commences his sketch of Augustin as follows:
   "Nous arrivons a l'homme le plus êtonnant de l'Eglise latine, à celui
   qui portat le plus d'imagination dans la théologie, le plus d'éloquence
   et même sensibilité dans la scholastique; ce fut saint Augustin.
   Donnez-lui un autre siècle, placez-le dans meillêure civilisation; et
   jamais homme n'aura paru doué d'un génie plus vaste et plus facile.
   Métaphysique, histoire, antiquités, science des moers, connaissance des
   arts, Augustin avait tout embrassé. Il écrit sur la musique comme sur
   le libre arbitre; il explique le phénomène intellectual la de mémoire,
   comme il raisonne sur la décadence de l'empire romain. Son esprit
   subtil et vigoureux a souvent consumé dans des problèmes mystiques une
   force de sagacité qui suffirait aux plus sublimes conceptions."
   Frédéric Ozanam, in his "La civilisation au cinquième siècle"
   (translated by A. C. Glyn, 1868, Vol. I. p. 272), counts Augustin among
   the three or four great metaphysicians of modern times, and says that
   his task was "to clear the two roads open to Christian philosophy and
   to inaugurate its two methods of mysticism and dogmatism." Nourrisson,
   whose work on Augustin is clothed with the authority of the Institute
   of France, assigns to him the first rank among the masters of human
   thought, alongside of Plato and Leibnitz, Thomas Aquinas and Bossuet.
   "Si une critique toujours respectueuse, mais d'une inviolable
   sincérité, est une des formes les plus hautes de l'admiration,
   j'estime, au contraire, n'avoir fait qu'exalter ce grand coeur, ce
   psychologue consolant et ému, ce métaphysicien subtil et sublime, en un
   mot, cet attachant et poétique génie, dont la place reste marquée, au
   premier rang, parmi les maîtres de la pensée humaine, á côté de Platon
   et de Descartes, d'Aristote et de saint Thomas, de Leibnitz et de
   Bossuet." (La philosophie de saint Augustin, Par. 1866, tom. i. p.
   vii.) Pressensé (in art. Aug., in Smith & Wace, Dict. of Christ.
   Biography, I. 222): "Aug. still claims the honour of having brought out
   in all its light the fundamental doctrine of Christianity; despite the
   errors of his system, he has opened to the church the path of every
   progress and of every reform, by stating with the utmost vigour the
   scheme of free salvation which he had learnt in the school of St.
   Paul." Among English and American writers, Dr. Shedd, in the
   Introduction to his edition of the Confessions (1860), has furnished a
   truthful and forcible description of the mind and heart of St.
   Augustin. I add the striking judgment of the octogenarian historian Dr.
   Karl Hase (Kirschengeschichte auf der Grundlage akademischer
   Vorlesungen, Leipzig 1885, vol. I. 522): "The full significance of
   Augustin as an author can be measured only from the consideration of
   the fact that in the middle ages both scholasticism and mysticism lived
   of his riches, and that afterwards Luther and Calvin drew out of his
   fulness. We find in him both the sharp understanding which makes
   salvation depend on the clearly defined dogma of the church, and the
   loving absorption of the heart in God which scarcely needs any more the
   aid of the church. His writings reflect all kinds of Christian
   thoughts, which lie a thousand years apart and appear to be
   contradictions. How were they possible in so systematic a thinker? Just
   as much as they were possible in Christianity, of which he was a
   microcosmus. From the dogmatic abyss of his hardest and most illiberal
   doctrines arise such liberal sentences as these: Him I shall not
   condemn in whom I find any thing of Christ;' Let us not forget that in
   the very enemies are concealed the future citizens.'"
     __________________________________________________________________

   [17] Or, as he wrote to a friend about the year 410, Epist. 120, C. 1,
   § 2 (tom. ii. p. 347, ed. Bened. Venet.; in older ed., Ep. 122): "Ut
   quod credis intelligas...non ut fidem resinas, sed ea quæ fidei
   firmitate jam tenes, etiam rationis luce conspicias." He continues,
   ibid. c. 3: "Absit namque, ut hoc in nobis Deus oderit, in quo nos
   reliquis animalibus exccellentiores creavit. Absit, inquam, ut ideo
   credamus, ne rationem accipiamus vel quæramus; cum etiam credere non
   possemns, nisi rationales animas haberemus." In one of his earliest
   works, Contra Academ. l. iii. c. 20, § 43, he says of himself: "Ita sum
   affectus, ut quid sit verum non credendo solum, sed etiam intelligendo
   apprehendere impatienter desiderem."

   [18] Ean me pisteusete, oude me sunete. But the proper translation of
   the Hebrew is: "If ye will not believe [in me, by for ky], surely ye
   shall not be established (or, not remain)."

   [19] Comp. De præd. sanct. cap. 2, § 5 (tom. x. p. 792): "Ipsum credere
   nihil aliud est quam cum assensione cogiitare. Nom enim omnis qui
   cogitat, credit, cum ideo cogitant, plerique ne credant: sed cogitat
   omnis qui credit, et credendo cogitat et cogitando credit. Fides si non
   cogitetur, nulia est." Ep. 120, cap. 1, § 3 (tom. ii. 347), and Ep.
   137, c. 4, § 15 (tom. ii. 408): "Intellectui fides aditum aperit,
   infidelitas claudit." Augustin's view of faith and knowledge is
   discussed at large by Gangauf, Metaphysische Psychologie des heil.
   Augustinus, i. pp. 31-76, and by Nourrisson, La phliosophie de saint
   Augustin, tom. ii. 282-290.

   [20] Prosper Aquitanus collected in the year 450 or 451 from the works
   of Augustin 392 sentences (see the Appendix to the tenth vol. of the
   Bened. ed. p. 223 sqq., and in Migne's ed. of Prosper Aquitanus, col.
   427-496), with reference to theological purport and the Pelagian
   controversies. We recall some of the best which he has omitted: "Novum
   Testamentum in Vetere latet, Vetus in Novo pates." "Distingue tempora,
   et concordabit Scriptura." "Cor nostrum inquietum est, donec requiescat
   in Te." "Da quod jubes, et jube quod vis." "Non vincit nisi veritas,
   victoria veritatis est caritas." "Ubi amor, ibi trinitas." "Fides
   præcedit intellectum." "Deo servire vera libertas est." "Nulia
   infelicitas frangit, quem felicitas nulla corrumpit." The famous maxim
   of ecclesiastical harmony: "In necessarlis unitas, in dublis (or, non
   ccessarlis) libertas, in omnibus (in utrisque) caritas,"--which is
   often ascribed to Augustin, dates in this form not from him, but from a
   much later period. Dr. Lucke (in a special treatise on the antiquity of
   the author, the original form, etc., of this sentence, Göttingen, 1850)
   traces the authorship to Rupert Meldenius, an irenical German
   theologian of the seventeenth century. Baxter, also, who lived during
   the intense conflict of English Puritanism and Episcopacy, and grew
   weary of the "fury of theologians," adopted a similar sentiment. The
   sentence is held by many who differ widely in the definition of what is
   "necessary" and what is "doubtful." The meaning of "charity in all
   things" is above doubt, and a moral duty of every Christian, though
   practically violated by too many in all denominations.

   [21] Vorlesungen über die christl. Dogmengeschichte, vol. 1. P. 11. p.
   30 sq.

   [22] Adv. Academicos, 1. ii. c. 2, § 5: "Etiam mihi ipsi de me
   incredibile incendium concitarunt." And in several passages of the
   Civitas Dei (viii. 3-12 xxii. 27) he speaks very favourably of Plato,
   and also of Aristotle, and thus broke the way for the high authority of
   the Aristotelian philosophy with the scholastics of the middle age.

   [23] It is sometimes asserted that he had no knowledge at all of the
   Greek. So Gibbon, for example, says (ch. xxxiii.): "The superficial
   learning of Augustin was confined to the Latin language." But this is a
   mistake. In his youth he had a great aversion to the glorious language
   of Hellas because he had a bad teacher and was forced to it (Conf. i.
   14). He read the writings of Plato in a Latin translation (vii. 9). But
   after his baptism, during his second residence in Rome, he resumed the
   study of Greek with greater zest, for the sake of his biblical studies.
   In Hippo he had, while presbyter, good opportunity to advance in it,
   since his bishop, Aurelius, a native Greek, understood his mother
   tongue much better than the Latin. In his books he occasionally makes
   reference to the Greek. In his work Contra Jul. i. c. 6 § 21 (tom. x.
   510), he corrects the Pelagian Julian in a translation from Chrysostom,
   quoting the original. "Ego ipsa verba Græca quæ a Joanne dicta sunt
   ponam: dia touto kai ta paidia baptizomen, kaitoi ?martemata ouk
   echonta, quod est Latine: Ideo et infantes baptizamus, quamvis peccata
   non habentes." Julian had freely rendered this: "cum non sint
   coinquinati peccato," and had drawn the inference: "Sanctus Joannes
   Constantinopolitanus [John Chrysostom] negat esse in parvulis originale
   peccatum." Augustin helps himself out of the pinch by arbitrarily
   supplying propria to hamartemata, so that the idea of sin inherited
   from another is not excluded. The Greek fathers, however, did not
   consider hereditary corruption to be proper sin or guilt at all, but
   only defect, weakness, or disease. In the City of God, lib. xix. c. 23,
   he quotes a passage from Porphyry's ek logion philosophia, and in book
   xviii. 23, he explains the Greek monogram ichthus. He gives the
   derivation of several Greek words, and correctly distinguishes between
   such synonyms as gennao and tikto, euche and proseuche, pnoe and
   pneuma. It is probable that he read Plotin, and the Panarion of
   Epiphanius or the summary of it, in Greek (while the Church History of
   Eusebius he knew only in the translation of Rufinus). But in his
   exegetical and other works he very rarely consults the Septuagint or
   Greek Testament, and was content with the very imperfect Itala, or the
   improved version of Jerome (the Vulgate). The Benedictine editors
   overestimate his knowledge of Greek. He himself frankly confesses that
   he knew very little of it. De Trinit. 1. iii Prooem. ("Graæcæ linguæ
   non sit nobis tantus habitus, ut talium rerum libris legendis et
   intelligendis ullo modo reperiamur idonei"), and Contra literas
   Petiliani (written in 400),1. ii. c. 38 ("Et ego quidem Græcæ linguæ
   perparum assecutus sum, et prope nihil"). On the philosophical learning
   of Augustin may be compared Nourrisson, l. c. ii. p. 92 sqq.
     __________________________________________________________________

   CHAPTER IV.--The Writings of St. Augustin.

   The numerous writings of Augustin, the composition of which extended
   through four and forty years, are a mine of Christian knowledge, and
   experience. They abound in lofty ideas, noble sentiments, devout
   effusions, clear statements of truth, strong arguments against error,
   and passages of fervid eloquence and undying beauty, but also in
   innumerable repetitions, fanciful opinions, and playful conjectures of
   his uncommonly fertile brain. [24]

   His style is full of life and vigour and ingenious plays on words, but
   deficient in simplicity, purity and elegance, and by no means free from
   the vices of a degenerate rhetoric, wearisome prolixity, and from that
   vagabunda loquacitas, with which his adroit opponent, Julian of
   Eclanum, charged him. He would rather, as he said, be blamed by
   grammarians, than not understood by the people; and he bestowed little
   care upon his style, though he many a time rises in lofty poetic
   flight. He made no point of literary renown, but, impelled by love to
   God and to the church, he wrote from the fulness of his mind and heart.
   [25] The writings before his conversion, a treatise on the Beautiful
   (De Pulchro et Apto), the orations and eulogies which he delivered as
   rhetorician at Carthage, Rome, and Milan, are lost. The professor of
   eloquence, the heathen philosopher, the Manichæan heretic, the sceptic
   and free thinker, are known to us only from his regrets and
   recantations in the Confessions and other works. His literary career
   for us commences in his pious retreat at Cassiciacum where he prepared
   himself for a public profession of his faith. He appears first, in the
   works composed at Cassiciacum, Rome, and near Tagaste, as a Christian
   philosopher, after his ordination to the priesthood as a theologian.
   Yet even in his theological works he everywhere manifests the
   metaphysical and speculative bent of his mind. He never abandoned or
   depreciated reason, he only subordinated it to faith and made it
   subservient to the defence of revealed truth. Faith is the pioneer of
   reason, and discovers the territory which reason explores.

   The following is a classified view of his most important works. [26]

   I. Autobiographical works. To these belong the Confessions and the
   Retractations; the former acknowledging his sins, the latter retracting
   his theoretical errors. In the one he subjects his life, in the other
   his writings, to close criticism; and these productions therefore
   furnish the best standard for judging of his entire labours. [27]

   The Confessions are the most profitable, at least the most edifying,
   product of his pen; indeed, we may say, the most edifying book in all
   the patristic literature. They were accordingly the most read even
   during his lifetime, [28] and they have been the most frequently
   published since. [29] A more sincere and more earnest book was never
   written. The historical part, to the tenth book, is one of the
   devotional classics of all creeds, and second in popularity only to the
   "Imitation of Christ," by Thomas a Kempis, and Bunyan's "Pilgrim's
   Progress." Certainly no autobiography is superior to it in true
   humility, spiritual depth, and universal interest. Augustin records his
   own experience, as a heathen sensualist, a Manichæan heretic, an
   anxious inquirer, a sincere penitent, and a grateful convert. He finds
   a response in every human soul that struggles through the temptations
   of nature and the labyrinth of error to the knowledge of truth and the
   beauty of holiness, and after many sighs and tears finds rest and peace
   in the arms of a merciful Saviour. The style is not free from the
   faults of an artificial rhetoric, involved periods and far-fetched
   paronomasias; but these defects are more than atoned for by passages of
   unfading beauty, the devout spirit and psalm-like tone of the book. It
   is the incense of a sacred mysticism of the heart which rises to the
   throne on high. The wisdom of some parts of the Confessions may be
   doubted. [30] The world would never have known Augustin's sins, if he
   had not told them; nor were they of such a nature as to destroy his
   respectability in the best heathen society of his age; but we must all
   the more admire his honesty and humility.

   Rousseau's "Confessions," and Goethe's "Truth and Fiction," may be
   compared with Augustin's Confessions as works of rare genius and of
   absorbing psychological interest, but they are written in a radically
   different spirit, and by attempting to exalt human nature in its
   unsanctified state, they tend as much to expose its vanity and
   weakness, as the work of the bishop of Hippo, being written with a
   single eye to the glory of God, raises man from the dust of repentance
   to a new and imperishable life of the Spirit. [31]

   Augustin composed the Confessions about the year 397, ten years after
   his conversion. The first nine books contain, in the form of a
   continuos prayer and confession before God, a general sketch of his
   earlier life, of his conversion, and of his return to Africa in the
   thirty-fourth year of his age. The salient points in these books are
   the engaging history of his conversion in Milan, and the story of the
   last days of his noble mother in Ostia, spent as it were at the very
   gate of heaven and in full assurance of a blessed reunion at the throne
   of glory. The last three books and a part of the tenth are devoted to
   speculative philosophy; they treat, partly in tacit opposition to
   Manichæism, of the metaphysical questions of the possibility of knowing
   God, and the nature of time and space; and they give an interpretation
   of the Mosaic cosmogony in the style of the typical allegorical
   exegesis usual with the fathers, but foreign to our age; they are
   therefore of little value to the general reader, except as showing that
   even abstract metaphysical subjects may be devotionally treated.

   The Retractations were produced in the evening of his life (427 and
   428), when, mindful of the proverb: "In the multitude of words there
   wanteth not transgression," [32] and remembering that we must give
   account for every idle word, he judged himself, [33] that he might not
   be judged. [34] He revised in chronological order the numerous works he
   had written before and during his episcopate, and retracted or
   corrected whatever in them seemed to his riper knowledge false or
   obscure, or not fully agreed with the orthodox catholic faith. Some of
   his changes were reactionary and no improvements, especially those on
   the freedom of the will, and on religious toleration. In all essential
   points, nevertheless, his theological system remained the same from his
   conversion to this time. The Retractations give beautiful evidence of
   his love of truth, his conscientiousness, and his humility. [35]

   To this same class should be added the Letters of Augustin, of which
   the Benedictine editors, in their second volume, give two hundred and
   seventy (including letters to Augustin) in chronological order from
   A.D. 386 to A.D. 429. These letters treat, sometimes very minutely, of
   all the important questions of his time, and give us an insight of his
   cares, his official fidelity, his large heart, and his effort to
   become, like Paul, all things to all men.

   When the questions of friends and pupils accumulated, he answered them
   in special works; and in this way he produced various collections of
   Quæstiones and Responsiones, dogmatical, exegetical, and miscellaneous
   (A.D. 390, 397, &c.).

   II. Philosophical treatises, in dialogue; almost all composed in his
   earlier life; either during his residence on the country-seat
   Cassiciacum in the vicinity of Milan, where he spent half a year before
   his baptism in instructive and stimulating conversation, in a sort of
   academy or Christian Platonic banquet with Monnica, his son Adeodatus,
   his brother Navigius, his friend Alypius, and some cousins and pupils;
   or during his second residence in Rome; or soon after his return to
   Africa. [36]

   To this class belong the works; Contra Academicos libri très (386), in
   which he combats the skepticism and probabilism of the New
   Academy,--the doctrine that man can never reach the truth, but can at
   best attain only probability; De vita beata (386), in which he makes
   true blessedness to consist in the perfect knowledge of God; De
   ordine,--on the relation of evil to the divine order of the world [37]
   (386); Soliloquia (387), communings with his own soul concerning God,
   the highest good, the knowledge of truth, and immortality; De
   immortalitate animæ (387), a continuation of the Soliloquies; De
   quantitate animæ (387), discussing sundry questions of the size, the
   origin, the incorporeity of the soul; De musica libri vi (387-389); De
   magistro (389), in which, in a dialogue with his son Adeodatus, a pious
   and promising, but precocious youth, who died soon after his return to
   Africa (389), he treats on the importance and virtue of the word of
   God, and on Christ as the infallible Master. [38] To these may be added
   the later work, De anima et ejus origine (419). Other philosophical
   works on grammar, dialectics (or ars bene disputandi), rhetoric,
   geometry, and arithmetic, are lost. [39]

   These works exhibit as yet little that is specifically Christian and
   churchly; but they show a Platonism seized and consecrated by the
   spirit of Christianity, full of high thoughts, ideal views, and
   discriminating argument. They were designed to present the different
   stages of human thought by which he himself had reached the knowledge
   of the truth, and to serve others as steps to the sanctuary. They form
   an elementary introduction to his theology. He afterwards, in his
   Retractations, withdrew many things contained in them, like the
   Platonic view of the pre-existence of the soul, and the Platonic idea
   that the acquisition of knowledge is a recollection or excavation of
   the knowledge hidden in the mind. [40] The philosopher in him
   afterwards yielded more and more to the theologian, and his views
   became more positive and empirical, though in some cases narrower also
   and more exclusive. Yet he could never cease to philosophise, and even
   his later works, especially De Trinitate, and De Civitate Dei, are full
   of profound speculations. Before his conversion he followed a
   particular system of philosophy, first the Manichæan, then the
   Platonic; after his conversion he embraced the Christian philosophy,
   which is based on the divine revelation of the Scriptures, and is the
   handmaid of theology and religion; but at the same time he prepared the
   way for the catholic ecclesiastical philosophy, which rests on the
   authority of the church, and became complete in the scholasticism of
   the middle age.

   In the history of philosophy he deserves a place in the highest rank,
   and has done greater service to the science of sciences than any other
   father, Clement of Alexandria and Origen not excepted. He attacked and
   refuted the pagan philosophy as pantheistic or dualistic at heart; he
   shook the superstitions of astrology and magic; he expelled from
   philosophy the doctrine of emanation, and the idea that God is the soul
   of the world; he substantially advanced psychology; he solved the
   question of the origin and the nature of evil more nearly than any of
   his predecessors, and as nearly as most of his successors; he was the
   first to investigate thoroughly the relation of divine omnipotence and
   omniscience to human freedom, and to construct a theodicy; in short, he
   is properly the founder of a Christian philosophy, and not only divided
   with Aristotle the empire of the mediæval scholasticism, but furnished
   also living germs for new systems of philosophy, and will always be
   consulted in the speculative discussions of Christian doctrines.

   The philosophical opinions of Augustin are ably and clearly summed up
   by Ueberweg as follows: [41]

   "Against the skepticism of the Academics Augustin urges that man needs
   the knowledge of truth for his happiness, that it is not enough merely
   to inquire and to doubt, and he finds a foundation for all our
   knowledge, a foundation invulnerable against every doubt, in the
   consciousness we have of our sensations, feelings, our willing, and
   thinking, in short, of all our psychical processes. From the undeniable
   existence and possession by man of some truth, he concludes to the
   existence of God as the truth per se; but our conviction of the
   existence of the material world he regards as only an irresistible
   belief. Combating heathen religion and philosophy, Augustin defends the
   doctrines and institutions peculiar to Christianity, and maintains, in
   particular, against the Neo-Platoniste, whom he rates most highly among
   all the ancient philosophers, the Christian theses that salvation is to
   be found in Christ alone, that divine worship is due to no other being
   beside the triune God, since he created all things himself, and did not
   commission inferior beings, gods, demons, or angels to create the
   material world; that the soul with its body will rise again to eternal
   salvation or damnation, but will not return periodically to renewed
   life upon the earth; that the soul begins to exist at the same time
   with the body; that the world both had a beginning and is perishable,
   and that only God and the souls of angels and men are eternal.--Against
   the dualism of the Manichæans, who regarded good and evil as equally
   primitive, and represented a portion of the divine substance as having
   entered into the region of evil, in order to war against and conquer
   it, Augustin defends the monism of the good principle, or of the purely
   spiritual God, explaining evil as a mere negation or privation, and
   seeking to show from the finiteness of the things in the world, and
   from the differing degrees of perfection, that the evils in the world
   are necessary, and not in contradiction with the idea of creation; he
   also defends in opposition to Manichæism, and Gnosticism in general,
   the Catholic doctrine of the essential harmony between the Old and New
   Testaments. Against the Donatists, Augustin maintains the unity of the
   church. In opposition to Pelagius and the Pelagians, he asserts that
   divine grace is not conditioned on human worthiness, and maintains the
   doctrine of absolute predestination, or, that from the mass of men who,
   through the disobedience of Adam (in whom all mankind were present
   potentially), have sunk into corruption and sin, some are chosen by the
   free election of God to be monuments of his grace, and are brought to
   believe and be saved, while the greater number, as monuments of his
   justice, are left to eternal damnation."

   III. Apologetic works against Pagans and Jews. Among these the
   twenty-two books, De Civitate Dei, are still well worth reading. They
   form the deepest and richest apologetic work of antiquity; begun in
   413, after the occupation of Rome by the Gothic king Alaric, finished
   in 426, and often separately published. They condense his entire theory
   of the world and of man, and are the first attempt at a comprehensive
   philosophy of universal history under the dualistic view of two
   antagonistic currents or organized forces, a kingdom of this world
   which is doomed to final destruction, and a kingdom of God which will
   last forever. [42]

   This work has controlled catholic historiography ever since, and
   received the official approval of Pope Leo XIII., who, in his famous
   Encyclical Immortale Dei (Nov. 1, 1885), incidentally alludes to it in
   these worlds: "Augustin, in his work, De Civitate Dei, set forth so
   clearly the efficacy of Christian wisdom and the way in which it is
   bound up with the well-being of civil society, that he seems not only
   to have pleaded the cause of the Christians at his own time, but to
   have triumphantly refuted the calumnies against Christianity for all
   time."

   From the Protestant point of view Augustin erred in identifying the
   kingdom of God with the visible Catholic Church, which is only a part
   of it.

   IV. Religious-Theological works of a general nature (in part
   anti-Manichæan): De utilitate credendi, against the Gnostic exaltation
   of knowledge (392); De fide et symbolo, a discourse which, though only
   presbyter, he delivered on the Apostles' Creed before the council at
   Hippo at the request of the bishops in 393; De doctrina Christiana iv
   libri (397; the fourth book added in 426), a compend of exegetical
   theology for instruction in the interpretation of the Scriptures
   according to the analogy of the faith; De catchizandis rudibus likewise
   for catechetical purposes (400); Enchiridon, or De fide, spe et
   caritate, a brief compend of the doctrine of faith and morals, which he
   wrote in 421, or later, at the request of Laurentius; hence also called
   Manuale ad Laurentium. [43]

   V. Polemic-Theological works. These are the most copious sources of the
   history of Christian doctrine in the patristic age. The heresies
   collectively are reviewed in the book De hæresibus ad Quodvultdeum,
   written between 428 and 430 to a friend and deacon in Carthage, and
   give a survey of eighty-eight heresies, from the Simonians to the
   Pelagians. [44] In the work De vera religione (390), Augustin proposed
   to show that the true religion is to be found not with the heretics and
   schismatics, but only in the catholic church of that time.

   The other controversial works are directed against the particular
   heresies of Manichæism, Donatism, Arianism, Pelagianism and
   Semi-Pelagianism. Augustin, with all the firmness of his convictions,
   was free from personal antipathy, and used the pen of controversy in
   the genuine Christian spirit, fortiter in re, suaviter in modo. He
   understood Paul's aletheuein en agape, and forms in this respect a
   pleasing contrast to Jerome, who had by nature no more fiery
   temperament than he, but was less able to control it. "Let those," he
   very beautifully says to the Manichæans, "burn with hatred against you,
   who do not know how much pains it costs to find the truth, how hard it
   is to guard against error;--but I, who after so great and long wavering
   came to know the truth, must bear myself towards you with the same
   patience which my fellow-believers showed towards me while I was
   wandering in blind madness in your opinions." [45]

   1. The anti-Manichæan works date mostly from his earlier life, and in
   time and matter follow immediately upon his philosophical writings.
   [46] In them he afterwards found most to retract, because he advocated
   the freedom of the will against the Manichæan fatalism. The most
   important are: De moribus ecclesiæ catholicæ, et de moribus
   Manichæorum, two books (written during his second residence in Rome,
   388); De vera religione (390); Unde malum, et de libero arbitrio,
   usually simply De libero arbitrio, in three books, against the
   Manichæan doctrine of evil as a substance, and as having its seat in
   matter instead of free will (begun in 388, finished in 395); De Genesi
   contra Manichæos, a defence of the biblical doctrine of creation (389);
   De duabus animabus, against the psychological dualism of the Manichæans
   (392); Disputatio contra Fortunatum (a triumphant refutation of this
   Manichæan priest of Hippo in August, 392); Contra Epistolam Manichæi
   quam vocant fundamenti (397); Contra Faustum Manichæum, in thirty-three
   books (400-404); De natura boni (404), &c.

   These works treat of the origin of evil; of free will; of the harmony
   of the Old and New Testaments, and of revelation and nature; of
   creation out of nothing, in opposition to dualism and hylozoism; of the
   supremacy of faith over knowledge; of the authority of the Scriptures
   and the Church; of the true and the false asceticism, and other
   disputed points; and they are the chief source of our knowledge of the
   Manichæan Gnosticism and of the arguments against it.

   Having himself belonged for nine years to this sect, Augustin was the
   better fitted for the task of refuting it, as Paul was peculiarly
   prepared for the confutation of the Pharisaic Judaism. His doctrine of
   the nature of evil is particularly valuable. He has triumphantly
   demonstrated for all time, that evil is not a corporeal thing, nor in
   any way substantial, but a product of the free will of the creature, a
   perversion of substance in itself good, a corruption of the nature
   created by God.

   2. Against the Priscillianists, a sect in Spain built on Manichæan
   principles, are directed the book Ad Paulum Orosium contra
   Priscillianistas et Origenistas (411); [47] the book Contra mendacium,
   addressed to Consentius (420); and in part the 190th Epistle (alias Ep.
   157), to the Bishop Optatus, on the origin of the soul (418), and two
   other letters, in which he refutes erroneous views on the nature of the
   soul, the limitation of future punishment, and the lawfulness of fraud
   for supposed good purposes.

   3. The anti-Donatistic works, composed between the years 393 and 420,
   argue against separatism, and contain Augustin's doctrine of the church
   and church-discipline, and of the sacraments. To these belong: Psalmus
   contra partem Donati (A.D. 393), a polemic popular song without regular
   metre, intended to offset the songs of the Donatists; Contra epistolam
   Parmeniani, written in 400 against the Carthaginian bishop of the
   Donatists, the successor of Donatus; De baptismo contra Donastistas, in
   favor of the validity of heretical baptism (400); Contra literas
   Petiliani (about 400), against the view of Cyprian and the Donatists,
   that the efficacy of the sacraments depends on the personal worthiness
   and the ecclesiastical status of the officiating priest; Ad Catholicos
   Epistola contra Donatistas, or De unitate ecclesiæ (402); Contra
   Cresconium grammaticum Donastistam (406); Breviculus Collationis cum
   Donatistis, a short account of the three days' religious conference
   with the Donatists (411); De correctione Donatistarum (417); Contra
   Gaudentium, Donat. Episcopum, the last anti-Donatistic work (420). [48]

   These works are the chief patristic authority of the Roman Catholic
   doctrine of the church and against the sects. They are thoroughly
   Romanizing in spirit and aim, and least satisfactory to Protestant
   readers. Augustin defended in his later years even the principle of
   forcible coërcion and persecution against heretics and schismatics by a
   false exegesis of the words in the parable "Compel them to come in"
   (Luke xiv. 23). The result of persecution was that both Catholics and
   Donatists in North Africa were overwhelmed in ruin first by the
   barbarous Vandals, who were Arian heretics, and afterwards by the
   Mohammedan conquerors.

   4. The anti-Arian works have to do with the deity of Christ and of the
   Holy Spirit, and with the Holy Trinity. By far the most important of
   these are the fifteen books De Trinitate (400-416);--the most profound
   and discriminating production of the ancient church on the Trinity, in
   no respect inferior to the kindred works of Athanasius and the two
   Gregories, and for centuries final to the dogma. [49] This may also be
   counted among the positive didactic works, for it is not directly
   controversial. The Collatio cum Maximino Ariano, an obscure babbler,
   belongs to the year 428.

   5. The numerous anti-Pelagian works of Augustin are his most
   influential and most valuable, at least for Protestants. They were
   written between the years 412 and 429. In them Augustin, in his
   intellectual and spiritual prime, develops his system of anthropology
   and soteriology, and most nearly approaches the position of Evangelical
   Protestantism: On the Guilt and the Remission of Sins, and Infant
   Baptism (412); On the Spirit and the Letter (413); On Nature and Grace
   (415); On the Acts of Pelagius (417); On the Grace of Christ, and
   Original Sin (418); On Marriage and Concupiscence (419); On Grace and
   Free Will (426); On Discipline and Grace (427); Against Julian of
   Eclanum (two large works, written between 421 and 429, the second
   unfinished, and hence called Opus imperfectum); On the Predestination
   of the Saints (428); On the Gift of Perseverance (429); &c. [50]

   These anti-Pelagian writings contain what is technically called the
   Augustinian system of theology, which was substantially adopted by the
   Lutheran Church, yet without the decree of reprobation, and in a more
   rigorous logical form by the Calvinistic Confessions. The system gives
   all glory to God, does full justice to the sovereignty of divine grace,
   effectually humbles and yet elevates and fortifies man, and furnishes
   the strongest stimulus to gratitude and the firmest foundation of
   comfort. It makes all bright and lovely in the circle of the elect. But
   it is gloomy and repulsive in its negative aspect towards the
   non-elect. It teaches a universal damnation and only a partial
   redemption, and confines the offer of salvation to the minority of the
   elect; it ignores the general benevolence of God to all his creatures;
   it weakens or perverts the passages which clearly teach that "God would
   have all men to be saved"; it suspends their eternal fate upon one
   single act of disobedience; it assumes an unconscious, and yet
   responsible pre-existence of Adam's posterity and their participation
   in his sin and guilt; it reflects upon the wisdom of God in creating
   countless millions of beings with the eternal foreknowledge of their
   everlasting misery; and it does violence to the sense of individual
   responsibility for accepting or rejecting the gospel-offer of
   salvation. And yet this Augustinian system, especially in its severest
   Calvinistic form, has promoted civil and religious liberty, and trained
   the most virtuous, independent, and heroic types of Christians, as the
   Huguenots, the Puritans, the Covenanters, and the Pilgrim Fathers. It
   is still a mighty moral power, and will not lose its hold upon earnest
   characters until some great theological genius produces from the
   inexhaustible mine of the Scriptures a more satisfactory solution of
   the awful problem which the universal reign of sin and death presents
   to the thinking mind.

   In Augustin the anti-Pelagian system was checked and moderated by his
   churchly and sacramental views, and we cannot understand him without
   keeping both in view. The same apparent contradiction we find in
   Luther, but he broke entirely with the sacerdotal system of Rome, and
   made the doctrine of justification by faith the chief article of his
   creed, which Augustin never could have done. Calvin was more logical
   than either, and went back beyond justification and Adam's fall, yea,
   beyond time itself, to the eternal counsel of God which pre-ordains,
   directs and controls the whole history of mankind to a certain end, the
   triumph of his mercy and justice.

   VI. Exegetical works. The best of these are: De Genesi ad literam (The
   Genesis word for word), in twelve books, an extended exposition of the
   first three chapters of Genesis, particularly the history of the
   creation literally interpreted, though with many mystical and
   allegorical interpretations also (written between 401 and 415); [51]
   Enarrationes in Psalmos (mostly sermons); [52] hundred and twenty-four
   Homilies on the Gospel of John (416 and 417); [53] ten Homilies on the
   First Epistle of John (417); the Exposition of the Sermon on the Mount
   (393); the Harmony of the Gospels (De consensu evangelistarum, 400);
   the Epistle to the Galatians (394); and an unfinished commentary on the
   Epistle to the Romans. [54]

   Augustin deals more in lively, profound, and edifying thoughts on the
   Scriptures than in proper grammatical and historical exposition, for
   which neither he nor his readers had the necessary linguistic
   knowledge, disposition, or taste. He grounded his theology less upon
   exegesis than upon his Christian and churchly mind saturated with
   Scriptural truths. He excels in spiritual insight, and is suggestive
   even when he misses the natural meaning.

   VII. Ethical and Ascetic works. Among these belong three hundred and
   ninety-six Sermones (mostly very short) de Scripturis (on texts of
   Scripture), de tempore (festival sermons), de sanctis (in memory of
   apostles, martyrs, and saints), and de diversis (on various occasions),
   some of them dictated by Augustin, some taken down by hearers. [55]
   Also various moral treatises: De continentia (395); De mendaico (395),
   against deception (not to be confounded with the similar work already
   mentioned Contra mendacium, against the fraud-theory of the
   Priscillianists, written in 420); De agone Christiano (396); De opere
   monachorum, against monastic idleness (400); De bono conjugali adv.
   Jovinianum (400); De virginitate (401); De fide et operibus (413); De
   adulterinis conjugiis, on 1 Cor. vii. 10 sqq. (419); De bono viduitatis
   (418); De patientia (418); De cura pro mortuis gerenda, to Paulinus of
   Nola (421); De utilitate jejunii; De diligendo Deo; Meditationes; [56]
   &c.

   As we survey this enormous literary labor, augmented by many other
   treatises and letters now lost, and as we consider his episcopal
   labors, his many journeys, and his adjudications of controversies among
   the faithful, which often robbed him of whole days, we must be really
   astounded at the fidelity, exuberance, energy, and perseverance of this
   father of the church. Surely, such a life was worth the living.
     __________________________________________________________________

   [24] Ellies Dupin (Bibliothégue ecclésiastique, tom. iii. 1 partie, p.
   818) and Nourrisson (l. c. tom. ii. p. 449) apply to Augustin the term
   magnus opinator, which Cicero used of himself. There is, however, this
   important difference that Augustin, along with his many opinions on
   speculative questions in philosophy and theology, had very positive
   convictions in all essential doctrines, while Cicero was a mere
   eclectic in philosophy.

   [25] He was not "intoxicated with the exuberance of his own verbosity,"
   as a modern English statesman (Lord Beaconsfield) charged his equally
   distinguished rival (Mr. Gladstone) in Parliament.

   [26] In his Retractations, he himself reviews ninety-three of his works
   (embracing two hundred and thirty-two books, see ii. 67), in
   chronological order: in the first book those which he wrote while a
   layman and presbyter, in the second those which he wrote when a bishop.
   See also the extended chronological index in Schönemann's Biblioth.
   historico-literaria Patrum Latinorum, vol. ii (Lips, 1794), p. 340 sqq.
   (reprinted in the supplemental volume, xii., of Migne's ed. of the
   Opera, p. 24 sqq.); and other systematic and alphabetical lists in the
   eleventh volume of the Bened. ed (p. 494 sqq., ed. Venet.), and in
   Migne, tom. xi.

   [27] For this reason the Benedictine editors have placed the
   Retractations and the Confessions at the head of his works.

   [28] He himself says of them, Retract. 1. ii. c. 6: "Maltis fratribus
   eos [Confessionum libros tredecim] multum placuisse et, placere scio."
   Comp. De donon perseverantiæ, c. 20: "Quid autem meorum opusculorum
   freguentius et deleciabilius innotescere potuit qam libri Confessionum
   mearum?" Comp. Ep.. 231 Dario comiti.

   [29] Schönnemann (in the supplemental volume of Migne's ed. of
   Augustin, p. 134 sqq.) cites a multitude of separate editions of the
   Confessions in Latin, Italian, Spanish, Portuguese, French, English,
   and German, from A.D. 1475 to 1776. Since that time several new
   editions have been added. One of the best Latin editions is that of
   Karl von Raumer (Stuttgart, 1856), who used to read the Confessions
   with his students at Erlangen once a week for many years. In his
   preface he draws a comparison between them and Rousseau's Confessions
   and Hamann's Gedanken über meinen Lebenslauf. English and German
   translations are noticed above in the Lit. Dr. Shedd (in his ed., Pref.
   p. xxvii) calls the Confessions the best commentary yet written upon
   the seventh and eighth chapters of Romans. "That quickening of the
   human spirit, which puts it again into vital and sensitive relations to
   the holy and eternal; that illumination of the mind, whereby it is
   enabled to perceive with clearness the real nature of truth and
   righteousness; that empowering of the will, to the conflict of
   victory--the entire process of restoring the Divine image in the soul
   of man--is delineated in this book, with a vividness and reality never
   exceeded by the uninspired mind."..."It is the life of God in the soul
   of a strong man, rushing and rippling with the freedom of the life of
   nature. He who watches can almost see the growth; he who listens can
   hear the perpetual motion; and he who is in sympathy will be swept
   along."

   [30] We mean his sexual sins. He kept a concubine for sixteen years,
   the mother of his only child, Adeodatus, and after her separation he
   formed for a short time a similar connection in Milan; but in both
   cases he was faithful. Conf. IV. 2 (unam habebam...servans tori fidem);
   VI. 15. Erasmus thought very leniently of this sin as contrasted with
   the conduct of the priests and abbots of his time. Augustin himself
   deeply repented of it, and devoted his life to celibacy.

   [31] Nourrisson (1. c. tom. i. p. 19) calls the Confessions "cet
   ouvrage unique, souvent imité, toujours parodié, où il s'accuse, se
   condamne et s'humilie, priére ardente, récit entrainant, metaphysique
   incomparable, histoire de tout un monde qui se refléte dans l'histoire
   d' une ame." Comp. also an article on the Confessions in "The
   Contemporary Review" for June, 1867, pp 133-160.

   [32] Prov. x. 19. This verse (ex multiloquio non effugies peccatum) the
   Semi-Pelagian Gennadius (De viris illustr. sub Aug.) applies against
   Augustin in excuse for his erroneous doctrines of freedom and
   predestination.

   [33] Matt. xii. 36 .

   [34] 1 Cor. xi. 31. Comp. his Prologus to the two books of
   Retractationes.

   [35] J. Morell Mackenzie (in W Smith's Dictionary of Greek and Roman
   Biography and Mythology, vol. i. p. 422) happily calls the
   Retractations of Augustin "one of the noblest sacrifices ever laid upon
   the altar of truth by a majestic intellect acting in obedience to the
   purest conscientiousness."

   [36] In tom. i. of the ed. Bened., immediately after the Retractationes
   and Confessiones, and at the close of the volume. On these
   philosophical writings, see Brucker: Historia critica philosophiæ,
   Lips. 1766, tom. iii. pp. 485-507: H Ritter: Geschichte der Philosphie,
   vol. vi. p. 153 sqq.; Ueberweg, History of Philosophy, I. 333-346 (Am.
   ed.): Erdmann, Grundriss der Geschichte der Philosophie, I. 231-240;
   Bindemann, l. c. I. 282 sqq. Huber, l. c. I. 242 sqq.; Gangauf, l. c.
   p. 25 sqq., and Nouerisson, l. c. ch. i. and ii. Nourrisson makes the
   just remark (i. p. 53): "Si la philosophie est la recherché de la
   verité, jamais sans douse il ne s'est rencontre une ame plus philosophe
   que celle de saint Augustin. Car jamais ame n'a supporté avec plus d'
   impatience les anxiétés du doute et n'a fait plus d' efforts pour
   dissiper les fantomes de l'erreur."

   [37] Or on the question: "Utrum omnia bona et mala divinæ providentie
   ordo contineat?" Comp. Retract. i. 3.

   [38] Augustin, in his Confessions (l. ix. c. 6), expresses himself in
   this touching way about this son of his illicit love: "We took with us
   [on returning from the country to Milan to receive the sacrament of
   baptism] also the boy Adeodatus, the son of my carnal sin. Thou hadst
   formed him well. He was but just fifteen years old, and he was superior
   in mind to many grave and learned men. I acknowledge Thy gifts, O Lord,
   my God, who createst all, and who canst reform our deformities: for I
   had no part in that boy but sin. And when we brought him up in Thy
   nurture, Thou, only Thou, didst prompt us to it; I acknowledge Thy
   gifts. There is my book entitled, De magistro: he speaks with me there.
   Thou knowest that all things there put into his mouth were in his mind
   when he was sixteen years of age. That maturity of mind was a terror to
   me; and who but Thou is the artificer of such wonders? Soon Thou didst
   take his life from the earth; and I think more quietly of him now,
   fearing no more for his boyhood, nor his youth, nor his whole life. We
   took him to ourselves as one of the same age in Thy grace, to be
   trained in Thy nurture; and we were baptised together; and all trouble
   about the past fled from us." He refers to him also in De vita beata, §
   6: "There was also with us, in age the youngest of all, but whose
   talents, if affection deceives me not, promise something great, my son
   Adeodatus." In the same book (§ 18), he mentions an answer of his: "He
   is truly chaste who waits on God, and keeps himself to Him only."

   [39] The books on grammar, dialectics, rhetoric, and the ten Categories
   of Aristotle, in the Appendix to the first volume of the Bened. ed.,
   are spurious. For the genuine works of Augustin on these subjects were
   written in a different form (the dialogue) and for a higher purpose,
   and were lost in his own day. Comp. Retract. i. c. 6. In spite of this,
   Prantl (Geschichte der Logik in Abendlande, pp. 665-674, cited by
   Huber, l. c. p. 240) has advocated the genuineness of the Principia
   dialecticæ, and Huber inclines to agree. Gangauf, l. c. p. 5, and
   Nourrisson, i. p. 37, consider them spurious.

   [40] He mathesis ouk allo ti e an?mnesis. On this Plato, in the Phædo,
   as is well known, rests his doctrine of pre-existence. Augustin was at
   first in favor of the idea, Solit. ii. 20, n. 35; afterwards he
   rejected it, Retract. i. 4, § 4; but after all he assumes in his
   anthropology a sort of unconscious, yet responsible, pre-existence of
   the whole human race in Adam as its organic head, and hence taught a
   universal fall in Adam's fall.

   [41] History of Philosophy, vol. i. 333 sq., translated by Pro. Geo. S.
   Morris.

   [42] In the Bened. ed. tom. vii. Comp. Retract. ii. 43, and Ch. Hist.
   III. § 12. The City of God and the Confessions are the only writings of
   Augustin which Gibbon thought worth while to read (chap. xxxiii.).
   Huber (l. c. p. 315) says: "Augustin's philosophy of history, as he
   presents it in his Civitas Dei, has remained to this hour the standard
   philosophy of history for the church orthodoxy, the bounds of which
   this orthodoxy, unable to perceive in the motions of the modern spirit
   the fresh morning air of a higher day of history, is scarcely able to
   transcend." Nourrisson devotes a special Chapter to the consideration
   of the two cities of Augustin, the City of the World and the City of
   God (tom. ii. 43-88). Compare also the Introduction to Saisset's
   Traduction de la Cité de Dieu, Par. 1855, and Reinken's (old Cath.
   Bishop), Geschichtsphilosophie des heil. Aug. 1866. Engl. translation
   of the City of God by Dr. Marcus Dods, Edinburgh, 1872, 2 vols., and in
   the second vol. of this Library of the Nicene and Post-Nicene Fathers.

   [43] Separately edited by Krabinger, Tubingen, 1861.

   [44] This work is also incorporated in the Corpus hæreseoloicum of Fr.
   Oehler, tom. i. pp. 192-225.

   [45] Contra Epist. Manichæi quam vocant fundamenti, 1. i. 2.

   [46] The earliest anti-Manichæan writings (De libero arbitrio; De
   moribus eccl. cath. et de Moribus Manich.) are in tom. i. ed. Bened.;
   the latter in tom viii.

   [47] Tom. viii. p. 611 sqq.

   [48] All these in tom. ix. Comp. Church Hist. III. §§69 and 70.

   [49] Tom. viii. ed Bened. p. 749 sqq. Comp. Ch. Hist. III §131. The
   work was stolen from him by some impatient friends before revision, and
   before the completion of the twelfth book, so that he became much
   discouraged, and could only be moved to finish it by urgent entreaties.

   [50] Opera, tom. x., in two parts, with an Appendix. The same in Migne.
   W. Bright, of Oxford, has published Select Anti-Pelagian Treatises of
   St. Aug., in Latin, 1880. On the Pelagian controversy comp. Ch. Hist.
   III. §§146-160.

   [51] Tom. iii. 117-324. Not to be confounded with the two other books
   on Genesis, in which he defends the biblical doctrine of creation
   against the Manichæans. In this exegetical work he aimed, as he says,
   Retract. ii. c. 24, to interpret Genesis "non secundum allegoricas
   significationes, sed secundum rerum gestarum proprietatem." The work is
   more original and spirited than the Hexaëmeron of Basil or of Ambrose.

   [52] Tom. iv., the whole volume. The English translation of the Com. on
   the Psalms occupies six volumes of the Oxford Library of the Fathers.

   [53] Tom. iii. 289-824. Translated in Clark's ed. of Augustin's works.

   [54] All in tom. iii. Translated in part.

   [55] Tom. v. contains beside these a multitude (317) of doubtful and
   spurious sermons, likewise divided into four classes. To these must be
   added recently discovered sermons, edited from manuscripts in Florence,
   Monte Cassino, etc., by M. Denis (1792), O. F. Frangipane (1820), A. L.
   Caillau (Paris, 1836), and Angelo Mai (in the Nova Bibliotheca Patrum).

   [56] Most of them in tom. vi. ed. Bened. On the scripta deperdita,
   dubia et spuria of Augustin, see the index by Schönemann, l. c. p. 50
   sqq., and in the supplemental volume of Migne's edition, pp. 34-40. The
   so-called Meditations of Augustin (German translation by August Krohne,
   Stuttgart, 1854) are a later compilation by the abbot of Fescamp in
   France, at the close of the twelfth century, from the writings of
   Augustin, Gregory the Great, Anselm, and others.
     __________________________________________________________________

   CHAPTER V.--The Influence of St. Augustin upon Posterity, and his
   Relation to Catholicism and Protestantism.

   In conclusion we must add some observations respecting the influence of
   Augustin on the Church and the world since his time, and his position
   with reference to the great antagonism of Catholicism and
   Protestantism. All the church fathers are, indeed, the common
   inheritance of both parties; but no other of them has produced so
   permanent effects on both, and no other stands in so high regard with
   both, as Augustin. Upon the Greek Church alone has he exercised little
   or no influence; for this Church stopped with the undeveloped
   synergistic anthropology of the previous age, and rejects most
   decidedly, as a Latin heresy, the doctrine of the double procession of
   the Holy Spirit (the Filioque) for which Augustin is chiefly
   responsible. [57]

   1. Augustin, in the first place, contributed much to the development of
   the doctrinal basis which Catholicism and Protestantism hold in common
   against such radical heresies of antiquity as Manichæism, Arianism, and
   Pelagianism. In all these great intellectual conflicts he was in
   general the champion of the cause of Christian truth against dangerous
   errors. Through his influence the canon of Holy Scripture (including,
   indeed, the Old Testament Apocrypha) was fixed in its present form by
   the councils of Hippo (393) and Carthage (397). He conquered the
   Manichæan dualism, hylozoism, and fatalism, and saved the biblical idea
   of God and of creation, and the biblical doctrine of the nature of sin
   and its origin in the free will of man. He developed the Nicene dogma
   of the Trinity, in opposition to tritheism on the one hand, and
   Sabellianism on the other, but also with the doubtful addition of the
   Filioque, and in opposition to the Greek, gave it the form in which it
   has ever since prevailed in the West. In this form the dogma received
   classical expression from his school in the falsely so called
   Athanasian Creed, which is not recognized by the Greek Church, and
   which better deserves the name of the Augustinian Creed.

   In Christology, on the contrary, he added nothing new, and he died
   shortly before the great Christological conflicts opened, which reached
   their oecumenical settlement at the council of Chalcedon, twenty years
   after his death. Yet he anticipated Leo in giving currency in the West
   to the important formula: "Two natures in one person." [58]

   2. Augustin is also the principal theological creator of the
   Latin-Catholic system as distinct from the Greek Catholicism on the one
   hand, and from evangelical protestantism on the other. He ruled the
   entire theology of the middle age, and became the father of
   scholasticism in virtue of his dialectic mind, and the father of
   mysticism in virtue of his devout heart, without being responsible for
   the excesses of either system. For scholasticism thought to comprehend
   the divine with the understanding, and lost itself at last in empty
   dialectics; and mysticism endeavoured to grasp the divine with feeling,
   and easily strayed into misty sentimentalism; Augustin sought to
   apprehend the divine with the united power of mind and heart, of bold
   thought and humble faith. [59] Anselm, Bernard of Clairvaux, Thomas
   Aquinas, and Bonaventura, are his nearest of kin in this respect. Even
   now, since the Catholic Church has become a Roman Church, he enjoys
   greater consideration in it than Ambrose, Hilary, Jerome, or Gregory
   the Great. All this cannot possibly be explained without an interior
   affinity. [60]

   His very conversion, in which, besides the Scriptures, the personal
   intercourse of the hierarchical Ambrose and the life of the ascetic
   Anthony had great influence, was a transition not from heathenism to
   Christianity (for he was already a Manichæan Christian), but from
   heresy to the historical, orthodox, episcopally organized church, as,
   for the time, the sole authorized vehicle of the apostolic Christianity
   in conflict with those sects and parties which more or less assailed
   the foundations of the Gospel. It was, indeed, a full and unconditional
   surrender of his mind and heart to God, but it was at the same time a
   submission of his private judgment to the authority of the church which
   led him to the faith of the gospel. [61] In the same spirit he embraced
   the ascetic life, without which, according to the Catholic principle,
   no high religion is possible. He did not indeed enter a cloister, like
   Luther, whose conversion in Erfurt was likewise essentially catholic,
   but he lived in his house in the simplicity of a monk, and made and
   kept the vow of voluntary poverty and celibacy. [62]

   He adopted Cyprian's doctrine of the church, and completed it in the
   conflict with Donatism by transferring the predicates of unity,
   holiness, universality, exclusiveness, and maternity, directly to the
   actual church of the time, which, with a firm episcopal organization,
   an unbroken succession, and the Apostles' Creed, triumphantly withstood
   the eighty or the hundred opposing sects in the heretical catalogue of
   the day, and had its visible centre in Rome. In this church he had
   found rescue from the shipwreck of his life, the home of true
   Christianity, firm ground for his thinking, satisfaction for his heart,
   and a commensurate field for the wide range of his powers. [63] The
   predicate of infallibility alone he does not plainly bring forward; he
   assumes a progressive correction of earlier councils by later; and in
   the Pelagian controversy he asserts the same independence towards pope
   Zosimus, which Cyprian before him had shown towards pope Stephen in the
   controversy on heretical baptism, with the advantage of having the
   right on his side, so that Zosimus found himself compelled to yield to
   the African church. But after the condemnation of the Pelagian errors
   by the Roman see (418), he declared that "the case is finished, if only
   the error were also finished." [64]

   He was the first to give a clear and fixed definition of the sacrament,
   as a visible sign of invisible grace, resting on divine appointment;
   but he knows nothing of the number seven; this was a much later
   enactment. In the doctrine of baptism he is entirely Catholic, though
   in logical contradiction with his dogma of predestination; he
   maintained the necessity of baptism for salvation on the ground of John
   ii. 5 and Mark xvi. 16, and derived from it the horrible dogma of the
   eternal damnation of all unbaptized infants, though he reduced their
   condition to a mere absence of bliss, without actual suffering. [65] In
   the doctrine of the holy communion he stands, like his predecessors,
   Tertullian and Cyprian, nearer to the Calvinistic than any other theory
   of a spiritual presence and fruition of Christ's body and blood. He
   certainly can not be quoted in favor of transubstantiation. He was the
   chief authority of Ratramnus and Berengar in their opposition to this
   dogma.

   He contributed to promote, at least in his later writings, the Catholic
   faith of miracles, [66] and the worship of Mary; [67] though he exempts
   the Virgin only from actual sin, not from original, and, with all his
   reverence for her, never calls her "mother of God." [68]

   At first an advocate of religious liberty and of purely spiritual
   methods of opposing error, he afterwards asserted the fatal principle
   of forcible coërcion, and lent the great weight of his authority to the
   system of civil persecution, at the bloody fruits of which in the
   middle age he himself would have shuddered; for he was always at heart
   a man of love and gentleness, and personally acted on the glorious
   principle: "Nothing conquers but truth, and the victory of truth is
   love." [69]

   Thus even truly great and good men have unintentionally, through
   mistaken zeal, become the authors of incalculable mischief.

   3. But, on the other hand, Augustin is, of all the fathers, nearest to
   evangelical Protestantism, and may be called, in respect of his
   doctrine of sin and grace, the first forerunner of the Reformation. The
   Lutheran and Reformed churches have ever conceded to him, without
   scruple, the cognomen of Saint, and claimed him as one of the most
   enlightened witnesses of the truth and most striking examples of the
   marvellous power of divine grace in the transformation of a sinner. It
   is worthy of mark, that his Pauline doctrines, which are most nearly
   akin to Protestantism, are the later and more mature parts of his
   system, and that just these found great acceptance with the laity. The
   Pelagian controversy, in which he developed his anthropology, marks the
   culmination of his theological and ecclesiastical career, and his
   latest writings were directed against the Pelagian Julian and the
   Semi-Pelagians in Gaul, who were brought to his notice by two friendly
   laymen, Prosper and Hilary. These anti-Pelagian works have wrought
   mightily, it is most true, upon the Catholic church, and have held in
   check the Pelagianizing tendencies of the hierarchical and monastic
   system, but they have never passed into its blood and marrow. They
   waited for a favourable future, and nourished in silence an opposition
   to the prevailing system.

   In the middle age the better sects, which attempted to simplify,
   purify, and spiritualize the reigning Christianity by return to the
   Holy Scriptures, and the Reformers before the Reformation, such as
   Wiclif, Hus, Wessel, resorted most, after the apostle Paul, to the
   bishop of Hippo as the representative of the doctrine of free grace.

   The Reformers were led by his writings into a deeper understanding of
   Paul, and so prepared for their great vocation. No church teacher did
   so much to mould Luther and Calvin; none furnished them so powerful
   weapons against the dominant Pelagianism and formalism; none is so
   often quoted by them with esteem and love. [70]

   All the Reformers in the outset, Melanchthon and Zwingle among them,
   adopted his denial of free will and his doctrine of predestination, and
   sometimes even went beyond him into the abyss of supralapsarianism, to
   cut out the last roots of human merit and boasting. In this point
   Augustin holds the same relation to the Catholic church, as Luther to
   the Lutheran; that is, he is a heretic of unimpeachable authority, who
   is more admired than censured even in his extravagances; yet his
   doctrine of predestination was indirectly condemned by the pope in
   Jansenism, as Luther's view was rejected as Calvinism by the Formula of
   Concord. [71] For Jansenism was nothing but a revival of Augustinianism
   in the bosom of the Roman Catholic church. [72]

   The excess of Augustin and the Reformers in this direction is due to
   the earnestness and energy of their sense of sin and grace. The
   Pelagian looseness could never beget a reformer. It was only the
   unshaken conviction of man's own inability, of unconditional dependence
   on God, and of the almighty power of his grace to give us strength for
   every good work, which could do this. He who would give others the
   conviction that he has a divine vocation for the church and for
   mankind, must himself be penetrated with the faith of an eternal,
   unalterable decree of God, and must cling to it in the darkest hours.

   In great men, and only in great men, great opposites and apparently
   antagonistic truths live together. Small minds cannot hold them. The
   catholic, churchly, sacramental, and sacerdotal system stands in
   conflict with the evangelical Protestant Christianity of subjective,
   personal experience. The doctrine of universal baptismal regeneration,
   in particular, which presupposes a universal call (at least within the
   church), can on principles of logic hardly be united with the doctrine
   of an absolute predestination, which limits the decree of redemption to
   a portion of the baptized. Augustin supposes, on the one hand, that
   every baptized person, through the inward operation of the Holy Ghost,
   which accompanies the outward act of the sacrament, receives the
   forgiveness of sins, and is translated from the state of nature into
   the state of grace, and thus, qua baptizatus, is also a child of God
   and an heir of eternal life; and yet, on the other hand, he makes all
   these benefits dependent on the absolute will of God, who saves only a
   certain number out of the "mass of perdition," and preserves these to
   the end. Regeneration and election, with him, do not, as with Calvin,
   coincide. The former may exist without the latter, but the latter
   cannot exist without the former. Augustin assumes that many are
   actually born into the kingdom of grace only to perish again; Calvin
   holds that in the case of the non-elect baptism is an unmeaning
   ceremony; the one putting the delusion in the inward effect, the other
   in the outward form. The sacramental, churchly system throws the main
   stress upon the baptismal regeneration, to the injury of the eternal
   election; the Calvinistic or Puritan system sacrifices the virtue of
   the sacrament to the election; the Lutheran and high Anglican systems
   seek a middle ground, without being able to give a satisfactory
   theological solution of the problem. The Anglican Church, however
   allows the two opposite views, and sanctions the one in the baptismal
   service of the Book of Common Prayer, the other in her Thirty-nine
   Articles, and other standards, as interpreted by the low church or
   evangelical party in a moderately Calvinistic sense.

   It was an evident ordering of God, that Augustin's theology, like the
   Latin Bible of Jerome, appeared just in the transitional period of
   history, in which the old civilization was passing away before the
   flood of barbarism, and a new order of things, under the guidance of
   the Christian religion, was in preparation. The church, with her
   strong, imposing organization and her firm system of doctrine, must
   save Christianity amidst the chaotic turmoil of the great migration,
   and must become a training-school for the barbarian nations of the
   middle age. [73]

   In this process of training, next to the Holy Scriptures, the
   scholarship of Jerome and the theology and fertile ideas of Augustin
   were the most important intellectual agents.

   Augustin was held in so universal esteem that he could exert influence
   in all directions, and even in his excesses gave no offence. He was
   sufficiently catholic for the principle of church authority, and yet at
   the same time so free and evangelical that he modified its hierarchical
   and sacramental character, reacted against its tendencies to outward,
   mechanical ritualism, and kept alive a deep consciousness of sin and
   grace, and a spirit of fervent and truly Christian piety, until that
   spirit grew strong enough to break the shell of hierarchical tutelage,
   and enter a new stage of it development. No other father could have
   acted more beneficently on the Catholicism of the middle age, and more
   successfully provided for the evangelical Reformation than St.
   Augustin, the worthy successor of Paul, and the precursor of Luther and
   Calvin.

   He had lived at the time of the Reformation, he would in all
   probability have taken the lead of the evangelical movement against the
   prevailing Pelagianism of the Roman church, though he would not have
   gone so far as Luther or Calvin. For we must not forget that,
   notwithstanding their strong affinity, there is an important difference
   between Catholicism and Romanism or Popery. They sustain a similar
   relation to each other as the Judaism of the Old Testament
   dispensation, which looked to, and prepared the way for, Christianity,
   and the Judaism after the crucifixion and after the destruction of
   Jerusalem, which is antagonistic to Christianity. Catholicism covers
   the entire ancient and mediæval history of the church, and includes the
   Pauline, Augustinian, or evangelical tendencies which increased with
   the corruptions of the papacy and the growing sense of the necessity of
   a "reformation in capite et membris." Romanism proper dates from the
   council of Trent, which gave it symbolical expression and anathematized
   the doctrines of the Reformation. Catholicism is the strength of
   Romanism, Romanism is the weakness of Catholicism. Catholicism produced
   Jansenism, Popery condemned it. Popery never forgets and never learns
   anything, and can allow no change in doctrine (except by way of
   addition), without sacrificing its fundamental principle of
   infallibility, and thus committing suicide. But Catholicism may
   ultimately burst the chains of Popery which have so long kept it
   confined, and may assume new life and vigour.

   Such a personage as Augustin, still holding a mediating place between
   the two great divisions of Christendom, revered alike by both, and of
   equal influence with both, is furthermore a welcome pledge of the
   elevating prospect of a future reconciliation of Catholicism and
   Protestantism in a high unity, conserving all the truths, losing all
   the errors, forgiving all the sins, forgetting all the enmities of
   both. After all, the contradiction between authority and freedom, the
   objective and the subjective, the churchly and the personal, the
   organic and the individual, the sacramental and the experimental in
   religion, is not absolute, but relative and temporary, and arises not
   so much from the nature of things, as from the deficiencies of man's
   knowledge and piety in this world. These elements admit of an ultimate
   harmony in the perfect state of the church, corresponding to the union
   of the divine and human natures, which transcends the limits of finite
   thought and logical comprehension, and is yet completely realized in
   the person of Christ. They are in fact united in the theological system
   of St. Paul, who had the highest view of the church, as the mystical
   "body of Christ," and "the pillar and ground of the truth," and who was
   at the same time the great champion of evangelical freedom, individual
   responsibility, and personal union of the believer with his Saviour. We
   believe in and hope for one holy catholic apostolic church, one
   communion of saints, one flock, one Shepherd. The more the different
   churches become truly Christian, the nearer they draw to Christ, and
   the more they labor for His kingdom which rises above them all, the
   nearer will they come to one another. For Christ is the common head and
   vital centre of all believers, and the divine harmony of all discordant
   human sects and creeds. In Christ, says Pascal, one of the greatest and
   noblest disciples of Augustin, In Christ all contradictions are solved.
     __________________________________________________________________

   [57] The church fathers of the first six centuries are certainly far
   more Catholic than Protestant, and laid the doctrinal foundation of the
   orthodox Greek and Roman churches. But it betrays a contracted,
   slavish, and mechanical view of history, when Roman Catholic divines
   claim the fathers as their exclusive property; forgetting that they
   taught many things which are as inconsistent with the papal as with the
   Protestant Creed, and that they knew nothing of certain dogmas which
   are essential to Romanism (such as the infallibility of the pope, the
   seven sacraments, transubstantiation, purgatory, indulgences, auricular
   confession, the immaculate conception of the Virgin Mary, etc.). "I
   recollect well," says Dr. Newman, the former intellectual leader of
   Oxford Tractarianism (in his Letter to Dr. Pusey on his Eirenicon,
   1866, p. 5), "what an outcast I seemed to myself, when I took down from
   the shelves of my library the volumes of St. Athanasius or St. Basil,
   and set myself to study them; and how, on the contrary, when at length
   I was brought into Catholic communion, I kissed them with delight, with
   a feeling that in them I had more than all that I had lost, and, as
   though I were directly addressing the glorious saints, who bequeathed
   them to the Church, I said to the inanimate pages, You are now mine,
   and I am yours, beyond any mistake.'" With the same right the Jews
   might lay exclusive claim to the writings of Moses and the prophets.
   The fathers were living men, representing the onward progress and
   conflicts of Christianity in their time, unfolding and defending great
   truths, but not unmixed with many errors and imperfections which
   subsequent times have corrected. Those are the true children of the
   fathers who, standing on the foundation of Christ and the apostles,
   and, kissing the New Testament rather than any human writings, follow
   them only as far as they followed Christ, and who carry forward their
   work in the onward march of evangelical catholic Christianity.

   [58] He was summoned to the council of Ephesus, which condemned
   Nestorianism in 431, but died a year before it met. He prevailed upon
   the Gallic monk, Leporius, to retract Nestorianism. His Christology is
   in many points defective and obscure. Comp. Dorner's History of
   Christology, ii. pp. 88-98 (Germ. ed.). Jerome did still less for this
   department of doctrine.

   [59] Wigger's (Pragmat. Darstellung des Augustinismus und
   Pelegianismus, i. p. 27) finds the most peculiar and remarkable point
   of Augustin's character in his singular union of intellect and
   imagination, scholasticism and mysticism, in which neither can be said
   to predominate. So also Huber, l. c. p. 313.

   [60] Nourrisson, the able expounder of the philosophy of Augustin, says
   (l. c. tom. i. p. iv): "Je ne crois pas, qu'excepté saint Paul, aucun
   homme ait contribué davantage, par sa parole comme par ses écrits, à
   organiser, à interpréter, à répandre le christianisme; et, après saint
   Paul, nul apparemment, non pas même le glorieux, l'invincible Athanase,
   n'a travaillé d'une manière aussi puissante à fonder l'unité
   catholique."

   [61] We recall his famous anti-Manichæan dictum: "Ego evangelio non
   crederem, nisi me catholicæ ecclesiæ commoveret auctoritas." The
   Protestant would reverse this maxim, and ground his faith in the church
   on his faith in Christ and in the gospel. So with the well-known maxim
   of Irenæus: "Ubi ecclesia, ibi Spiritus Dei, et ubi Spiritus Dei, ibi
   ecclesia." According to the spirit of Protestantism it would be said
   conversely: "Where the Spirit of God is, there is the church, and where
   the church is, there is the Spirit of God."

   [62] According to genuine Christian principles it would have been far
   more noble, if he had married the African woman with whom he had lived
   in illicit intercourse for thirteen years, who was always faithful to
   him, as he was to her, and had borne him his beloved and highly gifted
   Adeodatus; instead of casting her off, and, as he for a while intended,
   choosing another for the partner of his life, whose excellences were
   more numerous. The superiority of the evangelical Protestant morality
   over the Catholic asceticism is here palpable. But with the prevailing
   spirit of his age he would hardly have enjoyed so great regard, nor
   accomplished so much good if he had been married. Celibacy was the
   bridge from the heathen degradation of marriage to the evangelical
   Christian exaltation and sanctification of the family life.

   [63] On Augustin's doctrine of the church, see Ch. Hist. III. §71, and
   especially the thorough account by R. Rothe: Anfänge der christl.
   Kirche und ihrer Verfassung, vol. i. (1837), pp. 679-711. "Augustin,"
   says he, "decidely adopted Cyprian's conception [of the church] in all
   essential points. And once adopting it, he penetrated it in its whole
   depth with his wonderfully powerful and exuberant soul, and, by means
   of his own clear, logical mind, gave it the perfect and rigorous system
   which perhaps it still lacked" (p. 679 sqq.). "Augustin's conception of
   the doctrine of the church was about standard for succeeding times" (p.
   685). See also an able article of Prof. Reuter, of Göttingen, on
   Augustin's views concerning episcopacy, tradition, infallibility, in
   Brieger's "Zeitschrift für Hist. Theol." for 1885 (Bk. VIII. pp.
   126-187).

   [64] Hence the famous word: "Roma locuta est, causa finita est," which
   is often quoted as an argument for the modern Vatican dogma of papal
   infallibility. But it is not found in this form, though we may admit
   that it is an epigrammatic condensation of sentences of Augustin. The
   nearest approach to it is in his Sermo CXXXI. cap. 10, §10 (Tom. VII.
   645): "Iam enim de hac causa duo concilia missa sunt ad sedem
   apostolicam (Rome), inde etiam rescripta venerunt. Causa finita est,
   utinam aliquando error finiatur." Comp. Reuter, l. c. p. 157.

   [65] Respecting Augustin's doctrine of baptism, see the thorough
   discussion in W. Wall's History of Infant Baptism, vol. i. p. 173 sqq.
   (Oxford ed. of 1862). His view of the slight condemnation of all
   unbaptized children contains the germ of the scholastic fancy of the
   limbus infantum and the pæna damni, as distinct from the lower regions
   of hell and the pæna sensus.

   [66] In his former writings he expressed a truly philosophical view
   concerning miracles (De vera relig. c. 25, §47; c. 50, §98; De utilit.
   credendi, c. 16, §34; De peccat. meritis et remiss. l. ii. c. 32, §52,
   and De civit. Dei, xxii. c. 8); but in his Retract. l. i. c. 14, §5, he
   corrects or modifies a former remark in his book De utilit. credendi,
   stating that he did not mean to deny the continuance of miracles
   altogether, but only such great miracles as occurred at the time of
   Christ ("quia non tanta nec omnia, non quia nulla fiunt"). See Ch.
   Hist. III. §§87 and 88, and the instructive monograph of the younger
   Nitzsch: Augustinus' Lehre vom Wunder, Berlin, 1865 (97 pp.).

   [67] See Ch. Hist. III. §§81 and 82.

   [68] Comp. Tract. in Evang. Joannis, viii. c. 9, where he says: "Cur
   ergo ait matri filius; Quid mihi et tibi est, mulier? nondum venit hora
   mea (John ii. 4). Dominus noster Jesus Christus et Deus erat et homo:
   secundum quod Deus erat, matrem non habebat; secundum quod homo erat,
   habebat. Mater ergo [Maria] erat carnis, mater humanitatis, mater
   infirmitatis quam suscepit propter nos." This strict separation of the
   Godhead from the manhood of Jesus in his birth from the Virgin would
   have exposed Augustin in the East to the suspicion of Nestorianism. But
   he died a year before the council of Ephesus, at which Nestorius was
   condemned.

   [69] See Ch. Hist. III. §27, p. 144 sq. He changed his view partly from
   his experience that the Donatists, in his own diocese, were converted
   to the catholic unity "timore legum imperialium," and were afterwards
   perfectly good Catholics. He adduces also a misinterpretation of Luke
   xiv. 23, and Prov. ix. 9: "Da sapienti occasionem et sapientior erit."
   Ep. 93, ad Vincentium Rogatistam, §17 (tom. ii. p. 237 sq. ed. Bened.).
   But he expressly discouraged the infliction of death on heretics, and
   adjured the proconsul Donatus, Ep. 100, by Jesus Christ, not to repay
   the Donatists in kind. "Corrigi eos cupimus, non necari."

   [70] Luther pronounced upon the church fathers (with whom, however,
   excepting Augustin, he was but slightly acquainted) very condemnatory
   judgments, even upon Basil, Chrysostom, and Jerome (for Jerome he had a
   downright antipathy, on account of his advocacy of fasts, virginity,
   and monkery); he was at times dissatisfied even with Augustin, because
   he after all did not find in him his sola fide, his articulus stantis
   vel cadentis ecclesiæ, and says of him: "Augustin often erred; he
   cannot be trusted. Though he was good and holy, yet he, as well as
   other fathers, was wanting in the true faith." But this cursory
   utterance is overborne by numerous commendations; and all such
   judgments of Luther must be taken cum grano salis. He calls Augustin
   the most pious, grave, and sincere of the fathers, and the patron of
   divines, who taught a pure doctrine and submitted it in Christian
   humility to the Holy Scriptures, etc., and he thinks, if he had lived
   in the sixteenth century, he would have been a Protestant (si hoc
   seculo viveret, nobiscum sentiret), while Jerome would have gone with
   Rome. Compare his singular but striking judgments on the fathers in
   Lutheri Colloquia, ed. H. E. Bindseil, 1863, tom. iii. 149, and many
   other places. Gangauf, a Roman Catholic (a pupil of the philosopher
   Günther), concedes (l. c. p. 28, note 13) that Luther and Calvin built
   their doctrinal system mainly on Augustin, but, as he correctly thinks,
   with only partial right. Nourrisson, likewise a Roman Catholic, derives
   Protestantism from a corrupted (!) Augustinianism, and very
   superficially makes Lutheranism and Calvinism essentially to consist in
   the denial of the freedom of the will, which was only one of the
   questions of the Reformation. "On ne saurait le méconnaître, de
   l'Augustinianisme corrompu, mais enfin de l'Augustinianisme procède le
   Protestantisme. Car, sans parler de Wiclif et de Huss, qui, nourris de
   saint Augustin, soutiennent, avec le réalisme platonicien, la doctrine
   de la prédestination: Luther et Calvin ne font guère autre chose, dans
   leurs principaux ouvrages, que cultiver des semences d'Augustinianisme"
   (l. c. ii. p. 176). But the Reformation is far more, of course, than a
   repristination of an old controversy; it is a new creation, and marks
   the epoch of modern Christianity which is different both from the
   mediæval and from ancient or patristic Christianity.

   [71] It is well known that Luther, as late as 1526, in his work, De
   servo arbitrio, against Erasmus, which he never retracted, proceeded
   upon the most rigorous notion of the divine omnipotence, wholly denied
   the freedom of will, declared it a mere lie (merum mendacium),
   pronounced the calls of the Scriptures to repentance a divine irony,
   and based eternal salvation and eternal perdition upon the secret will
   of God; in all this he almost exceeded Calvin. See particulars in the
   books on doctrine-history; the inaugural dissertation of Jul. Müller:
   Lutheri de prædestinatione et libero arbitrio doctrina, Gött. 1832; and
   a historical treatise on predestination by Carl Beck in the "Studien
   und Kritiken" for 1847. We add, as a curiosity, the opinion of Gibbon
   (ch. xxxiii.), who, however, had a very limited and superficial
   knowledge of Augustin: "The rigid system of Christianity which he
   framed or restored, has been entertained, with public applause, and
   secret reluctance, by the Latin church. The church of Rome has
   canonized Augustin, and reprobated Calvin. Yet as the real difference
   between them is invisible even to a theological microscope, the
   Molinists are oppressed by the authority of the saint, and the
   Jansenists are disgraced by their resemblance to the heretic. In the
   mean while the Protestant Arminians stand aloof, and deride the mutual
   perplexity of the disputants. Perhaps a reasoner, still more
   independent, may smile in his turn when he peruses an Arminian
   commentary on the Epistle to the Romans." Nourrisson (ii. 179), from
   his Roman stand-point, likewise makes Lutheranism to consist
   "essentiellement dans la question du libre arbitre." But the principle
   of Lutheranism, and of Protestantism generally, is the supremacy of the
   Holy Scriptures as a rule of faith, and salvation by free grace through
   faith in Christ.

   [72] On the mighty influence of Augustin in the seventeenth century in
   France, especially on the noble Jansenists, see the works on Jansenism,
   and also Nourrisson, l. c. tom. ii. pp. 186-276.

   [73] Guizot, the Protestant historian and statesman, very correctly
   says in his Histoire générale de la civilisation en Europe (Deuxième
   lecon, p. 45 sq. ed. Bruxelles, 1850): "S'il n'eût pas été une église,
   je ne sais ce qui en serait avenu au milieu de la chute de l'empire
   romain....Si le christianisme n'eût été comme dans les premiers temps,
   qu'une croyance, un sentiment, une conviction individuelle, on peut
   croire qu'il aurait succombé au milieu de la dissolution de l'empire et
   de l'invasion des barbares. Il a succombé plus tard, en Asie et dans
   tous le nord de l'Afrique, sous une invasion de même nature, sous
   l'invasion des barbares musulmans; il a succombé alors, quoiqu'il fût à
   l'êtat d'institution, d'église constituée. A bien plus forte raison le
   même fait aurait pu arriver au moment de la chute de l'empire romain.
   Il n'y avait alors aucun des moyens par lesquels aujourd'hui les
   influences morales s'établissent ou résistent indépendamment des
   institutions, aucun des moyens par lesquels une pure vérité, une pure
   idée acquiert un grand empire sur les esprits, gouverne les actions,
   dêtermine des événemens. Rien de semblable n'existait au IV^e siècle,
   pour donner aux idées, aux sentiments personels, une pareille autorité.
   Il est clair qu'il fallait une société fortement organisée, fortement
   gouvernée, pour lutter contre un pareil désastre, pour sortir
   victorieuse d'un tel ouragan. Je ne crois pas trop dire en affirmant
   qu'à la fin du IV^e et au commencement du V^e siècle, c'est l'église
   chrétienne qui a sauvé le christianisme; c'est l'église avec ses
   institutions, ses magistrats, son pouvoir, qui s'est défendue
   vigoureusement contre la dissolution intérieure de l'empire, contre la
   barbarie, qui a conquis les barbares, qui est devenue le lien, le
   moyen, le principe dé civilisation entre le monde romain et le monde
   barbare."
     __________________________________________________________________
     __________________________________________________________________

   Chief Events in the Life of St. Augustin.

   (as Given, Nearly, in the Benedictine Edition).

   354.            Augustin born at Tagaste, Nov. 13; his parents,
   Patricius and Monnica; shortly afterwards enrolled among the
   Catechumens.

   370.  Returns home from studying Rhetoric at Madaura, after an idle
   childhood, and from idleness falls into dissipation and sin.

   371.            Patricius dies; Augustin supported at Carthage by his
   mother, and his friend Romanianus; forms an illicit connection.

   372.  Birth of his son Adeodatus.

   373.             Cicero's Hortensius awakens in him a strong desire for
   true wisdom.

   374.  He falls into the Manichæan heresy, and seduces several of his
   acquaintances into it. His mother's earnest prayers for him; she is
   assured of his recovery.

   376.            Teaches Grammar at Tagaste; but soon returns to
   Carthage to teach Rhetoric--gains a prize.

   379.  Is recovered from study of Astrology--writes his books De pulchro
   et apto.

   382.            Discovers the Manichæans to be in error, but falls into
   scepticism. Goes to Rome to teach Rhetoric.

   385.            Removes to Milan; his errors gradually removed through
   the teaching of Ambrose, but he is held back by the flesh; becomes
   again a Catechumen.

   386.  Studies St. Paul; converted through a voice from heaven; gives up
   his profession; writes against the Academics; prepares for Baptism.

   387.  Is baptized by Bishop Ambrose, with his son Adeodatus. Death of
   his mother, Monnica, in her fifty-sixth year, at Ostia.

   388.  Aug. revisits Rome, and then returns to Africa. Adeodatus, full
   of promise, dies.

   389.  Aug. against his will ordained Presbyter at Hippo by Valerius,
   its Bishop.

   392.  Writes against the Manichæans.

   394.  Writes against the Donatists.

   395.            Ordained Assistant Bishop to Valerius, toward the end
   of the year.

   396.  Death of Bishop Valerius. Augustin elected his successor.

   397.  Aug. writes the Confessions, and the De Tinitate against the
   Arians.

   398.  Is present at the fourth Council of Carthage.

   402.  Refutes the Epistle of Petilianus, a Donatist.

   404.  Applies to Cæcilianus for protection against the savageness of
   the Donatists.

   408.  Writes De urbis Romæ obsidione.

   411.  Takes a prominent part in a conference between the Catholic
   Bishops and the Donatists.

   413.  Begins the composition of his great work De Civitate Dei,
   completed in 426.

   417.  Writes De gestis Palæstinæ synodi circa Pelagium.

   420.  Writes against the Priscillianists.

   424.  Writes against the Semipelagians.

   426.            Appoints Heraclius his successor.

   428.  Writes the Retractations.

   429.            Answers the Epistles of Prosper and Hilary.

   430.  Dies Aug. 28, in the third month of the siege of Hippo by the
   Vandals.
     __________________________________________________________________

   St. Aurelius Augustin

   Bishop of Hippo

   The Confessions of St. Augustin

   In Thirteen Books

   Translated and Annotated by

   J.G. Pilkington, M.A.,

   Vicar of St. Mark's, West Hackney; And Sometime Clerical Secretary of
   theBishop of London's Fund.

   "Thou has formed us for Thyself, and our hearts are restless till they
   find rest in Thee."--Confessions, i. 1.

   "The joy of the solemn service of Thy house constraineth to tears, when
   it is read of Thy younger son [Luke xv. 24] that he was dead, and is
   alive again; he was lost, and is found.'"--Ibid. viii. 6.
     __________________________________________________________________

   Translator's Preface

   ------------------------

   "If St. Augustin," says Nourrisson [74] , "had left nothing but his
   Confessions and the City of God, one could readily understand the
   respectful sympathy that surrounds his memory. How, indeed, could one
   fail to admire in the City of God the flight of genius, and in the
   Confessions, what is better still, the effusions of a great soul?" It
   may be safely predicted, that while the mind of man yearns for
   knowledge, and his heart seeks rest, the Confessions will retain that
   foremost place in the world's literature which it has secured by its
   sublime outpourings of devotion and profound philosophical spirit.
   There is in the book a wonderful combination of childlike piety and
   intellectual power. Desjardins' idea, [75] that, while in Augustin's
   other works we see the philosopher or the controversialist, here we see
   the man, is only to be accepted as a comparative statement of
   Augustin's attitude in the Confessions; for philosophy and piety are in
   many of his reflections as it were molten into one homogeneous whole.
   In his highest intellectual flights we find the breathings of faith and
   love, and, amid the profoundest expressions of penitential sorrow,
   gleams of his metaphysical genius appear.

   It may, indeed, be from the man's showing himself so little, as
   distinguished from the philosopher, that some readers are a little
   disappointed in the book. They have expected to meet with a copiousness
   of biographic details, and have found, commingled with such as are
   given, long disquisitions on Manichæanism, Time, Creation, and Memory.
   To avoid such disappointment we must ascertain the author's design. The
   book is emphatically not an autobiography. There is in it an outline of
   the author's life up to his mother's death; but only so much of detail
   is given as may subserve his main purpose. That purpose is clearly
   explained in the fourth section of his Tenth Book. It was that the
   impenitent on reading it might not say, "I cannot," and "sleep in
   despair," but rather that, looking to that God who had raised the
   writer from his low estate of pride and sin to be a pillar of the
   Church, he might take courage, and "awake in the sweetness of His
   grace, by which he that is weak is made strong;" and that those no
   longer in sin might rejoice and praise God as they heard of the past
   lusts of him who was now freed from them. [76] This, his design of
   encouraging penitence and stimulating praise, is referred to in his
   Retractations, [77] and in his Letter to Darius. [78]

   These two main ideas are embodied in the very meaning of the title of
   the book, the word confession having, as Augustin constantly urges, two
   meanings. In his exposition of the Psalms we read: "Confession is
   understood in two senses, of our sins, and of God's praise. Confession
   of our sins is well known, so well known to all the people, that
   whenever they hear the name of confession in the lessons, whether it is
   said in praise or of sin, they beat their breasts." [79] Again:
   "Confession of sin all know, but confession of praise few attend to."
   [80] "The former but showeth the wound to the physician, the latter
   giveth thanks for health." [81] He would therefore have his hearers
   make the sacrifice of praise their ideal, since, in the City of God,
   even in the New Jerusalem, there will be no longer confession of sin,
   but there will be confession of praise. [82] It is not surprising, that
   with this view of confession he should hinge on the incidents of his
   life such considerations as tend to elevate the mind and heart of the
   reader. When, for example, he speaks of his youthful sins, [83] he
   diverges into a disquisition on the motives to sin; when his friend
   dies, [84] he moralizes on death; and--to give one example of a reverse
   process--his profound psychological review of memory [85] recalls his
   former sin (which at times haunts him in his dreams), and leads up to
   devout reflections on God's power to cleanse from sin. This undertone
   of penitence and praise which pervades the Confessions in all its
   episodes, like the golden threads which run through the texture of an
   Eastern garment, presents one of its peculiar charms.

   It would not be right to overlook a charge that has been brought
   against the book by Lord Byron. He says, "Augustin in his fine
   Confessions makes the reader envy his transgressions." Nothing could be
   more reckless or further from the truth than this charge. There is here
   no dwelling on his sin, or painting it so as to satisfy a prurient
   imagination. As we have already remarked, Augustin's manner is not to
   go into detail further than to find a position from which to "edify"
   the reader, and he treats this episode in his life with his
   characteristic delicacy and reticence. His sin was dead; and he had
   carried it to its burial with tears of repentance. And when, ten years
   after his baptism, he sets himself, at the request of some, to a
   consideration of what he then was at the moment of making his
   confessions, [86] he refers hardly at all to this sin of his youth; and
   such allusions as he does make are of the most casual kind. Instead of
   enlarging upon it, he treats it as past, and only speaks of temptation
   and sin as they are common to all men. Many of the French writers on
   the Confessions [87] institute a comparison in this matter between the
   confessions of Augustin and those of Rousseau. Pressensé [88] draws
   attention to the delicacy and reserve which characterise the one, and
   the arrogant defiance of God and man manifested in the other. The
   confessions of the one he speaks of as "un grand acte de repentir et
   d'amour;" and eloquently says, "In it he seems, like the Magdalen, to
   have spread his box of perfumes at the foot of the Saviour; from his
   stricken heart there exhales the incense most agreeable to God--the
   homage of true penitence." The other he truly describes as uttering "a
   cry of triumph in the very midst of his sin, and robing his shame in a
   royal purple." Well may Desjardins [89] express surprise at a book of
   such foulness coming from a genius so great; and perhaps his solution
   of the enigma is not far from the truth, when he attributes it to an
   overweening vanity and egotism. [90]

   It is right to point out, in connection with this part of our subject,
   that in regard to some at least of Augustin's self-accusations, [91]
   there may be a little of that pious exaggeration of his sinfulness
   which, as Lord Macaulay points out in his essays on Bunyan, [92]
   frequently characterises deep penitence. But however this may be,
   justice requires us to remember, in considering his transgression, that
   from his very childhood he had been surrounded by a condition of
   civilisation presenting manifold temptations. Carthage, where he spent
   a large part of his life, had become, since its restoration and
   colonization under Augustus Cæsar, an "exceeding great city," in wealth
   and importance next to Rome. [93] "African Paganism," says Pressensé,
   [94] "was half Asiatic; the ancient worship of nature, the adoration of
   Astarte, had full licence in the city of Carthage; Dido had become a
   mythological being, whom this dissolute city had made its protecting
   divinity, and it is easy to recognise in her the great goddess of
   Phoenicia under a new name." The luxury of the period is described by
   Jerome and Tertullian, when they denounce the custom of painting the
   face and tiring the head, and the prodigality that would give 25,000
   golden crowns for a veil, immense revenues for a pair of ear-rings, and
   the value of a forest or an island for a head-dress. [95] And Jerome,
   in one of his epistles, gives an illustration of the Church's relation
   to the Pagan world at that time, when he represents an old priest of
   Jupiter with his grand-daughter, a catechumen, on his knee, who
   responds to his caresses by singing canticles. [96] It was a time when
   we can imagine one of Augustin's parents going to the Colosseum, and
   enjoying the lasciviousness of its displays, and its gladiatorial
   shows, with their contempt of human life; while the other carefully
   shunned such scenes, as being under the ban of the teachers of the
   Church. [97] It was an age in which there was action and reaction
   between religion and philosophy; but in which the power of Christianity
   was so great in its influences on Paganism, that some received the
   Christian Scriptures only to embody in their phraseology the ideas of
   heathenism. Of this last point Manichæanism presents an illustration.
   Now all these influences left their mark on Augustin. In his youth he
   plunged deep into the pleasures of his day; and we know how he
   endeavoured to find in Manichæanism a solution of those speculations
   which haunted his subtle and inquiring mind. Augustin at this time,
   then, is not to be taken as a type of what Christianity produced. He is
   to a great extent the outgrowth of the Pagan influences of the time.
   Considerations such as these may enable us to judge of his early sin
   more justly than if we measured it by our own privileges and
   opportunities.

   The style of Augustin is sometimes criticised as not having the
   refinement of Virgil, Horace, or Cicero. But it should be remembered
   that he wrote in a time of national decay; and further, as Desjardins
   has remarked in the introduction to his essay, he had no time "to cut
   his phrases." From the period of his conversion to that of his death,
   he was constantly engaged in controversy with this or that heresy; and
   if he did not write with classical accuracy, he so inspired the
   language with his genius, and moulded it by his fire, [98] that it
   appears almost to pulsate with the throbbings of his brain. He seems
   likewise to have despised mere elegance, for in his Confessions, [99]
   when speaking of the style of Faustus, he says, "What profit to me was
   the elegance of my cup-bearer, since he offered me not the more
   precious draught for which I thirsted?" In this connection the remarks
   of Collenges [100] are worthy of note. He says, when anticipating
   objections that might be made to his own style: "It was the last of my
   study; my opinion always was what Augustin calls diligens negligentia
   was the best diligence as to that; while I was yet a very young man I
   had learned out of him that it was no solecism in a preacher to use
   ossum for os, for (saith he) an iron key is better than one made of
   gold if it will better open the door, for that is all the use of the
   key. I had learned out of Hierom that a gaudry of phrases and words in
   a pulpit is but signum insipientiæ. The words of a preacher, saith he,
   ought pungere, non palpare, to prick the heart, not to smooth and coax.
   The work of an orator is too precarious for a minister of the gospel.
   Gregory observed that our Saviour had not styled us the sugar but the
   salt of the earth, and Augustin observeth, that though Cyprian in one
   epistle showed much of a florid orator, to show he could do it, yet he
   never would do so any more, to show he would not."

   There are several features in the Confessions deserving of remark, as
   being of special interest to the philosopher, the historian or the
   divine.

   1. Chiefest amongst these is the intense desire for knowledge and the
   love of truth which characterised Augustin. This was noticeable before
   his conversion in his hungering after such knowledge as Manichæanism
   and the philosophy of the time could afford. [101] It is none the less
   observable in that better time, when, in his quiet retreat at
   Cassiciacum, he sought to strengthen the foundations of his faith, and
   resolved to give himself up to the acquisition of divine knowledge.
   [102] It was seen, too, in the many conflicts in which he was engaged
   with Donatists, Manichæans, Arians, and Pelagians, and in his earnest
   study of the deep things of God. This love of knowledge is perhaps
   conveyed in the beautiful legend quoted by Nourisson, [103] of the monk
   wrapped in spirit, who expressed astonishment at not seeing Augustin
   among the elect in heaven. "He is higher up," he was answered, "he is
   standing before the Holy Trinity disputing thereon for all eternity."

   While from the time of his conversion we find him holding on to the
   fundamental doctrines of the faith with the tenacity of one who had
   experienced the hollowness of the teachings of philosophy, [104] this
   passion for truth led him to handle most freely subjects of speculation
   in things non-essential. [105] But whether viewed as a
   controversialist, a student of Scripture, or a bishop of the Church of
   God, he ever manifests those qualities of mind and heart that gained
   for him not only the affection of the Church, but the esteem of his
   unorthodox opponents. To quote Guizot's discriminating words, there was
   in him "ce mélange de passion et de douccur, d'autorite et de
   sympathie, d'ctendue d'esprit et de rigueur logique, qui lui donnait un
   si rare pouvoir." [106]

   2. It is to this eager desire for truth in his many-sided mind that we
   owe those trains of thought that read like forecasts of modern opinion.
   We have called attention to some such anticipations of modern thought
   as they recur in the notes throughout the book; but the speculations on
   Memory, Time, and Creation, which occupy so large a space in Books Ten
   and Eleven, deserve more particular notice. The French essayists have
   entered very fully into these questions. M. Saisset, in his admirable
   introduction to the De Civitate Dei, [107] reviews Augustin's theories
   as to the mysterious problems connected with the idea of Creation. He
   says, that in his subtle analysis of Time, and in his attempt at
   reconciling "the eternity of creative action with the dependence of
   things created,...he has touched with a bold and delicate hand one of
   the deepest mysteries of the human mind, and that to all his glorious
   titles he has added another, that of an ingenious psychologist and an
   eminent metaphysician." Desjardins likewise commends the depth of
   Augustin's speculations as to Time, [108] and maintains that no one's
   teaching as to Creation has shown more clearness, boldness, and
   vigor--avoiding the perils of dualism on the one hand, and atheism on
   the other. [109] In his remarks on Augustin's disquisitions on the
   phenomena of Memory, his praise is of a more qualified character. He
   compares his theories with those of Malebranche, and, while recognising
   the practical and animated character of his descriptions, thinks him
   obscure in his delineation of the manner in which absent realities
   reproduce themselves on the memory. [110]

   We have had occasion in the notes to refer to the Unseen Universe. The
   authors of this powerful "Apologia" for Christianity propose it chiefly
   as an antidote to the materialistic disbelief in the immortality of the
   soul amongst scientific men, which has resulted in this age from the
   recent advance in physical science; just as in the last century English
   deism had its rise in a similar influence. It is curious, in connection
   with this part of our subject, to note that in leading up to the
   conclusion at which he arrives, M. Saisset quotes a passage from the
   City of God, [111] which contains an adumbration of the theory of the
   above work in regard to the eternity of the invisible universe. [112]
   Verily, the saying of the wise man is true: "The thing that hath been,
   it is that which shall be; and that which is done, is that which shall
   be done: and there is no new thing under the sun." [113]

   3. We have already, in a previous paragraph, briefly adverted to the
   influence Christianity and Paganism had one on the other. The history
   of Christianity has been a steady advance on Paganism and Pagan
   philosophy; but it can hardly be denied that in this advance there has
   been an absorption--and in some periods in no small degree--of some of
   their elements. As these matters have been examined in the notes, we
   need not do more than refer the reader to the Index of Subjects for the
   evidence to be obtained in this respect from the Confessions on such
   matters as Baptism, False Miracles, and Prayers for the Dead.

   4. There is one feature in the Confessions which we should not like to
   pass unnoticed. A reference to the Retractations [114] will show that
   Augustin highly appreciated the spiritual use to which the book might
   be put in the edification of the brethren. We believe that it will
   prove most useful in this way; and spiritual benefit will accrue in
   proportion to the steadiness of its use. We would venture to suggest
   that Book X., from section 37 to the end, may be profitably used as a
   manual of self-examination. We have pointed out in a note, that in his
   comment on Ps. 8 he makes our Lord's three temptations to be types of
   all the temptations to which man can be subjected; and makes them
   correspond in their order, as given by St. Matthew, to "the Lust of the
   Flesh, the Lust of the Eyes, and the Pride of Life," mentioned by St.
   John. [115] Under each of these heads we have, in this part of the
   Confessions, a most severe examination of conscience; and the
   impression is deepened by his allegorically likening the three
   divisions of temptation to the beasts of the field, the fish of the
   sea, and the birds of the air. [116] We have already remarked, in
   adverting to allegorical interpretation, [117] that where "the strict
   use of the history is not disregarded," to use Augustin's expression,
   allegorizing, by way of spiritual meditation, may be profitable. Those
   who employ it with this idea will find their interpretations greatly
   aided, and made more systematic, by realizing Augustin's methods here
   and in the last two books of the Confessions,--as when he makes the sea
   to represent the wicked world, and the fruitful earth the Church. [118]

   It only remains to call attention to the principles on which this
   translation and its annotations have been made. The text of the
   Benedictine edition has been followed; but the head-lines of the
   chapters are taken from the edition of Bruder, as being the more
   definite and full. After carefully translating the whole of the book,
   it has been compared, line by line, with the translation of Watts [119]
   (one of the most nervous translations of the seventeenth century), and
   that of Dr. Pusey, which is confessedly founded upon that of Watts.
   Reference has also been made, in the case of obscure passages, to the
   French translation of Du Bois, and the English translation of the first
   Ten Books alluded to in the note on Bk. ix. ch. 12. The references to
   Scripture are in the words of the Authorized Version wherever the sense
   will bear it; and whenever noteworthy variations from our version
   occur, they are indicated by references to the old Italic version, or
   to the Vulgate. In some cases, where Augustin has clearly referred to
   the LXX. in order to amend his version thereby, such variations are
   indicated. [120] The annotations are, for the most part, such as have
   been derived from the translator's own reading. Two exceptions,
   however, must be made. Out of upwards of four hundred notes, some forty
   are taken from the annotations in Pusey and Watts, but in every case
   these have been indicated by the initials E. B. P. or W. W. Dr. Pusey's
   annotations (which will be found chiefly in the earlier part of this
   work) consist almost entirely of quotations from other works of
   Augustin. These annotations are very copious, and Dr. Pusey explains
   that he resorted to this method "partly because this plan of
   illustrating St. Augustin out of himself had been already adopted by M.
   Du Bois in his Latin edition...and it seemed a pity not to use valuable
   materials ready collected to one's hand. The far greater part of these
   illustrations are taken from that edition." It seemed the most proper
   course, in using such notes of Du Bois as appeared suitable for this
   edition, to take them from Dr. Pusey's edition, and, as above stated,
   to indicate their source by his initials. A Textual Index has been
   added, for the first time, to this edition, and both it and the Index
   of Subjects have been prepared with the greatest possible care.

   J. G. P.

   St. Mark's Vicarage, West Hackney, 1876.
     __________________________________________________________________

   [74] Philosophie de St. Augustin, Preface.

   [75] Essai sur les Conf. de St. Aug. p. 5.

   [76] Confessions, x. sec. 4.

   [77] See the passage quoted immediately after this Preface.

   [78] Ep. ccxxxi. sec. 6.

   [79] Enarr. in Ps. cxli. sec. 19: see also in Ps. cxvii. sec. 1, xxix.
   sec. 19, xciv. sec. 4, and xxix. sec. 19.

   [80] Enarr. in Ps. cxxxvii. sec. 2.

   [81] Enarr. in Ps. cx. sec. 2.

   [82] In Ps. xliv. sec. 33, xcix, sec. 16.

   [83] Book ii. secs. 6-18.

   [84] Book iv. secs. 11-15

   [85] Book x. secs. 41, 42.

   [86] Book x. sec. 4.

   [87] In addition to those referred to, there is one at the beginning of
   vol. ii. of Saint-Marc Girardin's Essais de Litérature et de Morale,
   devoted to this subject. It has some good points in it, but has much of
   that sentimentality so often found in French criticisms.

   [88] Le Christianisme au Quatrième Siècle, p. 269.

   [89] Essai sur les Conf., etc. p. 12.

   [90] He concludes: "La folie de son orgueil, voilá le mot de l'ênigme,
   ou l'ênigme n'en a pas."--Ibid. p. 13.

   [91] Compare Confessions, ii. sec. 2, and iii. sec. 1, with iv. sec. 2.

   [92] In vol. i. of his Crit. and Hist. Essays, and also in his
   Miscellaneous Writings.

   [93] Herodian Hist. vii. 6.

   [94] Le Christianisme, etc. as above, p. 274.

   [95] Quoted by Nourrisson, Philosophie, etc. ii. 436.

   [96] Ibid. ii. 434, 435.

   [97] See Confessions, iii. sec. 2, note, and vi. sec. 13, note.

   [98] See Poujoulat, Lettres de St. Augustin, Introd. p. 12, who
   compares the language of the time to Ezekiel's Valley of Dry Bones, and
   say Augustin inspired it with life.

   [99] Confessions, v. sec. 10.

   [100] The Intercourses of Divine Love betwixt Christ and His Church,
   Preface (1683).

   [101] See Confessions, iv. sec. 1, note.

   [102] Ibid. ix. sec. 7, note, and compare x. sec. 55, note.

   [103] Philosophie, etc. as above, i. 320.

   [104] See Confessions, xiii. sec. 33, note.

   [105] Ibid. xi. sec. 3, note 4.

   [106] Histoire de la Civilisation en France, I. 203 (1829). Guizot is
   speaking of Augustin's attitude in the Pelagian controversy.

   [107] A portion of this introduction will be found translated in
   Appendix ii. of M. Saisset's Essay on Religious Philosophy (Clark).

   [108] Essai, etc. as before, p. 129.

   [109] Essai, etc. p. 130.

   [110] Ibid. pp. 120-123. Nourrisson's criticism of Augustin's views on
   Memory may well be compared with that of Desjardins. He speaks of the
   powerful originality of Augustin--who is ingenious as well as new--and
   says some of his disquisitions are "the most admirable which have
   inspired psychological observation." And further, one does not meet in
   all the books of St. Augustin any philosophical theories which have
   greater depth than that on Memory."--Philosophie, etc. as above, I.
   133.

   [111] Book xii. chap. 15.

   [112] This position is accepted by Leibnitz in his Essais de Théodicée.
   See also M. Saisset, as above, ii. 196-8 (Essay by the translator).

   [113] Eccles. i. 9.

   [114] Quoted immediately after this preface.

   [115] 1 John ii. 16.

   [116] See Confessions, v. sec. 4, note, and x. sec. 41, note.

   [117] See ibid. vi. sec. 5, note.

   [118] See Confessions, xiii. sec. 20, note 3, and sec. 21, note 1.

   [119] "St. Augustin's Confessions translated, and with some marginal
   notes illustrated by William Watts, Rector of St. Alban's, Wood St.
   (1631)."

   [120] For whatever our idea may be as to the extent of his knowledge of
   Greek, it is beyond dispute that he frequently had recourse to the
   Greek of the Old and New Testament with this view. See Nourrisson,
   Philosophie, etc. ii. p. 96.
     __________________________________________________________________

   The Opinion of St. Augustin

   Concerning His

   Confessions, as Embodied in His Retractations, II. 6

   ------------------------

   1. "The Thirteen Books of my Confessions whether they refer to my evil
   or good, praise the just and good God, and stimulate the heart and mind
   of man to approach unto Him. And, as far as pertaineth unto me, they
   wrought this in me when they were written, and this they work when they
   are read. What some think of them they may have seen, but that they
   have given much pleasure, and do give pleasure, to many brethren I
   know. From the First to the Tenth they have been written of myself; in
   the remaining three, of the Sacred Scriptures, from the text, In the
   beginning God created the heaven and the earth,' even to the rest of
   the Sabbath (Gen. i. 1, ii. 2)."

   2. "In the Fourth Book, when I acknowledged the distress of my mind at
   the death of a friend, saying, that our soul, though one, had been in
   some manner made out of two; and therefore, I say, perchance was I
   afraid to die lest he should die wholly whom I had so much loved (chap.
   vi.);--this seems to me as if it were a light declamation rather than a
   grave confession, although this folly may in some sort be tempered by
   that perchance' which follows. And in the Thirteenth Book (chap.
   xxxii.) what I said, viz.: that the firmament was made between the
   spiritual upper waters, and the corporeal lower waters,' was said
   without due consideration; but the thing is very obscure."

   [In Ep. ad Darium, Ep. ccxxxi. c. 6, written a.d. 429, Augustin says:
   "Accept, my son, the books containing my Confessions which you desired
   to have. In these behold me that you may not praise me more than I
   deserve; there believe what is said of me, not by others, but by
   myself; there mark me, and see what I have been in myself, by myself;
   and if anything in me please you, join me in praising Him to whom, and
   not to myself, I desired praise to be given. For He hath made us, and
   not we ourselves' (Ps. l. 3). Indeed, we had destroyed ourselves, but
   He who made us has made us anew (qui fecit, refecit). When, however,
   you find me in these books, pray for me that I may not fail, but be
   perfected (ne deficiam, sed perficiar). Pray, my son, pray. I feel what
   I say; I know what I ask."--P. S.]

   [De Dono Perseverantiæ, c. 20 (53): "Which of my smaller works could be
   more widely known or give greater pleasure than my Confessions? And
   although I published them before the Pelagian heresy had come into
   existence, certainly in them I said to my God, and said it frequently,
   Give what Thou commandest, and command what Thou willest' (Conf. x. 29,
   31, 37). Which words of mine, Pelagius at Rome, when they were
   mentioned in his presence by a certain brother and fellow-bishop of
   mine, could not bear....Moreover in those same books...I showed that I
   was granted to the faithful and daily tears of my mother, that I should
   not perish. There certainly I declared that God by His grace converted
   the will of men to the true faith, not only when they had been turned
   away from it, but even when they were opposed to it."--P. S.]

   ------------------------
     __________________________________________________________________

   Book I.

   ------------------------

   Commencing with the invocation of God, Augustin relates in detail the
   beginning of his life, his infancy and boyhood, up to his fifteenth
   year; at which age he acknowledges that he was more inclined to all
   youthful pleasures and vices than to the study of letters.

   ------------------------
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   Chapter I.--He Proclaims the Greatness of God, Whom He Desires to Seek
   and Invoke, Being Awakened by Him.

   1. Great art Thou, O Lord, and greatly to be praised; great is Thy
   power, and of Thy wisdom there is no end. [121] And man, being a part
   of Thy creation, desires to praise Thee, man, who bears about with him
   his mortality, the witness of his sin, even the witness that Thou
   "resistest the proud," [122] --yet man, this part of Thy creation,
   desires to praise Thee. [123] Thou movest us to delight in praising
   Thee; for Thou hast formed us for Thyself, and our hearts are restless
   till they find rest in Thee. [124] Lord, teach me to know and
   understand which of these should be first, to call on Thee, or to
   praise Thee; and likewise to know Thee, or to call upon Thee. But who
   is there that calls upon Thee without knowing Thee? For he that knows
   Thee not may call upon Thee as other than Thou art. Or perhaps we call
   on Thee that we may know Thee. "But how shall they call on Him in whom
   they have not believed? or how shall they believe without a preacher?"
   [125] And those who seek the Lord shall praise Him. [126] For those who
   seek shall find Him, [127] and those who find Him shall praise Him. Let
   me seek Thee, Lord, in calling on Thee, and call on Thee in believing
   in Thee; for Thou hast been preached unto us. O Lord, my faith calls on
   Thee,--that faith which Thou hast imparted to me, which Thou hast
   breathed into me through the incarnation of Thy Son, through the
   ministry of Thy preacher. [128]
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   [121] Ps. cxlv. 3, and cxlvii. 5.

   [122] Jas. iv. 6, and 1 Pet. v. 5.

   [123] Augustin begins with praise, and the whole book vibrates with
   praise. He says elsewhere (in Ps. cxlix.), that "as a new song fits not
   well an old man's lips, he should sing a new song who is a new creature
   and is living a new life;" and so from the time of his new birth, the
   "new song" of praise went up from him, and that "not of the lip only,"
   but (ibid. cxlviii.) conscientia lingua vita.

   [124] And the rest which the Christian has here is but an earnest of
   the more perfect rest hereafter, when, as Augustin says (De Gen. ad.
   Lit.. xii. 26), "all virtue will be to love what one sees, and the
   highest felicity to have what one loves." [Watts, followed by Pusey,
   and Shedd, missed the paronomasia of the Latin: "cor nostrum inquietum
   est donec requiescat in Te," by translating: "our heart is restless,
   until it repose in Thee." It is the finest sentence in the whole book,
   and furnishes one of the best arguments for Christianity as the only
   religion which leads to that rest in God.--P. S.]

   [125] Rom. x. 14.

   [126] Ps. xxii. 26.

   [127] Matt. vii. 7.

   [128] That is, Ambrose, Bishop of Milan, who was instrumental in his
   conversion (vi. sec. 1; viii. sec. 28, etc.). "Before conversion," as
   Leighton observes on I Pet. ii. 1, 2, "wit or eloquence may draw a man
   to the word, and possibly prove a happy bait to catch him (as St.
   Augustin reports of his hearing St. Ambrose), but, once born again,
   then it is the milk itself that he desires for itself."
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   Chapter II.--That the God Whom We Invoke is in Us, and We in Him.

   2. And how shall I call upon my God--my God and my Lord? For when I
   call on Him I ask Him to come into me. And what place is there in me
   into which my God can come--into which God can come, even He who made
   heaven and earth? Is there anything in me, O Lord my God, that can
   contain Thee? Do indeed the very heaven and the earth, which Thou hast
   made, and in which Thou hast made me, contain Thee? Or, as nothing
   could exist without Thee, doth whatever exists contain Thee? Why, then,
   do I ask Thee to come into me, since I indeed exist, and could not
   exist if Thou wert not in me? Because I am not yet in hell, though Thou
   art even there; for "if I go down into hell Thou art there." [129] I
   could not therefore exist, could not exist at all, O my God, unless
   Thou wert in me. Or should I not rather say, that I could not exist
   unless I were in Thee from whom are all things, by whom are all things,
   in whom are all things? [130] Even so, Lord; even so. Where do I call
   Thee to, since Thou art in me, or whence canst Thou come into me? For
   where outside heaven and earth can I go that from thence my God may
   come into me who has said, I fill heaven and earth"? [131]
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   [129] Ps. cxxxix. 8.

   [130] Rom. xi. 36.

   [131] Jer. xxiii. 24.
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   Chapter III.--Everywhere God Wholly Filleth All Things, But Neither
   Heaven Nor Earth Containeth Him.

   3. Since, then, Thou fillest heaven and earth, do they contain Thee?
   Or, as they contain Thee not, dost Thou fill them, and yet there
   remains something over? And where dost Thou pour forth that which
   remaineth of Thee when the heaven and earth are filled? Or, indeed, is
   there no need that Thou who containest all things shouldest be
   contained of any, since those things which Thou fillest Thou fillest by
   containing them? For the vessels which Thou fillest do not sustain
   Thee, since should they even be broken Thou wilt not be poured forth.
   And when Thou art poured forth on us, [132] Thou art not cast down, but
   we are uplifted; nor art Thou dissipated, but we are drawn together.
   But, as Thou fillest all things, dost Thou fill them with Thy whole
   self, or, as even all things cannot altogether contain Thee, do they
   contain a part, and do all at once contain the same part? Or has each
   its own proper part--the greater more, the smaller less? Is, then, one
   part of Thee greater, another less? Or is it that Thou art wholly
   everywhere whilst nothing altogether contains Thee? [133]
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   [132] Acts ii. 18.

   [133] In this section, and constantly throughout the Confessions, he
   adverts to the materialistic views concerning God held by the
   Manichæans. See also sec. 10; iii. sec. 12; iv. sec. 31, etc. etc.
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   Chapter IV.--The Majesty of God is Supreme, and His Virtues
   Inexplicable.

   4. What, then, art Thou, O my God--what, I ask, but the Lord God? For
   who is Lord but the Lord? or who is God save our God? [134] Most high,
   most excellent, most potent, most omnipotent; most piteous and most
   just; most hidden and most near; most beauteous and most strong,
   stable, yet contained of none; unchangeable, yet changing all things;
   never new, never old; making all things new, yet bringing old age upon
   the proud and they know it not; always working, yet ever at rest;
   gathering, yet needing nothing; sustaining, pervading, and protecting;
   creating, nourishing, and developing; seeking, and yet possessing all
   things. Thou lovest, and burnest not; art jealous, yet free from care;
   repentest, and hast no sorrow; art angry, yet serene; changest Thy
   ways, leaving unchanged Thy plans; recoverest what Thou findest, having
   yet never lost; art never in want, whilst Thou rejoicest in gain; never
   covetous, though requiring usury. [135] That Thou mayest owe, more than
   enough is given to Thee; [136] yet who hath anything that is not Thine?
   Thou payest debts while owing nothing; and when Thou forgivest debts,
   losest nothing. Yet, O my God, my life, my holy joy, what is this that
   I have said? And what saith any man when He speaks of Thee? Yet woe to
   them that keep silence, seeing that even they who say most are as the
   dumb. [137]
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   [134] Ps. xviii. 31.

   [135] Matt. xxv. 27.

   [136] Supererogatur tibi, ut debeas.

   [137] "As it is impossible for mortal, imperfect, and perishable man to
   comprehend the immortal, perfect and eternal, we cannot expect that he
   should be able to express in praise the fulness of God's attributes.
   The Talmud relates of a rabbi, who did not consider the terms, the
   great, mighty, and fearful God,' which occur in the daily prayer, as
   being sufficient, but added some more attributes--What!' exclaimed
   another rabbi who was present, imaginest thou to be able to exhaust the
   praise of God? Thy praise is blasphemy. Thou hadst better be quiet.'
   Hence the Psalmist's exclamation, after finding that the praises of God
   were inexhaustible: hlht hymvd kl, Silence is praise to
   Thee.'"--Breslau.
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   Chapter V.--He Seeks Rest in God, and Pardon of His Sins.

   5. Oh! how shall I find rest in Thee? Who will send Thee into my heart
   to inebriate it, so that I may forget my woes, and embrace Thee my only
   good? What art Thou to me? Have compassion on me, that I may speak.
   What am I to Thee that Thou demandest my love, and unless I give it
   Thee art angry, and threatenest me with great sorrows? Is it, then, a
   light sorrow not to love Thee? Alas! alas! tell me of Thy compassion, O
   Lord my God, what Thou art to me. "Say unto my soul, I am thy
   salvation." [138] So speak that I may hear. Behold, Lord, the ears of
   my heart are before Thee; open Thou them, and "say unto my soul, I am
   thy salvation." When I hear, may I run and lay hold on Thee. Hide not
   Thy face from me. Let me die, lest I die, if only I may see Thy face.
   [139]

   6. Cramped is the dwelling of my soul; do Thou expand it, that Thou
   mayest enter in. It is in ruins, restore Thou it. There is that about
   it which must offend Thine eyes; I confess and know it, but who will
   cleanse it? or to whom shall I cry but to Thee? Cleanse me from my
   secret sins, [140] O Lord, and keep Thy servant from those of other
   men. I believe, and therefore do I speak; [141] Lord, Thou knowest.
   Have I not confessed my transgressions unto Thee, O my God; and Thou
   hast put away the iniquity of my heart? [142] I do not contend in
   judgment with Thee, [143] who art the Truth; and I would not deceive
   myself, lest my iniquity lie against itself. [144] I do not, therefore,
   contend in judgment with Thee, for "if Thou, Lord, shouldest mark
   iniquities, O Lord, who shall stand?" [145]
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   [138] Ps. xxxv. 3.

   [139] Moriar ne moriar, ut eam videam. See Ex. xxxiii. 20.

   [140] Ps. xix. 12, 13. "Be it that sin may never see the light, that it
   may be like a child born and buried in the womb; yet as that child is a
   man, a true man, there closeted in that hidden frame of nature, so sin
   is truly sin, though it never gets out beyond the womb which did
   conceive and enliven it."--Sedgwick

   [141] Ps. cxvi. 10.

   [142] Ps. xxxii. 5.

   [143] Job ix. 3.

   [144] Ps xxvi. 12, Vulg. "The danger of ignorance is not less than its
   guilt. For of all evils a secret evil is most to be deprecated, of all
   enemies a concealed enemy is the worst. Better the precipice than the
   pitfall; better the tortures of curable disease than the painlessness
   of mortification; and so, whatever your soul's guilt and danger, better
   to be aware of it. However alarming, however distressing self-knowledge
   may be, better that than the tremendous evils of
   self-ignorance."--Caird.

   [145] Ps. cxxx. 3.
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   Chapter VI.--He Describes His Infancy, and Lauds the Protection and
   Eternal Providence of God.

   7. Still suffer me to speak before Thy mercy--me, "dust and ashes."
   [146] Suffer me to speak, for, behold, it is Thy mercy I address, and
   not derisive man. Yet perhaps even Thou deridest me; but when Thou art
   turned to me Thou wilt have compassion on me. [147] For what do I wish
   to say, O Lord my God, but that I know not whence I came hither into
   this--shall I call it dying life or living death? Yet, as I have heard
   from my parents, from whose substance Thou didst form me,--for I myself
   cannot remember it,--Thy merciful comforts sustained me. Thus it was
   that the comforts of a woman's milk entertained me; for neither my
   mother nor my nurses filled their own breasts, but Thou by them didst
   give me the nourishment of infancy according to Thy ordinance and that
   bounty of Thine which underlieth all things. For Thou didst cause me
   not to want more than Thou gavest, and those who nourished me willingly
   to give me what Thou gavest them. For they, by an instinctive
   affection, were anxious to give me what Thou hadst abundantly supplied.
   It was, in truth, good for them that my good should come from them,
   though, indeed, it was not from them, but by them; for from Thee, O
   God, are all good things, and from my God is all my safety. [148] This
   is what I have since discovered, as Thou hast declared Thyself to me by
   the blessings both within me and without me which Thou hast bestowed
   upon me. For at that time I knew how to suck, to be satisfied when
   comfortable, and to cry when in pain--nothing beyond.

   8. Afterwards I began to laugh,--at first in sleep, then when waking.
   For this I have heard mentioned of myself, and I believe it (though I
   cannot remember it), for we see the same in other infants. And now
   little by little I realized where I was, and wished to tell my wishes
   to those who might satisfy them, but I could not; for my wants were
   within me, while they were without, and could not by any faculty of
   theirs enter into my soul. So I cast about limbs and voice, making the
   few and feeble signs I could, like, though indeed not much like, unto
   what I wished; and when I was not satisfied--either not being
   understood, or because it would have been injurious to me--I grew
   indignant that my elders were not subject unto me, and that those on
   whom I had no claim did not wait on me, and avenged myself on them by
   tears. That infants are such I have been able to learn by watching
   them; and they, though unknowing, have better shown me that I was such
   an one than my nurses who knew it.

   9. And, behold, my infancy died long ago, and I live. But Thou, O Lord,
   who ever livest, and in whom nothing dies (since before the world was,
   and indeed before all that can be called "before," Thou existest, and
   art the God and Lord of all Thy creatures; and with Thee fixedly abide
   the causes of all unstable things, the unchanging sources of all things
   changeable, and the eternal reasons of all things unreasoning and
   temporal), tell me, Thy suppliant, O God; tell, O merciful One, Thy
   miserable servant [149] --tell me whether my infancy succeeded another
   age of mine which had at that time perished. Was it that which I passed
   in my mother's womb? For of that something has been made known to me,
   and I have myself seen women with child. And what, O God, my joy,
   preceded that life? Was I, indeed, anywhere, or anybody? For no one can
   tell me these things, neither father nor mother, nor the experience of
   others, nor my own memory. Dost Thou laugh at me for asking such
   things, and command me to praise and confess Thee for what I know?

   10. I give thanks to Thee, Lord of heaven and earth, giving praise to
   Thee for that my first being and infancy, of which I have no memory;
   for Thou hast granted to man that from others he should come to
   conclusions as to himself, and that he should believe many things
   concerning himself on the authority of feeble women. Even then I had
   life and being; and as my infancy closed I was already seeking for
   signs by which my feelings might be made known to others. Whence could
   such a creature come but from Thee, O Lord? Or shall any man be skilful
   enough to fashion himself? Or is there any other vein by which being
   and life runs into us save this, that "Thou, O Lord, hast made us,"
   [150] with whom being and life are one, because Thou Thyself art being
   and life in the highest? Thou art the highest, "Thou changest not,"
   [151] neither in Thee doth this present day come to an end, though it
   doth end in Thee, since in Thee all such things are; for they would
   have no way of passing away unless Thou sustainedst them. And since
   "Thy years shall have no end," [152] Thy years are an ever present day.
   And how many of ours and our fathers' days have passed through this Thy
   day, and received from it their measure and fashion of being, and
   others yet to come shall so receive and pass away! "But Thou art the
   same;" [153] and all the things of to-morrow and the days yet to come,
   and all of yesterday and the days that are past, Thou wilt do to-day,
   Thou hast done to-day. What is it to me if any understand not? Let him
   still rejoice and say, "What is this?" [154] Let him rejoice even so,
   and rather love to discover in failing to discover, than in discovering
   not to discover Thee.
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   [146] Gen. xviii. 27.

   [147] Jer. xii. 15.

   [148] Prov. xxi. 31.

   [149] "Mercy," says Binning, "hath but its name from misery, and is no
   other thing than to lay another's misery to heart."

   [150] Ps. c. 3.

   [151] Mal. iii. 6.

   [152] Ps. cii. 27.

   [153] Ibid.

   [154] Ex. xvi. 15. This is one of the alternative translations put
   against "it is manna" in the margin of the authorized version. It is
   the literal significance of the Hebrew, and is so translated in most of
   the old English versions. Augustin indicates thereby the attitude of
   faith. Many things we are called on to believe (to use the illustration
   of Locke) which are above reason, but none that are contrary to reason.
   We are but as children in relation to God, and may therefore only
   expect to know "parts of His ways." Even in the difficulties of
   Scripture he sees the goodness of God. "God," he says, "has in
   Scripture clothed His mysteries with clouds, that man's love of truth
   might be inflamed by the difficulty of finding them out. For if they
   were only such as were readily understood, truth would not be eagerly
   sought, nor would it give pleasure when found."--De Ver. Relig. c. 17.
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   Chapter VII.--He Shows by Example that Even Infancy is Prone to Sin.

   11. Hearken, O God! Alas for the sins of men! Man saith this, and Thou
   dost compassionate him; for Thou didst create him, but didst not create
   the sin that is in him. Who bringeth to my remembrance the sin of my
   infancy? For before Thee none is free from sin, not even the infant
   which has lived but a day upon the earth. Who bringeth this to my
   remembrance? Doth not each little one, in whom I behold that which I do
   not remember of myself? In what, then, did I sin? Is it that I cried
   for the breast? If I should now so cry,--not indeed for the breast, but
   for the food suitable to my years,--I should be most justly laughed at
   and rebuked. What I then did deserved rebuke; but as I could not
   understand those who rebuked me, neither custom nor reason suffered me
   to be rebuked. For as we grow we root out and cast from us such habits.
   I have not seen any one who is wise, when "purging" [155] anything cast
   away the good. Or was it good, even for a time, to strive to get by
   crying that which, if given, would be hurtful--to be bitterly indignant
   that those who were free and its elders, and those to whom it owed its
   being, besides many others wiser than it, who would not give way to the
   nod of its good pleasure, were not subject unto it--to endeavour to
   harm, by struggling as much as it could, because those commands were
   not obeyed which only could have been obeyed to its hurt? Then, in the
   weakness of the infant's limbs, and not in its will, lies its
   innocency. I myself have seen and known an infant to be jealous though
   it could not speak. It became pale, and cast bitter looks on its
   foster-brother. Who is ignorant of this? Mothers and nurses tell us
   that they appease these things by I know not what remedies; and may
   this be taken for innocence, that when the fountain of milk is flowing
   fresh and abundant, one who has need should not be allowed to share it,
   though needing that nourishment to sustain life? Yet we look leniently
   on these things, not because they are not faults, nor because the
   faults are small, but because they will vanish as age increases. For
   although you may allow these things now, you could not bear them with
   equanimity if found in an older person.

   12. Thou, therefore, O Lord my God, who gavest life to the infant, and
   a frame which, as we see, Thou hast endowed with senses, compacted with
   limbs, beautified with form, and, for its general good and safety, hast
   introduced all vital energies--Thou commandest me to praise Thee for
   these things, "to give thanks unto the Lord, and to sing praise unto
   Thy name, O Most High;" [156] for Thou art a God omnipotent and good,
   though Thou hadst done nought but these things, which none other can do
   but Thou, who alone madest all things, O Thou most fair, who madest all
   things fair, and orderest all according to Thy law. This period, then,
   of my life, O Lord, of which I have no remembrance, which I believe on
   the word of others, and which I guess from other infants, it chagrins
   me--true though the guess be--to reckon in this life of mine which I
   lead in this world; inasmuch as, in the darkness of my forgetfulness,
   it is like to that which I passed in my mother's womb. But if "I was
   shapen in iniquity, and in sin did my mother conceive me," [157] where,
   I pray thee, O my God, where, Lord, or when was I, Thy servant,
   innocent? But behold, I pass by that time, for what have I to do with
   that, the memories of which I cannot recall?
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   [155] John xv. 2.

   [156] Ps. xcii. 1.

   [157] Ps. li. 5.
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   Chapter VIII.--That When a Boy He Learned to Speak, Not by Any Set
   Method, But from the Acts and Words of His Parents.

   13. Did I not, then, growing out of the state of infancy, come to
   boyhood, or rather did it not come to me, and succeed to infancy? Nor
   did my infancy depart (for whither went it?); and yet it did no longer
   abide, for I was no longer an infant that could not speak, but a
   chattering boy. I remember this, and I afterwards observed how I first
   learned to speak, for my elders did not teach me words in any set
   method, as they did letters afterwards; but myself, when I was unable
   to say all I wished and to whomsoever I desired, by means of the
   whimperings and broken utterances and various motions of my limbs,
   which I used to enforce my wishes, repeated the sounds in my memory by
   the mind, O my God, which Thou gavest me. When they called anything by
   name, and moved the body towards it while they spoke, I saw and
   gathered that the thing they wished to point out was called by the name
   they then uttered; and that they did mean this was made plain by the
   motion of the body, even by the natural language of all nations
   expressed by the countenance, glance of the eye, movement of other
   members, and by the sound of the voice indicating the affections of the
   mind, as it seeks, possesses, rejects, or avoids. So it was that by
   frequently hearing words, in duly placed sentences, I gradually
   gathered what things they were the signs of; and having formed my mouth
   to the utterance of these signs, I thereby expressed my will. [158]
   Thus I exchanged with those about me the signs by which we express our
   wishes, and advanced deeper into the stormy fellowship of human life,
   depending the while on the authority of parents, and the beck of
   elders.
     __________________________________________________________________

   [158] See some interesting remarks on this subject in Whately's Logic,
   Int. sec. 5.
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   Chapter IX.--Concerning the Hatred of Learning, the Love of Play, and
   the Fear of Being Whipped Noticeable in Boys: and of the Folly of Our
   Elders and Masters.

   14. O my God! what miseries and mockeries did I then experience, when
   obedience to my teachers was set before me as proper to my boyhood,
   that I might flourish in this world, and distinguish myself in the
   science of speech, which should get me honour amongst men, and
   deceitful riches! After that I was put to school to get learning, of
   which I (worthless as I was) knew not what use there was; and yet, if
   slow to learn, I was flogged! For this was deemed praiseworthy by our
   forefathers; and many before us, passing the same course, had appointed
   beforehand for us these troublesome ways by which we were compelled to
   pass, multiplying labour and sorrow upon the sons of Adam. But we
   found, O Lord, men praying to Thee, and we learned from them to
   conceive of Thee, according to our ability, to be some Great One, who
   was able (though not visible to our senses) to hear and help us. For as
   a boy I began to pray to Thee, my "help" and my "refuge," [159] and in
   invoking Thee broke the bands of my tongue, and entreated Thee though
   little, with no little earnestness, that I might not be beaten at
   school. And when Thou heardedst me not, giving me not over to folly
   thereby, [160] my elders, yea, and my own parents too, who wished me no
   ill, laughed at my stripes, my then great and grievous ill.

   15. Is there any one, Lord, with so high a spirit, cleaving to Thee
   with so strong an affection--for even a kind of obtuseness may do that
   much--but is there, I say, any one who, by cleaving devoutly to Thee,
   is endowed with so great a courage that he can esteem lightly those
   racks and hooks, and varied tortures of the same sort, against which,
   throughout the whole world, men supplicate Thee with great fear,
   deriding those who most bitterly fear them, just as our parents derided
   the torments with which our masters punished us when we were boys? For
   we were no less afraid of our pains, nor did we pray less to Thee to
   avoid them; and yet we sinned, in writing, or reading, or reflecting
   upon our lessons less than was required of us. For we wanted not, O
   Lord, memory or capacity, of which, by Thy will, we possessed enough
   for our age,--but we delighted only in play; and we were punished for
   this by those who were doing the same things themselves. But the
   idleness of our elders they call business, whilst boys who do the like
   are punished by those same elders, and yet neither boys nor men find
   any pity. For will any one of good sense approve of my being whipped
   because, as a boy, I played ball, and so was hindered from learning
   quickly those lessons by means of which, as a man, I should play more
   unbecomingly? And did he by whom I was beaten do other than this, who,
   when he was overcome in any little controversy with a co-tutor, was
   more tormented by anger and envy than I when beaten by a playfellow in
   a match at ball?
     __________________________________________________________________

   [159] Ps. ix. 9, and xlvi. 1, and xlviii. 3.

   [160] Ps. xxii. 2, Vulg.
     __________________________________________________________________

   Chapter X.--Through a Love of Ball-Playing and Shows, He Neglects His
   Studies and the Injunctions of His Parents.

   16. And yet I erred, O Lord God, the Creator and Disposer of all things
   in Nature,--but of sin the Disposer only,--I erred, O Lord my God, in
   doing contrary to the wishes of my parents and of those masters; for
   this learning which they (no matter for what motive) wished me to
   acquire, I might have put to good account afterwards. For I disobeyed
   them not because I had chosen a better way, but from a fondness for
   play, loving the honour of victory in the matches, and to have my ears
   tickled with lying fables, in order that they might itch the more
   furiously--the same curiosity beaming more and more in my eyes for the
   shows and sports of my elders. Yet those who give these entertainments
   are held in such high repute, that almost all desire the same for their
   children, whom they are still willing should be beaten, if so be these
   same games keep them from the studies by which they desire them to
   arrive at being the givers of them. Look down upon these things, O
   Lord, with compassion, and deliver us who now call upon Thee; deliver
   those also who do not call upon Thee, that they may call upon Thee, and
   that Thou mayest deliver them.
     __________________________________________________________________

   Chapter XI.--Seized by Disease, His Mother Being Troubled, He Earnestly
   Demands Baptism, Which on Recovery is Postponed--His Father Not as Yet
   Believing in Christ.

   17. Even as a boy I had heard of eternal life promised to us through
   the humility of the Lord our God condescending to our pride, and I was
   signed with the sign of the cross, and was seasoned with His salt [161]
   even from the womb of my mother, who greatly trusted in Thee. Thou
   sawest, O Lord, how at one time, while yet a boy, being suddenly seized
   with pains in the stomach, and being at the point of death--Thou
   sawest, O my God, for even then Thou wast my keeper, with what emotion
   of mind and with what faith I solicited from the piety of my mother,
   and of Thy Church, the mother of us all, the baptism of Thy Christ, my
   Lord and my God. On which, the mother of my flesh being much
   troubled,--since she, with a heart pure in Thy faith, travailed in
   birth [162] more lovingly for my eternal salvation,--would, had I not
   quickly recovered, have without delay provided for my initiation and
   washing by Thy life-giving sacraments, confessing Thee, O Lord Jesus,
   for the remission of sins. So my cleansing was deferred, as if I must
   needs, should I live, be further polluted; because, indeed, the guilt
   contracted by sin would, after baptism, be greater and more perilous.
   [163] Thus I at that time believed with my mother and the whole house,
   except my father; yet he did not overcome the influence of my mother's
   piety in me so as to prevent my believing in Christ, as he had not yet
   believed in Him. For she was desirous that Thou, O my God, shouldst be
   my Father rather than he; and in this Thou didst aid her to overcome
   her husband, to whom, though the better of the two, she yielded
   obedience, because in this she yielded obedience to Thee, who dost so
   command.

   18. I beseech Thee, my God, I would gladly know, if it be Thy will, to
   what end my baptism was then deferred? Was it for my good that the
   reins were slackened, as it were, upon me for me to sin? Or were they
   not slackened? If not, whence comes it that it is still dinned into our
   ears on all sides, "Let him alone, let him act as he likes, for he is
   not yet baptized"? But as regards bodily health, no one exclaims, "Let
   him be more seriously wounded, for he is not yet cured!" How much
   better, then, had it been for me to have been cured at once; and then,
   by my own and my friends' diligence, my soul's restored health had been
   kept safe in Thy keeping, who gavest it! Better, in truth. But how
   numerous and great waves of temptation appeared to hang over me after
   my childhood! These were foreseen by my mother; and she preferred that
   the unformed clay should be exposed to them rather than the image
   itself.
     __________________________________________________________________

   [161] "A rite in the Western churches, on admission as a catechumen,
   previous to baptism, denoting the purity and uncorruptedness and
   discretion required of Christians. See S. Aug. De Catechiz. rudib. c.
   26; Concil. Carth. 3, can. 5; and Liturgies in Assem. Cod. Liturg. t.
   i."--E. B. P. See also vi. 1, note, below.

   [162] Gal. iv. 19.

   [163] Baptism was in those days frequently (and for similar reasons to
   the above) postponed till the hour of death approached. The doctors of
   the Church endeavoured to discourage this, and persons baptized on a
   sick-bed ("clinically") were, if they recovered, looked on with
   suspicion. The Emperor Constantine was not baptized till the close of
   his life, and he is censured by Dr. Newman (Arians iii. sec. 1) for
   presuming to speak of questions which divided the Arians and the
   Orthodox as "unimportant," while he himself was both unbaptized and
   uninstructed. On the postponing of baptism with a view to unrestrained
   enjoyment of the world, and on the severity of the early Church towards
   sins committed after baptism, see Kaye's Tertullian, pp. 234-241.
     __________________________________________________________________

   Chapter XII.--Being Compelled, He Gave His Attention to Learning; But
   Fully Acknowledges that This Was the Work of God.

   19. But in this my childhood (which was far less dreaded for me than
   youth) I had no love of learning, and hated to be forced to it, yet was
   I forced to it notwithstanding; and this was well done towards me, but
   I did not well, for I would not have learned had I not been compelled.
   For no man doth well against his will, even if that which he doth be
   well. Neither did they who forced me do well, but the good that was
   done to me came from Thee, my God. For they considered not in what way
   I should employ what they forced me to learn, unless to satisfy the
   inordinate desires of a rich beggary and a shameful glory. But Thou, by
   whom the very hairs of our heads are numbered, [164] didst use for my
   good the error of all who pressed me to learn; and my own error in
   willing not to learn, didst Thou make use of for my punishment--of
   which I, being so small a boy and so great a sinner, was not unworthy.
   Thus by the instrumentality of those who did not well didst Thou well
   for me; and by my own sin didst Thou justly punish me. For it is even
   as Thou hast appointed, that every inordinate affection should bring
   its own punishment. [165]
     __________________________________________________________________

   [164] Matt. x. 30.

   [165] See note, v. sec. 2, below.
     __________________________________________________________________

   Chapter XIII.--He Delighted in Latin Studies and the Empty Fables of
   the Poets, But Hated the Elements of Literature and the Greek Language.

   20. But what was the cause of my dislike of Greek literature, which I
   studied from my boyhood, I cannot even now understand. For the Latin I
   loved exceedingly--not what our first masters, but what the grammarians
   teach; for those primary lessons of reading, writing, and ciphering, I
   considered no less of a burden and a punishment than Greek. Yet whence
   was this unless from the sin and vanity of this life? for I was "but
   flesh, a wind that passeth away and cometh not again." [166] For those
   primary lessons were better, assuredly, because more certain; seeing
   that by their agency I acquired, and still retain, the power of reading
   what I find written, and writing myself what I will; whilst in the
   others I was compelled to learn about the wanderings of a certain
   Æneas, oblivious of my own, and to weep for Biab dead, because she slew
   herself for love; while at the same time I brooked with dry eyes my
   wretched self dying far from Thee, in the midst of those things, O God,
   my life.

   21. For what can be more wretched than the wretch who pities not
   himself shedding tears over the death of Dido for love of Æneas, but
   shedding no tears over his own death in not loving Thee, O God, light
   of my heart, and bread of the inner mouth of my soul, and the power
   that weddest my mind with my innermost thoughts? I did not love Thee,
   and committed fornication against Thee; and those around me thus
   sinning cried, "Well done! Well done!" For the friendship of this world
   is fornication against Thee; [167] and "Well done! Well done!" is cried
   until one feels ashamed not to be such a man. And for this I shed no
   tears, though I wept for Dido, who sought death at the sword's point,
   [168] myself the while seeking the lowest of Thy creatures--having
   forsaken Thee--earth tending to the earth; and if forbidden to read
   these things, how grieved would I feel that I was not permitted to read
   what grieved me. This sort of madness is considered a more honourable
   and more fruitful learning than that by which I learned to read and
   write.

   22. But now, O my God, cry unto my soul; and let Thy Truth say unto me,
   "It is not so; it is not so; better much was that first teaching." For
   behold, I would rather forget the wanderings of Æneas, and all such
   things, than how to write and read. But it is true that over the
   entrance of the grammar school there hangs a vail; [169] but this is
   not so much a sign of the majesty of the mystery, as of a covering for
   error. Let not them exclaim against me of whom I am no longer in fear,
   whilst I confess to Thee, my God, that which my soul desires, and
   acquiesce in reprehending my evil ways, that I may love Thy good ways.
   Neither let those cry out against me who buy or sell grammar-learning.
   For if I ask them whether it be true, as the poet says, that Æneas once
   came to Carthage, the unlearned will reply that they do not know, the
   learned will deny it to be true. But if I ask with what letters the
   name Æneas is written, all who have learnt this will answer truly, in
   accordance with the conventional understanding men have arrived at as
   to these signs. Again, if I should ask which, if forgotten, would cause
   the greatest inconvenience in our life, reading and writing, or these
   poetical fictions, who does not see what every one would answer who had
   not entirely forgotten himself? I erred, then, when as a boy I
   preferred those vain studies to those more profitable ones, or rather
   loved the one and hated the other. "One and one are two, two and two
   are four," this was then in truth a hateful song to me; while the
   wooden horse full of armed men, and the burning of Troy, and the
   "spectral image" of Creusa [170] were a most pleasant spectacle of
   vanity.
     __________________________________________________________________

   [166] Ps. lxxviii. 39, and Jas. iv. 14.

   [167] Jas. iv. 4.

   [168] Æneìd, vi. 457.

   [169] "The vail' was an emblem of honour, used in places of worship,
   and subsequently in courts of law, emperors' palaces, and even private
   house. See Du Fresne and Hoffman sub v. That between the vestibule, or
   proscholium, and the school itself, besides being a mark of dignity,
   may, as St. Augustin perhaps implies, have been intended to denote the
   hidden mysteries taught therein, and that the mass of mankind were not
   fit hearers of truth."--E. B. P.

   [170] Æneìd, ii. 772.
     __________________________________________________________________

   Chapter XIV.--Why He Despised Greek Literature, and Easily Learned
   Latin.

   23. But why, then, did I dislike Greek learning which was full of like
   tales? [171] For Homer also was skilled in inventing similar stories,
   and is most sweetly vain, yet was he disagreeable to me as a boy. I
   believe Virgil, indeed, would be the same to Grecian children, if
   compelled to learn him, as I was Homer. The difficulty, in truth, the
   difficulty of learning a foreign language mingled as it were with gall
   all the sweetness of those fabulous Grecian stories. For not a single
   word of it did I understand, and to make me do so, they vehemently
   urged me with cruel threatenings and punishments. There was a time also
   when (as an infant) I knew no Latin; but this I acquired without any
   fear or tormenting, by merely taking notice, amid the blandishments of
   my nurses, the jests of those who smiled on me, and the sportiveness of
   those who toyed with me. I learnt all this, indeed, without being urged
   by any pressure of punishment, for my own heart urged me to bring forth
   its own conceptions, which I could not do unless by learning words, not
   of those who taught me, but of those who talked to me; into whose ears,
   also, I brought forth whatever I discerned. From this it is
   sufficiently clear that a free curiosity hath more influence in our
   learning these things than a necessity full of fear. But this last
   restrains the overflowings of that freedom, through Thy laws, O
   God,--Thy laws, from the ferule of the schoolmaster to the trials of
   the martyr, being effective to mingle for us a salutary bitter, calling
   us back to Thyself from the pernicious delights which allure us from
   Thee.
     __________________________________________________________________

   [171] Exaggerated statements have been made as to Augustin's deficiency
   in the knowledge of Greek. In this place it is clear that he simply
   alludes to a repugnance to learn a foreign language that has often been
   seen in boys since his day. It would seem equally clear from Bk. vii.
   sec. 13 (see also De Trin. iii. sec. 1), that when he could get a
   translation of a Greek book, he preferred it to one in the original
   language. Perhaps in this, again, he is not altogether singular. It is
   difficult to decide the exact extent of his knowledge, but those
   familiar with his writings can scarcely fail to be satisfied that he
   had a sufficient acquaintance with the language to correct his Italic
   version by the Greek Testament and the LXX., and that he was quite
   alive to the importance of such knowledge in an interpreter of
   Scripture. See also Con. Faust, xi. 2-4; and De Doctr. Christ. ii.
   11-15.
     __________________________________________________________________

   Chapter XV.--He Entreats God, that Whatever Useful Things He Learned as
   a Boy May Be Dedicated to Him.

   24. Hear my prayer, O Lord; let not my soul faint under Thy discipline,
   nor let me faint in confessing unto Thee Thy mercies, whereby Thou hast
   saved me from all my most mischievous ways, that Thou mightest become
   sweet to me beyond all the seductions which I used to follow; and that
   I may love Thee entirely, and grasp Thy hand with my whole heart, and
   that Thou mayest deliver me from every temptation, even unto the end.
   For lo, O Lord, my King and my God, for Thy service be whatever useful
   thing I learnt as a boy--for Thy service what I speak, and write, and
   count. For when I learned vain things, Thou didst grant me Thy
   discipline; and my sin in taking delight in those vanities, Thou hast
   forgiven me. I learned, indeed, in them many useful words; but these
   may be learned in things not vain, and that is the safe way for youths
   to walk in.
     __________________________________________________________________

   Chapter XVI.--He Disapproves of the Mode of Educating Youth, and He
   Points Out Why Wickedness is Attributed to the Gods by the Poets.

   25. But woe unto thee, thou stream of human custom! Who shall stay thy
   course? How long shall it be before thou art dried up? How long wilt
   thou carry down the sons of Eve into that huge and formidable ocean,
   which even they who are embarked on the cross (lignum) can scarce pass
   over? [172] Do I not read in thee of Jove the thunderer and adulterer?
   And the two verily he could not be; but it was that, while the
   fictitious thunder served as a cloak, he might have warrant to imitate
   real adultery. Yet which of our gowned masters can lend a temperate ear
   to a man of his school who cries out and says: "These were Homer's
   fictions; he transfers things human to the gods. I could have wished
   him to transfer divine things to us." [173] But it would have been more
   true had he said: "These are, indeed, his fictions, but he attributed
   divine attributes to sinful men, that crimes might not be accounted
   crimes, and that whosoever committed any might appear to imitate the
   celestial gods and not abandoned men."

   26. And yet, thou stream of hell, into thee are cast the sons of men,
   with rewards for learning these things; and much is made of it when
   this is going on in the forum in the sight of laws which grant a salary
   over and above the rewards. And thou beatest against thy rocks and
   roarest, saying, "Hence words are learnt; hence eloquence is to be
   attained, most necessary to persuade people to your way of thinking,
   and to unfold your opinions." So, in truth, we should never have
   understood these words, "golden shower," "bosom," "intrigue," "highest
   heavens," and other words written in the same place, unless Terence had
   introduced a good-for-nothing youth upon the stage, setting up Jove as
   his example of lewdness:--

   "Viewing a picture, where the tale was drawn,

   Of Jove's descending in a golden shower

   To Danaë's bosom . . . with a woman to intrigue."

   And see how he excites himself to lust, as if by celestial authority,
   when he says:--

   "Great Jove,

   Who shakes the highest heavens with his thunder,

   And I, poor mortal man, not do the same!

   I did it, and with all my heart I did it." [174]

   Not one whit more easily are the words learnt for this vileness, but by
   their means is the vileness perpetrated with more confidence. I do not
   blame the words, they being, as it were, choice and precious vessels,
   but the wine of error which was drunk in them to us by inebriated
   teachers; and unless we drank, we were beaten, without liberty of
   appeal to any sober judge. And yet, O my God,--in whose presence I can
   now with security recall this,--did I, unhappy one, learn these things
   willingly, and with delight, and for this was I called a boy of good
   promise. [175]
     __________________________________________________________________

   [172] So in Tract. II. on John, he has: "The sea has to be crossed, and
   dost thou despise the wood?" explaining it to mean the cross of Christ.
   And again: "Thou art not at all able to walk in the sea, be carried by
   a ship--be carried by the wood--believe on the Crucified," etc.

   [173] Cic. Tusc. i. 26.

   [174] Terence, Eunuch. Act 3, scene 6 (Colman).

   [175] Until very recently, the Eunuchus was recited at "the play" of at
   least one of our public schools. See De Civ. Dei, ii. secs. 7, 8, where
   Augustin again alludes to this matter.
     __________________________________________________________________

   Chapter XVII.--He Continues on the Unhappy Method of Training Youth in
   Literary Subjects.

   27. Bear with me, my God, while I speak a little of those talents Thou
   hast bestowed upon me, and on what follies I wasted them. For a lesson
   sufficiently disquieting to my soul was given me, in hope of praise,
   and fear of shame or stripes, to speak the words of Juno, as she raged
   and sorrowed that she could not

   "Latium bar

   From all approaches of the Dardan king," [176]

   which I had heard Juno never uttered. Yet were we compelled to stray in
   the footsteps of these poetic fictions, and to turn that into prose
   which the poet had said in verse. And his speaking was most applauded
   in whom, according to the reputation of the persons delineated, the
   passions of anger and sorrow were most strikingly reproduced, and
   clothed in the most suitable language. But what is it to me, O my true
   Life, my God, that my declaiming was applauded above that of many who
   were my contemporaries and fellow-students? Behold, is not all this
   smoke and wind? Was there nothing else, too, on which I could exercise
   my wit and tongue? Thy praise, Lord, Thy praises might have supported
   the tendrils of my heart by Thy Scriptures; so had it not been dragged
   away by these empty trifles, a shameful prey of [177] the fowls of the
   air. For there is more than one way in which men sacrifice to the
   fallen angels.
     __________________________________________________________________

   [176] Æneìd, i. 36-75 (Kennedy).

   [177] See note on v. 4, below.
     __________________________________________________________________

   Chapter XVIII.--Men Desire to Observe the Rules of Learning, But
   Neglect the Eternal Rules of Everlasting Safety.

   28. But what matter of surprise is it that I was thus carried towards
   vanity, and went forth from Thee, O my God, when men were proposed to
   me to imitate, who, should they in relating any acts of theirs--not in
   themselves evil--be guilty of a barbarism or solecism, when censured
   for it became confounded; but when they made a full and ornate oration,
   in well-chosen words, concerning their own licentiousness, and were
   applauded for it, they boasted? Thou seest this, O Lord, and keepest
   silence, "long-suffering, and plenteous in mercy and truth," [178] as
   Thou art. Wilt Thou keep silence for ever? And even now Thou drawest
   out of this vast deep the soul that seeketh Thee and thirsteth after
   Thy delights, whose "heart said unto Thee," I have sought Thy face,
   "Thy face, Lord, will I seek." [179] For I was far from Thy face,
   through my darkened [180] affections. For it is not by our feet, nor by
   change of place, that we either turn from Thee or return to Thee. Or,
   indeed, did that younger son look out for horses, or chariots, or
   ships, or fly away with visible wings, or journey by the motion of his
   limbs, that he might, in a far country, prodigally waste all that Thou
   gavest him when he set out? A kind Father when Thou gavest, and kinder
   still when he returned destitute! [181] So, then, in wanton, that is to
   say, in darkened affections, lies distance from Thy face.

   29. Behold, O Lord God, and behold patiently, as Thou art wont to do,
   how diligently the sons of men observe the conventional rules of
   letters and syllables, received from those who spoke prior to them, and
   yet neglect the eternal rules of everlasting salvation received from
   Thee, insomuch that he who practises or teaches the hereditary rules of
   pronunciation, if, contrary to grammatical usage, he should say,
   without aspirating the first letter, a uman being, will offend men more
   than if, in opposition to Thy commandments, he, a human being, were to
   hate a human being. As if, indeed, any man should feel that an enemy
   could be more destructive to him than that hatred with which he is
   excited against him, or that he could destroy more utterly him whom he
   persecutes than he destroys his own soul by his enmity. And of a truth,
   there is no science of letters more innate than the writing of
   conscience--that he is doing unto another what he himself would not
   suffer. How mysterious art Thou, who in silence "dwellest on high,"
   [182] Thou God, the only great, who by an unwearied law dealest out the
   punishment of blindness to illicit desires! When a man seeking for the
   reputation of eloquence stands before a human judge while a thronging
   multitude surrounds him, inveighs against his enemy with the most
   fierce hatred, he takes most vigilant heed that his tongue slips not
   into grammatical error, but takes no heed lest through the fury of his
   spirit he cut off a man from his fellow-men. [183]

   30. These were the customs in the midst of which I, unhappy boy, was
   cast, and on that arena it was that I was more fearful of perpetrating
   a barbarism than, having done so, of envying those who had not. These
   things I declare and confess unto Thee, my God, for which I was
   applauded by them whom I then thought it my whole duty to please, for I
   did not perceive the gulf of infamy wherein I was cast away from Thine
   eyes. [184] For in Thine eyes what was more infamous than I was
   already, displeasing even those like myself, deceiving with innumerable
   lies both tutor, and masters, and parents, from love of play, a desire
   to see frivolous spectacles, and a stage-stuck restlessness, to imitate
   them? Pilferings I committed from my parents' cellar and table, either
   enslaved by gluttony, or that I might have something to give to boys
   who sold me their play, who, though they sold it, liked it as well as I
   In this play, likewise, I often sought dishonest victories, I myself
   being conquered by the vain desire of pre-eminence. And what could I so
   little endure, or, if I detected it, censured I so violently, as the
   very things I did to others, and, when myself detected I was censured,
   preferred rather to quarrel than to yield? Is this the innocence of
   childhood? Nay, Lord, nay, Lord; I entreat Thy mercy, O my God. For
   these same sins, as we grow older, are transferred from governors and
   masters, from nuts, and balls, and sparrows, to magistrates and kings,
   to gold, and lands, and slaves, just as the rod is succeeded by more
   severe chastisements. It was, then, the stature of childhood that Thou,
   O our King, didst approve of as an emblem of humility when Thou saidst:
   "Of such is the kingdom of heaven." [185]

   31. But yet, O Lord, to Thee, most excellent and most good, Thou
   Architect and Governor of the universe, thanks had been due unto Thee,
   our God, even hadst Thou willed that I should not survive my boyhood.
   For I existed even then; I lived, and felt, and was solicitous about my
   own well-being,--a trace of that most mysterious unity [186] from
   whence I had my being; I kept watch by my inner sense over the
   wholeness of my senses, and in these insignificant pursuits, and also
   in my thoughts on things insignificant, I learnt to take pleasure in
   truth. I was averse to being deceived, I had a vigorous memory, was
   provided with the power of speech, was softened by friendship, shunned
   sorrow, meanness, ignorance. In such a being what was not wonderful and
   praiseworthy? But all these are gifts of my God; I did not give them to
   myself; and they are good, and all these constitute myself. Good, then,
   is He that made me, and He is my God; and before Him will I rejoice
   exceedingly for every good gift which, as a boy, I had. For in this lay
   my sin, that not in Him, but in His creatures--myself and the rest--I
   sought for pleasures, honours, and truths, falling thereby into
   sorrows, troubles, and errors. Thanks be to Thee, my joy, my pride, my
   confidence, my God--thanks be to Thee for Thy gifts; but preserve Thou
   them to me. For thus wilt Thou preserve me; and those things which Thou
   hast given me shall be developed and perfected, and I myself shall be
   with Thee, for from Thee is my being.

   ------------------------
     __________________________________________________________________

   [178] Ps. lxxxvi. 15.

   [179] Ps. xxvii. 8.

   [180] Rom. i. 21.

   [181] Luke xv. 11-32.

   [182] Isa. xxxiii. 5.

   [183] Literally, "takes care not by a slip of the tongue to say inter
   hominibus, but takes no care lest hominem auferat ex hominibus."

   [184] Ps. xxxi. 22.

   [185] Matt. xix. 14. See i. sec. 11, note 3, above.

   [186] "To be is no other than to be one. In as far, therefore, as
   anything attains unity, in so far it is.' For unity worketh congruity
   and harmony, whereby things composite are in so far as they are; for
   things uncompounded are in themselves, because they are one; but things
   compounded imitate unity by the harmony of their parts, and, so far as
   they attain to unity, they are. Wherefore order and rule secure being,
   disorder tends to not being."--Aug. De Morib. Manich. c. 6.
     __________________________________________________________________
     __________________________________________________________________

   Book II.

   ------------------------

   He advances to puberty, and indeed to the early part of the sixteenth
   year of his age, in which, having abandoned his studies, he indulged in
   lustful pleasures, and, with his companions, committed theft.

   ------------------------
     __________________________________________________________________

   Chapter I.--He Deplores the Wickedness of His Youth.

   1. I Will now call to mind my past foulness, and the carnal corruptions
   of my soul, not because I love them, but that I may love Thee, O my
   God. For love of Thy love do I it, recalling, in the very bitterness of
   my remembrance, my most vicious ways, that Thou mayest grow sweet to
   me,--Thou sweetness without deception! Thou sweetness happy and
   assured!--and re-collecting myself out of that my dissipation, in which
   I was torn to pieces, while, turned away from Thee the One, I lost
   myself among many vanities. For I even longed in my youth formerly to
   be satisfied with worldly things, and I dared to grow wild again with
   various and shadowy loves; my form consumed away, [187] and I became
   corrupt in Thine eyes, pleasing myself, and eager to please in the eyes
   of men.
     __________________________________________________________________

   [187] Ps. xxxix. 11.
     __________________________________________________________________

   Chapter II.--Stricken with Exceeding Grief, He Remembers the Dissolute
   Passions in Which, in His Sixteenth Year, He Used to Indulge.

   2. But what was it that I delighted in save to love and to be beloved?
   But I held it not in moderation, mind to mind, the bright path of
   friendship, but out of the dark concupiscence of the flesh and the
   effervescence of youth exhalations came forth which obscured and
   overcast my heart, so that I was unable to discern pure affection from
   unholy desire. Both boiled confusedly within me, and dragged away my
   unstable youth into the rough places of unchaste desires, and plunged
   me into a gulf of infamy. Thy anger had overshadowed me, and I knew it
   not. I was become deaf by the rattling of the chains of my mortality,
   the punishment for my soul's pride; and I wandered farther from Thee,
   and Thou didst "suffer" [188] me; and I was tossed to and fro, and
   wasted, and poured out, and boiled over in my fornications, and Thou
   didst hold Thy peace, O Thou my tardy joy! Thou then didst hold Thy
   peace, and I wandered still farther from Thee, into more and more
   barren seed-plots of sorrows, with proud dejection and restless
   lassitude.

   3. Oh for one to have regulated my disorder, and turned to my profit
   the fleeting beauties of the things around me, and fixed a bound to
   their sweetness, so that the tides of my youth might have spent
   themselves upon the conjugal shore, if so be they could not be
   tranquillized and satisfied within the object of a family, as Thy law
   appoints, O Lord,--who thus formest the offspring of our death, being
   able also with a tender hand to blunt the thorns which were excluded
   from Thy paradise! For Thy omnipotency is not far from us even when we
   are far from Thee, else in truth ought I more vigilantly to have given
   heed to the voice from the clouds: "Nevertheless, such shall have
   trouble in the flesh, but I spare you;" [189] and, "It is good for a
   man not to touch a woman;" [190] and, "He that is unmarried careth for
   the things that belong to the Lord, how he may please the Lord; but he
   that is married careth for the things that are of the world, how he may
   please his wife." [191] I should, therefore, have listened more
   attentively to these words, and, being severed "for the kingdom of
   heaven's sake," [192] I would with greater happiness have expected Thy
   embraces.

   4. But I, poor fool, seethed as does the sea, and, forsaking Thee,
   followed the violent course of my own stream, and exceeded all Thy
   limitations; nor did I escape Thy scourges. [193] For what mortal can
   do so? But Thou wert always by me, mercifully angry, and dashing with
   the bitterest vexations all my illicit pleasures, in order that I might
   seek pleasures free from vexation. But where I could meet with such
   except in Thee, O Lord, I could not find,--except in Thee, who teachest
   by sorrow, [194] and woundest us to heal us, and killest us that we may
   not die from Thee. [195] Where was I, and how far was I exiled from the
   delights of Thy house, in that sixteenth year of the age of my flesh,
   when the madness of lust--to the which human shamelessness granteth
   full freedom, although forbidden by Thy laws--held complete sway over
   me, and I resigned myself entirely to it? Those about me meanwhile took
   no care to save me from ruin by marriage, their sole care being that I
   should learn to make a powerful speech, and become a persuasive orator.
     __________________________________________________________________

   [188] Matt. xvii. 17.

   [189] 1 Cor. vii. 28.

   [190] 1 Cor. vii. 1.

   [191] 1 Cor. vii. 32, 33.

   [192] Matt. xix. 12.

   [193] Isa. x. 26.

   [194] Deut. xxxii. 39.

   [195] Ps. xciii. 20, Vulg. "Lit. Formest trouble in or as a precept.'
   Thou makest to us a precept out of trouble, so that trouble itself
   shall be a precept to us, i.e. hast willed so to discipline and
   instruct those Thy sons, that they should not be without fear, lest
   they should love something else, and forget Thee, their true good."--S.
   Aug. ad loc.--E. B. P.
     __________________________________________________________________

   Chapter III.--Concerning His Father, a Freeman of Thagaste, the
   Assister of His Son's Studies, and on the Admonitions of His Mother on
   the Preservation of Chastity.

   5. And for that year my studies were intermitted, while after my return
   from Madaura [196] (a neighbouring city, whither I had begun to go in
   order to learn grammar and rhetoric), the expenses for a further
   residence at Carthage were provided for me; and that was rather by the
   determination than the means of my father, who was but a poor freeman
   of Thagaste. To whom do I narrate this? Not unto Thee, my God; but
   before Thee unto my own kind, even to that small part of the human race
   who may chance to light upon these my writings. And to what end? That I
   and all who read the same may reflect out of what depths we are to cry
   unto Thee. [197] For what cometh nearer to Thine ears than a confessing
   heart and a life of faith? For who did not extol and praise my father,
   in that he went even beyond his means to supply his son with all the
   necessaries for a far journey for the sake of his studies? For many far
   richer citizens did not the like for their children. But yet this same
   father did not trouble himself how I grew towards Thee, nor how chaste
   I was, so long as I was skilful in speaking--however barren I was to
   Thy tilling, O God, who art the sole true and good Lord of my heart,
   which is Thy field.

   6. But while, in that sixteenth year of my age, I resided with my
   parents, having holiday from school for a time (this idleness being
   imposed upon me by my parents' necessitous circumstances), the thorns
   of lust grew rank over my head, and there was no hand to pluck them
   out. Moreover when my father, seeing me at the baths, perceived that I
   was becoming a man, and was stirred with a restless youthfulness, he,
   as if from this anticipating future descendants, joyfully told it to my
   mother; rejoicing in that intoxication wherein the world so often
   forgets Thee, its Creator, and falls in love with Thy creature instead
   of Thee, from the invisible wine of its own perversity turning and
   bowing down to the most infamous things. But in my mother's breast Thou
   hadst even now begun Thy temple, and the commencement of Thy holy
   habitation, whereas my father was only a catechumen as yet, and that
   but recently. She then started up with a pious fear and trembling; and,
   although I had not yet been baptized, [198] she feared those crooked
   ways in which they walk who turn their back to Thee, and not their
   face. [199]

   7. Woe is me! and dare I affirm that Thou heldest Thy peace, O my God,
   while I strayed farther from Thee? Didst Thou then hold Thy peace to
   me? And whose words were they but Thine which by my mother, Thy
   faithful handmaid, Thou pouredst into my ears, none of which sank into
   my heart to make me do it? For she desired, and I remember privately
   warned me, with great solicitude, "not to commit fornication; but above
   all things never to defile another man's wife." These appeared to me
   but womanish counsels, which I should blush to obey. But they were
   Thine, and I knew it not, and I thought that Thou heldest Thy peace,
   and that it was she who spoke, through whom Thou heldest not Thy peace
   to me, and in her person wast despised by me, her son, "the son of Thy
   handmaid, Thy servant." [200] But this I knew not; and rushed on
   headlong with such blindness, that amongst my equals I was ashamed to
   be less shameless, when I heard them pluming themselves upon their
   disgraceful acts, yea, and glorying all the more in proportion to the
   greatness of their baseness; and I took pleasure in doing it, not for
   the pleasure's sake only, but for the praise. What is worthy of
   dispraise but vice? But I made myself out worse than I was, in order
   that I might not be dispraised; and when in anything I had not sinned
   as the abandoned ones, I would affirm that I had done what I had not,
   that I might not appear abject for being more innocent, or of less
   esteem for being more chaste.

   8. Behold with what companions I walked the streets of Babylon, in
   whose filth I was rolled, as if in cinnamon and precious ointments. And
   that I might cleave the more tenaciously to its very centre, my
   invisible enemy trod me down, and seduced me, I being easily seduced.
   Nor did the mother of my flesh, although she herself had ere this fled
   "out of the midst of Babylon," [201] --progressing, however, but slowly
   in the skirts of it,--in counselling me to chastity, so bear in mind
   what she had been told about me by her husband as to restrain in the
   limits of conjugal affection (if it could not be cut away to the quick)
   what she knew to be destructive in the present and dangerous in the
   future. But she took no heed of this, for she was afraid lest a wife
   should prove a hindrance and a clog to my hopes. Not those hopes of the
   future world, which my mother had in Thee; but the hope of learning,
   which both my parents were too anxious that I should acquire,--he,
   because he had little or no thought of Thee, and but vain thoughts for
   me--she, because she calculated that those usual courses of learning
   would not only be no drawback, but rather a furtherance towards my
   attaining Thee. For thus I conjecture, recalling as well as I can the
   dispositions of my parents. The reins, meantime, were slackened towards
   me beyond the restraint of due severity, that I might play, yea, even
   to dissoluteness, in whatsoever I fancied. And in all there was a mist,
   shutting out from my sight the brightness of Thy truth, O my God; and
   my iniquity displayed itself as from very "fatness." [202]
     __________________________________________________________________

   [196] "Formerly an episcopal city: now a small village. At this time
   the inhabitants were heathen. St. Augustin calls them his fathers,' in
   a letter persuading them to embrace the gospel.--Ep. 232."--E. B. P.

   [197] Ps. cxxx. 1.

   [198] Nondum fideli, not having rehearsed the articles of the Christian
   faith at baptism. See i. sec. 17, note, above; and below, sec. 1, note.

   [199] Jer. ii. 27.

   [200] Ps. cxvi. 16.

   [201] Jer. li. 6.

   [202] Ps. lxxiii. 7.
     __________________________________________________________________

   Chapter IV.--He Commits Theft with His Companions, Not Urged on by
   Poverty, But from a Certain Distaste of Well-Doing.

   9. Theft is punished by Thy law, O Lord, and by the law written in
   men's hearts, which iniquity itself cannot blot out. For what thief
   will suffer a thief? Even a rich thief will not suffer him who is
   driven to it by want. Yet had I a desire to commit robbery, and did so,
   compelled neither by hunger, nor poverty through a distaste for
   well-doing, and a lustiness of iniquity. For I pilfered that of which I
   had already sufficient, and much better. Nor did I desire to enjoy what
   I pilfered, but the theft and sin itself. There was a pear-tree close
   to our vineyard, heavily laden with fruit, which was tempting neither
   for its colour nor its flavour. To shake and rob this some of us wanton
   young fellows went, late one night (having, according to our
   disgraceful habit, prolonged our games in the streets until then), and
   carried away great loads, not to eat ourselves, but to fling to the
   very swine, having only eaten some of them; and to do this pleased us
   all the more because it was not permitted. Behold my heart, O my God;
   behold my heart, which Thou hadst pity upon when in the bottomless pit.
   Behold, now, let my heart tell Thee what it was seeking there, that I
   should be gratuitously wanton, having no inducement to evil but the
   evil itself. It was foul, and I loved it. I loved to perish. I loved my
   own error--not that for which I erred, but the error itself. Base soul,
   falling from Thy firmament to utter destruction--not seeking aught
   through the shame but the shame itself!
     __________________________________________________________________

   Chapter V.--Concerning the Motives to Sin, Which are Not in the Love of
   Evil, But in the Desire of Obtaining the Property of Others.

   10. There is a desirableness in all beautiful bodies, and in gold, and
   silver, and all things; and in bodily contact sympathy is powerful, and
   each other sense hath his proper adaptation of body. Worldly honour
   hath also its glory, and the power of command, and of overcoming;
   whence proceeds also the desire for revenge. And yet to acquire all
   these, we must not depart from Thee, O Lord, nor deviate from Thy law.
   The life which we live here hath also its peculiar attractiveness,
   through a certain measure of comeliness of its own, and harmony with
   all things here below. The friendships of men also are endeared by a
   sweet bond, in the oneness of many souls. On account of all these, and
   such as these, is sin committed; while through an inordinate preference
   for these goods of a lower kind, the better and higher are
   neglected,--even Thou, our Lord God, Thy truth, and Thy law. For these
   meaner things have their delights, but not like unto my God, who hath
   created all things; for in Him doth the righteous delight, and He is
   the sweetness of the upright in heart. [203]

   11. When, therefore, we inquire why a crime was committed, we do not
   believe it, unless it appear that there might have been the wish to
   obtain some of those which we designated meaner things, or else a fear
   of losing them. For truly they are beautiful and comely, although in
   comparison with those higher and celestial goods they be abject and
   contemptible. A man hath murdered another; what was his motive? He
   desired his wife or his estate; or would steal to support himself; or
   he was afraid of losing something of the kind by him; or, being
   injured, he was burning to be revenged. Would he commit murder without
   a motive, taking delight simply in the act of murder? Who would credit
   it? For as for that savage and brutal man, of whom it is declared that
   he was gratuitously wicked and cruel, there is yet a motive assigned.
   "Lest through idleness," he says, "hand or heart should grow inactive."
   [204] And to what purpose? Why, even that, having once got possession
   of the city through that practice of wickedness, he might attain unto
   honours, empire, and wealth, and be exempt from the fear of the laws,
   and his difficult circumstances from the needs of his family, and the
   consciousness of his own wickedness. So it seems that even Catiline
   himself loved not his own villanies, but something else, which gave him
   the motive for committing them.
     __________________________________________________________________

   [203] Ps. lxiv. 10.

   [204] Sallust, De Bello Catil. c. 9.
     __________________________________________________________________

   Chapter VI.--Why He Delighted in that Theft, When All Things Which
   Under the Appearance of Good Invite to Vice are True and Perfect in God
   Alone.

   12. What was it, then, that I, miserable one, so doted on in thee, thou
   theft of mine, thou deed of darkness, in that sixteenth year of my age?
   Beautiful thou wert not, since thou wert theft. But art thou anything,
   that so I may argue the case with thee? Those pears that we stole were
   fair to the sight, because they were Thy creation, Thou fairest [205]
   of all, Creator of all, Thou good God--God, the highest good, and my
   true good. Those pears truly were pleasant to the sight; but it was not
   for them that my miserable soul lusted, for I had abundance of better,
   but those I plucked simply that I might steal. For, having plucked
   them, I threw them away, my sole gratification in them being my own
   sin, which I was pleased to enjoy. For if any of these pears entered my
   mouth, the sweetener of it was my sin in eating it. And now, O Lord my
   God, I ask what it was in that theft of mine that caused me such
   delight; and behold it hath no beauty in it--not such, I mean, as
   exists in justice and wisdom; nor such as is in the mind, memory,
   senses, and animal life of man; nor yet such as is the glory and beauty
   of the stars in their courses; or the earth, or the sea, teeming with
   incipient life, to replace, as it is born, that which decayeth; nor,
   indeed, that false and shadowy beauty which pertaineth to deceptive
   vices.

   13. For thus doth pride imitate high estate, whereas Thou alone art
   God, high above all. And what does ambition seek but honours and
   renown, whereas Thou alone art to be honoured above all, and renowned
   for evermore? The cruelty of the powerful wishes to be feared; but who
   is to be feared but God only, [206] out of whose power what can be
   forced away or withdrawn--when, or where, or whither, or by whom? The
   enticements of the wanton would fain be deemed love; and yet is naught
   more enticing than Thy charity, nor is aught loved more healthfully
   than that, Thy truth, bright and beautiful above all. Curiosity affects
   a desire for knowledge, whereas it is Thou who supremely knowest all
   things. Yea, ignorance and foolishness themselves are concealed under
   the names of ingenuousness and harmlessness, because nothing can be
   found more ingenuous than Thou; and what is more harmless, since it is
   a sinner's own works by which he is harmed? [207] And sloth seems to
   long for rest; but what sure rest is there besides the Lord? Luxury
   would fain be called plenty and abundance; but Thou art the fulness and
   unfailing plenteousness of unfading joys. Prodigality presents a shadow
   of liberality; but Thou art the most lavish giver of all good.
   Covetousness desires to possess much; and Thou art the Possessor of all
   things. Envy contends for excellence; but what so excellent as Thou?
   Anger seeks revenge; who avenges more justly than Thou? Fear starts at
   unwonted and sudden chances which threaten things beloved, and is wary
   for their security; but what can happen that is unwonted or sudden to
   Thee? or who can deprive Thee of what Thou lovest? or where is there
   unshaken security save with Thee? Grief languishes for things lost in
   which desire had delighted itself, even because it would have nothing
   taken from it, as nothing can be from Thee.

   14. Thus doth the soul commit fornication when she turns away from
   Thee, and seeks without Thee what she cannot find pure and untainted
   until she returns to Thee. Thus all pervertedly imitate Thee who
   separate themselves far from Thee [208] and raise themselves up against
   Thee. But even by thus imitating Thee they acknowledge Thee to be the
   Creator of all nature, and so that there is no place whither they can
   altogether retire from Thee. [209] What, then, was it that I loved in
   that theft? And wherein did I, even corruptedly and pervertedly,
   imitate my Lord? Did I wish, if only by artifice, to act contrary to
   Thy law, because by power I could not, so that, being a captive, I
   might imitate an imperfect liberty by doing with impunity things which
   I was not allowed to do, in obscured likeness of Thy omnipotency? [210]
   Behold this servant of Thine, fleeing from his Lord, and following a
   shadow! [211] O rottenness! O monstrosity of life and profundity of
   death! Could I like that which was unlawful only because it was
   unlawful?
     __________________________________________________________________

   [205] Ps. xlv. 2.

   [206] Ps. lxxvi. 7.

   [207] Ps. vii. 15.

   [208] Ps. vii. 15.

   [209] Ps. cxxxix. 7, 8.

   [210] "For even souls, in their very sins, strive after nothing else
   but some kind of likeness of God, in a proud and preposterous, and, so
   to say, slavish liberty. So neither could our first parents have been
   persuaded to sin unless it had been said, Ye shall be as gods.'"--Aug.
   De Trin. xi. 5.

   [211] Jonah i. and iv.
     __________________________________________________________________

   Chapter VII.--He Gives Thanks to God for the Remission of His Sins, and
   Reminds Every One that the Supreme God May Have Preserved Us from
   Greater Sins.

   15. "What shall I render unto the Lord," [212] that whilst my memory
   recalls these things my soul is not appalled at them? I will love Thee,
   O Lord, and thank Thee, and confess unto Thy name, [213] because Thou
   hast put away from me these so wicked and nefarious acts of mine. To
   Thy grace I attribute it, and to Thy mercy, that Thou hast melted away
   my sin as it were ice. To Thy grace also I attribute whatsoever of evil
   I have not committed; for what might I not have committed, loving as I
   did the sin for the sin's sake? Yea, all I confess to have been
   pardoned me, both those which I committed by my own perverseness, and
   those which, by Thy guidance, I committed not. Where is he who,
   reflecting upon his own infirmity, dares to ascribe his chastity and
   innocency to his own strength, so that he should love Thee the less, as
   if he had been in less need of Thy mercy, whereby Thou dost forgive the
   transgressions of those that turn to Thee? For whosoever, called by
   Thee, obeyed Thy voice, and shunned those things which he reads me
   recalling and confessing of myself, let him not despise me, who, being
   sick, was healed by that same Physician [214] by whose aid it was that
   he was not sick, or rather was less sick. And for this let him love
   Thee as much, yea, all the more, since by whom he sees me to have been
   restored from so great a feebleness of sin, by Him he sees himself from
   a like feebleness to have been preserved.
     __________________________________________________________________

   [212] Ps. cxvi. 12.

   [213] Rev. iii. 5.

   [214] Luke iv. 23.
     __________________________________________________________________

   Chapter VIII.--In His Theft He Loved the Company of His Fellow-Sinners.

   16. "What fruit had I then," [215] wretched one, in those things which,
   when I remember them, cause me shame--above all in that theft, which I
   loved only for the theft's sake? And as the theft itself was nothing,
   all the more wretched was I who loved it. Yet by myself alone I would
   not have done it--I recall what my heart was--alone I could not have
   done it. I loved, then, in it the companionship of my accomplices with
   whom I did it. I did not, therefore, love the theft alone--yea, rather,
   it was that alone that I loved, for the companionship was nothing. What
   is the fact? Who is it that can teach me, but He who illuminateth mine
   heart and searcheth out the dark corners thereof? What is it that hath
   come into my mind to inquire about, to discuss, and to reflect upon?
   For had I at that time loved the pears I stole, and wished to enjoy
   them, I might have done so alone, if I could have been satisfied with
   the mere commission of the theft by which my pleasure was secured; nor
   needed I have provoked that itching of my own passions, by the
   encouragement of accomplices. But as my enjoyment was not in those
   pears, it was in the crime itself, which the company of my
   fellow-sinners produced.
     __________________________________________________________________

   [215] Rom. vi. 21.
     __________________________________________________________________

   Chapter IX.--It Was a Pleasure to Him Also to Laugh When Seriously
   Deceiving Others.

   17. By what feelings, then, was I animated? For it was in truth too
   shameful; and woe was me who had it. But still what was it? "Who can
   understand his errors?" [216] We laughed, because our hearts were
   tickled at the thought of deceiving those who little imagined what we
   were doing, and would have vehemently disapproved of it. Yet, again,
   why did I so rejoice in this, that I did it not alone? Is it that no
   one readily laughs alone? No one does so readily; but yet sometimes,
   when men are alone by themselves, nobody being by, a fit of laughter
   overcomes them when anything very droll presents itself to their senses
   or mind. Yet alone I would not have done it--alone I could not at all
   have done it. Behold, my God, the lively recollection of my soul is
   laid bare before Thee--alone I had not committed that theft, wherein
   what I stole pleased me not, but rather the act of stealing; nor to
   have done it alone would I have liked so well, neither would I have
   done it. O Friendship too unfriendly! thou mysterious seducer of the
   soul, thou greediness to do mischief out of mirth and wantonness, thou
   craving for others' loss, without desire for my own profit or revenge;
   but when they say, "Let us go, let us do it," we are ashamed not to be
   shameless.
     __________________________________________________________________

   [216] Ps. xix. 12.
     __________________________________________________________________

   Chapter X.--With God There is True Rest and Life Unchanging.

   18. Who can unravel that twisted and tangled knottiness? It is foul. I
   hate to reflect on it. I hate to look on it. But thee do I long for, O
   righteousness and innocency, fair and comely to all virtuous eyes, and
   of a satisfaction that never palls! With thee is perfect rest, and life
   unchanging. He who enters into thee enters into the joy of his Lord,
   [217] and shall have no fear, and shall do excellently in the most
   Excellent. I sank away from Thee, O my God, and I wandered too far from
   Thee, my stay, in my youth, and became to myself an unfruitful land.

   ------------------------
     __________________________________________________________________

   [217] Matt. xxv. 21.
     __________________________________________________________________
     __________________________________________________________________

   Book III.

   ------------------------

   Of the seventeenth, eighteenth, and nineteenth years of his age, passed
   at Carthage, when, having completed his course of studies, he is caught
   in the snares of a licentious passion, and falls into the errors of the
   Manichæans.

   ------------------------
     __________________________________________________________________

   Chapter I.--Deluded by an Insane Love, He, Though Foul and
   Dishonourable, Desires to Be Thought Elegant and Urbane.

   1. To Carthage I came, where a cauldron of unholy loves bubbled up all
   around me. I loved not as yet, yet I loved to love; and with a hidden
   want, I abhorred myself that I wanted not. I searched about for
   something to love, in love with loving, and hating security, and a way
   not beset with snares. For within me I had a dearth of that inward
   food, Thyself, my God, though that dearth caused me no hunger; but I
   remained without all desire for incorruptible food, not because I was
   already filled thereby, but the more empty I was the more I loathed it.
   For this reason my soul was far from well, and, full of ulcers, it
   miserably cast itself forth, craving to be excited by contact with
   objects of sense. Yet, had these no soul, they would not surely inspire
   love. To love and to be loved was sweet to me, and all the more when I
   succeeded in enjoying the person I loved. I befouled, therefore, the
   spring of friendship with the filth of concupiscence, and I dimmed its
   lustre with the hell of lustfulness; and yet, foul and dishonourable as
   I was, I craved, through an excess of vanity, to be thought elegant and
   urbane. I fell precipitately, then, into the love in which I longed to
   be ensnared. My God, my mercy, with how much bitterness didst Thou, out
   of Thy infinite goodness, besprinkle for me that sweetness! For I was
   both beloved, and secretly arrived at the bond of enjoying; and was
   joyfully bound with troublesome ties, that I might be scourged with the
   burning iron rods of jealousy, suspicion, fear, anger, and strife.
     __________________________________________________________________

   Chapter II.--In Public Spectacles He is Moved by an Empty Compassion.
   He is Attacked by a Troublesome Spiritual Disease.

   2. Stage-plays also drew me away, full of representations of my
   miseries and of fuel to my fire. [218] Why does man like to be made sad
   when viewing doleful and tragical scenes, which yet he himself would by
   no means suffer? And yet he wishes, as a spectator, to experience from
   them a sense of grief, and in this very grief his pleasure consists.
   What is this but wretched insanity? For a man is more affected with
   these actions, the less free he is from such affections. Howsoever,
   when he suffers in his own person, it is the custom to style it
   "misery" but when he compassionates others, then it is styled "mercy."
   [219] But what kind of mercy is it that arises from fictitious and
   scenic passions? The hearer is not expected to relieve, but merely
   invited to grieve; and the more he grieves, the more he applauds the
   actor of these fictions. And if the misfortunes of the characters
   (whether of olden times or merely imaginary) be so represented as not
   to touch the feelings of the spectator, he goes away disgusted and
   censorious; but if his feelings be touched, he sits it out attentively,
   and sheds tears of joy.

   3. Are sorrows, then, also loved? Surely all men desire to rejoice? Or,
   as man wishes to be miserable, is he, nevertheless, glad to be
   merciful, which, because it cannot exist without passion, for this
   cause alone are passions loved? This also is from that vein of
   friendship. But whither does it go? Whither does it flow? Wherefore
   runs it into that torrent of pitch, [220] seething forth those huge
   tides of loathsome lusts into which it is changed and transformed,
   being of its own will cast away and corrupted from its celestial
   clearness? Shall, then, mercy be repudiated? By no means. Let us,
   therefore, love sorrows sometimes. But beware of uncleanness, O my
   soul, under the protection of my God, the God of our fathers, who is to
   be praised and exalted above all for ever, [221] beware of uncleanness.
   For I have not now ceased to have compassion; but then in the theatres
   I sympathized with lovers when they sinfully enjoyed one another,
   although this was done fictitiously in the play. And when they lost one
   another, I grieved with them, as if pitying them, and yet had delight
   in both. But now-a-days I feel much more pity for him that delighteth
   in his wickedness, than for him who is counted as enduring hardships by
   failing to obtain some pernicious pleasure, and the loss of some
   miserable felicity. This, surely, is the truer mercy, but grief hath no
   delight in it. For though he that condoles with the unhappy be approved
   for his office of charity, yet would he who had real compassion rather
   there were nothing for him to grieve about. For if goodwill be
   ill-willed (which it cannot), then can he who is truly and sincerely
   commiserating wish that there should be some unhappy ones, that he
   might commiserate them. Some grief may then be justified, none loved.
   For thus dost Thou, O Lord God, who lovest souls far more purely than
   do we, and art more incorruptibly compassionate, although Thou art
   wounded by no sorrow. "And who is sufficient for these things?" [222]

   4. But I, wretched one, then loved to grieve, and sought out what to
   grieve at, as when, in another man's misery, though reigned and
   counterfeited, that delivery of the actor best pleased me, and
   attracted me the most powerfully, which moved me to tears. What marvel
   was it that an unhappy sheep, straying from Thy flock, and impatient of
   Thy care, I became infected with a foul disease? And hence came my love
   of griefs--not such as should probe me too deeply, for I loved not to
   suffer such things as I loved to look upon, but such as, when hearing
   their fictions, should lightly affect the surface; upon which, like as
   with empoisoned nails, followed burning, swelling, putrefaction, and
   horrible corruption. Such was my life! But was it life, O my God?
     __________________________________________________________________

   [218] The early Fathers strongly reprobated stage-plays, and those who
   went to them were excluded from baptism. This is not to be wondered at,
   when we learn that "even the laws of Rome prohibited actors from being
   enrolled as citizens" (De Civ. Dei, ii. 14), and that they were
   accounted infamous (Tertullian, De Spectac. sec. xxii.). See also
   Tertullian, De Pudicitia, c. vii.

   [219] See i. 9, note, above.

   [220] An allusion, probably, as Watts suggests, to the sea of Sodom,
   which, according to Tacitus (Hist. book v.), throws up bitumen "at
   stated seasons of the year." Tacitus likewise alludes to its
   pestiferous odour, and to its being deadly to birds and fish. See also
   Gen. xiv. 3, 10.

   [221] Song of the Three Holy Children, verse 3.

   [222] 2 Cor. ii. 16.
     __________________________________________________________________

   Chapter III.--Not Even When at Church Does He Suppress His Desires. In
   the School of Rhetoric He Abhors the Acts of the Subverters.

   5. And Thy faithful mercy hovered over me afar. Upon what unseemly
   iniquities did I wear myself out, following a sacrilegious curiosity,
   that, having deserted Thee, it might drag me into the treacherous
   abyss, and to the beguiling obedience of devils, unto whom I immolated
   my wicked deeds, and in all which Thou didst scourge me! I dared, even
   while Thy solemn rites were being celebrated within the walls of Thy
   church, to desire, and to plan a business sufficient to procure me the
   fruits of death; for which Thou chastisedst me with grievous
   punishments, but nothing in comparison with my fault, O Thou my
   greatest mercy, my God, my refuge from those terrible hurts, among
   which I wandered with presumptuous neck, receding farther from Thee,
   loving my own ways, and not Thine--loving a vagrant liberty.

   6. Those studies, also, which were accounted honourable, were directed
   towards the courts of law; to excel in which, the more crafty I was,
   the more I should be praised. Such is the blindness of men, that they
   even glory in their blindness. And now I was head in the School of
   Rhetoric, whereat I rejoiced proudly, and became inflated with
   arrogance, though more sedate, O Lord, as Thou knowest, and altogether
   removed from the subvertings of those "subverters" [223] (for this
   stupid and diabolical name was held to be the very brand of gallantry)
   amongst whom I lived, with an impudent shamefacedness that I was not
   even as they were. And with them I was, and at times I was delighted
   with their friendship whose acts I ever abhorred, that is, their
   "subverting," wherewith they insolently attacked the modesty of
   strangers, which they disturbed by uncalled for jeers, gratifying
   thereby their mischievous mirth. Nothing can more nearly resemble the
   actions of devils than these. By what name, therefore, could they be
   more truly called than "subverters"?--being themselves subverted first,
   and altogether perverted--being secretly mocked at and seduced by the
   deceiving spirits, in what they themselves delight to jeer at and
   deceive others.
     __________________________________________________________________

   [223] Eversores. "These for their boldness were like our Roarers,' and
   for their jeering like the worser sort of those that would be called
   The Wits.'"--W. W. "This appears to have been a name which a pestilent
   and savage set of persons gave themselves, licentious alike in speech
   and action. Augustin names them again, De Vera Relig. c. 40; Ep. 185 ad
   Bonifac. c. 4; and below, v. c. 12; whence they seemed to have
   consisted mainly of Carthaginian students, whose savage life is
   mentioned again, ib. c. 8."--E. B. P.
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   Chapter IV.--In the Nineteenth Year of His Age (His Father Having Died
   Two Years Before) He is Led by the "Hortensius" Of Cicero to
   "Philosophy," To God, and a Better Mode of Thinking.

   7. Among such as these, at that unstable period of my life, I studied
   books of eloquence, wherein I was eager to be eminent from a damnable
   and inflated purpose, even a delight in human vanity. In the ordinary
   course of study, I lighted upon a certain book of Cicero, whose
   language, though not his heart, almost all admire. This book of his
   contains an exhortation to philosophy, and is called Hortensius. This
   book, in truth, changed my affections, and turned my prayers to
   Thyself, O Lord, and made me have other hopes and desires. Worthless
   suddenly became every vain hope to me; and, with an incredible warmth
   of heart, I yearned for an immortality of wisdom, [224] and began now
   to arise [225] that I might return to Thee. Not, then, to improve my
   language--which I appeared to be purchasing with my mother's means, in
   that my nineteenth year, my father having died two years before--not to
   improve my language did I have recourse to that book; nor did it
   persuade me by its style, but its matter.

   8. How ardent was I then, my God, how ardent to fly from earthly things
   to Thee! Nor did I know how Thou wouldst deal with me. For with Thee is
   wisdom. In Greek the love of wisdom is called "philosophy," [226] with
   which that book inflamed me. There be some who seduce through
   philosophy, under a great, and alluring, and honourable name colouring
   and adorning their own errors. And almost all who in that and former
   times were such, are in that book censured and pointed out. There is
   also disclosed that most salutary admonition of Thy Spirit, by Thy good
   and pious servant: "Beware lest any man spoil you through philosophy
   and vain deceit, after the tradition of men, after the rudiments of the
   world, and not after Christ: for in Him dwelleth all the fulness of the
   Godhead bodily." [227] And since at that time (as Thou, O Light of my
   heart, knowest) the words of the apostle were unknown to me, I was
   delighted with that exhortation, in so far only as I was thereby
   stimulated, and enkindled, and inflamed to love, seek, obtain, hold,
   and embrace, not this or that sect, but wisdom itself, whatever it
   were; and this alone checked me thus ardent, that the name of Christ
   was not in it. For this name, according to Thy mercy, O Lord, this name
   of my Saviour Thy Son, had my tender heart piously drunk in, deeply
   treasured even with my mother's milk; and whatsoever was without that
   name, though never so erudite, polished, and truthful, took not
   complete hold of me.
     __________________________________________________________________

   [224] Up to the time of Cicero the Romans employed the term sapientia
   for philosophia (Monboddo's Ancient Metaphys. i. 5). It is interesting
   to watch the effect of the philosophy in which they had been trained on
   the writings of some of the Fathers. Even Justin Martyr, the first
   after the "Apostolic," has traces of this influence. See the account of
   his search for "wisdom," and conversion, in his Dialogue with Trypho,
   ii. and iii.

   [225] Luke xv. 18.

   [226] See above, note 1.

   [227] Col. ii. 8, 9.
     __________________________________________________________________

   Chapter V.--He Rejects the Sacred Scriptures as Too Simple, and as Not
   to Be Compared with the Dignity of Tully.

   9. I resolved, therefore, to direct my mind to the Holy Scriptures,
   that I might see what they were. And behold, I perceive something not
   comprehended by the proud, not disclosed to children, but lowly as you
   approach, sublime as you advance, and veiled in mysteries; and I was
   not of the number of those who could enter into it, or bend my neck to
   follow its steps. For not as when now I speak did I feel when I tuned
   towards those Scriptures, [228] but they appeared to me to be unworthy
   to be compared with the dignity of Tully; for my inflated pride shunned
   their style, nor could the sharpness of my wit pierce their inner
   meaning. [229] Yet, truly, were they such as would develope in little
   ones; but I scorned to be a little one, and, swollen with pride, I
   looked upon myself as a great one.
     __________________________________________________________________

   [228] In connection with the opinion Augustin formed of the Scriptures
   before and after his conversion, it is interesting to recall Fénélon's
   glowing description of the literary merit of the Bible. The whole
   passage might well be quoted did space permit:--"L'Ecriture surpasse en
   naïveté, en vivacité, en grandeur, tous les écrivains de Rome et de la
   Grèce. Jamais Homère même n'a approché de la sublimité de Moïse dans
   ses cantiques....Jamais nulle ode Grecque ou Latine n'a pu atteindre à
   la hauteur des Psaumes....Jamais Homerè ni aucun autre poëte n'a égalé
   Isaïe peignant la majesté de Dieu....Tantôt ce prophète à toute la
   douceur et toute la tendresse d'une églogue, dans les riantes peintures
   qu'il fait de la paix, tantôt il s'élève jusqu' à laisser tout
   au-dessous de lui. Mais qu'y a-t-il, dans l'antiquité profane, de
   comparable au tendre Jérémie, déplorant les maux de son peuple; ou à
   Nahum, voyant de loin, en esprit, tomber la superbe Ninive sous les
   efforts d'une armée innombrable? On croit voir cette armée, ou croit
   entendre le bruit des armes et des chariots; tout est dépeint d'une
   manière vive qui saisit l'imagination; il laisse Homère loin derrière
   lui....Enfin, il y a autant de différence entre les poëtes profanes et
   les prophètes, qu'il y en a entre le véritable enthousiasme et le
   faux."--Sur l' Eloq. de la Chaire, Dial. iii.

   [229] That is probably the "spiritual" meaning on which Ambrose (vi. 6,
   below) laid so much emphasis. How different is the attitude of mind
   indicated in xi. 3 from the spiritual pride which beset him at this
   period of his life! When converted he became as a little child, and
   ever looked to God as a Father, from whom he must receive both light
   and strength. He speaks, on Ps. cxlvi., of the Scriptures, which were
   plain to "the little ones," being obscured to the mocking spirit of the
   Manichæans. See also below, iii. 14, note.
     __________________________________________________________________

   Chapter VI.--Deceived by His Own Fault, He Falls into the Errors of the
   Manichæans, Who Gloried in the True Knowledge of God and in a Thorough
   Examination of Things.

   10. Therefore I fell among men proudly raving, very carnal, and
   voluble, in whose mouths were the snares of the devil--the birdlime
   being composed of a mixture of the syllables of Thy name, and of our
   Lord Jesus Christ, and of the Paraclete, the Holy Ghost, the Comforter.
   [230] These names departed not out of their mouths, but so far forth as
   the sound only and the clatter of the tongue, for the heart was empty
   of truth. Still they cried, "Truth, Truth," and spoke much about it to
   me, "yet was it not in them;" [231] but they spake falsely not of Thee
   only--who, verily, art the Truth--but also of these elements of this
   world, Thy creatures. And I, in truth, should have passed by
   philosophers, even when speaking truth concerning them, for love of
   Thee, my Father, supremely good, beauty of all things beautiful. O
   Truth, Truth! how inwardly even then did the marrow of my soul pant
   after Thee, when they frequently, and in a multiplicity of ways, and in
   numerous and huge books, sounded out Thy name to me, though it was but
   a voice! [232] And these were the dishes in which to me, hungering for
   Thee, they, instead of Thee, served up the sun and moon, Thy beauteous
   works--but yet Thy works, not Thyself, nay, nor Thy first works. For
   before these corporeal works are Thy spiritual ones, celestial and
   shining though they be. But I hungered and thirsted not even after
   those first works of Thine, but after Thee Thyself, the Truth, "with
   whom is no variableness, neither shadow of turning;" [233] yet they
   still served up to me in those dishes glowing phantasies, than which
   better were it to love this very sun (which, at least, is true to our
   sight), than those illusions which deceive the mind through the eye.
   And yet, because I supposed them to be Thee, I fed upon them; not with
   avidity, for Thou didst not taste to my mouth as Thou art, for Thou
   wast not these empty fictions; neither was I nourished by them, but the
   rather exhausted. Food in our sleep appears like our food awake; yet
   the sleepers are not nourished by it, for they are asleep. But those
   things were not in any way like unto Thee as Thou hast now spoken unto
   me, in that those were corporeal phantasies, false bodies, than which
   these true bodies, whether celestial or terrestrial, which we perceive
   with our fleshly sight, are much more certain. These things the very
   beasts and birds perceive as well as we, and they are more certain than
   when we imagine them. And again, we do with more certainty imagine
   them, than by them conceive of other greater and infinite bodies which
   have no existence. With such empty husks was I then fed, and was not
   fed. But Thou, my Love, in looking for whom I fail [234] that I may be
   strong, art neither those bodies that we see, although in heaven, nor
   art Thou those which we see not there; for Thou hast created them, nor
   dost Thou reckon them amongst Thy greatest works. How far, then, art
   Thou from those phantasies of mine, phantasies of bodies which are not
   at all, than which the images of those bodies which are, are more
   certain, and still more certain the bodies themselves, which yet Thou
   art not; nay, nor yet the soul, which is the life of the bodies.
   Better, then, and more certain is the life of bodies than the bodies
   themselves. But Thou art the life of souls, the life of lives, having
   life in Thyself; and Thou changest not, O Life of my soul.

   11. Where, then, wert Thou then to me, and how far from me? Far,
   indeed, was I wandering away from Thee, being even shut out from the
   very husks of the swine, whom with husks I fed. [235] For how much
   better, then, are the fables of the grammarians and poets than these
   snares! For verses, and poems, and Medea flying, are more profitable
   truly than these men's five elements, variously painted, to answer to
   the five caves of darkness, [236] none of which exist, and which slay
   the believer. For verses and poems I can turn into [237] true food, but
   the "Medea flying," though I sang, I maintained it not; though I heard
   it sung, I believed it not; but those things I did believe. Woe, woe,
   by what steps was I dragged down "to the depths of hell!" [238]
   --toiling and turmoiling through want of Truth, when I sought after
   Thee, my God,--to Thee I confess it, who hadst mercy on me when I had
   not yet confessed,--sought after Thee not according to the
   understanding of the mind, in which Thou desiredst that I should excel
   the beasts, but according to the sense of the flesh! Thou wert more
   inward to me than my most inward part; and higher than my highest. I
   came upon that bold woman, who "is simple, and knoweth nothing," [239]
   the enigma of Solomon, sitting "at the door of the house on a seat,"
   and saying, "Stolen waters are sweet, and bread eaten in secret is
   pleasant." [240] This woman seduced me, because she found my soul
   beyond its portals, dwelling in the eye of my flesh, and thinking on
   such food as through it I had devoured.
     __________________________________________________________________

   [230] So, in Book xxii. sec. 13 of his reply to Faustus, he charges
   them with "professing to believe the New Testament in order to entrap
   the unwary;" and again, in sec. 15, he says: " They claim the impious
   liberty of holding and teaching, that whatever they deem favourable to
   their heresy was said by Christ and the apostles; while they have the
   profane boldness to say, that whatever in the same writings is
   unfavourable to them is a spurious interpolation." They professed to
   believe in the doctrine of the Trinity, but affirmed (ibid. xx. 6)
   "that the Father dwells in a secret light, the power of the Son in the
   sun, and His wisdom in the moon, and the Holy Spirit in the air." It
   was this employment of the phraseology of Scripture to convey doctrines
   utterly unscriptural that rendered their teaching such a snare to the
   unwary. See also below, v. 12, note.

   [231] 1 John ii. 4.

   [232] There was something peculiarly enthralling to an ardent mind like
   Augustin's in the Manichæan system. That system was kindred in many
   ways to modern Rationalism. Reason was exalted at the expense of faith.
   Nothing was received on mere authority, and the disciple's inner
   consciousness was the touchstone of truth. The result of this is well
   pointed out by Augustin (Con. Faust, xxxii. sec. 19): "Your design,
   clearly, is to deprive Scripture of all authority, and to make every
   man's mind the judge what passage of Scripture he is to approve of, and
   what to disapprove of. This is not to be subject to Scripture in
   matters of faith, but to make Scripture subject to you. Instead of
   making the high authority of Scripture the reason of approval, every
   man makes his approval the reason for thinking a passage correct."
   Compare also Con. Faust, xi. sec. 2, and xxxii. sec. 16.

   [233] Jas. i. 17.

   [234] Ps. lxix. 3.

   [235] Luke xv. 16; and see below, vi. sec. 3, note.

   [236] See below, xii. sec. 6, note.

   [237] "Of this passage St. Augustin is probably speaking when he says,
   Praises bestowed on bread in simplicity of heart, let him (Petilian)
   defame, if he will, by the ludicrous title of poisoning and corrupting
   frenzy.' Augustin meant in mockery, that by verses he could get his
   bread; his calumniator seems to have twisted the word to signify a
   love-potion.--Con. Lit. Petiliani, iii. 16."--E. B. P.

   [238] Prov. ix. 18.

   [239] Prov. ix. 13.

   [240] Prov. ix. 14, 17.
     __________________________________________________________________

   Chapter VII.--He Attacks the Doctrine of the Manichæans Concerning
   Evil, God, and the Righteousness of the Patriarchs.

   12. For I was ignorant as to that which really is, and was, as it were,
   violently moved to give my support to foolish deceivers, when they
   asked me, "Whence is evil?" [241] --and, "Is God limited by a bodily
   shape, and has He hairs and nails?"--and, "Are they to be esteemed
   righteous who had many wives at once and did kill men, and sacrificed
   living creatures?" [242] At which things I, in my ignorance, was much
   disturbed, and, retreating from the truth, I appeared to myself to be
   going towards it; because as yet I knew not that evil was naught but a
   privation of good, until in the end it ceases altogether to be; which
   how should I see, the sight of whose eyes saw no further than bodies,
   and of my mind no further than a phantasm? And I knew not God to be a
   Spirit, [243] not one who hath parts extended in length and breadth,
   nor whose being was bulk; for every bulk is less in a part than in the
   whole, and, if it be infinite, it must be less in such part as is
   limited by a certain space than in its infinity; and cannot be wholly
   everywhere, as Spirit, as God is. And what that should be in us, by
   which we were like unto God, and might rightly in Scripture be said to
   be after "the image of God," [244] I was entirely ignorant.

   13. Nor had I knowledge of that true inner righteousness, which doth
   not judge according to custom, but out of the most perfect law of God
   Almighty, by which the manners of places and times were adapted to
   those places and times--being itself the while the same always and
   everywhere, not one thing in one place, and another in another;
   according to which Abraham, and Isaac, and Jacob, and Moses, and David,
   and all those commended by the mouth of God were righteous, [245] but
   were judged unrighteous by foolish men, judging out of man's judgment,
   [246] and gauging by the petty standard of their own manners the
   manners of the whole human race. Like as if in an armoury, one knowing
   not what were adapted to the several members should put greaves on his
   head, or boot himself with a helmet, and then complain because they
   would not fit. Or as if, on some day when in the afternoon business was
   forbidden, one were to fume at not being allowed to sell as it was
   lawful to him in the forenoon. Or when in some house he sees a servant
   take something in his hand which the butler is not permitted to touch,
   or something done behind a stable which would be prohibited in the
   dining-room, and should be indignant that in one house, and one family,
   the same thing is not distributed everywhere to all. Such are they who
   cannot endure to hear something to have been lawful for righteous men
   in former times which is not so now; or that God, for certain temporal
   reasons, commanded them one thing, and these another, but both obeying
   the same righteousness; though they see, in one man, one day, and one
   house, different things to be fit for different members, and a thing
   which was formerly lawful after a time unlawful--that permitted or
   commanded in one corner, which done in another is justly prohibited and
   punished. Is justice, then, various and changeable? Nay, but the times
   over which she presides are not all alike, because they are times.
   [247] But men, whose days upon the earth are few, [248] because by
   their own perception they cannot harmonize the causes of former ages
   and other nations, of which they had no experience, with these of which
   they have experience, though in one and the same body, day, or family,
   they can readily see what is suitable for each member, season, part,
   and person--to the one they take exception, to the other they submit.

   14. These things I then knew not, nor observed. They met my eyes on
   every side, and I saw them not. I composed poems, in which it was not
   permitted me to place every foot everywhere, but in one metre one way,
   and in another, nor even in any one verse the same foot in all places.
   Yet the art itself by which I composed had not different principles for
   these different cases, but comprised all in one. Still I saw not how
   that righteousness, which good and holy men submitted to, far more
   excellently and sublimely comprehended in one all those things which
   God commanded, and in no part varied, though in varying times it did
   not prescribe all things at once, but distributed and enjoined what was
   proper for each. And I, being blind, blamed those pious fathers, not
   only for making use of present things as God commanded and inspired
   them to do, but also for foreshowing things to come as God was
   revealing them. [249]
     __________________________________________________________________

   [241] The strange mixture of the pensive philosophy of Persia with
   Gnosticism and Christianity, propounded by Manichæus, attempted to
   solve this question, which was "the great object of heretical inquiry"
   (Mansel's Gnostics, lec. i.). It was Augustin's desire for knowledge
   concerning it that united him to this sect, and which also led him to
   forsake it, when he found therein nothing but empty fables (De Lib.
   Arb. i. sec. 4). Manichæus taught that evil and good were primeval, and
   had independent existences. Augustin, on the other hand, maintains that
   it was not possible for evil so to exist (De Civ. Dei, xi. sec. 22)
   but, as he here states, evil is "a privation of good." The evil will
   has a causa deficiens, but not a causa efficiens (ibid. xii. 6), as is
   exemplified in the fall of the angels.

   [242] 1 Kings xviii. 40.

   [243] John iv. 24.

   [244] Gen. i. 27; see vi. sec. 4, note.

   [245] Heb. xi. 8-40.

   [246] 1 Cor. iv. 3.

   [247] The law of the development of revelation implied in the above
   passage is one to which Augustin frequently resorts in confutation of
   objections such as those to which he refers in the previous and
   following sections. It may likewise be effectively used when similar
   objections are raised by modern sceptics. In the Rabbinical books there
   is a tradition of the wanderings of the children of Israel, that not
   only did their clothes not wax old (Deut. xxix. 5) during those forty
   years, but that they grew with their growth. The written word is as it
   were the swaddling-clothes of the holy child Jesus; and as the
   revelation concerning Him--the Word Incarnate--grew, did the written
   word grow. God spoke in sundry parts [poluemros] and in divers manners
   unto the fathers by the prophets (Heb. i. 1); but when the "fulness of
   the time was come" (Gal. iv. 4), He completed the revelation in His
   Son. Our Lord indicates this principle when He speaks of divorce in
   Matt. xix. 8. "Moses," he says, "because of the hardness of your hearts
   suffered you to put away your wives; but from the beginning it was not
   so." (See Con. Faust. xix. 26, 29.) When objections, then, as to
   obsolete ritual usages, or the sins committed by Old Testament worthies
   are urged, the answer is plain: the ritual has become obsolete, because
   only intended for the infancy of revelation, and the sins, while
   recorded in, are not approved by Scripture, and those who committed
   them will be judged according to the measure of revelation they
   received. See also De Ver. Relig. xvii.; in Ps. lxxiii. 1, liv. 22;
   Con. Faust. xxii. 25; Trench, Hulsean Lecs. iv., v. (1845); and
   Candlish's Reason and Revelation, pp. 58-75.

   [248] Job xiv. 1.

   [249] Here, as at the end of sec. 17, he alludes to the typical and
   allegorical character of Old Testament histories. Though he does not
   with Origen go so far as to disparage the letter of Scripture (see De
   Civ. Dei, xiii. 21), but upholds it, he constantly employs the
   allegorical principle. He (alluding to the patriarchs) goes so far,
   indeed, as to say (Con. Faust., xxii. 24), that "not only the speech
   but the life of these men was prophetic; and the whole kingdom of the
   Hebrews was like a great prophet;" and again: "We may discover a
   prophecy of the coming of Christ and of the Church both in what they
   said and what they did". This method of interpretation he first learned
   from Ambrose. See note on "the letter killeth," etc. (below, vi. sec.
   6), for the danger attending it. On the general subject, reference may
   also be made to his in Ps. cxxxvi. 3; Serm. 2; De Tentat. Abr. sec. 7;
   and De Civ. Dei, xvii. 3.
     __________________________________________________________________

   Chapter VIII.--He Argues Against the Same as to the Reason of Offences.

   15. Can it at any time or place be an unrighteous thing for a man to
   love God with all his heart, with all his soul, and with all his mind,
   and his neighbour as himself? [250] Therefore those offences which be
   contrary to nature are everywhere and at all times to be held in
   detestation and punished; such were those of the Sodomites, which
   should all nations commit, they should all be held guilty of the same
   crime by the divine law, which hath not so made men that they should in
   that way abuse one another. For even that fellowship which should be
   between God and us is violated, when that same nature of which He is
   author is polluted by the perversity of lust. But those offences which
   are contrary to the customs of men are to be avoided according to the
   customs severally prevailing; so that an agreement made, and confirmed
   by custom or law of any city or nation, may not be violated at the
   lawless pleasure of any, whether citizen or stranger. For any part
   which is not consistent with its whole is unseemly. But when God
   commands anything contrary to the customs or compacts of any nation to
   be done, though it were never done by them before, it is to be done;
   and if intermitted it is to be restored, and, if never established, to
   be established. For if it be lawful for a king, in the state over which
   he reigns, to command that which neither he himself nor any one before
   him had commanded, and to obey him cannot be held to be inimical to the
   public interest,--nay, it were so if he were not obeyed (for obedience
   to princes is a general compact of human society),--how much more,
   then, ought we unhesitatingly to obey God, the Governor of all His
   creatures! For as among the authorities of human society the greater
   authority is obeyed before the lesser, so must God above all.

   16. So also in deeds of violence, where there is a desire to harm,
   whether by contumely or injury; and both of these either by reason of
   revenge, as one enemy against another; or to obtain some advantage over
   another, as the highwayman to the traveller; or for the avoiding of
   some evil, as with him who is in fear of another; or through envy, as
   the unfortunate man to one who is happy; or as he that is prosperous in
   anything to him who he fears will become equal to himself, or whose
   equality he grieves at; or for the mere pleasure in another's pains, as
   the spectators of gladiators, or the deriders and mockers of others.
   These be the chief iniquities which spring forth from the lust of the
   flesh, of the eye, and of power, whether singly, or two together, or
   all at once. And so do men live in opposition to the three and seven,
   that psaltery "of ten strings," [251] Thy ten commandments, O God most
   high and most sweet. But what foul offences can there be against Thee
   who canst not be defiled? Or what deeds of violence against thee who
   canst not be harmed? But Thou avengest that which men perpetrate
   against themselves, seeing also that when they sin against Thee, they
   do wickedly against their own souls; and iniquity gives itself the lie,
   [252] either by corrupting or perverting their nature, which Thou hast
   made and ordained, or by an immoderate use of things permitted, or in
   "burning" in things forbidden to that use which is against nature;
   [253] or when convicted, raging with heart and voice against Thee,
   kicking against the pricks; [254] or when, breaking through the pale of
   human society, they audaciously rejoice in private combinations or
   divisions, according as they have been pleased or offended. And these
   things are done whenever Thou art forsaken, O Fountain of Life, who art
   the only and true Creator and Ruler of the universe, and by a
   self-willed pride any one false thing is selected therefrom and loved.
   So, then, by a humble piety we return to Thee; and thou purgest us from
   our evil customs, and art merciful unto the sins of those who confess
   unto Thee, and dost "hear the groaning of the prisoner," [255] and dost
   loosen us from those fetters which we have forged for ourselves, if we
   lift not up against Thee the horns of a false liberty,--losing all
   through craving more, by loving more our own private good than Thee,
   the good of all.
     __________________________________________________________________

   [250] Deut. vi. 5, and Matt. xxii. 37-39.

   [251] Ps. cxliv. 9. "St. Augustin (Quæst in Exod. ii. qu. 71) mentions
   the two modes of dividing the ten commandments into three and seven, or
   four and six, and gives what appear to have been his own private
   reasons for preferring the first. Both commonly existed in his day, but
   the Anglican mode appears to have been the most usual. It occurs in
   Origen, Greg. Naz., Jerome, Ambrose, Chrys. St. Augustin alludes to his
   division again, Serm. 8, 9, de x.Chordis, and sec. 33 on this psalm: To
   the first commandment there belong three strings because God is trine.
   To the other, i.e., the love of our neighbour, seven strings. These let
   us join to those three, which belong to the love of God, if we would on
   the psaltery of ten strings sing a new song.'"--E.B.P.

   [252] Ps. xxvii. 12, Vulg.

   [253] Rom. i. 24-29.

   [254] Acts ix. 5.

   [255] Ps. cii. 20.
     __________________________________________________________________

   Chapter IX.--That the Judgment of God and Men as to Human Acts of
   Violence, is Different.

   17. But amidst these offences of infamy and violence, and so many
   iniquities, are the sins of men who are, on the whole, making progress;
   which, by those who judge rightly, and after the rule of perfection,
   are censured, yet commended withal, upon the hope of bearing fruit,
   like as in the green blade of the growing corn. And there are some
   which resemble offences of infamy or violence, and yet are not sins,
   because they neither offend Thee, our Lord God, nor social custom:
   when, for example, things suitable for the times are provided for the
   use of life, and we are uncertain whether it be out of a lust of
   having; or when acts are punished by constituted authority for the sake
   of correction, and we are uncertain whether it be out of a lust of
   hurting. Many a deed, then, which in the sight of men is disapproved,
   is approved by Thy testimony; and many a one who is praised by men is,
   Thou being witness, condemned; because frequently the view of the deed,
   and the mind of the doer, and the hidden exigency of the period,
   severally vary. But when Thou unexpectedly commandest an unusual and
   unthought-of thing--yea, even if Thou hast formerly forbidden it, and
   still for the time keepest secret the reason of Thy command, and it
   even be contrary to the ordinance of some society of men, who doubts
   but it is to be done, inasmuch as that society is righteous which
   serves Thee? [256] But blessed are they who know Thy commands! For all
   things were done by them who served Thee either to exhibit something
   necessary at the time, or to foreshow things to come. [257]
     __________________________________________________________________

   [256] The Manichæans, like the deistical writers of the last century,
   attacked the spoiling of the Egyptians, the slaughter of the
   Canaanites, and such episodes. Referring to the former, Augustin says
   (Con. Faust. xxii. 71), "Then, as for Faustus' objection to the
   spoiling of the Egyptians, he knows not what he says. In this Moses not
   only did not sin, but it would have been sin not to do it. It was by
   the command of God, who, from His knowledge both of the actions and of
   the hearts of men, can decide upon what every one should be made to
   suffer, and through whose agency. The people at that time were still
   carnal, and engrossed with earthly affection; while the Egyptians were
   in open rebellion against God, for they used the gold, God's creature,
   in the service of idols, to the dishonour of the Creator, and they had
   grievously oppressed strangers by making them work without pay. Thus
   the Egyptians deserved the punishment, and the Israelites were suitably
   employed in inflicting it." For an exhaustive vindication of the
   conduct of the children of Israel as the agents of God in punishing the
   Canaanites, see Graves on the Pentateuch, Part iii. lecture I. See also
   De Civ. Dei, i. 26; and Quæst. in Jos. 8, 16, etc.

   [257] See note on sec. 14, above.
     __________________________________________________________________

   Chapter X.--He Reproves the Triflings of the Manichæans as to the
   Fruits of the Earth.

   18. These things being ignorant of, I derided those holy servants and
   prophets of Thine. And what did I gain by deriding them but to be
   derided by Thee, being insensibly, and little by little, led on to
   those follies, as to credit that a fig-tree wept when it was plucked,
   and that the mother-tree shed milky tears? Which fig notwithstanding,
   plucked not by his own but another's wickedness, had some "saint" [258]
   eaten and mingled with his entrails, he should breathe out of it
   angels; yea, in his prayers he shall assuredly groan and sigh forth
   particles of God, which particles of the most high and true God should
   have remained bound in that fig unless they had been set free by the
   teeth and belly of some "elect saint"! [259] And I, miserable one,
   believed that more mercy was to be shown to the fruits of the earth
   than unto men, for whom they were created; for if a hungry man--who was
   not a Manichæan--should beg for any, that morsel which should be given
   him would appear, as it were, condemned to capital punishment. [260]
     __________________________________________________________________

   [258] i.e. Manichæan saint.

   [259] According to this extraordinary system, it was the privilege of
   the "elect" to set free in eating such parts of the divine substance as
   were imprisoned in the vegetable creation (Con. Faust. xxxi. 5). They
   did not marry or work in the fields, and led an ascetic life, the
   "hearers" or catechumens being privileged to provide them with food.
   The "elect" passed immediately on dying into the realm of light, while,
   as a reward for their service, the souls of the "hearers" after death
   transmigrated into plants (from which they might be most readily
   freed), or into the "elect," so as, in their turn, to pass away into
   the realm of light. See Con. Faust. v. 10, xx. 23; and in Ps. cxl.

   [260] Augustin frequently alludes to their conduct to the poor, in
   refusing to give them bread or the fruits of the earth, lest in eating
   they should defile the portion of God contained therein. But to avoid
   the odium of their conduct, they would inconsequently give money
   whereby food might be bought. See in Ps. cxl. sec. 12; and De Mor.
   Manich. 36, 37, and 53.
     __________________________________________________________________

   Chapter XI.--He Refers to the Tears, and the Memorable Dream Concerning
   Her Son, Granted by God to His Mother.

   19. And Thou sendedst Thine hand from above, [261] and drewest my soul
   out of that profound darkness, when my mother, Thy faithful one, wept
   to thee on my behalf more than mothers are wont to weep the bodily
   death of their children. For she saw that I was dead by that faith and
   spirit which she had from Thee, and Thou heardest her, O Lord. Thou
   heardest her, and despisedst not her tears, when, pouring down, they
   watered the earth [262] under her eyes in every place where she prayed;
   yea, Thou heardest her. For whence was that dream with which Thou
   consoledst her, so that she permitted me to live with her, and to have
   my meals at the same table in the house, which she had begun to avoid,
   hating and detesting the blasphemies of my error? For she saw herself
   standing on a certain wooden rule, [263] and a bright youth advancing
   towards her, joyous and smiling upon her, whilst she was grieving and
   bowed down with sorrow. But he having inquired of her the cause of her
   sorrow and daily weeping (he wishing to teach, as is their wont, and
   not to be taught), and she answering that it was my perdition she was
   lamenting, he bade her rest contented, and told her to behold and see
   "that where she was, there was I also." And when she looked she saw me
   standing near her on the same rule. Whence was this, unless that Thine
   ears were inclined towards her heart? O Thou Good Omnipotent, who so
   carest for every one of us as if Thou caredst for him only, and so for
   all as if they were but one!

   20. Whence was this, also, that when she had narrated this vision to
   me, and I tried to put this construction on it, "That she rather should
   not despair of being some day what I was," she immediately, without
   hesitation, replied, "No; for it was not told me that where he is,
   there shalt thou be,' but where thou art, there shall he be'"? I
   confess to Thee, O Lord, that, to the best of my remembrance (and I
   have oft spoken of this), Thy answer through my watchful mother--that
   she was not disquieted by the speciousness of my false interpretation,
   and saw in a moment what was to be seen, and which I myself had not in
   truth perceived before she spoke--even then moved me more than the
   dream itself, by which the happiness to that pious woman, to be
   realized so long after, was, for the alleviation of her present
   anxiety, so long before predicted. For nearly nine years passed in
   which I wallowed in the slime of that deep pit and the darkness of
   falsehood, striving often to rise, but being all the more heavily
   dashed down. But yet that chaste, pious, and sober widow (such as Thou
   lovest), now more buoyed up with hope, though no whit less zealous in
   her weeping and mourning, desisted not, at all the hours of her
   supplications, to bewail my case unto Thee. And her prayers entered
   into Thy presence, [264] and yet Thou didst still suffer me to be
   involved and re-involved in that darkness.
     __________________________________________________________________

   [261] Ps. cxliv. 7.

   [262] He alludes here to that devout manner of the Eastern ancients,
   who used to lie flat on their faces in prayer.--W. W.

   [263] Symbolical of the rule of faith. See viii. sec. 30, below.

   [264] Ps. lxxxviii. 1.
     __________________________________________________________________

   Chapter XII.--The Excellent Answer of the Bishop When Referred to by
   His Mother as to the Conversion of Her Son.

   21. And meanwhile Thou grantedst her another answer, which I recall;
   for much I pass over, hastening on to those things which the more
   strongly impel me to confess unto Thee, and much I do not remember.
   Thou didst grant her then another answer, by a priest of Thine, a
   certain bishop, reared in Thy Church and well versed in Thy books. He,
   when this woman had entreated that he would vouchsafe to have some talk
   with me, refute my errors, unteach me evil things, and teach me good
   (for this he was in the habit of doing when he found people fitted to
   receive it), refused, very prudently, as I afterwards came to see. For
   he answered that I was still unteachable, being inflated with the
   novelty of that heresy, and that I had already perplexed divers
   inexperienced persons with vexatious questions, [265] as she had
   informed him. "But leave him alone for a time," saith he, "only pray
   God for him; he will of himself, by reading, discover what that error
   is, and how great its impiety." He disclosed to her at the same time
   how he himself, when a little one, had, by his misguided mother, been
   given over to the Manichæans, and had not only read, but even written
   out almost all their books, and had come to see (without argument or
   proof from any one) how much that sect was to be shunned, and had
   shunned it. Which when he had said, and she would not be satisfied, but
   repeated more earnestly her entreaties, shedding copious tears, that he
   would see and discourse with me, he, a little vexed at her importunity,
   exclaimed, "Go thy way, and God bless thee, for it is not possible that
   the son of these tears should perish." Which answer (as she often
   mentioned in her conversations with me) she accepted as though it were
   a voice from heaven.

   ------------------------
     __________________________________________________________________

   [265] We can easily understand that Augustin's dialectic skill would
   render him a formidable opponent, while, with the zeal of a neophyte,
   he urged those difficulties of Scripture (De Agon. Christ. iv ) which
   the Manichæans knew so well how to employ. In an interesting passage
   (De Duab. Anim. con. Manich. ix.) he tells us that his victories over
   "inexperienced persons" stimulated him to fresh conquests, and thus
   kept him bound longer than he would otherwise have been in the chains
   of this heresy.
     __________________________________________________________________
     __________________________________________________________________

   Book IV.

   ------------------------

   Then follows a period of nine years from the nineteenth year of his
   age, during which having lost a friend, he followed the Manichæans--and
   wrote books on the fair and fit, and published a work on the liberal
   arts, and the categories of Aristotle.

   ------------------------
     __________________________________________________________________

   Chapter I.--Concerning that Most Unhappy Time in Which He, Being
   Deceived, Deceived Others; And Concerning the Mockers of His
   Confession.

   1. During this space of nine years, then, from my nineteenth to my
   eight and twentieth year, we went on seduced and seducing, deceived and
   deceiving, in divers lusts; publicly, by sciences which they style
   "liberal"--secretly, with a falsity called religion. Here proud, there
   superstitious, everywhere vain! Here, striving after the emptiness of
   popular fame, even to theatrical applauses, and poetic contests, and
   strifes for grassy garlands, and the follies of shows and the
   intemperance of desire. There, seeking to be purged from these our
   corruptions by carrying food to those who were called "elect" and
   "holy," out of which, in the laboratory of their stomachs, they should
   make for us angels and gods, by whom we might be delivered. [266] These
   things did I follow eagerly, and practise with my friends--by me and
   with me deceived. Let the arrogant, and such as have not been yet
   savingly cast down and stricken by Thee, O my God, laugh at me; but
   notwithstanding I would confess to Thee mine own shame in Thy praise.
   Bear with me, I beseech Thee, and give me grace to retrace in my
   present remembrance the circlings of my past errors, and to "offer to
   Thee the sacrifice of thanksgiving." [267] For what am I to myself
   without Thee, but a guide to mine own downfall? Or what am I even at
   the best, but one sucking Thy milk, [268] and feeding upon Thee, the
   meat that perisheth not? [269] But what kind of man is any man, seeing
   that he is but a man? Let, then, the strong and the mighty laugh at us,
   but let us who are "poor and needy" [270] confess unto Thee.
     __________________________________________________________________

   [266] Augustin tells us that he went not beyond the rank of a "hearer,"
   because he found the Manichæan teachers readier in refuting others than
   in establishing their own views, and seems only to have looked for some
   esoteric doctrine to have been disclosed to him under their
   materialistic teaching as to God--viz. that He was an unmeasured Light
   that extended all ways but one, infinitely (Serm. iv. sec 5.)--rather
   than to have really accepted it.--De Util. Cred. Præf. See also iii.
   sec. 18, notes 1 and 2, above.

   [267] Ps. cxvi. 17.

   [268] 1 Pet. ii. 2.

   [269] John vi. 27.

   [270] Ps. lxxiv. 21.
     __________________________________________________________________

   Chapter II.--He Teaches Rhetoric, the Only Thing He Loved, and Scorns
   the Soothsayer, Who Promised Him Victory.

   2. In those years I taught the art of rhetoric, and, overcome by
   cupidity, put to sale a loquacity by which to overcome. Yet I
   preferred--Lord, Thou knowest--to have honest scholars (as they are
   esteemed); and these I, without artifice, taught artifices, not to be
   put in practise against the life of the guiltless, though sometimes for
   the life of the guilty. And Thou, O God, from afar sawest me stumbling
   in that slippery path, and amid much smoke [271] sending out some
   flashes of fidelity, which I exhibited in that my guidance of such as
   loved vanity and sought after leasing, [272] I being their companion.
   In those years I had one (whom I knew not in what is called lawful
   wedlock, but whom my wayward passion, void of understanding, had
   discovered), yet one only, remaining faithful even to her; in whom I
   found out truly by my own experience what difference there is between
   the restraints of the marriage bonds, contracted for the sake of issue,
   and the compact of a lustful love, where children are born against the
   parents will, although, being born, they compel love.

   3. I remember, too, that when I decided to compete for a theatrical
   prize, a soothsayer demanded of me what I would give him to win; but I,
   detesting and abominating such foul mysteries, answered, "That if the
   garland were of imperishable gold, I would not suffer a fly to be
   destroyed to secure it for me." For he was to slay certain living
   creatures in his sacrifices, and by those honours to invite the devils
   to give me their support. But this ill thing I also refused, not out of
   a pure love [273] for Thee, O God of my heart; for I knew not how to
   love Thee, knowing not how to conceive aught beyond corporeal
   brightness. [274] And doth not a soul, sighing after such-like
   fictions, commit fornication against Thee, trust in false things, [275]
   and nourish the wind? [276] But I would not, forsooth, have sacrifices
   offered to devils on my behalf, though I myself was offering sacrifices
   to them by that superstition. For what else is nourishing the wind but
   nourishing them, that is, by our wanderings to become their enjoyment
   and derision?
     __________________________________________________________________

   [271] Isa. xlii. 3, and Matt. xii. 20.

   [272] Ps. iv. 2.

   [273] "He alone is truly pure who waiteth on God, and keepeth himself
   to Him alone " (Aug. De Vita Beata, sec. 18). "Whoso seeketh God is
   pure, because the soul hath in God her legitimate husband. Whosoever
   seeketh of God anything besides God, doth not love God purely. If a
   wife loved her husband because he is rich, she is not pure, for she
   loveth not her husband but the gold of her husband" (Aug. Serm. 137).
   "Whoso seeks from God any other reward but God, and for it would serve
   God, esteems what he wishes to receive more than Him from whom he would
   receive it. What, then? hath God no reward? None, save Himself. The
   reward of God is God Himself. This it loveth; if it love aught beside,
   it is no pure love. You depart from the immortal flame, you will be
   chilled, corrupted. Do not depart; it will be thy corruption, will be
   fornication in thee" (Aug. in Ps. lxxii. sec. 32). "The pure fear of
   the Lord (Ps. xix. 9) is that wherewith the Church, the more ardently
   she loveth her husband, the more diligently she avoids offending Him,
   and therefore love, when perfected, casteth not out this fear, but it
   remaineth for ever and ever" (Aug. in loc.). "Under the name of pure
   fear is signified that will whereby we must needs be averse from sin,
   and avoid sin, not through the constant anxiety of infirmity, but
   through the tranquillity of affection" (De Civ. Dei, xiv. sec. 65).--E.
   B. P.

   [274] See note on sec. 9, below.

   [275] "Indisputably we must take care, lest the mind, believing that
   which it does not see, feign to itself something which is not, and hope
   for and love that which is false. For in that case it will not be
   charity out of a pure heart, and of a good conscience, and of faith
   unfeigned, which is the end of the commandment" (De Trin. viii. sec.
   6). And again (Confessions, i. 1): "For who can call on Thee, not
   knowing Thee? For he that knoweth Thee not may call on Thee as other
   than Thou art."

   [276] Hosea xii. 1.
     __________________________________________________________________

   Chapter III.--Not Even the Most Experienced Men Could Persuade Him of
   the Vanity of Astrology to Which He Was Devoted.

   4. Those impostors, then, whom they designate Mathematicians, I
   consulted without hesitation, because they used no sacrifices, and
   invoked the aid of no spirit for their divinations, which art Christian
   and true piety fitly rejects and condemns. [277] For good it is to
   confess unto Thee, and to say, "Be merciful unto me, heal my soul, for
   I have sinned against Thee;" [278] and not to abuse Thy goodness for a
   license to sin, but to remember the words of the Lord, "Behold, thou
   art made whole; sin no more, lest a worse thing come unto thee." [279]
   All of which salutary advice they endeavour to destroy when they say,
   "The cause of thy sin is inevitably determined in heaven;" and, "This
   did Venus, or Saturn, or Mars;" in order that man, forsooth, flesh and
   blood, and proud corruption, may be blameless, while the Creator and
   Ordainer of heaven and stars is to bear the blame. And who is this but
   Thee, our God, the sweetness and well-spring of righteousness, who
   renderest "to every man according to his deeds," [280] and despisest
   not "a broken and a contrite heart!" [281]

   5. There was in those days a wise man, very skilful in medicine, and
   much renowned therein, who had with his own proconsular hand put the
   Agonistic garland upon my distempered head, not, though, as a
   physician; [282] for this disease Thou alone healest, who resistest the
   proud, and givest grace to the humble. [283] But didst Thou fail me
   even by that old man, or forbear from healing my soul? For when I had
   become more familiar with him, and hung assiduously and fixedly on his
   conversation (for though couched in simple language, it was replete
   with vivacity, life, and earnestness), when he had perceived from my
   discourse that I was given to books of the horoscope-casters, he, in a
   kind and fatherly manner, advised me to throw them away, and not vainly
   bestow the care and labour necessary for useful things upon these
   vanities; saying that he himself in his earlier years had studied that
   art with a view to gaining his living by following it as a profession,
   and that, as he had understood Hippocrates, he would soon have
   understood this, and yet he had given it up, and followed medicine, for
   no other reason than that he discovered it to be utterly false, and he,
   being a man of character, would not gain his living by beguiling
   people. "But thou," saith he, "who hast rhetoric to support thyself by,
   so that thou followest this of free will, not of necessity--all the
   more, then, oughtest thou to give me credit herein, who laboured to
   attain it so perfectly, as I wished to gain my living by it alone."
   When I asked him to account for so many true things being foretold by
   it, he answered me (as he could) "that the force of chance, diffused
   throughout the whole order of nature, brought this about. For if when a
   man by accident opens the leaves of some poet, who sang and intended
   something far different, a verse oftentimes fell out wondrously
   apposite to the present business, it were not to be wondered at," he
   continued, "if out of the soul of man, by some higher instinct, not
   knowing what goes on within itself, an answer should be given by
   chance, not art, which should coincide with the business and actions of
   the questioner."

   6. And thus truly, either by or through him, Thou didst look after me.
   And Thou didst delineate in my memory what I might afterwards search
   out for myself. But at that time neither he, nor my most dear
   Nebridius, a youth most good and most circumspect, who scoffed at that
   whole stock of divination, could persuade me to forsake it, the
   authority of the authors influencing me still more; and as yet I had
   lighted upon no certain proof--such as I sought--whereby it might
   without doubt appear that what had been truly foretold by those
   consulted was by accident or chance, not by the art of the star-gazers.
     __________________________________________________________________

   [277] Augustin classes the votaries of both wizards and astrologers (De
   Doctr. Christ. ii. 23; and De Civ. Dei, x. 9; compare also Justin
   Martyr, Apol. ii. c. 5) as alike "deluded and imposed on by the false
   angels, to whom the lowest part of the world has been put in subjection
   by the law of God's providence;" and he says, "All arts of this sort
   are either nullities, or are part of a guilty superstition springing
   out of a baleful fellowship between men and devils, and are to be
   utterly repudiated and avoided by the Christian, as the covenants of a
   false and treacherous friendship." It is remarkable that though these
   arts were strongly denounced in the Pentateuch, the Jews--acquiring
   them from the surrounding Gentile nations--have embedded them deeply in
   their oral law, said also to be given by Moses (e.g. in Moed Katon 28,
   and Shabbath 156, prosperity comes from the influence of the stars; in
   Shabbath 61 it is a question whether the influence of the stars or a
   charm has been effective; and in Sanhedrin 17 magic is one of the
   qualifications for the Sanhedrim). It might have been expected that the
   Christians, if only from that reaction against Judaism which shows
   itself in Origen's disparagement of the letter of the Old Testament
   Scriptures (see De Princip. iv. 15, 16), would have shrunk from such
   strange arts. But the influx of pagans, who had practiced them, into
   the Christian Church appears gradually to have leavened it in no slight
   degree. This is not only true of the Valentinians (see Kaye's Clement
   of Alex. vi.) and other heretics, but the influence of these contacts
   is seen even in the writings of the "orthodox." Those who can read
   between the lines will find no slight trace of this (after separating
   what they would conceive to be true from what is manifestly false) in
   the story told by Zonaras, in his Annals, of the controversy between
   the Rabbis and Sylvester, Bishop of Rome, before Constantine. The Jews
   were worsted in argument, and evidently thought an appeal to miracles
   might, from the Emperor's education, bring him over to their side. An
   ox is brought forth. The Jewish wonder-worker whispers a mystic name
   into its ear, and it falls dead; but Sylvester, according to the story,
   is quite equal to the occasion, and restores the animal to life again
   by uttering the name of the Redeemer. It may have been that the
   cessation of miracles may have gradually led unstable professors of
   Christianity to invent miracles; and, as Bishop Kaye observes
   (Tertullian, p. 95), "the success of the first attempts naturally
   encouraged others to practice similar impositions on the credulity of
   mankind." As to the time of the cessation of miracles, comparison may
   be profitably made of the views of Kaye, in the early part of c. ii. of
   his Tertullian, and of Blunt, in his Right Use of the Early Fathers,
   series ii. lecture 6.

   [278] Ps. xli. 4.

   [279] John v. 14.

   [280] Rom. ii. 6, and Matt. xvi. 27.

   [281] Ps. li. 17.

   [282] This physician was Vindicianus, the "acute old man" mentioned in
   vii. sec. 8, below, and again in Ep. 138, as "the most eminent
   physician of his day." Augustin's disease, however, could not be
   reached by his remedies. We are irresistibly reminded of the words of
   our great poet:-- "Canst thou minister to a mind diseased; Pluck from
   the memory a rooted sorrow; Raze out the written troubles of the brain;
   And, with some sweet oblivious antidote, Cleanse the stuff'd bosom of
   that perilous stuff  Which weighs upon the heart!" --Macbeth, act. v.
   scene 3.

   [283] 1 Pet. v. 5, and Jas. iv. 6.
     __________________________________________________________________

   Chapter IV.--Sorely Distressed by Weeping at the Death of His Friend,
   He Provides Consolation for Himself.

   7. In those years, when I first began to teach rhetoric in my native
   town, I had acquired a very dear friend, from association in our
   studies, of mine own age, and, like myself, just rising up into the
   flower of youth. He had grown up with me from childhood, and we had
   been both school-fellows and play-fellows. But he was not then my
   friend, nor, indeed, afterwards, as true friendship is; for true it is
   not but in such as Thou bindest together, cleaving unto Thee by that
   love which is shed abroad in our hearts by the Holy Ghost, which is
   given unto us. [284] But yet it was too sweet, being ripened by the
   fervour of similar studies. For, from the true faith (which he, as a
   youth, had not soundly and thoroughly become master of), I had turned
   him aside towards those superstitious and pernicious fables which my
   mother mourned in me. With me this man's mind now erred, nor could my
   soul exist without him. But behold, Thou wert close behind Thy
   fugitives--at once God of vengeance [285] and Fountain of mercies, who
   turnest us to Thyself by wondrous means. Thou removedst that man from
   this life when he had scarce completed one whole year of my friendship,
   sweet to me above all the sweetness of that my life.

   8. "Who can show forth all Thy praise" [286] which he hath experienced
   in himself alone? What was it that Thou didst then, O my God, and how
   unsearchable are the depths of Thy judgments! [287] For when, sore sick
   of a fever, he long lay unconscious in a death-sweat, and all despaired
   of his recovery, he was baptized without his knowledge; [288] myself
   meanwhile little caring, presuming that his soul would retain rather
   what it had imbibed from me, than what was done to his unconscious
   body. Far different, however, was it, for he was revived and restored.
   Straightway, as soon as I could talk to him (which I could as soon as
   he was able, for I never left him, and we hung too much upon each
   other), I attempted to jest with him, as if he also would jest with me
   at that baptism which he had received when mind and senses were in
   abeyance, but had now learnt that he had received. But he shuddered at
   me, as if I were his enemy; and, with a remarkable and unexpected
   freedom, admonished me, if I desired to continue his friend, to desist
   from speaking to him in such a way. I, confounded and confused,
   concealed all my emotions, till he should get well, and his health be
   strong enough to allow me to deal with him as I wished. But he was
   withdrawn from my frenzy, that with Thee he might be preserved for my
   comfort. A few days after, during my absence, he had a return of the
   fever, and died.

   9. At this sorrow my heart was utterly darkened, and whatever I looked
   upon was death. My native country was a torture to me, and my father's
   house a wondrous unhappiness; and whatsoever I had participated in with
   him, wanting him, turned into a frightful torture. Mine eyes sought him
   everywhere, but he was not granted them; and I hated all places because
   he was not in them; nor could they now say to me, "Behold; he is
   coming," as they did when he was alive and absent. I became a great
   puzzle to myself, and asked my soul why she was so sad, and why she so
   exceedingly disquieted me; [289] but she knew not what to answer me.
   And if I said, "Hope thou in God," [290] she very properly obeyed me
   not; because that most dear friend whom she had lost was, being man,
   both truer and better than that phantasm [291] she was bid to hope in.
   Naught but tears were sweet to me, and they succeeded my friend in the
   dearest of my affections.
     __________________________________________________________________

   [284] Rom. v. 5.

   [285] Ps. xciv. 1.

   [286] Ps. cvi. 2.

   [287] Ps. xxxvi. 6, and Rom. xi. 33.

   [288] See i. sec. 17, note 3, above.

   [289] Ps. xlii. 5.

   [290] Ibid.

   [291] The mind may rest in theories and abstractions, but the heart
   craves a being that it can love; and Archbishop Whately has shown in
   one of his essays that the idol worship of every age had doubtless its
   origin in the craving of mind and heart for an embodiment of the object
   of worship. "Show us the Father, and it sufficeth us," says Philip
   (John xiv. 8), and he expresses the longing of the soul; and when the
   Lord replies, "He that hath seen Me hath seen the Father," He reveals
   to us God's satisfaction of human wants in the incarnation of His Son.
   Augustin's heart was now thrown in upon itself, and his view of God
   gave him no consolation. It satisfied his mind, perhaps, in a measure,
   to think of God as a "corporeal brightness" (see iii. 12; iv. 3, 12,
   31; v. 19, etc.) when free from trouble, but it could not satisfy him
   now. He had yet to learn of Him who is the very image of God--who by
   His divine power raised the dead to life again, while, with perfect
   human sympathy, He could "weep with those that wept,"--the "Son of Man"
   (not of a man, He being miraculously born, but of the race of men
   [anthropou]), i.e. the Son of Mankind. See also viii. sec. 27, note,
   below.
     __________________________________________________________________

   Chapter V.--Why Weeping is Pleasant to the Wretched.

   10. And now, O Lord, these things are passed away, and time hath healed
   my wound. May I learn from Thee, who art Truth, and apply the ear of my
   heart unto Thy mouth, that Thou mayest tell me why weeping should be so
   sweet to the unhappy. [292] Hast Thou--although present
   everywhere--cast away far from Thee our misery? And Thou abidest in
   Thyself, but we are disquieted with divers trials; and yet, unless we
   wept in Thine ears, there would be no hope for us remaining. Whence,
   then, is it that such sweet fruit is plucked from the bitterness of
   life, from groans, tears, sighs, and lamentations? Is it the hope that
   Thou hearest us that sweetens it? This is true of prayer, for therein
   is a desire to approach unto Thee. But is it also in grief for a thing
   lost, and the sorrow with which I was then overwhelmed? For I had
   neither hope of his coming to life again, nor did I seek this with my
   tears; but I grieved and wept only, for I was miserable, and had lost
   my joy. Or is weeping a bitter thing, and for distaste of the things
   which aforetime we enjoyed before, and even then, when we are loathing
   them, does it cause us pleasure?
     __________________________________________________________________

   [292] For so it has ever been found to be:-- "Est quædam flere
   voluptas; Expletur lacrymis egeriturque dolor." --Ovid, Trist. iv. 3,
   38.
     __________________________________________________________________

   Chapter VI.--His Friend Being Snatched Away by Death, He Imagines that
   He Remains Only as Half.

   11. But why do I speak of these things? For this is not the time to
   question, but rather to confess unto Thee. Miserable I was, and
   miserable is every soul fettered by the friendship of perishable
   things--he is torn to pieces when he loses them, and then is sensible
   of the misery which he had before ever he lost them. Thus was it at
   that time with me; I wept most bitterly, and found rest in bitterness.
   Thus was I miserable, and that life of misery I accounted dearer than
   my friend. For though I would willingly have changed it, yet I was even
   more unwilling to lose it than him; yea, I knew not whether I was
   willing to lose it even for him, as is handed down to us (if not an
   invention) of Pylades and Orestes, that they would gladly have died one
   for another, or both together, it being worse than death to them not to
   live together. But there had sprung up in me some kind of feeling, too,
   contrary to this, for both exceedingly wearisome was it to me to live,
   and dreadful to die, I suppose, the more I loved him, so much the more
   did I hate and fear, as a most cruel enemy, that death which had robbed
   me of him; and I imagined it would suddenly annihilate all men, as it
   had power over him. Thus, I remember, it was with me. Behold my heart,
   O my God! Behold and look into me, for I remember it well, O my Hope!
   who cleansest me from the uncleanness of such affections, directing
   mine eyes towards Thee, and plucking my feet out of the net. [293] For
   I was astonished that other mortals lived, since he whom I loved, as if
   he would never die, was dead; and I wondered still more that I, who was
   to him a second self, could live when he was dead. Well did one say of
   his friend, "Thou half of my soul," [294] for I felt that my soul and
   his soul were but one soul in two bodies; [295] and, consequently, my
   life was a horror to me, because I would not live in half. And
   therefore, perchance, was I afraid to die, lest he should die wholly
   [296] whom I had so greatly loved.
     __________________________________________________________________

   [293] Ps. xxv. 15.

   [294] Horace, Carm. i. ode 3.

   [295] Ovid, Trist. iv. eleg. iv. 72.

   [296] Augustin's reference to this passage in his Retractations is
   quoted at the beginning of the book. He might have gone further than to
   describe his words here as declamatio levis, since the conclusion is
   not logical.
     __________________________________________________________________

   Chapter VII.--Troubled by Restlessness and Grief, He Leaves His Country
   a Second Time for Carthage.

   12. O madness, which knowest not how to love men as men should be
   loved! O foolish man that I then was, enduring with so much impatience
   the lot of man! So I fretted, sighed, wept, tormented myself, and took
   neither rest nor advice. For I bore about with me a rent and polluted
   soul, impatient of being borne by me, and where to repose it I found
   not. Not in pleasant groves, not in sport or song, not in fragrant
   spots, nor in magnificent banquetings, nor in the pleasures of the bed
   and the couch, nor, finally, in books and songs did it find repose. All
   things looked terrible, even the very light itself; and whatsoever was
   not what he was, was repulsive and hateful, except groans and tears,
   for in those alone found I a little repose. But when my soul was
   withdrawn from them, a heavy burden of misery weighed me down. To Thee,
   O Lord, should it have been raised, for Thee to lighten and avert it.
   [297] This I knew, but was neither willing nor able; all the more
   since, in my thoughts of Thee, Thou wert not any solid or substantial
   thing to me. For Thou wert not Thyself, but an empty phantasm, [298]
   and my error was my god. If I attempted to discharge my burden thereon,
   that it might find rest, it sank into emptiness, and came rushing down
   again upon me, and I remained to myself an unhappy spot, where I could
   neither stay nor depart from. For whither could my heart fly from my
   heart? Whither could I fly from mine own self? Whither not follow
   myself? And yet fled I from my country; for so should my eyes look less
   for him where they were not accustomed to see him. And thus I left the
   town of Thagaste, and came to Carthage.
     __________________________________________________________________

   [297] "The great and merciful Architect of His Church, whom not only
   the philosophers have styled, but the Scripture itself calls technites
   (an artist or artificer), employs not on us the hammer and chisel with
   an intent to wound or mangle us, but only to square and fashion our
   hard and stubborn hearts into such lively stones as may both grace and
   strengthen His heavenly structure."--Boyle.

   [298] See iii. 9; iv. 3, 12, 31; v. 19.
     __________________________________________________________________

   Chapter VIII.--That His Grief Ceased by Time, and the Consolation of
   Friends.

   13. Times lose no time, nor do they idly roll through our senses. They
   work strange operations on the mind. [299] Behold, they came and went
   from day to day, and by coming and going they disseminated in my mind
   other ideas and other remembrances, and by little and little patched me
   up again with the former kind of delights, unto which that sorrow of
   mine yielded. But yet there succeeded, not certainly other sorrows, yet
   the causes of other sorrows. [300] For whence had that former sorrow so
   easily penetrated to the quick, but that I had poured out my soul upon
   the dust, in loving one who must die as if he were never to die? But
   what revived and refreshed me especially was the consolations of other
   friends, [301] with whom I did love what instead of Thee I loved. And
   this was a monstrous fable and protracted lie, by whose adulterous
   contact our soul, which lay itching in our ears, was being polluted.
   But that fable would not die to me so oft as any of my friends died.
   There were other things in them which did more lay hold of my mind,--to
   discourse and jest with them; to indulge in an interchange of
   kindnesses; to read together pleasant books; together to trifle, and
   together to be earnest; to differ at times without ill-humour, as a man
   would do with his own self; and even by the infrequency of these
   differences to give zest to our more frequent consentings; sometimes
   teaching, sometimes being taught; longing for the absent with
   impatience, and welcoming the coming with joy. These and similar
   expressions, emanating from the hearts of those who loved and were
   beloved in return, by the countenance, the tongue, the eyes, and a
   thousand pleasing movements, were so much fuel to melt our souls
   together, and out of many to make but one.
     __________________________________________________________________

   [299] As Seneca has it: "Quod ratio non quit, sæpe sanabit mora" (Agam.
   130).

   [300] See iv. cc. 1, 10, 12, and vi. c. 16.

   [301] "Friendship," says Lord Bacon, in his essay thereon,--the
   sentiment being perhaps suggested by Cicero's "Secundas res
   splendidiores facit amicitia et adversas partiens communicansque
   leviores" (De Amicit. 6),--"redoubleth joys, and cutteth griefs in
   halves." Augustin appears to have been eminently open to influences of
   this kind. In his De Duab. Anim. con. Manich. (c. ix.) he tells us that
   friendship was one of the bonds that kept him in the ranks of the
   Manichæans; and here we find that, aided by time and weeping, it
   restored him in his great grief. See also v. sec. 19, and vi. sec 26,
   below.
     __________________________________________________________________

   Chapter IX.--That the Love of a Human Being, However Constant in Loving
   and Returning Love, Perishes; While He Who Loves God Never Loses a
   Friend.

   14. This is it that is loved in friends; and so loved that a man's
   conscience accuses itself if he love not him by whom he is beloved, or
   love not again him that loves him, expecting nothing from him but
   indications of his love. Hence that mourning if one die, and gloom of
   sorrow, that steeping of the heart in tears, all sweetness turned into
   bitterness, and upon the loss of the life of the dying, the death of
   the living. Blessed be he who loveth Thee, and his friend in Thee, and
   his enemy for Thy sake. For he alone loses none dear to him to whom all
   are dear in Him who cannot be lost. And who is this but our God, the
   God that created heaven and earth, [302] and filleth them, [303]
   because by filling them He created them? [304] None loseth Thee but he
   who leaveth Thee. And he who leaveth Thee, whither goeth he, or whither
   fleeth he, but from Thee well pleased to Thee angry? For where doth not
   he find Thy law in his own punishment? "And Thy law is the truth,"
   [305] and truth Thou. [306]
     __________________________________________________________________

   [302] Gen. i. 1.

   [303] Jer. xxiii. 24.

   [304] See i. 2, 3, above.

   [305] Ps. cxix. 142, and John xvii. 17.

   [306] John xiv. 6.
     __________________________________________________________________

   Chapter X.--That All Things Exist that They May Perish, and that We are
   Not Safe Unless God Watches Over Us.

   15. "Turn us again, O Lord God of Hosts, cause Thy face to shine; and
   we shall be saved." [307] For whithersoever the soul of man turns
   itself, unless towards Thee, it is affixed to sorrows, [308] yea,
   though it is affixed to beauteous things without Thee and without
   itself. And yet they were not unless they were from Thee. They rise and
   set; and by rising, they begin as it were to be; and they grow, that
   they may become perfect; and when perfect, they wax old and perish; and
   all wax not old, but all perish. Therefore when they rise and tend to
   be, the more rapidly they grow that they may be, so much the more they
   hasten not to be. This is the way of them. [309] Thus much hast Thou
   given them, because they are parts of things, which exist not all at
   the same time, but by departing and succeeding they together make up
   the universe, of which they are parts. And even thus is our speech
   accomplished by signs emitting a sound; but this, again, is not
   perfected unless one word pass away when it has sounded its part, in
   order that another may succeed it. Let my soul praise Thee out of all
   these things, O God, the Creator of all; but let not my soul be affixed
   to these things by the glue of love, through the senses of the body.
   For they go whither they were to go, that they might no longer be; and
   they rend her with pestilent desires, because she longs to be, and yet
   loves to rest in what she loves. But in these things no place is to be
   found; they stay not--they flee; and who is he that is able to follow
   them with the senses of the flesh? Or who can grasp them, even when
   they are near? For tardy is the sense of the flesh, because it is the
   sense of the flesh, and its boundary is itself. It sufficeth for that
   for which it was made, but it is not sufficient to stay things running
   their course from their appointed starting-place to the end appointed.
   For in Thy word, by which they were created, they hear the fiat, "Hence
   and hitherto."
     __________________________________________________________________

   [307] Ps. lxxx. 19.

   [308] See iv. cc. 1, 12, and vi. c. 16, below.

   [309] It is interesting in connection with the above passages to note
   what Augustin says elsewhere as to the origin of the law of death in
   the sin of our first parents. In his De Gen. ad Lit. (vi. 25) he speaks
   thus of their condition in the garden, and the provision made for the
   maintenance of their life: "Aliud est non posse mori, sicut quasdam
   naturas immortales creavit Deus; aliud est autem posse non mori,
   secundum quem modum primus creatus est homo immortalis." Adam, he goes
   on to say, was able to avert death, by partaking of the tree of life.
   He enlarges on this doctrine in Book xiii. De Civ. Dei. He says (sec.
   20): "Our first parents decayed not with years, nor drew nearer to
   death--a condition secured to them in God's marvellous grace by the
   tree of life, which grew along with the forbidden tree in the midst of
   Paradise." Again (sec. 19) he says: "Why do the philosophers find that
   absurd which the Christian faith preaches, namely, that our first
   parents were so created, that, if they had not sinned, they would not
   have been dismissed from their bodies by any death, but would have been
   endowed with immortality as the reward of their obedience, and would
   have lived eternally with their bodies?" That this was the doctrine of
   the early Church has been fully shown by Bishop Bull in his State of
   Man before the Fall, vol. ii. Theophilus of Antioch was of opinion (Ad
   Autolyc. c. 24) that Adam might have gone on from strength to strength,
   until at last he "would have been taken up into heaven." See also on
   this subject Dean Buckland's Sermon on Death; and Delitzsch, Bibl.
   Psychol. vi. secs. 1 and 2.
     __________________________________________________________________

   Chapter XI.--That Portions of the World are Not to Be Loved; But that
   God, Their Author, is Immutable, and His Word Eternal.

   16. Be not foolish, O my soul, and deaden not the ear of thine heart
   with the tumult of thy folly. Hearken thou also. The word itself
   invokes thee to return; and there is the place of rest imperturbable,
   where love is not abandoned if itself abandoneth not. Behold, these
   things pass away, that others may succeed them, and so this lower
   universe be made complete in all its parts. But do I depart anywhere,
   saith the word of God? There fix thy habitation. There commit
   whatsoever thou hast thence, O my soul; at all events now thou art
   tired out with deceits. Commit to truth whatsoever thou hast from the
   truth, and nothing shall thou lose; and thy decay shall flourish again,
   and all thy diseases be healed, [310] and thy perishable parts shall be
   reformed and renovated, and drawn together to thee; nor shall they put
   thee down where themselves descend, but they shall abide with thee, and
   continue for ever before God, who abideth and continueth for ever.
   [311]

   17. Why, then, be perverse and follow thy flesh? Rather let it be
   converted and follow thee. Whatever by her thou feelest, is but in
   part; and the whole, of which these are portions, thou art ignorant of,
   and yet they delight thee. But had the sense of thy flesh been capable
   of comprehending the whole, and not itself also, for thy punishment,
   been justly limited to a portion of the whole, thou wouldest that
   whatsoever existeth at the present time should pass away, that so the
   whole might please thee more. [312] For what we speak, also by the same
   sense of the flesh thou hearest; and yet wouldest not thou that the
   syllables should stay, but fly away, that others may come, and the
   whole [313] be heard. Thus it is always, when any single thing is
   composed of many, all of which exist not together, all together would
   delight more than they do simply could all be perceived at once. But
   far better than these is He who made all; and He is our God, and He
   passeth not away, for there is nothing to succeed Him. If bodies please
   thee, praise God for them, and turn back thy love upon their Creator,
   lest in those things which please thee thou displease.
     __________________________________________________________________

   [310] Ps. ciii. 3.

   [311] 1 Pet. i. 23.

   [312] See xiii. sec. 22, below.

   [313] A similar illustration occurs in sec. 15, above.
     __________________________________________________________________

   Chapter XII.--Love is Not Condemned, But Love in God, in Whom There is
   Rest Through Jesus Christ, is to Be Preferred.

   18. If souls please thee, let them be loved in God; for they also are
   mutable, but in Him are they firmly established, else would they pass,
   and pass away. In Him, then, let them be beloved; and draw unto Him
   along with thee as many souls as thou canst, and say to them, "Him let
   us love, Him let us love; He created these, nor is He far off. For He
   did not create them, and then depart; but they are of Him, and in Him.
   Behold, there is He wherever truth is known. He is within the very
   heart, but yet hath the heart wandered from Him. Return to your heart,
   [314] O ye transgressors, [315] and cleave fast unto Him that made you.
   Stand with Him, and you shall stand fast. Rest in Him, and you shall be
   at rest. Whither go ye in rugged paths? Whither go ye? The good that
   you love is from Him; and as it has respect unto Him it is both good
   and pleasant, and justly shall it be embittered, [316] because
   whatsoever cometh from Him is unjustly loved if He be forsaken for it.
   Why, then, will ye wander farther and farther in these difficult and
   toilsome ways? There is no rest where ye seek it. Seek what ye seek;
   but it is not there where ye seek. Ye seek a blessed life in the land
   of death; it is not there. For could a blessed life be where life
   itself is not?"

   19. But our very Life descended hither, and bore our death, and slew
   it, out of the abundance of His own life; and thundering He called
   loudly to us to return hence to Him into that secret place whence He
   came forth to us--first into the Virgin's womb, where the human
   creature was married to Him,--our mortal flesh, that it might not be
   for ever mortal,--and thence "as a bridegroom coming out of his
   chamber, rejoicing as a strong man to run a race." [317] For He tarried
   not, but ran crying out by words, deeds, death, life, descent,
   ascension, crying aloud to us to return to Him. And He departed from
   our sight, that we might return to our heart, and there find Him. For
   He departed, and behold, He is here. He would not be long with us, yet
   left us not; for He departed thither, whence He never departed, because
   "the world was made by Him." [318] And in this world He was, and into
   this world He came to save sinners, [319] unto whom my soul doth
   confess, that He may heal it, for it hath sinned against Him. [320] O
   ye sons of men, how long so slow of heart? [321] Even now, after the
   Life is descended to you, will ye not ascend and live? [322] But
   whither ascend ye, when ye are on high, and set your mouth against the
   heavens? [323] Descend that ye may ascend, [324] and ascend to God. For
   ye have fallen by "ascending against Him." Tell them this, that they
   may weep in the valley of tears, [325] and so draw them with thee to
   God, because it is by His Spirit that thou speakest thus unto them, if
   thou speakest burning with the fire of love.
     __________________________________________________________________

   [314] Augustin is never weary of pointing out that there is a lex
   occulta (in Ps. lvii. sec. 1), a law written on the heart, which cries
   to those who have forsaken the written law, "Return to your hearts, ye
   transgressors." In like manner he interprets (De Serm. Dom. in Mon. ii.
   sec. 11) "Enter into thy closet," of the heart of man. The door is the
   gate of the senses through which carnal thoughts enter into the mind.
   We are to shut the door, because the devil (in Ps. cxli. 3) si clausum
   invenerit transit. In sec. 16, above, the figure is changed, and we are
   to fear lest these objects of sense render us "deaf in the ear of our
   heart" with the tumult of our folly. Men will not, he says, go back
   into their hearts, because the heart is full of sin, and they fear the
   reproaches of conscience, just (in Ps. xxxiii. 5) "as those are
   unwilling to enter their houses who have troublesome wives." These
   outer things, which too often draw us away from Him, God intends should
   lift us up to Him who is better than they, though they could all be
   ours at once, since He made them all; and "woe," he says (De Lib. Arb.
   ii. 16), "to them who love the indications of Thee rather than Thee,
   and remember not what these indicated."

   [315] Isa. lvi. 8.

   [316] See iv. cc. 1, 10, above, and vi. c. 16, below.

   [317] Ps. xix. 5.

   [318] John i. 10.

   [319] 1 Tim. i. 15.

   [320] Ps. xli. 4.

   [321] Luke xxiv. 25.

   [322] "The Son of God," says Augustin in another place, "became a son
   of man, that the sons of men might be made sons of God." He put off the
   form of God--that by which He manifested His divine glory in
   heaven--and put on the "form of a servant" (Phil. ii. 6, 7), that as
   the outshining [apaugasma] of the Father's glory (Heb. i. 3) He might
   draw us to Himself. He descended and emptied Himself of His dignity
   that we might ascend, giving an example for all time (in Ps. xxxiii.
   sec. 4); for, "lest man should disdain to imitate a humble man, God
   humbled Himself, so that the pride of the human race might not disdain
   to walk in the footsteps of God." See also v. sec. 5, note, below.

   [323] Ps. lxxiii. 9.

   [324] "There is something in humility which, strangely enough, exalts
   the heart, and something in pride which debases it. This seems, indeed,
   to be contradictory, that loftiness should debase and lowliness exalt.
   But pious humility enables us to submit to what is above us; and
   nothing is more exalted above us than God; and therefore humility, by
   making us subject to God, exalts us."--De Civ. Dei, xiv. sec. 13.

   [325] Ps. lxxxiv. 6.
     __________________________________________________________________

   Chapter XIII.--Love Originates from Grace and Beauty Enticing Us.

   20. These things I knew not at that time, and I loved these lower
   beauties, and I was sinking to the very depths; and I said to my
   friends, "Do we love anything but the beautiful? What, then, is the
   beautiful? And what is beauty? What is it that allures and unites us to
   the things we love; for unless there were a grace and beauty in them,
   they could by no means attract us to them?" And I marked and perceived
   that in bodies themselves there was a beauty from their forming a kind
   of whole, and another from mutual fitness, as one part of the body with
   its whole, or a shoe with a foot, and so on. And this consideration
   sprang up in my mind out of the recesses of my heart, and I wrote books
   (two or three, I think) "on the fair and fit." Thou knowest, O Lord,
   for it has escaped me; for I have them not, but they have strayed from
   me, I know not how.
     __________________________________________________________________

   Chapter XIV.--Concerning the Books Which He Wrote "On the Fair and
   Fit," Dedicated to Hierius.

   21. But what was it that prompted me, O Lord my God, to dedicate these
   books to Hierius, an orator of Rome, whom I knew not by sight, but
   loved the man for the fame of his learning, for which he was renowned,
   and some words of his which I had heard, and which had pleased me? But
   the more did he please me in that he pleased others, who highly
   extolled him, astonished that a native of Syria, instructed first in
   Greek eloquence, should afterwards become a wonderful Latin orator, and
   one so well versed in studies pertaining unto wisdom. Thus a man is
   commended and loved when absent. Doth this love enter into the heart of
   the hearer from the mouth of the commender? Not so. But through one who
   loveth is another inflamed. For hence he is loved who is commended when
   the commender is believed to praise him with an unfeigned heart; that
   is, when he that loves him praises him.

   22. Thus, then, loved I men upon the judgment of men, not upon Thine, O
   my God, in which no man is deceived. But yet why not as the renowned
   charioteer, as the huntsman [326] known far and wide by a vulgar
   popularity--but far otherwise, and seriously, and so as I would desire
   to be myself commended? For I would not that they should commend and
   love me as actors are,--although I myself did commend and love
   them,--but I would prefer being unknown than so known, and even being
   hated than so loved. Where now are these influences of such various and
   divers kinds of loves distributed in one soul? What is it that I am in
   love with in another, which, if I did not hate, I should not detest and
   repel from myself, seeing we are equally men? For it does not follow
   that because a good horse is loved by him who would not, though he
   might, be that horse, the same should therefore be affirmed by an
   actor, who partakes of our nature. Do I then love in a man that which
   I, who am a man, hate to be? Man himself is a great deep, whose very
   hairs Thou numberest, O Lord, and they fall not to the ground without
   Thee. [327] And yet are the hairs of his head more readily numbered
   than are his affections and the movements of his heart.

   23. But that orator was of the kind that I so loved as I wished myself
   to be such a one; and I erred through an inflated pride, and was
   "carried about with every wind," [328] but yet was piloted by Thee,
   though very secretly. And whence know I, and whence confidently confess
   I unto Thee that I loved him more because of the love of those who
   praised him, than for the very things for which they praised him?
   Because had he been upraised, and these self-same men had dispraised
   him, and with dispraise and scorn told the same things of him, I should
   never have been so inflamed and provoked to love him. And yet the
   things had not been different, nor he himself different, but only the
   affections of the narrators. See where lieth the impotent soul that is
   not yet sustained by the solidity of truth! Just as the blasts of
   tongues blow from the breasts of conjecturers, so is it tossed this way
   and that, driven forward and backward, and the light is obscured to it
   and the truth not perceived. And behold it is before us. And to me it
   was a great matter that my style and studies should be known to that
   man; the which if he approved, I were the more stimulated, but if he
   disapproved, this vain heart of mine, void of Thy solidity, had been
   offended. And yet that "fair and fit," about which I wrote to him, I
   reflected on with pleasure, and contemplated it, and admired it, though
   none joined me in doing so.
     __________________________________________________________________

   [326] See vi. sec. 13, below.

   [327] Matt. x. 29, 30.

   [328] Eph. iv. 14.
     __________________________________________________________________

   Chapter XV.--While Writing, Being Blinded by Corporeal Images, He
   Failed to Recognise the Spiritual Nature of God.

   24. But not yet did I perceive the hinge on which this impotent matter
   turned in Thy wisdom, O Thou Omnipotent, "who alone doest great
   wonders;" [329] and my mind ranged through corporeal forms, and I
   defined and distinguished as "fair," that which is so in itself, and
   "fit," that which is beautiful as it corresponds to some other thing;
   and this I supported by corporeal examples. And I turned my attention
   to the nature of the mind, but the false opinions which I entertained
   of spiritual things prevented me from seeing the truth. Yet the very
   power of truth forced itself on my gaze, and I turned away my throbbing
   soul from incorporeal substance, to lineaments, and colours, and bulky
   magnitudes. And not being able to perceive these in the mind, I thought
   I could not perceive my mind. And whereas in virtue I loved peace, and
   in viciousness I hated discord, in the former I distinguished unity,
   but in the latter a kind of division. And in that unity I conceived the
   rational soul and the nature of truth and of the chief good [330] to
   consist. But in this division I, unfortunate one, imagined there was I
   know not what substance of irrational life, and the nature of the chief
   evil, which should not be a substance only, but real life also, and yet
   not emanating from Thee, O my God, from whom are all things. And yet
   the first I called a Monad, as if it had been a soul without sex, [331]
   but the other a Duad,--anger in deeds of violence, in deeds of passion,
   lust,--not knowing of what I talked. For I had not known or learned
   that neither was evil a substance, nor our soul that chief and
   unchangeable good.

   25. For even as it is in the case of deeds of violence, if that emotion
   of the soul from whence the stimulus comes be depraved, and carry
   itself insolently and mutinously; and in acts of passion, if that
   affection of the soul whereby carnal pleasures are imbibed is
   unrestrained,--so do errors and false opinions contaminate the life, if
   the reasonable soul itself be depraved, as it was at that time in me,
   who was ignorant that it must be enlightened by another light that it
   may be partaker of truth, seeing that itself is not that nature of
   truth. "For Thou wilt light my candle; the Lord my God will enlighten
   my darkness; [332] and "of His fulness have all we received," [333] for
   "that was the true Light which lighted every man that cometh into the
   world;" [334] for in Thee there is "no variableness, neither shadow of
   turning." [335]

   26. But I pressed towards Thee, and was repelled by Thee that I might
   taste of death, for Thou "resistest the proud." [336] But what prouder
   than for me, with a marvellous madness, to assert myself to be that by
   nature which Thou art? For whereas I was mutable,--so much being clear
   to me, for my very longing to become wise arose from the wish from
   worse to become better,--yet chose I rather to think Thee mutable, than
   myself not to be that which Thou art. Therefore was I repelled by Thee,
   and Thou resistedst my changeable stiffneckedness; and I imagined
   corporeal forms, and, being flesh, I accused flesh, and, being "a wind
   that passeth away," [337] I returned not to Thee, but went wandering
   and wandering on towards those things that have no being, neither in
   Thee, nor in me, nor in the body. Neither were they created for me by
   Thy truth, but conceived by my vain conceit out of corporeal things.
   And I used to ask Thy faithful little ones, my fellow-citizens,--from
   whom I unconsciously stood exiled,--I used flippantly and foolishly to
   ask, "Why, then, doth the soul which God created err?" But I would not
   permit any one to ask me, "Why, then, doth God err?" And I contended
   that Thy immutable substance erred of constraint, rather than admit
   that my mutable substance had gone astray of free will, and erred as a
   punishment. [338]

   27. I was about six or seven and twenty years of age when I wrote those
   volumes--meditating upon corporeal fictions, which clamoured in the
   ears of my heart. These I directed, O sweet Truth, to Thy inward
   melody, pondering on the "fair and fit," and longing to stay and listen
   to Thee, and to rejoice greatly at the Bridegroom's voice, [339] and I
   could not; for by the voices of my own errors was I driven forth, and
   by the weight of my own pride was I sinking into the lowest pit. For
   Thou didst not "make me to hear joy and gladness;" nor did the bones
   which were not yet humbled rejoice. [340]
     __________________________________________________________________

   [329] Ps. cxxxvi. 4.

   [330] Augustin tells us (De Civ. Dei, xix. 1) that Varro, in his lost
   book De Philosophia, gives two hundred and eighty-eight different
   opinions as regards the chief good, and shows us how readily they may
   be reduced in number. Now, as then, philosophers ask the same
   questions. We have our hedonists, whose "good" is their own pleasure
   and happiness; our materialists, who would seek the common good of all;
   and our intuitionists, who aim at following the dictates of conscience.
   When the pretensions of these various schools are examined without
   prejudice, the conclusion is forced upon us that we must have recourse
   to Revelation for a reconcilement of the difficulties of the various
   systems; and that the philosophers, to employ Davidson's happy
   illustration (Prophecies, Introd.), forgetting that their faded taper
   has been insensibly kindled by gospel light, are attempting now, as in
   Augustin's time (ibid. sec. 4), "to fabricate for themselves a
   happiness in this life based upon a virtue as deceitful as it is
   proud." Christianity gives the golden key to the attainment of
   happiness, when it declares that "godliness is profitable for all
   things, having the promise of the life which now is, and of that which
   is to come " (1 Tim. iv. 8). It was a saying of Bacon (Essay on
   Adversity), that while "prosperity is the blessing of the old
   Testament, adversity is the blessing of the New." He would have been
   nearer the truth had he said that while temporal rewards were the
   special promise of the Old Testament, spiritual rewards are the special
   promise of the New. For though Christ's immediate followers had to
   suffer "adversity" in the planting of our faith, adversity cannot
   properly be said to be the result of following Christ. It has yet to be
   shown that, on the whole, the greatest amount of real happiness does
   not result, even in this life, from a Christian life, for virtue is,
   even here, its own reward. The fulness of the reward, however, will
   only be received in the life to come. Augustin's remark, therefore,
   still holds good that "life eternal is the supreme good, and death
   eternal the supreme evil, and that to obtain the one and escape the
   other we must live rightly" (ibid. sec. 4); and again, that even in the
   midst of the troubles of life, "as we are saved, so we are made happy,
   by hope. And as we do not as yet possess a present, but look for a
   future salvation, so it is with our happiness,...we ought patiently to
   endure till we come to the ineffable enjoyment of unmixed good." See
   Abbé Anselme, Sur le Souverain Bien, vol. v. serm. 1; and the last
   Chapter of Professor Sidgwick's Methods of Ethics, for the conclusions
   at which a mind at once lucid and dispassionate has arrived on this
   question.

   [331] "Or an unintelligent soul;' very good mss. reading sensu,' the
   majority, it appears, sexu.' If we read sexu,' the absolute unity of
   the first principle or Monad, may be insisted upon, and in the inferior
   principle, divided into violence' and lust,' violence,' as implying
   strength, may be looked on as the male, lust' was, in mythology,
   represented as female; if we take sensu,' it will express the living
   but unintelligent soul of the world in the Manichæan, as a pantheistic
   system."--E. B. P.

   [332] Ps. xviii. 28. Augustin constantly urges our recognition of the
   truth that God is the "Father of lights." From Him as our central sun,
   all light, whether of wisdom or knowledge proceedeth, and if changing
   the figure, our candle which He hath lighted be blown out, He again
   must light it. Compare Enar. in Ps. xciii. 147; and Sermons, 67 and
   341.

   [333] John i. 16.

   [334] John i. 9.

   [335] Jas. i. 17.

   [336] Jas. iv. 6, and 1 Pet. v. 5.

   [337] Ps. lxxviii. 39.

   [338] It may assist those unacquainted with Augustin's writings to
   understand the last three sections, if we set before them a brief view
   of the Manichæan speculations as to the good and evil principles, and
   the nature of the human soul:--(1) The Manichæans believed that there
   were two principles or substances, one good and the other evil, and
   that both were eternal and opposed one to the other. The good principle
   they called God, and the evil, matter or Hyle (Con. Faust. xxi. 1, 2).
   Faustus, in his argument with Augustin, admits that they sometimes
   called the evil nature "God," but simply as a conventional usage.
   Augustin says thereon (ibid. sec. 4): "Faustus glibly defends himself
   by saying, We speak not of two gods, but of God and Hyle;' but when you
   ask for the meaning of Hyle, you find that it is in fact another god.
   If the Manichæans gave the name of Hyle, as the ancients did, to the
   unformed matter which is susceptible of bodily forms, we should not
   accuse them of making two gods. But it is pure folly and madness to
   give to matter the power of forming bodies, or to deny that what has
   this power is God." Augustin alludes in the above passage to the
   Platonic theory of matter, which, as the late Dean Mansel has shown us
   (Gnostic Heresies, Basilides, etc.), resulted after his time in
   Pantheism, and which was entirely opposed to the dualism of Manichæus.
   It is to this "power of forming bodies" claimed for matter, then, that
   Augustin alludes in our text (sec. 24) as "not only a substance but
   real life also." (2) The human soul the Manichæans declared to be of
   the same nature as God, though not created by Him--it having originated
   in the intermingling of part of His being with the evil principle, in
   the conflict between the kingdoms of light and darkness (in Ps. cxl.
   sec. 10). Augustin says to Faustus: "You generally call your soul not a
   temple, but a part or member of God " (Con. Faust. xx. 15); and thus,
   "identifying themselves with the nature and substance of God" (ibid.
   xii. 13), they did not refer their sin to themselves, but to the race
   of darkness, and so did not "prevail over their sin." That is, they
   denied original sin, and asserted that it necessarily resulted from the
   soul's contact with the body. To this Augustin steadily replied, that
   as the soul was not of the nature of God, but created by Him and
   endowed with free will, man was responsible for his transgressions.
   Again, referring to the Confessions, we find Augustin speaking
   consistently with his then belief, when he says that he had not then
   learned that the soul was not a "chief and unchangeable good" (sec.
   24), or that "it was not that nature of truth" (sec. 25); and that when
   he transgressed "he accused flesh" rather than himself; and, as a
   result of his Manichæan errors (sec. 26), "contended that God's
   immutable substance erred of constraint, rather than admit that his
   mutable substance had gone astray of free will, and erred as a
   punishment."

   [339] John iii. 29.

   [340] Ps. li. 8, Vulg.
     __________________________________________________________________

   Chapter XVI.--He Very Easily Understood the Liberal Arts and the
   Categories of Aristotle, But Without True Fruit.

   28. And what did it profit me that, when scarce twenty years old, a
   book of Aristotle's, entitled The Ten Predicaments, fell into my
   hands,--on whose very name I hung as on something great and divine,
   when my rhetoric master of Carthage, and others who were esteemed
   learned, referred to it with cheeks swelling with pride,--I read it
   alone and understood it? And on my conferring with others, who said
   that with the assistance of very able masters--who not only explained
   it orally, but drew many things in the dust [341] --they scarcely
   understood it, and could tell me no more about it than I had acquired
   in reading it by myself alone? And the book appeared to me to speak
   plainly enough of substances, such as man is, and of their
   qualities,--such as the figure of a man, of what kind it is; and his
   stature, how many feet high; and his relationship, whose brother he is;
   or where placed, or when born; or whether he stands or sits, or is shod
   or armed, or does or suffers anything; and whatever innumerable things
   might be classed under these nine categories, [342] --of which I have
   given some examples,--or under that chief category of substance.

   29. What did all this profit me, seeing it even hindered me, when,
   imagining that whatsoever existed was comprehended in those ten
   categories, I tried so to understand, O my God, Thy wonderful and
   unchangeable unity as if Thou also hadst been subjected to Thine own
   greatness or beauty, so that they should exist in Thee as their
   subject, like as in bodies, whereas Thou Thyself art Thy greatness and
   beauty? But a body is not great or fair because it is a body, seeing
   that, though it were less great or fair, it should nevertheless be a
   body. But that which I had conceived of Thee was falsehood, not
   truth,--fictions of my misery, not the supports of Thy blessedness. For
   Thou hadst commanded, and it was done in me, that the earth should
   bring forth briars and thorns to me, [343] and that with labour I
   should get my bread. [344]

   30. And what did it profit me that I, the base slave of vile
   affections, read unaided, and understood, all the books that I could
   get of the so-called liberal arts? And I took delight in them, but knew
   not whence came whatever in them was true and certain. For my back then
   was to the light, and my face towards the things enlightened; whence my
   face, with which I discerned the things enlightened, was not itself
   enlightened. Whatever was written either on rhetoric or logic,
   geometry, music, or arithmetic, did I, without any great difficulty,
   and without the teaching of any man, understand, as Thou knowest, O
   Lord my God, because both quickness of comprehension and acuteness of
   perception are Thy gifts. Yet did I not thereupon sacrifice to Thee.
   So, then, it served not to my use, but rather to my destruction, since
   I went about to get so good a portion of my substance [345] into my own
   power; and I kept not my strength for Thee, [346] but went away from
   Thee into a far country, to waste it upon harlotries. [347] For what
   did good abilities profit me, if I did not employ them to good uses?
   For I did not perceive that those arts were acquired with great
   difficulty, even by the studious and those gifted with genius, until I
   endeavoured to explain them to such; and he was the most proficient in
   them who followed my explanations not too slowly.

   31. But what did this profit me, supposing that Thou, O Lord God, the
   Truth, wert a bright and vast body, [348] and I a piece of that body?
   Perverseness too great! But such was I. Nor do I blush, O my God, to
   confess to Thee Thy mercies towards me, and to call upon Thee--I, who
   blushed not then to avow before men my blasphemies, and to bark against
   Thee. What profited me then my nimble wit in those sciences and all
   those knotty volumes, disentangled by me without help from a human
   master, seeing that I erred so odiously, and with such sacrilegious
   baseness, in the doctrine of piety? Or what impediment was it to Thy
   little ones to have a far slower wit, seeing that they departed not far
   from Thee, that in the nest of Thy Church they might safely become
   fledged, and nourish the wings of charity by the food of a sound faith?
   O Lord our God, under the shadow of Thy wings let us hope, [349] defend
   us, and carry us. Thou wilt carry us both when little, and even to grey
   hairs wilt Thou carry us; [350] for our firmness, when it is Thou, then
   is it firmness; but when it is our own, then it is infirmity. Our good
   lives always with Thee, from which when we are averted we are
   perverted. Let us now, O Lord, return, that we be not overturned,
   because with Thee our good lives without any eclipse, which good Thou
   Thyself art. [351] And we need not fear lest we should find no place
   unto which to return because we fell away from it; for when we were
   absent, our home--Thy Eternity--fell not.
     __________________________________________________________________

   [341] As the mathematicians did their figures, in dust or sand.

   [342] "The categories enumerated by Aristotle are ousia, poson, poion,
   prosti, pou, pote, keisthai, echein, poiein, paschein; which are
   usually rendered, as adequately as perhaps they can be in our language,
   substance, quantity, quality, relation, place, time, situation,
   possession, action, suffering. The catalogue (which certainly is but a
   very crude one) has been by some writers enlarged, as it is evident may
   easily be done by subdividing some of the heads; and by others
   curtailed, as it is no less evident that all may ultimately be referred
   to the two heads of substance and attribute, or, in the language of
   some logicians, accident'" (Whately's Logic, iv. 2, sec. 1, note).
   "These are called in Latin the prædicaments, because they can be said
   or predicated in the same sense of all other terms, as well as of all
   the objects denoted by them, whereas no other term can be correctly
   said of them, because no other is employed to express the full extent
   of their meaning" (Gillies, Analysis of Aristotle, c. 2).

   [343] Isa. xxxii. 13.

   [344] Gen. iii. 19.

   [345] Luke xv. 12.

   [346] Ps. lix. 9, Vulg.

   [347] Luke xv. 13.

   [348] See iii. 12; iv. 3, 12; v. 19.

   [349] Ps. xxxvi. 7.

   [350] Isa. xlvi. 4.

   [351] See xi. sec. 5, note, below.
     __________________________________________________________________
     __________________________________________________________________

   Book V.

   ------------------------

   He describes the twenty-ninth year of his age, in which, having
   discovered the fallacies of the Manichæans, he professed rhetoric at
   Rome and Milan. Having heard Ambrose, he begins to come to himself.

   ------------------------
     __________________________________________________________________

   Chapter I.--That It Becomes the Soul to Praise God, and to Confess Unto
   Him.

   1. Accept the sacrifice of my confessions by the agency of my tongue,
   which Thou hast formed and quickened, that it may confess to Thy name;
   and heal Thou all my bones, and let them say, "Lord, who is like unto
   Thee?" [352] For neither does he who confesses to Thee teach Thee what
   may be passing within him, because a closed heart doth not exclude
   Thine eye, nor does man's hardness of heart repulse Thine hand, but
   Thou dissolvest it when Thou wiliest, either in pity or in vengeance,
   "and there is no One who can hide himself from Thy heart." [353] But
   let my soul praise Thee, that it may love Thee; and let it confess
   Thine own mercies to Thee, that it may praise Thee. Thy whole creation
   ceaseth not, nor is it silent in Thy praises--neither the spirit of
   man, by the voice directed unto Thee, nor animal nor corporeal things,
   by the voice of those meditating thereon; [354] so that our souls may
   from their weariness arise towards Thee, leaning on those things which
   Thou hast made, and passing on to Thee, who hast made them wonderfully
   and there is there refreshment and true strength.
     __________________________________________________________________

   [352] Ps. xxxv. 10.

   [353] Ps. xix. 6.

   [354] St. Paul speaks of a "minding of the flesh" and a "minding of the
   spirit" (Rom. viii. 6, margin), and we are prone to be attracted and
   held by the carnal surroundings of life; that is, "quæ per carnem
   sentiri querunt id est per oculos, per aures, ceterosque corporis
   sensus" (De Vera Relig.. xxiv.). But God would have us, as we meditate
   on the things that enter by the gates of the senses, to arise towards
   Him, through these His creatures. Our Father in heaven might have
   ordered His creation simply in a utilitarian way, letting, for example,
   hunger be satisfied without any of the pleasures of taste, and so of
   the other senses. But He has not so done. To every sense He has given
   its appropriate pleasure as well as its proper use. And though this
   presents to us a source of temptation, still ought we for it to praise
   His goodness to the full, and that corde are opere.--Bradward, ii. c.
   23. See also i. sec. 1, note 3, and iv. sec. 18, above.
     __________________________________________________________________

   Chapter II.--On the Vanity of Those Who Wished to Escape the Omnipotent
   God.

   2. Let the restless and the unjust depart and flee from Thee. Thou both
   seest them and distinguishest the shadows. And lo! all things with them
   are fair, yet are they themselves foul. [355] And how have they injured
   Thee? [356] Or in what have they disgraced Thy government, which is
   just and perfect from heaven even to the lowest parts of the earth. For
   whither fled they when they fled from Thy presence? [357] Or where dost
   Thou not find them? But they fled that they might not see Thee seeing
   them, and blinded might stumble against Thee; [358] since Thou
   forsakest nothing that Thou hast made [359] --that the unjust might
   stumble against Thee, and justly be hurt, [360] withdrawing themselves
   from Thy gentleness, and stumbling against Thine uprightness, and
   falling upon their own roughness. Forsooth, they know not that Thou art
   everywhere whom no place encompasseth, and that Thou alone art near
   even to those that remove far from Thee. [361] Let them, then, be
   converted and seek Thee; because not as they have forsaken their
   Creator hast Thou forsaken Thy creature. Let them be converted and seek
   Thee; and behold, Thou art there in their hearts, in the hearts of
   those who confess to Thee, and cast themselves upon Thee, and weep on
   Thy bosom after their obdurate ways, even Thou gently wiping away their
   tears. And they weep the more, and rejoice in weeping, since Thou, O
   Lord, not man, flesh and blood, but Thou, Lord, who didst make,
   remakest and comfortest them. And where was I when I was seeking Thee?
   And Thou wert before me, but I had gone away even from myself; nor did
   I find myself, much less Thee!
     __________________________________________________________________

   [355] Augustin frequently recurs to the idea, that in God's overruling
   Providence, the foulness and sin of man does not disturb the order and
   fairness of the universe. He illustrates the idea by reference to
   music, painting, and oratory. "For as the beauty of a picture is
   increased by well-managed shadows, so, to the eye that has skill to
   discern it, the universe is beautified even by sinners, though,
   considered by themselves, their deformity is a sad blemish" (De Civ.
   Dei, xi. 23). So again, he says, God would never have created angels or
   men whose future wickedness he foreknew, unless He could turn them to
   the use of the good, "thus embellishing the course of the ages as it
   were an exquisite poem set off with antitheses" (ibid. xi. 18); and
   further on, in the same section, "as the oppositions of contraries lend
   beauty to language, so the beauty of the course of this world is
   achieved by the opposition of contraries, arranged, as it were, by an
   eloquence not of words, but of things." These reflections affected
   Augustin's views as to the last things. They seemed to him to render
   the idea entertained by Origen (De Princ. i. 6) and other Fathers as to
   a general restoration [apokatastasis] unnecessary. See Hagenbach's
   Hist. of Doct. etc. i. 383 (Clark).

   [356] "In Scripture they are called God's enemies who oppose His rule
   not by nature but by vice, having no power to hurt Him, but only
   themselves. For they are His enemies not through their power to hurt,
   but by their will to oppose Him. For God is unchangeable, and wholly
   proof against injury" (De Civ. Dei, xii. 3).

   [357] Ps. cxxxix. 7.

   [358] Gen. xvi. 13, 14.

   [359] Wisd. ii. 26. Old ver.

   [360] He also refers to the injury man does himself by sin in ii. sec.
   13, above; and elsewhere he suggests the law which underlies it: "The
   vice which makes those who are called God's enemies resist Him, is an
   evil not to God but to themselves. And to them it is an evil solely
   because it corrupts the good of their nature." And when we suffer for
   our sins we should thank God that we are not unpunished (De Civ. Dei,
   xii. 3). But if, when God punishes us, we still continue in our sin, we
   shall be more confirmed in habits of sin, and then, as Augustin in
   another place (in Ps. vii. 15) warns us, "our facility in sinning will
   be the punishment of God for our former yieldings to sin." See also
   Butler's Analogy, Pt. i. ch. 5, "On a state of probation as intended
   for moral discipline and improvement."

   [361] Ps. lxxiii. 27.
     __________________________________________________________________

   Chapter III.--Having Heard Faustus, the Most Learned Bishop of the
   Manichæans, He Discerns that God, the Author Both of Things Animate and
   Inanimate, Chiefly Has Care for the Humble.

   3. Let me lay bare before my God that twenty-ninth year of my age.
   There had at this time come to Carthage a certain bishop of the
   Manichæans, by name Faustus, a great snare of the devil, and in any
   were entangled by him through the allurement of his smooth speech; the
   which, although I did commend, yet could I separate from the truth of
   those things which I was eager to learn. Nor did I esteem the small
   dish of oratory so much as the science, which this their so praised
   Faustus placed before me to feed upon. Fame, indeed, had before spoken
   of him to me, as most skilled in all becoming learning, and
   pre-eminently skilled in the liberal sciences. And as I had read and
   retained in memory many injunctions of the philosophers, I used to
   compare some teachings of theirs with those long fables of the
   Manichæans and the former things which they declared, who could only
   prevail so far as to estimate this lower world, while its lord they
   could by no means find out, [362] seemed to me the more probable. For
   Thou art great, O Lord, and hast respect unto the lowly, but the proud
   Thou knowest afar off." [363] Nor dost Thou draw near but to the
   contrite heart, [364] nor art Thou found by the proud, [365] --not even
   could they number by cunning skill the stars and the sand, and measure
   the starry regions, and trace the courses of the planets.

   4. For with their understanding and the capacity which Thou hast
   bestowed upon them they search out these things; and much have they
   found out, and foretold many years before,--the eclipses of those
   luminaries, the sun and moon, on what day, at what hour, and from how
   many particular points they were likely to come. Nor did their
   calculation fail them; and it came to pass even as they foretold. And
   they wrote down the rules found out, which are read at this day; and
   from these others foretell in what year and in what month of the year,
   and on what day of the month, and at what hour of the day, and at what
   quarter of its light, either moon or sun is to be eclipsed, and thus it
   shall be even as it is foretold. And men who are ignorant of these
   things marvel and are amazed, and they that know them exult and are
   exalted; and by an impious pride, departing from Thee, and forsaking
   Thy light, they foretell a failure of the sun's light which is likely
   to occur so long before, but see not their own, which is now present.
   For they seek not religiously whence they have the ability where-with
   they seek out these things. And finding that Thou hast made them, they
   give not themselves up to Thee, that Thou mayest preserve what Thou
   hast made, nor sacrifice themselves to Thee, even such as they have
   made themselves to be; nor do they slay their own pride, as fowls of
   the air, [366] nor their own curiosities, by which (like the fishes of
   the sea) they wander over the unknown paths of the abyss, nor their own
   extravagance, as the "beasts of the field," [367] that Thou, Lord, "a
   consuming fire," [368] mayest burn up their lifeless cares and renew
   them immortally.

   5. But the way--Thy Word, [369] by whom Thou didst make these things
   which they number, and themselves who number, and the sense by which
   they perceive what they number, and the judgment out of which they
   number--they knew not, and that of Thy wisdom there is no number. [370]
   But the Only-begotten has been "made unto us wisdom, and righteousness,
   and sanctification," [371] and has been numbered amongst us, and paid
   tribute to Cæsar. [372] This way, by which they might descend to Him
   from themselves, they knew not; nor that through Him they might ascend
   unto Him. [373] This way they knew not, and they think themselves
   exalted with the stars [374] and shining, and lo! they fell upon the
   earth, [375] and "their foolish heart was darkened." [376] They say
   many true things concerning the creature; but Truth, the Artificer of
   the creature, they seek not with devotion, and hence they find Him not.
   Or if they find Him, knowing that He is God, they glorify Him not as
   God, neither are they thankful, [377] but become vain in their
   imaginations, and say that they themselves are wise, [378] attributing
   to themselves what is Thine; and by this, with most perverse blindness,
   they desire to impute to Thee what is their own, forging lies against
   Thee who art the Truth, and changing the glory of the incorruptible God
   into an image made like corruptible man, and to birds, and four-footed
   beasts, and creeping things, [379] --changing Thy truth into a lie, and
   worshipping and serving the creature more than the Creator. [380]

   6. Many truths, however, concerning the creature did I retain from
   these men, and the cause appeared to me from calculations, the
   succession of seasons, and the visible manifestations of the stars; and
   I compared them with the sayings of Manichæus, who in his frenzy has
   written most extensively on these subjects, but discovered not any
   account either of the solstices, or the equinoxes, the eclipses of the
   luminaries, or anything of the kind I had learned in the books of
   secular philosophy. But therein I was ordered to believe, and yet it
   corresponded not with those rules acknowledged by calculation and my
   own sight, but was far different.
     __________________________________________________________________

   [362] Wisd. xiii. 9.

   [363] Ps. cxxxviii 6.

   [364] Ps. xxxiv. 18, and cxlv. 18.

   [365] See Book iv. sec. 19, note, above.

   [366] He makes use of the same illustrations on Psalms viii. and xi. ,
   where the birds of the air represent the proud, the fishes of the sea
   those who have too great a curiosity, while the beasts of the field are
   those given to carnal pleasures. It will be seen that there is a
   correspondence between them and the lust of the flesh, the lust of the
   eye, and the pride of life, in 1 John ii. 16. See also above, Book iii.
   sec. 16; and below, Book x. sec. 41, etc.

   [367] Ps. viii. 7, 8.

   [368] Deut. iv. 24.

   [369] John i. 3.

   [370] Ps. cxlvii. 5, Vulg.

   [371] 1 Cor. i. 30.

   [372] Matt. xvii. 27.

   [373] In Sermon 123, sec. 3, we have: "Christ as God is the country to
   which we go--Christ as man is the way by which we go." See note on Book
   iv. sec. 19, above.

   [374] Isa. xiv. 13.

   [375] Rev. xii. 4.

   [376] Rom. i. 21.

   [377] Ibid.

   [378] Rom. i. 22.

   [379] Rom. i. 23.

   [380] Rom. i. 25.
     __________________________________________________________________

   Chapter IV.--That the Knowledge of Terrestrial and Celestial Things
   Does Not Give Happiness, But the Knowledge of God Only.

   7. Doth, then, O Lord God of truth, whosoever knoweth those things
   therefore please Thee? For unhappy is the man who knoweth all those
   things, but knoweth Thee not; but happy is he who knoweth Thee, though
   these he may not know. [381] But he who knoweth both Thee and them is
   not the happier on account of them, but is happy on account of Thee
   only, if knowing Thee he glorify Thee as God, and gives thanks, and
   becomes not vain in his thoughts. [382] But as he is happier who knows
   how to possess a tree, and for the use thereof renders thanks to Thee,
   although he may not know how many cubits high it is, or how wide it
   spreads, than he that measures it and counts all its branches, and
   neither owns it nor knows or loves its Creator; so a just man, whose is
   the entire world of wealth, [383] and who, as having nothing, yet
   possesseth all things [384] by cleaving unto Thee, to whom all things
   are subservient, though he know not even the circles of the Great Bear,
   yet it is foolish to doubt but that he may verily be better than he who
   can measure the heavens, and number the stars, and weigh the elements,
   but is forgetful of Thee, "who hast set in order all things in number,
   weight, and measure." [385]
     __________________________________________________________________

   [381] What a contrast does his attitude here present to his supreme
   regard for secular learning before his conversion! We have constantly
   in his writings expressions of the same kind. On Psalm ciii. he dilates
   lovingly on the fount of happiness the word of God is, as compared with
   the writings of Cicero, Tully, and Plato; and again on Psalm xxxviii.
   he shows that the word is the source of all true joy. So likewise in De
   Trin. iv. 1: "That mind is more praiseworthy which knows even its own
   weakness, than that which, without regard to this, searches out and
   even comes to know the ways of the stars, or which holds fast such
   knowledge already acquired, while ignorant of the way by which itself
   to enter into its own proper health and strength....Such a one has
   preferred to know his own weakness, rather than to know the walls of
   the world, the foundations of the earth, and the pinnacles of heaven."
   See iii. sec. 9, note, above.

   [382] Rom. i. 21.

   [383] Prov. xvii. 6, in the LXX.

   [384] 2 Cor. vi. 10.

   [385] Wisd. xi. 20.
     __________________________________________________________________

   Chapter V.--Of Manichæus Pertinaciously Teaching False Doctrines, and
   Proudly Arrogating to Himself the Holy Spirit.

   8. But yet who was it that ordered Manichæus to write on these things
   likewise, skill in which was not necessary to piety? For Thou hast told
   man to behold piety and wisdom, [386] of which he might be in ignorance
   although having a complete knowledge of these other things; but since,
   knowing not these things, he yet most impudently dared to teach them,
   it is clear that he had no acquaintance with piety. For even when we
   have a knowledge of these worldly matters, it is folly to make a
   profession of them; but confession to Thee is piety. It was therefore
   with this view that this straying one spake much of these matters,
   that, standing convicted by those who had in truth learned them, the
   understanding that he really had in those more difficult things might
   be made plain. For he wished not to be lightly esteemed, but went about
   trying to persuade men "that the Holy Ghost, the Comforter and Enricher
   of Thy faithful ones, was with full authority personally resident in
   him." [387] When, therefore, it was discovered that his teaching
   concerning the heavens and stars, and the motions of sun and moon, was
   false, though these things do not relate to the doctrine of religion,
   yet his sacrilegious arrogance would become sufficiently evident,
   seeing that not only did he affirm things of which he knew nothing, but
   also perverted them, and with such egregious vanity of pride as to seek
   to attribute them to himself as to a divine being.

   9. For when I hear a Christian brother ignorant of these things, or in
   error concerning them, I can bear with patience to see that man hold to
   his opinions; nor can I apprehend that any want of knowledge as to the
   situation or nature of this material creation can be injurious to him,
   so long as he does not entertain belief in anything unworthy of Thee, O
   Lord, the Creator of all. But if he conceives it to pertain to the form
   of the doctrine of piety, and presumes to affirm with great obstinacy
   that whereof he is ignorant, therein lies the injury. And yet even a
   weakness such as this in the dawn of faith is borne by our Mother
   Charity, till the new man may grow up "unto a perfect man," and not be
   "carried about with every wind of doctrine." [388] But in him who thus
   presumed to be at once the teacher, author, head, and leader of all
   whom he could induce to believe this, so that all who followed him
   believed that they were following not a simple man only, but Thy Holy
   Spirit, who would not judge that such great insanity, when once it
   stood convicted of false teaching, should be abhorred and utterly cast
   off? But I had not yet clearly ascertained whether the changes of
   longer and shorter days and nights, and day and night itself, with the
   eclipses of the greater lights, and whatever of the like kind I had
   read in other books, could be expounded consistently with his words.
   Should I have found myself able to do so, there would still have
   remained a doubt in my mind whether it were so or no, although I might,
   on the strength of his reputed godliness, [389] rest my faith on his
   authority.
     __________________________________________________________________

   [386] Job xxviii. 28 in LXX. reads: Idou he theosebea esti sophia.

   [387] This claim of Manichæus was supported by referring to the Lord's
   promise (John xvi. 12, 13) to send the Holy Ghost, the Comforter, to
   guide the apostles into that truth which they were as yet "not able to
   bear." The Manichæans used the words "Paraclete" and "Comforter," as
   indeed the names of the other two persons of the blessed Trinity, in a
   sense entirely different from that of the gospel. These terms were
   little more than the bodily frame, the soul of which was his own
   heretical belief. Whenever opposition appeared between that belief and
   the teaching of Scripture, their ready answer was that the Scriptures
   had been corrupted (De Mor. Ecc. Cath. xxviii. and xxix.); and in such
   a case, as we find Faustus contending (Con. Faust. xxxii. 6), the
   Paraclete taught them what part to receive and what to reject,
   according to the promise of Jesus that He should "guide them into all
   truth," and much more to the same effect. Augustin's whole argument in
   reply is well worthy of attention. Amongst other things, he points out
   that the Manichæan pretension to having received the promised Paraclete
   was precisely the same as that of the Montanists in the previous
   century. It should be observed that Beausobre (Histoire, i. 254, 264,
   etc.) vigorously rebuts the charge brought against Manichæus of
   claiming to be the Holy Ghost. An interesting examination of the claims
   of Montanus will be found in Kaye's Tertullian, pp. 13 to 33.

   [388] Eph. iv. 13, 14.

   [389] See vi. sec. 12, note, below.
     __________________________________________________________________

   Chapter VI.--Faustus Was Indeed an Elegant Speaker, But Knew Nothing of
   the Liberal Sciences.

   10. And for nearly the whole of those nine years during which, with
   unstable mind, I had been their follower, I had been looking forward
   with but too great eagerness for the arrival of this same Faustus. For
   the other members of the sect whom I had chanced to light upon, when
   unable to answer the questions I raised, always bade me look forward to
   his coming, when, by discoursing with him, these, and greater
   difficulties if I had them, would be most easily and amply cleared
   away. When at last he did come, I found him to be a man of pleasant
   speech, who spoke of the very same things as they themselves did,
   although more fluently, and in better language. But of what profit to
   me was the elegance of my cup-bearer, since he offered me not the more
   precious draught for which I thirsted? My ears were already satiated
   with similar things; neither did they appear to me more conclusive,
   because better expressed; nor true, because oratorical; nor the spirit
   necessarily wise, because the face was comely and the language
   eloquent. But they who extolled him to me were not competent judges;
   and therefore, as he was possessed of suavity of speech, he appeared to
   them to be prudent and wise. Another sort of persons, however, was, I
   was aware, suspicious even of truth itself, if enunciated in smooth and
   flowing language. But me, O my God, Thou hadst already instructed by
   wonderful and mysterious ways, and therefore I believe that Thou
   instructedst me because it is truth; nor of truth is there any other
   teacher--where or whencesoever it may shine upon us [390] --but Thee.
   From Thee, therefore, I had now learned, that because a thing is
   eloquently expressed, it should not of necessity seem to be true; nor,
   because uttered with stammering lips, should it be false nor, again,
   perforce true, because unskilfully delivered; nor consequently untrue,
   because the language is fine; but that wisdom and folly are as food
   both wholesome and unwholesome, and courtly or simple words as
   town-made or rustic vessels,--and both kinds of food may be served in
   either kind of dish.

   11. That eagerness, therefore, with which I had so long waited for this
   man was in truth delighted with his action and feeling when disputing,
   and the fluent and apt words with which he clothed his ideas. I was
   therefore filled with joy, and joined with others (and even exceeded
   them) in exalting and praising him. It was, however, a source of
   annoyance to me that I was not allowed at those meetings of his
   auditors to introduce and impart [391] any of those questions that
   troubled me in familiar exchange of arguments with him. When I might
   speak, and began, in conjunction with my friends, to engage his
   attention at such times as it was not unseeming for him to enter into a
   discussion with me, and had mooted such questions as perplexed me, I
   discovered him first to know nothing of the liberal sciences save
   grammar, and that only in an ordinary way. Having, however, read some
   of Tully's Orations, a very few books of Seneca and some of the poets,
   and such few volumes of his own sect as were written coherently in
   Latin, and being day by day practised in speaking, he so acquired a
   sort of eloquence, which proved the more delightful and enticing in
   that it was under the control of ready tact, and a sort of native
   grace. Is it not even as I recall, O Lord my God, Thou judge of my
   conscience? My heart and my memory are laid before Thee, who didst at
   that time direct me by the inscrutable mystery of Thy Providence, and
   didst set before my face those vile errors of mine, in order that I
   might see and loathe them.
     __________________________________________________________________

   [390] Sec. vii. sec. 15, below.

   [391] "This was the old fashion of the East, where the scholars had
   liberty to ask questions of their masters, and to move doubts as the
   professors were reading, or so soon as the lecture was done. Thus did
   our Saviour with the doctors (Luke ii. 46). So it is still in some
   European Universities."--W. W.
     __________________________________________________________________

   Chapter VII.--Clearly Seeing the Fallacies of the Manichæans, He
   Retires from Them, Being Remarkably Aided by God.

   12. For when it became plain to me that he was ignorant of those arts
   in which I had believed him to excel, I began to despair of his
   clearing up and explaining all the perplexities which harassed me:
   though ignorant of these, however, he might still have held the truth
   of piety, had he not been a Manichæan. For their books are full of
   lengthy fables [392] concerning the heaven and stars, the sun and moon,
   and I had ceased to think him able to decide in a satisfactory manner
   what I ardently desired,--whether, on comparing these things with the
   calculations I had read elsewhere, the explanations contained in the
   works of Manichæus were preferable, or at any rate equally sound? But
   when I proposed that these subjects should be deliberated upon and
   reasoned out, he very modestly did not dare to endure the burden. For
   he was aware that he had no knowledge of these things, and was not
   ashamed to confess it. For he was not one of those loquacious persons,
   many of whom I had been troubled with, who covenanted to teach me these
   things, and said nothing; but this man possessed a heart, which, though
   not right towards Thee, yet was not altogether false towards himself.
   For he was not altogether ignorant of his own ignorance, nor would he
   without due consideration be inveigled in a controversy, from which he
   could neither draw back nor extricate himself fairly. And for that I
   was even more pleased with him, for more beautiful is the modesty of an
   ingenuous mind than the acquisition of the knowledge I desired,--and
   such I found him to be in all the more abstruse and subtle questions.

   13. My eagerness after the writings of Manichæus having thus received a
   check, and despairing even more of their other teachers,--seeing that
   in sundry things which puzzled me, he, so famous amongst them, had thus
   turned out,--I began to occupy myself with him in the study of that
   literature which he also much affected, and which I, as Professor of
   Rhetoric, was then engaged in teaching the young Carthaginian students,
   and in reading with him either what he expressed a wish to hear, or I
   deemed suited to his bent of mind. But all my endeavours by which I had
   concluded to improve in that sect, by acquaintance with that man, came
   completely to an end: not that I separated myself altogether from them,
   but, as one who could find nothing better, I determined in the meantime
   upon contenting myself with what I had in any way lighted upon, unless,
   by chance, something more desirable should present itself. Thus that
   Faustus, who had entrapped so many to their death,--neither willing nor
   witting it,--now began to loosen the snare in which I had been taken.
   For Thy hands, O my God, in the hidden design of Thy Providence, did
   not desert my soul; and out of the blood of my mother's heart, through
   the tears that she poured out by day and by night, was a sacrifice
   offered unto Thee for me; and by marvellous ways didst Thou deal with
   me. [393] It was Thou, O my God, who didst it, for the steps of a man
   are ordered by the Lord, and He shall dispose his way. [394] Or how can
   we procure salvation but from Thy hand, remaking what it hath made?
     __________________________________________________________________

   [392] We have referred in the note on iii. sec. 10, above, to the way
   in which the Manichæans parodied Scripture names. In these "fables"
   this is remarkably evidenced. "To these filthy rags of yours," says
   Augustin (Con. Faust. xx. 6), "you would unite the mystery of the
   Trinity; for you say that the Father dwells in a secret light, the
   power of the Son in the sun, and His wisdom in the moon, and the Holy
   Spirit in the air." The Manichæan doctrine as to the mixture of the
   divine nature with the substance of evil, and the way in which that
   nature was released by the "elect," has already been pointed out (see
   note iii. sec. 18, above). The part of sun and moon, also, in
   accomplishing this release, is alluded to in his De Mor. Manich. "This
   part of God," he says (c. xxxvi.), "is daily being set free in all
   parts of the world, and restored to its own domain. But in its passage
   upwards as vapour from earth to heaven, it enters plants, because their
   roots are fixed in the earth, and so gives fertility and strength to
   all herbs and shrubs." These parts of God, arrested in their rise by
   the vegetable world, were released, as above stated, by the "elect".
   All that escaped from them in the act of eating, as well as what was
   set free by evaporation, passed into the sun and moon, as into a kind
   of purgatorial state--they being purer light than the only recently
   emancipated good nature. In his letter to Januarius (Ep. lv. 6), he
   tells us that the moon's waxing and waning were said by the Manichæans
   to be caused by its receiving souls from matter as it were into a ship,
   and transferring them "into the sun as into another ship." The sun was
   called Christ, and was worshipped; and accordingly we find Augustin,
   after alluding to these monstrous doctrines, saying (Con. Faust. v.
   11): "If your affections were set upon spiritual and intellectual good
   instead of material forms, you would not pay homage to the material sun
   as a divine substance and as the light of wisdom." Many other
   interesting quotations might be added, but we must content ourselves
   with the following. In his Reply to Faustus (xx. 6), he says: "You call
   the sun a ship, so that you are not only astray worlds off, as the
   saying is, but adrift. Next, while every one sees that the sun is
   round, which is the form corresponding from its perfection to his
   position among the heavenly bodies, you maintain that he is triangular
   [perhaps in allusion to the early symbol of the Trinity]; that is, that
   his light shines on the earth through a triangular window in heaven.
   Hence it is that you bend and bow your heads to the sun, while you
   worship not this visible sun, but some imaginary ship, which you
   suppose to be shining through a triangular opening."

   [393] Joel ii. 26.

   [394] Ps. xxxvii. 23.
     __________________________________________________________________

   Chapter VIII.--He Sets Out for Rome, His Mother in Vain Lamenting It.

   14. Thou dealedst with me, therefore, that I should be persuaded to go
   to Rome, and teach there rather what I was then teaching at Carthage.
   And how I was persuaded to do this, I will not fail to confess unto
   Thee; for in this also the profoundest workings of Thy wisdom, and Thy
   ever present mercy to usward, must be pondered and avowed. It was not
   my desire to go to Rome because greater advantages and dignities were
   guaranteed me by the friends who persuaded me into this,--although even
   at this period I was influenced by these considerations,--but my
   principal and almost sole motive was, that I had been informed that the
   youths studied more quietly there, and were kept under by the control
   of more rigid discipline, so that they did not capriciously and
   impudently rush into the school of a master not their own, into whose
   presence they were forbidden to enter unless with his consent. At
   Carthage, on the contrary, there was amongst the scholars a shameful
   and intemperate license. They burst in rudely, and, with almost furious
   gesticulations, interrupt the system which any one may have instituted
   for the good of his pupils. Many outrages they perpetrate with
   astounding phlegm, which would be punishable by law were they not
   sustained by custom; that custom showing them to be the more worthless,
   in that they now do, as according to law, what by Thy unchangeable law
   will never be lawful. And they fancy they do it with impunity, whereas
   the very blindness whereby they do it is their punishment, and they
   suffer far greater things than they do. The manners, then, which as a
   student I would not adopt, [395] I was compelled as a teacher to submit
   to from others; and so I was too glad to go where all who knew anything
   about it assured me that similar things were not done. But Thou, "my
   refuge and my portion in the land of the living," [396] didst while at
   Carthage goad me, so that I might thereby be withdrawn from it, and
   exchange my worldly habitation for the preservation of my soul; whilst
   at Rome Thou didst offer me enticements by which to attract me there,
   by men enchanted with this dying life,--the one doing insane actions,
   and the other making assurances of vain things; and, in order to
   correct my footsteps, didst secretly employ their and my perversity.
   For both they who disturbed my tranquillity were blinded by a shameful
   madness, and they who allured me elsewhere smacked of the earth. And I,
   who hated real misery here, sought fictitious happiness there.

   15. But the cause of my going thence and going thither, Thou, O God,
   knewest, yet revealedst it not, either to me or to my mother, who
   grievously lamented my journey, and went with me as far as the sea. But
   I deceived her, when she violently restrained me either that she might
   retain me or accompany me, and I pretended that I had a friend whom I
   could not quit until he had a favourable wind to set sail. And I lied
   to my mother--and such a mother!--and got away. For this also Thou hast
   in mercy pardoned me, saving me, thus replete with abominable
   pollutions, from the waters of the sea, for the water of Thy grace,
   whereby, when I was purified, the fountains of my mother's eyes should
   be dried, from which for me she day by day watered the ground under her
   face. And yet, refusing to go back without me, it was with difficulty I
   persuaded her to remain that night in a place quite close to our ship,
   where there was an oratory [397] in memory of the blessed Cyprian. That
   night I secretly left, but she was not backward in prayers and weeping.
   And what was it, O Lord, that she, with such an abundance of tears, was
   asking of Thee, but that Thou wouldest not permit me to sail? But Thou,
   mysteriously counselling and hearing the real purpose of her desire,
   granted not what she then asked, in order to make me what she was ever
   asking. The wind blew and filled our sails, and withdrew the shore from
   our sight; and she, wild with grief, was there on the morrow, and
   filled Thine ears with complaints and groans, which Thou didst
   disregard; whilst, by the means of my longings, Thou wert hastening me
   on to the cessation of all longing, and the gross part of her love to
   me was whipped out by the just lash of sorrow. But, like all
   mothers,--though even more than others,--she loved to have me with her,
   and knew not what joy Thou wert preparing for her by my absence. Being
   ignorant of this, she did weep and mourn, and in her agony was seen the
   inheritance of Eve,--seeking in sorrow what in sorrow she had brought
   forth. And yet, after accusing my perfidy and cruelty, she again
   continued her intercessions for me with Thee, returned to her
   accustomed place, and I to Rome.
     __________________________________________________________________

   [395] See iii. sec. 6, note, above.

   [396] Ps. cxlii. 5.

   [397] See vi. sec. 2, note, below.
     __________________________________________________________________

   Chapter IX.--Being Attacked by Fever, He is in Great Danger.

   16. And behold, there was I received by the scourge of bodily sickness,
   and I was descending into hell burdened with all the sins that I had
   committed, both against Thee, myself, and others, many and grievous,
   over and above that bond of original sin whereby we all die in Adam.
   [398] For none of these things hadst Thou forgiven me in Christ,
   neither had He "abolished" by His cross "the enmity" [399] which, by my
   sins, I had incurred with Thee. For how could He, by the crucifixion of
   a phantasm, [400] which I supposed Him to be? As true, then, was the
   death of my soul, as that of His flesh appeared to me to be untrue; and
   as true the death of His flesh as the life of my soul, which believed
   it not, was false. The fever increasing, I was now passing away and
   perishing. For had I then gone hence, whither should I have gone but
   into the fiery torments meet for my misdeeds, in the truth of Thy
   ordinance? She was ignorant of this, yet, while absent, prayed for me.
   But Thou, everywhere present, hearkened to her where she was, and hadst
   pity upon me where I was, that I should regain my bodily health,
   although still frenzied in my sacrilegious heart. For all that peril
   did not make me wish to be baptized, and I was better when, as a lad, I
   entreated it of my mother's piety, as I have already related and
   confessed. [401] But I had grown up to my own dishonour, and all the
   purposes of Thy medicine I madly derided, [402] who wouldst not suffer
   me, though such a one, to die a double death. Had my mother's heart
   been smitten with this wound, it never could have been cured. For I
   cannot sufficiently express the love she had for me, nor how she now
   travailed for me in the spirit with a far keener anguish than when she
   bore me in the flesh.

   17. I cannot conceive, therefore, how she could have been healed if
   such a death of mine had transfixed the bowels of her love. Where then
   would have been her so earnest, frequent, and unintermitted prayers to
   Thee alone? But couldst Thou, most merciful God, despise the "contrite
   and humble heart" [403] of that pure and prudent widow, so constant in
   alms-deeds, so gracious and attentive to Thy saints, not permitting one
   day to pass without oblation at Thy altar, twice a day, at morning and
   even-tide, coming to Thy church without intermission--not for vain
   gossiping, nor old wives' "fables," [404] but in order that she might
   listen to Thee in Thy sermons, and Thou to her in her prayers? [405]
   Couldst Thou--Thou by whose gift she was such--despise and disregard
   without succouring the tears of such a one, wherewith she entreated
   Thee not for gold or silver, nor for any changing or fleeting good, but
   for the salvation of the soul of her son? By no means, Lord. Assuredly
   Thou wert near, and wert hearing and doing in that method in which Thou
   hadst predetermined that it should be done. Far be it from Thee that
   Thou shouldst delude her in those visions and the answers she had from
   Thee,--some of which I have spoken of, [406] and others not, [407]
   --which she kept [408] in her faithful breast, and, always petitioning,
   pressed upon Thee as Thine autograph. For Thou, "because Thy mercy
   endureth for ever," [409] condescendest to those whose debts Thou hast
   pardoned, to become likewise a debtor by Thy promises.
     __________________________________________________________________

   [398] 1 Cor. xv. 22.

   [399] Eph. ii. 15, and Col. i. 20, etc.

   [400] The Manichæan belief in regard to the unreal nature of Christ's
   body may be gathered from Augustin's Reply to Faustus: "You ask,"
   argues Faustus (xxvi. i.), "if Jesus was not born, how did He die?...In
   return I ask you, how did Elias not die, though he was a man? Could a
   mortal encroach upon the limits of immortality, and could not Christ
   add to His immortality whatever experience of death was
   required?...Accordingly, if it is a good argument that Jesus was a man
   because He died, it is an equally good argument that Elias was not a
   man because he did not die....As, from the outset of His taking the
   likeness of man, He underwent in appearance all the experiences of
   humanity, it was quite consistent that He should complete the system by
   appearing to die." So that with him the whole life of Jesus was a
   "phantasm." His birth, circumcision, crucifixion, baptism, and
   temptation were (ibid. xxxii. 7) the mere result of the interpolation
   of crafty men, or sprung from the ignorance of the apostles, when as
   yet they had not reached perfection in knowledge. It is noticeable that
   Augustin, referring to Eph. ii. 15, substitutes His cross for His
   flesh, he, as a Manichæan, not believing in the real humanity of the
   Son of God. See iii. sec. 9, note, above.

   [401] See i. sec. 10, above.

   [402] See also iv. sec. 8, above, where he derides his friend's
   baptism.

   [403] Ps. li. 19.

   [404] 1 Tim. v. 10.

   [405] Watts gives the following note here:--"Oblations were those
   offerings of bread, meal, or wine, for making of the Eucharist, or of
   alms besides for the poor, which the primitive Christians every time
   they communicated brought to the church, where it was received by the
   deacons, who presented them to the priest or bishop. Here note: (1)
   They communicated daily; (2) they had service morning and evening, and
   two sermons a day many times," etc. An interesting trace of an old use
   in this matter of oblations is found in the Queen's Coronation Service.
   After other oblations had been offered, the Queen knelt before the
   Archbishop and presented to him "oblations" of bread and wine for the
   Holy Communion. See also Palmer's Origines Liturgicæ, iv. 8, who
   demonstrates by reference to patristic writers that the custom was
   universal in the primitive Church:--"But though all the churches of the
   East and West agreed in this respect, they differed in appointing the
   time and place at which the oblations of the people were received." It
   would appear from the following account of early Christian worship,
   that in the time of Justin Martyr the oblations were collected after
   the reception of the Lord's Supper. In his First Apology we read (c.
   lxvii.): "On the day called Sunday [tou heliou legomene hemera] all who
   live in cities or in the country gather together to one place, and the
   memoirs of the apostles or the writings of the prophets are read, as
   long as time permits them. When the reader has ceased, the president
   [ho proestos] verbally instructs, and exhorts to the imitation of these
   good things. Then we all rise together and pray [euchas pempomen], and,
   as we before said, when our prayer is ended, bread and wine and water
   are brought, and the president in like manner offers prayers and
   thanksgivings according to his ability [Kaye renders (p. 89) euchas
   homoios kai eucharistias, hose dunamis auto, anapempei, "with his
   utmost power"], and the people assent, saying Amen; and there is a
   distribution to each, and a participation of that over which thanks had
   been given, and to those who are absent a portion is sent by the
   deacons. And they who are well-to-do, and willing, give what each
   thinks fit; and what is collected [to sullegomenon] is deposited with
   the president, who succours the orphans and widows, and those who,
   through sickness or any other cause, are in want, and those who are in
   bonds, and the stranger sojourning among us, and, in a word, takes care
   of all who are in need." The whole passage is given, as portions of it
   will be found to have a bearing on other parts of the Confessions.
   Bishop Kaye's Justin Martyr, c. iv., may be referred to for his view of
   the controverted points in the passage. See also Bingham's Antiquities,
   ii. 2-9; and notes to vi. sec. 2, and ix. secs. 6 and 27, below.

   [406] See above, iii. 11, 12.

   [407] Ibid. iii. 12.

   [408] Luke ii. 19.

   [409] Ps. cxviii. 1.
     __________________________________________________________________

   Chapter X.--When He Had Left the Manichæans, He Retained His Depraved
   Opinions Concerning Sin and the Origin of the Saviour.

   18. Thou restoredst me then from that illness, and made sound the son
   of Thy hand-maid meanwhile in body, that he might live for Thee, to
   endow him with a higher and more enduring health. And even then at Rome
   I joined those deluding and deluded "saints;" not their "hearers"
   only,--of the number of whom was he in whose house I had fallen ill,
   and had recovered,--but those also whom they designate "The Elect."
   [410] For it still seemed to me "that it was not we that sin, but that
   I know not what other nature sinned in us." [411] And it gratified my
   pride to be free from blame and, after I had committed any fault, not
   to acknowledge that I had done any,--"that Thou mightest heal my soul
   because it had sinned against Thee;" [412] but I loved to excuse it,
   and to accuse something else (I wot not what) which was with me, but
   was not I. But assuredly it was wholly I, and my impiety had divided me
   against myself; and that sin was all the more incurable in that I did
   not deem myself a sinner. And execrable iniquity it was, O God
   omnipotent, that I would rather have Thee to be overcome in me to my
   destruction, than myself of Thee to salvation! Not yet, therefore,
   hadst Thou set a watch before my mouth, and kept the door of my lips,
   that my heart might not incline to wicked speeches, to make excuses of
   sins, with men that work iniquity [413] --and, therefore, was I still
   united with their "Elect."

   19. But now, hopeless of making proficiency in that false doctrine,
   even those things with which I had decided upon contenting myself,
   providing that I could find nothing better, I now held more loosely and
   negligently. For I was half inclined to believe that those philosophers
   whom they call "Academics" [414] were more sagacious than the rest, in
   that they held that we ought to doubt everything, and ruled that man
   had not the power of comprehending any truth; for so, not yet realizing
   their meaning, I also was fully persuaded that they thought just as
   they are commonly held to do. And I did not fail frankly to restrain in
   my host that assurance which I observed him to have in those fictions
   of which the works of Manichæus are full. Notwithstanding, I was on
   terms of more intimate friendship with them than with others who were
   not of this heresy. Nor did I defend it with my former ardour; still my
   familiarity with that sect (many of them being concealed in Rome) made
   me slower [415] to seek any other way,--particularly since I was
   hopeless of finding the truth, from which in Thy Church, O Lord of
   heaven and earth, Creator of all things visible and invisible, they had
   turned me aside,--and it seemed to me most unbecoming to believe Thee
   to have the form of human flesh, and to be bounded by the bodily
   lineaments of our members. And because, when I desired to meditate on
   my God, I knew not what to think of but a mass of bodies [416] (for
   what was not such did not seem to me to be), this was the greatest and
   almost sole cause of my inevitable error.

   20. For hence I also believed evil to be a similar sort of substance,
   and to be possessed of its own foul and misshapen mass--whether dense,
   which they denominated earth, or thin and subtle, as is the body of the
   air, which they fancy some malignant spirit crawling through that
   earth. And because a piety--such as it was--compelled me to believe
   that the good God never created any evil nature, I conceived two
   masses, the one opposed to the other, both infinite, but the evil the
   more contracted, the good the more expansive. And from this mischievous
   commencement the other profanities followed on me. For when my mind
   tried to revert to the Catholic faith, I was cast back, since what I
   had held to be the Catholic faith was not so. And it appeared to me
   more devout to look upon Thee, my God,--to whom I make confession of
   Thy mercies,--as infinite, at least, on other sides, although on that
   side where the mass of evil was in opposition to Thee [417] I was
   compelled to confess Thee finite, that if on every side I should
   conceive Thee to be confined by the form of a human body. And better
   did it seem to me to believe that no evil had been created by
   Thee--which to me in my ignorance appeared not only some substance, but
   a bodily one, because I had no conception of the mind excepting as a
   subtle body, and that diffused in local spaces--than to believe that
   anything could emanate from Thee of such a kind as I considered the
   nature of evil to be. And our very Saviour Himself, also, Thine
   only-begotten, [418] I believed to have been reached forth, as it were,
   for our salvation out of the lump of Thy most effulgent mass, so as to
   believe nothing of Him but what I was able to imagine in my vanity.
   Such a nature, then, I thought could not be born of the Virgin Mary
   without being mingled with the flesh; and how that which I had thus
   figured to myself could be mingled without being contaminated, I saw
   not. I was afraid, therefore, to believe Him to be born in the flesh,
   lest I should be compelled to believe Him contaminated by the flesh.
   [419] Now will Thy spiritual ones blandly and lovingly smile at me if
   they shall read these my confessions; yet such was I.
     __________________________________________________________________

   [410] See iv. sec. 1, note, above.

   [411] See iv. sec. 26, note 2, above.

   [412] Ps. xli. 4.

   [413] Ps. cxli. 3, 4, Old Vers. See also Augustin's Commentary on the
   Psalms, where, using his Septuagint version, he applies this passage to
   the Manichæans.

   [414] "Amongst these philosophers," i.e. those who have founded their
   systems on denial, "some are satisfied with denying certainty,
   admitting at the same time probability, and these are the New
   Academics; the others, who are the Pyrrhonists, have denied even this
   probability, and have maintained that all things are equally certain
   and uncertain" (Port. Roy. Log. iv. 1). There are, according to the
   usual divisions, three Academies, the old, the middle, and the new; and
   some subdivide the middle and the new each into two schools, making
   five schools of thought in all. These begin with Plato, the founder
   (387 B.C.), and continue to the fifth school, founded by Antiochus (83
   B.C.), who, by combining his teachings with that of Aristotle and Zeno,
   prepared the way for Neo-Platonism and its development of the dogmatic
   side of Plato's teaching. In the second Academic school, founded by
   Arcesilas,--of whom Aristo, the Stoic, parodying the line in the Iliad
   (vi. 181), Prosthe leon, opithen de drakon, messe de chimaira, said
   sarcastically he was "Plato in front, Pyrrho behind, and Diodorus in
   the middle,"--the "sceptical" tendency in Platonism began to develope
   itself, which, under Carneades, was expanded into the doctrine of the
   third Academic school. Arcesilas had been a pupil of Polemo when he was
   head of the old Academy. Zeno also, dissatisfied with the cynical
   philosophy of Crates, had learnt Platonic doctrine from Polemo, and
   was, as Cicero tells us (De Fin. iv. 16), greatly influenced by his
   teaching. Zeno, however, soon founded his own school of Stoical
   philosophy, which was violently opposed by Arcesilas (Cicero, Acad.
   Post. i. 12). Arcesilas, according to Cicero (ibid.), taught his pupils
   that we cannot know anything, not even that we are unable to know. It
   is exceedingly probable, however, that he taught esoterically the
   doctrines of Plato to those of his pupils he thought able to receive
   them, keeping them back from the multitude because of the prevalence of
   the new doctrine. This appears to have been Augustin's view when he had
   arrived at a fuller knowledge of their doctrines than that he possessed
   at the time referred to in his Confessions. In his treatises against
   the Academicians (iii. 17) he maintains the wisdom of Arcesilas in this
   matter. He says: "As the multitude are prone to rush into false
   opinions, and, from being accustomed to bodies, readily, but to their
   hurt, believe everything to be corporeal, this most acute and learned
   man determined rather to unteach those who had suffered from bad
   teaching, than to teach those whom he did not think teachable." Again,
   in the first of his Letters, alluding to these treatises, he says: "It
   seems to me to be suitable enough to the times in which they
   flourished, that whatever issued pure from the fountain-head of
   Platonic philosophy should be rather conducted into dark and thorny
   thickets for the refreshment of a very few men, than left to flow in
   open meadow-land, where it would be impossible to keep it clear and
   pure from the inroads of the vulgar herd. I use the word herd'
   advisedly, for what is more brutish than the opinion that the soul is
   material?" and more to the same purpose. In his De Civ. Dei, xix 18, he
   contrasts the uncertainty ascribed to the doctrines of these teachers
   with the certainty of the Christian faith. See Burton's Bampton
   Lectures, note 33, and Archer Butler's Ancient Philosophy, ii. 313,
   348, etc. See also vii. sec. 13, note, below.

   [415] See iii. sec. 21, above.

   [416] See iv. secs. 3, 12, and 31, above.

   [417] See iv. 26, note 2, above.

   [418] See above, sec. 12, note.

   [419] The dualistic belief of the Manichæan ever led him to contend
   that Christ only appeared in a resemblance of flesh, and did not touch
   its substance so as to be defiled. Hence Faustus characteristically
   speaks of the Incarnation (Con. Faust. xxxii. 7) as "the shameful birth
   of Jesus from a woman," and when pressed (ibid. xi. 1) with such
   passages as, Christ was "born of the seed of David according to the
   flesh" (Rom. i. 3), he would fall back upon what in these days we are
   familiar with as that "higher criticism," which rejects such parts of
   Scripture as it is inconvenient to receive. Paul, he said, then only
   "spoke as a child" (1 Cor. xiii. 11), but when he became a man in
   doctrine, he put away childish things, and then declared, "Though we
   have known Christ after the flesh, yet now henceforth know we Him no
   more." See above, sec. 16, note 3.
     __________________________________________________________________

   Chapter XI.--Helpidius Disputed Well Against the Manichæans as to the
   Authenticity of the New Testament.

   21. Furthermore, whatever they had censured [420] in Thy Scriptures I
   thought impossible to be defended; and yet sometimes, indeed, I desired
   to confer on these several points with some one well learned in those
   books, and to try what he thought of them. For at this time the words
   of one Helpidius, speaking and disputing face to face against the said
   Manichæans, had begun to move me even at Carthage, in that he brought
   forth things from the Scriptures not easily withstood, to which their
   answer appeared to me feeble. And this answer they did not give forth
   publicly, but only to us in private,--when they said that the writings
   of the New Testament had been tampered with by I know not whom, who
   were desirous of ingrafting the Jewish law upon the Christian faith;
   [421] but they themselves did not bring forward any uncorrupted copies.
   [422] But I, thinking of corporeal things, very much ensnared and in a
   measure stifled, was oppressed by those masses; [423] panting under
   which for the breath of Thy Truth, I was not able to breathe it pure
   and undefiled.
     __________________________________________________________________

   [420] See iii. sec. 14, above.

   [421] On this matter reference may be made to Con. Faust. xviii. 1, 3;
   xix. 5, 6; xxxiii. 1, 3.

   [422] They might well not like to give the answer in public, for, as
   Augustin remarks (De Mor. Eccles. Cath. sec. 14), every one could see
   "that this is all that is left for men to say when it is proved that
   they are wrong. The astonishment that he experienced now, that they did
   "not bring forward any uncorrupted copies," had fast hold of him, and
   after his conversion he confronted them on this very ground. "You ought
   to bring forward," he says (ibid. sec. 61), "another manuscript with
   the same contents, but incorrupt and more correct, with only the
   passage wanting which you charge with being spurious....You say you
   will not, lest you be suspected of corrupting it. This is your usual
   reply, and a true one." See also De Mor. Manich. sec. 55; and Con.
   Faust. xi. 2, xiii. 5, xviii. 7, xxii. 15, xxxii. 16.

   [423] See above, sec. 19, Fin..
     __________________________________________________________________

   Chapter XII.--Professing Rhetoric at Rome, He Discovers the Fraud of
   His Scholars.

   22. Then began I assiduously to practise that for which I came to
   Rome--the teaching of rhetoric; and first to bring together at my home
   some to whom, and through whom, I had begun to be known; when, behold,
   I learnt that other offences were committed in Rome which I had not to
   bear in Africa. For those subvertings by abandoned young men were not
   practised here, as I had been informed; yet, suddenly, said they, to
   evade paying their master's fees, many of the youths conspire together,
   and remove themselves to another,--breakers of faith, who, for the love
   of money, set a small value on justice. These also my heart "hated,"
   though not with a "perfect hatred;" [424] for, perhaps, I hated them
   more in that I was to suffer by them, than for the illicit acts they
   committed. Such of a truth are base persons, and they are unfaithful to
   Thee, loving these transitory mockeries of temporal things, and vile
   gain, which begrimes the hand that lays hold on it; and embracing the
   fleeting world, and scorning Thee, who abidest, and invitest to return,
   and pardonest the prostituted human soul when it returneth to Thee. And
   now I hate such crooked and perverse men, although I love them if they
   are to be corrected so as to prefer the learning they obtain to money,
   and to learning Thee, O God, the truth and fulness of certain good and
   most chaste peace. But then was the wish stronger in me for my own sake
   not to suffer them evil, than was the wish that they should become good
   for Thine.
     __________________________________________________________________

   [424] Ps. cxxxix. 22.
     __________________________________________________________________

   Chapter XIII.--He is Sent to Milan, that He, About to Teach Rhetoric,
   May Be Known by Ambrose.

   23. When, therefore, they of Milan had sent to Rome to the prefect of
   the city, to provide them with a teacher of rhetoric for their city,
   and to despatch him at the public expense, I made interest through
   those identical persons, drunk with Manichæan vanities, to be freed
   from whom I was going away,--neither of us, however, being aware of
   it,--that Symmachus, the then prefect, having proved me by proposing a
   subject, would send me. And to Milan I came, unto Ambrose the bishop,
   known to the whole world as among the best of men, Thy devout servant;
   whose eloquent discourse did at that time strenuously dispense unto Thy
   people the flour of Thy wheat, the "gladness" of Thy "oil," and the
   sober intoxication of Thy "wine." [425] To him was I unknowingly led by
   Thee, that by him I might knowingly be led to Thee. That man of God
   received me like a father, and looked with a benevolent and episcopal
   kindliness on my change of abode. And I began to love him, not at
   first, indeed, as a teacher of the truth,--which I entirely despaired
   of in Thy Church,--but as a man friendly to myself. And I studiously
   hearkened to him preaching to the people, not with the motive I should,
   but, as it were, trying to discover whether his eloquence came up to
   the fame thereof, or flowed fuller or lower than was asserted; and I
   hung on his words intently, but of the matter I was but as a careless
   and contemptuous spectator; and I was delighted with the pleasantness
   of his speech, more erudite, yet less cheerful and soothing in manner,
   than that of Faustus. Of the matter, however, there could be no
   comparison; for the latter was straying amid Manichæan deceptions,
   whilst the former was teaching salvation most soundly. But "salvation
   is far from the wicked," [426] such as I then stood before him; and yet
   I was drawing nearer gradually and unconsciously.
     __________________________________________________________________

   [425] Ps. iv. 7, and civ. 15.

   [426] Ps. cxix. 155.
     __________________________________________________________________

   Chapter XIV.--Having Heard the Bishop, He Perceives the Force of the
   Catholic Faith, Yet Doubts, After the Manner of the Modern Academics.

   24. For although I took no trouble to learn what he spake, but only to
   hear how he spake (for that empty care alone remained to me, despairing
   of a way accessible for man to Thee), yet, together with the words
   which I prized, there came into my mind also the things about which I
   was careless; for I could not separate them. And whilst I opened my
   heart to admit "how skilfully he spake," there also entered with it,
   but gradually, "and how truly he spake!" For first, these things also
   had begun to appear to me to be defensible; and the Catholic faith, for
   which I had fancied nothing could be said against the attacks of the
   Manichæans, I now conceived might be maintained without presumption;
   especially after I had heard one or two parts of the Old Testament
   explained, and often allegorically--which when I accepted literally, I
   was "killed" spiritually. [427] Many places, then, of those books
   having been expounded to me, I now blamed my despair in having believed
   that no reply could be made to those who hated and derided [428] the
   Law and the Prophets. Yet I did not then see that for that reason the
   Catholic way was to be held because it had its learned advocates, who
   could at length, and not irrationally, answer objections; nor that what
   I held ought therefore to be condemned because both sides were equally
   defensible. For that way did not appear to me to be vanquished; nor yet
   did it seem to me to be victorious.

   25. Hereupon did I earnestly bend my mind to see if in any way I could
   possibly prove the Manichæans guilty of falsehood. Could I have
   realized a spiritual substance, all their strongholds would have been
   beaten down, and cast utterly out of my mind; but I could not. But yet,
   concerning the body of this world, and the whole of nature, which the
   senses of the flesh can attain unto, I, now more and more considering
   and comparing things, judged that the greater part of the philosophers
   held much the more probable opinions. So, then, after the manner of the
   Academics (as they are supposed), [429] doubting of everything and
   fluctuating between all, I decided that the Manichæans were to be
   abandoned; judging that, even while in that period of doubt, I could
   not remain in a sect to which I preferred some of the philosophers; to
   which philosophers, however, because they were without the saving name
   of Christ, I utterly refused to commit the cure of my fainting soul. I
   resolved, therefore, to be a catechumen [430] in the Catholic Church,
   which my parents had commended to me, until something settled should
   manifest itself to me whither I might steer my course. [431]

   ------------------------
     __________________________________________________________________

   [427] 1 Cor. xiii. 12, and 2 Cor. iii. 6. See vi. sec. 6, note, below.

   [428] He frequently alludes to this scoffing spirit, so characteristic
   of these heretics. As an example, he says (in Ps. cxlvi. 13): "There
   has sprung up a certain accursed sect of the Manichæans which derides
   the Scriptures it takes and reads. It wishes to censure what it does
   not understand, and by disturbing and censuring what it understands
   not, has deceived many." See also sec. 16, and iv. sec. 8, above.

   [429] See above, sec. 19, and note.

   [430] See vi. sec. 2, note, below.

   [431] In his Benefit of Believing, Augustin adverts to the above
   experiences with a view to the conviction of his friend Honoratus, who
   was then a Manichæan.
     __________________________________________________________________
     __________________________________________________________________

   Book VI.

   ------------------------

   Attaining his thirtieth year, he, under the admonition of the
   discourses of Ambrose, discovered more and more the truth of the
   Catholic doctrine, and deliberates as to the better regulation of his
   life.

   ------------------------
     __________________________________________________________________

   Chapter I.--His Mother Having Followed Him to Milan, Declares that She
   Will Not Die Before Her Son Shall Have Embraced the Catholic Faith.

   1. O Thou, my hope from my youth, [432] where wert Thou to me, and
   whither hadst Thou gone? For in truth, hadst Thou not created me, and
   made a difference between me and the beasts of the field and fowls of
   the air? Thou hadst made me wiser than they, yet did I wander about in
   dark and slippery places, and sought Thee abroad out of myself, and
   found not the God of my heart; [433] and had entered the depths of the
   sea, and distrusted and despaired finding out the truth. By this time
   my mother, made strong by her piety, had come to me, following me over
   sea and land, in all perils feeling secure in Thee. For in the dangers
   of the sea she comforted the very sailors (to whom the inexperienced
   passengers, when alarmed, were wont rather to go for comfort), assuring
   them of a safe arrival, because she had been so assured by Thee in a
   vision. She found me in grievous danger, through despair of ever
   finding truth. But when I had disclosed to her that I was now no longer
   a Manichæan, though not yet a Catholic Christian, she did not leap for
   joy as at what was unexpected; although she was now reassured as to
   that part of my misery for which she had mourned me as one dead, but
   who would be raised to Thee, carrying me forth upon the bier of her
   thoughts, that Thou mightest say unto the widow's son, "Young man, I
   say unto Thee, arise," and he should revive, and begin to speak, and
   Thou shouldest deliver him to his mother. [434] Her heart, then, was
   not agitated with any violent exultation, when she had heard that to be
   already in so great a part accomplished which she daily, with tears,
   entreated of Thee might be done,--that though I had not yet grasped the
   truth, I was rescued from falsehood. Yea, rather, for that she was
   fully confident that Thou, who hadst promised the whole, wouldst give
   the rest, most calmly, and with a breast full of confidence, she
   replied to me, "She believed in Christ, that before she departed this
   life, she would see me a Catholic believer." [435] And thus much said
   she to me; but to Thee, O Fountain of mercies, poured she out more
   frequent prayers and tears, that Thou wouldest hasten Thy aid, and
   enlighten my darkness; and she hurried all the more assiduously to the
   church, and hung upon the words of Ambrose, praying for the fountain of
   water that springeth up into everlasting life. [436] For she loved that
   man as an angel of God, because she knew that it was by him that I had
   been brought, for the present, to that perplexing state of agitation
   [437] I was now in, through which she was fully persuaded that I should
   pass from sickness unto health, after an excess, as it were, of a
   sharper fit, which doctors term the "crisis."
     __________________________________________________________________

   [432] Ps. lxxi. 5.

   [433] See iv. sec. 18, note, above.

   [434] Luke vii. 12-l5.

   [435] Fidelem Catholicum--those who are baptized being usually
   designated Fideles. The following extract from Kaye's Tertullian (pp.
   230, 231) is worthy of note:--"As the converts from heathenism, to use
   Tertullian's expression, were not born, but became Christians [fiunt,
   nascuntur, Christiani], they went through a course of instruction in
   the principles and doctrines of the gospel, and were subjected to a
   strict probation before they were admitted to the rite of baptism. In
   this stage of their progress they were called catechumens, of whom,
   according to Suicer, there were two classes,--one called Audientes,'
   who had only entered upon their course, and begun to hear the word of
   God; the other, sunaitountes, or Competentes,' who had made such
   advances in Christian knowledge and practice as to be qualified to
   appear at the font. Tertullian, however, appears either not to have
   known or to have neglected this distinction, since he applies the names
   of Audientes' and Auditores' indifferently to all who had not partaken
   of the rite of baptism. When the catechumens had given full proof of
   the ripeness of their knowledge, and of the stedfastness of their
   faith, they were baptized, admitted to the table of the Lord, and
   styled Fideles. The importance which Tertullian attached to this
   previous probation of the candidates for baptism, appears from the fact
   that he founds upon the neglect of it one of his charges against the
   heretics. Among them,' he says, no distinction is made between the
   catechumen and the faithful or confirmed Christian; the catechumen is
   pronounced fit for baptism before he is instructed; all come in
   indiscriminately; all hear, all pray together.'" There were certain
   peculiar forms used in the admission of catechumens; as, for example,
   anointing with oil, imposition of hands, and the consecration and
   giving of salt; and when, from the progress of Christianity,
   Tertullian's above description as to converts from heathenism had
   ceased to be correct, these forms were continued in many churches as
   part of the baptismal service, whether of infants or adults. See
   Palmer's Origines Liturgicæ, v. 1, and also i. sec. 17, above, where
   Augustin says: "I was signed with the sign of the cross, and was
   seasoned with His salt, even from the womb of my mother."

   [436] John iv. 14.

   [437] "Sermons," says Goodwin in his Evangelical Communicant, "are, for
   the most part, as showers of rain that water for the instant; such as
   may tickle the ear and warm the affections, and put the soul into a
   posture of obedience. Hence it is that men are oft-times sermon-sick,
   as some are sea-sick; very ill, much troubled for the present, but by
   and by all is well again as they were."
     __________________________________________________________________

   Chapter II.--She, on the Prohibition of Ambrose, Abstains from
   Honouring the Memory of the Martyrs.

   2. When, therefore, my mother had at one time--as was her custom in
   Africa--brought to the oratories built in the memory of the saints
   [438] certain cakes, and bread, and wine, and was forbidden by the
   door-keeper, so soon as she learnt that it was the bishop who had
   forbidden it, she so piously and obediently acceded to it, that I
   myself marvelled how readily she could bring herself to accuse her own
   custom, rather than question his prohibition. For wine-bibbing did not
   take possession of her spirit, nor did the love of wine stimulate her
   to hatred of the truth, as it doth too many, both male and female, who
   nauseate at a song of sobriety, as men well drunk at a draught of
   water. But she, when she had brought her basket with the festive meats,
   of which she would taste herself first and give the rest away, would
   never allow herself more than one little cup of wine, diluted according
   to her own temperate palate, which, out of courtesy, she would taste.
   And if there were many oratories of departed saints that ought to be
   honoured in the same way, she still carried round with her the selfsame
   cup, to be used everywhere; and this, which was not only very much
   watered, but was also very tepid with carrying about, she would
   distribute by small sips to those around; for she sought their
   devotion, not pleasure. As soon, therefore, as she found this custom to
   be forbidden by that famous preacher and most pious prelate, even to
   those who would use it with moderation, lest thereby an occasion of
   excess [439] might be given to such as were drunken, and because these,
   so to say, festivals in honour of the dead were very like unto the
   superstition of the Gentiles, she most willingly abstained from it. And
   in lieu of a basket filled with fruits of the earth, she had learned to
   bring to the oratories of the martyrs a heart full of more purified
   petitions, and to give all that she could to the poor; [440] that so
   the communion of the Lord's body might be rightly celebrated there,
   where, after the example of His passion, the martyrs had been
   sacrificed and crowned. But yet it seems to me, O Lord my God, and thus
   my heart thinks of it in thy sight, that my mother perhaps would not so
   easily have given way to the relinquishment of this custom had it been
   forbidden by another whom she loved not as Ambrose, [441] whom, out of
   regard for my salvation, she loved most dearly; and he loved her truly,
   on account of her most religious conversation, whereby, in good works
   so "fervent in spirit," [442] she frequented the church; so that he
   would often, when he saw me, burst forth into her praises,
   congratulating me that I had such a mother--little knowing what a son
   she had in me, who was in doubt as to all these things, and did not
   imagine the way of life could be found out.
     __________________________________________________________________

   [438] That is, as is explained further on in the section, the Martyrs.
   Tertullian gives us many indications of the veneration in which the
   martyrs were held towards the close of the second century. The
   anniversary of the martyr's death was called his natalitium, or natal
   day, as his martyrdom ushered him into eternal life, and oblationes pro
   defunctis were then offered. (De Exhor. Cast. c. 11; De Coro. c. 3).
   Many extravagant things were said about the glory of martyrdom, with
   the view, doubtless, of preventing apostasy in time of persecution. It
   was described (De Bap. c. 16; and De Pat. c. 13.) as a second baptism,
   and said to secure for a man immediate entrance into heaven, and
   complete enjoyment of its happiness. These views developed in
   Augustin's time into all the wildness of Donatism. Augustin gives us an
   insight into the customs prevailing in his day, and their significance,
   which greatly illustrates the present section. In his De Civ. Dei,
   viii. 27, we read: "But, nevertheless, we do not build temples, and
   ordain priests, rites, and sacrifices for these same martyrs; for they
   are not our gods, but their God is our God. Certainly we honour their
   reliquaries, as the memorials of holy men of God, who strove for the
   truth even to the death of their bodies, that the true religion might
   be made known, and false and fictitious religions exposed....But who
   ever heard a priest of the faithful, standing at an altar built for the
   honour and worship of God over the holy body of some martyr, say in the
   prayers, I offer to thee a sacrifice, O Peter, or O Paul, or O Cyprian?
   For it is to God that sacrifices are offered at their tombs,--the God
   who made them both men and martyrs, and associated them with holy
   angels in celestial honour; and the reason why we pay such honours to
   their memory is, that by so doing we may both give thanks to the true
   God for their victories, and, by recalling them afresh to remembrance,
   may stir ourselves up to imitate them by seeking to obtain like crowns
   and palms, calling to our help that same God on whom they called.
   Therefore, whatever honours the religious may pay in the places of the
   martyrs, they are but honours rendered to their memory [ornamenta
   memoriarum], not sacred rites or sacrifices offered to dead men as to
   gods. And even such as bring thither food--which, indeed, is not done
   by the better Christians, and in most places of the world is not done
   at all--do so in order that it may be sanctified to them through the
   merits of the martyrs, in the name of the Lord of the martyrs, first
   presenting the food and offering prayer, and thereafter taking it away
   to be eaten, or to be in part bestowed upon the needy. But he who knows
   the one sacrifice of Christians, which is the sacrifice offered in
   those places, also knows that these are not sacrifices offered to the
   martyrs." He speaks to the same effect in Book xxii. sec. 10; and in
   his Reply to Faustus (xx. 21), who had charged the Christians with
   imitating the Pagans, "and appeasing the shades' of the departed with
   wine and food." See v. sec. 17, note.

   [439] Following the example of Ambrose, Augustin used all his influence
   and eloquence to correct such shocking abuses in the churches. In his
   letter to Alypius, Bishop of Thagaste (when as yet only a presbyter
   assisting the venerable Valerius), he gives an account of his efforts
   to overcome them in the church of Hippo. The following passage is
   instructive (Ep. xxix. 9):--"I explained to them the circumstances out
   of which this custom seems to have necessarily risen in the Church,
   namely, that when, in the peace which came after such numerous and
   violent persecutions, crowds of heathen who wished to assume the
   Christian religion were kept back, because, having been accustomed to
   celebrate the feasts connected with their worship of idols in revelling
   and drunkenness, they could not easily refrain from pleasures so
   hurtful and so habitual, it had seemed good to our ancestors, making
   for the time a concession to this infirmity, to permit them to
   celebrate, instead of the festivals which they renounced, other feasts
   in honour of the holy martyrs, which were observed, not as before with
   a profane design, but with similar self-indulgence."

   [440] See v. sec. 17, note 5, above.

   [441] On another occasion, when Monica's mind was exercised as to
   non-essentials, Ambrose gave her advice which has perhaps given origin
   to the proverb, "When at Rome, do as Rome does." It will be found in
   the letter to Casulanus (Ep. xxxvi. 32), and is as follows:--"When my
   mother was with me in that city, I, as being only a catechumen, felt no
   concern about these questions; but it was to her a question causing
   anxiety, whether she ought, after the custom of our own town, to fast
   on the Saturday, or, after the custom of the church of Milan, not to
   fast. To deliver her from perplexity, I put the question to the man of
   God whom I have first named. He answered, What else can I recommend to
   others than what I do myself?' When I thought that by this he intended
   simply to prescribe to us that we should take food on Saturdays,--for I
   knew this to be his own practice,--he, following me, added these words:
   When I am here I do not fast on Saturday, but when I am at Rome I do;
   Whatever church you may come to, conform to its custom, if you would
   avoid either receiving or giving offence.'" We find the same incident
   referred to in Ep. liv. 3.

   [442] Rom. xii. 11.
     __________________________________________________________________

   Chapter III.--As Ambrose Was Occupied with Business and Study, Augustin
   Could Seldom Consult Him Concerning the Holy Scriptures.

   3. Nor did I now groan in my prayers that Thou wouldest help me; but my
   mind was wholly intent on knowledge, and eager to dispute. And Ambrose
   himself I esteemed a happy man, as the world counted happiness, in that
   such great personages held him in honour; only his celibacy appeared to
   me a painful thing. But what hope he cherished, what struggles he had
   against the temptations that beset his very excellences, what solace in
   adversities, and what savoury joys Thy bread possessed for the hidden
   mouth of his heart when ruminating [443] on it, I could neither
   conjecture, nor had I experienced. Nor did he know my embarrassments,
   nor the pit of my danger. For I could not request of him what I wished
   as I wished, in that I was debarred from hearing and speaking to him by
   crowds of busy people, whose infirmities he devoted himself to. With
   whom when he was not engaged (which was but a little time), he either
   was refreshing his body with necessary sustenance, or his mind with
   reading. But while reading, his eyes glanced over the pages, and his
   heart searched out the sense, but his voice and tongue were silent.
   Ofttimes, when we had come (for no one was forbidden to enter, nor was
   it his custom that the arrival of those who came should be announced to
   him), we saw him thus reading to himself, and never otherwise; and,
   having long sat in silence (for who durst interrupt one so intent?), we
   were fain to depart, inferring that in the little time he secured for
   the recruiting of his mind, free from the clamour of other men's
   business, he was unwilling to be taken off. And perchance he was
   fearful lest, if the author he studied should express aught vaguely,
   some doubtful and attentive hearer should ask him to expound it, or to
   discuss some of the more abstruse questions, as that, his time being
   thus occupied, he could not turn over as many volumes as he wished;
   although the preservation of his voice, which was very easily weakened,
   might be the truer reason for his reading to himself. But whatever was
   his motive in so doing, doubtless in such a man was a good one.

   4. But verily no opportunity could I find of ascertaining what I
   desired from that Thy so holy oracle, his breast, unless the thing
   might be entered into briefly. But those surgings in me required to
   find him at full leisure, that I might pour them out to him, but never
   were they able to find him so; and I heard him, indeed, every Lord's
   day, "rightly dividing the word of truth" [444] among the people; and I
   was all the more convinced that all those knots of crafty calumnies,
   which those deceivers of ours had knit against the divine books, could
   be unravelled. But so soon as I understood, withal, that man made
   "after the image of Him that created him" [445] was not so understood
   by Thy spiritual sons (whom of the Catholic mother Thou hadst begotten
   again through grace), as though they believed and imagined Thee to be
   bounded by human form,--although what was the nature of a spiritual
   substance [446] I had not the faintest or dimmest suspicion,--yet
   rejoicing, I blushed that for so many years I had barked, not against
   the Catholic faith, but against the fables of carnal imaginations. For
   I had been both impious and rash in this, that what I ought inquiring
   to have learnt, I had pronounced on condemning. For Thou, O most high
   and most near, most secret, yet most present, who hast not limbs some
   larger some smaller, but art wholly everywhere, and nowhere in space,
   nor art Thou of such corporeal form, yet hast Thou created man after
   Thine own image, and, behold, from head to foot is he confined by
   space.
     __________________________________________________________________

   [443] In his Reply to Faustus (vi. 7), he, conformably with this idea,
   explains the division into clean and unclean beasts under the Levitical
   law symbolically. "No doubt," he says, "the animal is pronounced
   unclean by the law because it does not chew the cud, which is not a
   fault, but its nature. But the men of whom this animal is a symbol are
   unclean, not by nature, but from their own fault; because, though they
   gladly hear the words of wisdom, they never reflect on them afterwards.
   For to recall, in quiet repose, some useful instruction from the
   stomach of memory to the mouth of reflection, is a kind of spiritual
   rumination. The animals above mentioned are a symbol of those people
   who do not do this. And the prohibition of the flesh of these animals
   is a warning against this fault. Another passage of Scripture (Prov.
   xxi. 20) speaks of the precious treasure of wisdom, and describes
   ruminating as clean, and not ruminating as unclean: A precious treasure
   resteth in the mouth of a wise man, but a foolish man swallows it up.'
   Symbols of this kind, either in words or in things, give useful and
   pleasant exercise to intelligent minds in the way of inquiry and
   comparison."

   [444] 2 Tim. ii. 15.

   [445] Col. iii. 10, and Gen. i. 26, 27. And because we are created in
   the image of God, Augustin argues (Serm. lxxxviii. 6), we have the
   ability to see and know Him, just as, having eyes to see, we can look
   upon the sun. And hereafter, too (Ep. xcii. 3), "We shall see Him
   according to the measure in which we shall be like Him; because now the
   measure in which we do not see Him is according to the measure of our
   unlikeness to Him."

   [446] See iii. sec. 12, note, above.
     __________________________________________________________________

   Chapter IV.--He Recognises the Falsity of His Own Opinions, and Commits
   to Memory the Saying of Ambrose.

   5. As, then, I knew not how this image of Thine should subsist, I
   should have knocked and propounded the doubt how it was to be believed,
   and not have insultingly opposed it, as if it were believed. Anxiety,
   therefore, as to what to retain as certain, did all the more sharply
   gnaw into my soul, the more shame I felt that, having been so long
   deluded and deceived by the promise of certainties, I had, with puerile
   error and petulance, prated of so many uncertainties as if they were
   certainties. For that they were falsehoods became apparent to me
   afterwards. However, I was certain that they were uncertain, and that I
   had formerly held them as certain when with a blind contentiousness I
   accused Thy Catholic Church, which though I had not yet discovered to
   teach truly, yet not to teach that of which I had so vehemently accused
   her. In this manner was I confounded and converted, and I rejoiced, O
   my God, that the one Church, the body of Thine only Son (wherein the
   name of Christ had been set upon me when an infant), did not appreciate
   these infantile trifles, nor maintained, in her sound doctrine, any
   tenet that would confine Thee, the Creator of all, in space--though
   ever so great and wide, yet bounded on all sides by the restraints of a
   human form.

   6. I rejoiced also that the old Scriptures of the law and the prophets
   were laid before me, to be perused, not now with that eye to which they
   seemed most absurd before, when I censured Thy holy ones for so
   thinking, whereas in truth they thought not so; and with delight I
   heard Ambrose, in his sermons to the people, oftentimes most diligently
   recommend this text as a rule,--"The letter killeth, but the Spirit
   giveth life;" [447] whilst, drawing aside the mystic veil, he
   spiritually laid open that which, accepted according to the "letter,"
   seemed to teach perverse doctrines--teaching herein nothing that
   offended me, though he taught such things as I knew not as yet whether
   they were true. For all this time I restrained my heart from assenting
   to anything, fearing to fall headlong; but by hanging in suspense I was
   the worse killed. For my desire was to be as well assured of those
   things that I saw not, as I was that seven and three are ten. For I was
   not so insane as to believe that this could not be comprehended; but I
   desired to have other things as clear as this, whether corporeal
   things, which were not present to my senses, or spiritual, whereof I
   knew not how to conceive except corporeally. And by believing I might
   have been cured, that so the sight of my soul being cleared, [448] it
   might in some way be directed towards Thy truth, which abideth always,
   and faileth in naught. But as it happens that he who has tried a bad
   physician fears to trust himself with a good one, so was it with the
   health of my soul, which could not be healed but by believing, and,
   lest it should believe falsehoods, refused to be cured--resisting Thy
   hands, who hast prepared for us the medicaments of faith, and hast
   applied them to the maladies of the whole world, and hast bestowed upon
   them so great authority.
     __________________________________________________________________

   [447] 2 Cor. iii. 6. The spiritual or allegorical meaning here referred
   to is one that Augustin constantly sought, as did many of the early
   Fathers, both Greek and Latin. He only employs this method of
   interpretation, however, in a qualified way--never going to the lengths
   of Origen or Clement of Alexandria. He does not depreciate the letter
   of Scripture, though, as we have shown above (iii. sec. 14, note), he
   went as far as he well could in interpreting the history spiritually.
   He does not seem, however, quite consistent in his statements as to the
   relative prominence to be given to the literal and spiritual meanings,
   as may be seen by a comparison of the latter portions of secs. 1 and 3
   of book xvii. of the City of God. His general idea may be gathered from
   the following passage in the 21st sec. of book xiii.:--"Some allegorize
   all that concerns paradise itself, where the first men, the parents of
   the human race, are, according to the truth of Holy Scripture, recorded
   to have been; and they understand all its trees and fruit-bearing
   plants as virtues and habits of life, as if they had no existence in
   the external world, but were only so spoken of or related for the sake
   of spiritual meanings. As if there could not be a real terrestrial
   paradise! As if there never existed these two women, Sarah and Hagar,
   nor the two sons who were born to Abraham, the one of the bond-woman,
   the other of the free, because the apostle says that in them the two
   covenants were prefigured! or as if water never flowed from the rock
   when Moses struck it, because therein Christ can be seen in a figure,
   as the same apostle says: Now that rock was Christ' (1 Cor. x.
   4)....These and similar allegorical interpretations may be suitably put
   upon paradise without giving offence to any one, while yet we believe
   the strict truth of the history, confirmed by its circumstantial
   narrative of facts." The allusion in the above passage to Sarah and
   Hagar invites the remark, that in Galatians iv. 24, the words in our
   version rendered, "which things are an allegory," should be, "which
   things are such as may be allegorized." [Hatina estin allegoroumena.
   See Jelf, 398, sec. 2.] It is important to note this, as the passage
   has been quoted in support of the more extreme method of allegorizing,
   though it could clearly go no further than to sanction allegorizing by
   way of spiritual meditation upon Scripture, and not in the
   interpretation of it--which first, as Waterland thinks (Works, vol. v.
   p. 311), was the end contemplated by most of the Fathers. Thoughtful
   students of Scripture will feel that we have no right to make
   historical facts typical or allegorical, unless (as in the case of the
   manna, the brazen serpent, Jacob's ladder, etc.) we have divine
   authority for so doing; and few such will dissent from the opinion of
   Bishop Marsh (Lecture vi.) that the type must not only resemble the
   antitype, but must have been designed to resemble it, and further, that
   we must have the authority of Scripture for the existence of such
   design. The text, "The letter killeth, but the Spirit giveth life," as
   a perusal of the context will show, has nothing whatever to do with
   either "literal" or "spiritual" meanings. Augustin himself interprets
   it in one place (De Spir. et Lit. cc. 4, 5) as meaning the killing
   letter of the law, as compared with the quickening power of the gospel.
   "An opinion," to conclude with the thoughtful words of Alfred Morris on
   this Chapter ( Words for the Heart and Life, p. 203), "once common must
   therefore be rejected. Some still talk of letter' and spirit' in a way
   which has no sanction here. The letter' with them is the literal
   meaning of the text, the spirit' is its symbolic meaning. And, as the
   spirit' possesses an evident superiority to the letter,' they fly away
   into the region of secret senses and hidden doctrines, find types where
   there is nothing typical, and allegories where there is nothing
   allegorical; make Genesis more evangelical than the Epistle to the
   Romans, and Leviticus than the Epistle to the Hebrews; mistaking lawful
   criticism for legal Christianity, they look upon the exercise of a
   sober judgment as a proof of a depraved taste, and forget that diseased
   as well as very powerful eyes may see more than others. It is not the
   obvious meaning and the secret meaning that are intended by letter' and
   spirit,' nor any two meanings of Christianity, nor two meanings of any
   thing or things, but the two systems of Moses and of Christ." Reference
   may be made on this whole subject of allegorical interpretation in the
   writings of the Fathers to Blunt's Right Use of the Early Fathers,
   series i. lecture 9.

   [448] Augustin frequently dilates on this idea. In sermon 88 (cc. 5, 6,
   etc.), he makes the whole of the ministries of religion subservient to
   the clearing of the inner eye of the soul and in his De Trin. i. 3, he
   says: "And it is necessary to purge our minds, in order to be able to
   see ineffably that which is ineffable [i.e. the Godhead], whereto not
   having yet attained, we are to be nourished by faith, and led by such
   ways as are more suited to our capacity, that we may be rendered apt
   and able to comprehend it."
     __________________________________________________________________

   Chapter V.--Faith is the Basis of Human Life; Man Cannot Discover that
   Truth Which Holy Scripture Has Disclosed.

   7. From this, however, being led to prefer the Catholic doctrine, I
   felt that it was with more moderation and honesty that it commanded
   things to be believed that were not demonstrated (whether it was that
   they could be demonstrated, but not to any one, or could not be
   demonstrated at all), than was the method of the Manichæans, where our
   credulity was mocked by audacious promise of knowledge, and then so
   many most fabulous and absurd things were forced upon belief because
   they were not capable of demonstration. [449] After that, O Lord, Thou,
   by little and little, with most gentle and most merciful hand, drawing
   and calming my heart, didst persuade taking into consideration what a
   multiplicity of things which I had never seen, nor was present when
   they were enacted, like so many of the things in secular history, and
   so many accounts of places and cities which I had not seen; so many of
   friends, so many of physicians, so many now of these men, now of those,
   which unless we should believe, we should do nothing at all in this
   life; lastly, with how unalterable an assurance I believed of what
   parents I was born, which it would have been impossible for me to know
   otherwise than by hearsay,--taking into consideration all this, Thou
   persuadest me that not they who believed Thy books (which, with so
   great authority, Thou hast established among nearly all nations), but
   those who believed them not were to be blamed; [450] and that those men
   were not to be listened unto who should say to me, "How dost thou know
   that those Scriptures were imparted unto mankind by the Spirit of the
   one true and most true God?" For it was the same thing that was most of
   all to be believed, since no wranglings of blasphemous questions,
   whereof I had read so many amongst the self-contradicting philosophers,
   could once wring the belief from me that Thou art,--whatsoever Thou
   wert, though what I knew not,--or that the government of human affairs
   belongs to Thee.

   8. Thus much I believed, at one time more strongly than another, yet
   did I ever believe both that Thou wert, and hadst a care of us,
   although I was ignorant both what was to be thought of Thy substance,
   and what way led, or led back to Thee. Seeing, then, that we were too
   weak by unaided reason to find out the truth, and for this cause needed
   the authority of the holy writings, I had now begun to believe that
   Thou wouldest by no means have given such excellency of authority to
   those Scriptures throughout all lands, had it not been Thy will thereby
   to be believed in, and thereby sought. For now those things which
   heretofore appeared incongruous to me in the Scripture, and used to
   offend me, having heard divers of them expounded reasonably, I referred
   to the depth of the mysteries, and its authority seemed to me all the
   more venerable and worthy of religious belief, in that, while it was
   visible for all to read it, it reserved the majesty of its secret [451]
   within its profound significance, stooping to all in the great
   plainness of its language and lowliness of its style, yet exercising
   the application of such as are not light of heart; that it might
   receive all into its common bosom, and through narrow passages waft
   over some few towards Thee, yet many more than if it did not stand upon
   such a height of authority, nor allured multitudes within its bosom by
   its holy humility. These things I meditated upon, and Thou wert with
   me; I sighed, and Thou heardest me; I vacillated, and Thou didst guide
   me; I roamed through the broad way [452] of the world, and Thou didst
   not desert me.
     __________________________________________________________________

   [449] He similarly exalts the claims of the Christian Church over
   Manichæanism in his Reply to Faustus (xxxii. 19): "If you submit to
   receive a load of endless fictions at the bidding of an obscure and
   irrational authority, so that you believe all those things because they
   are written in the books which your misguided judgment pronounces
   trustworthy, though there is no evidence of their truth, why not rather
   submit to the evidence of the gospel, which is so well-founded, so
   confirmed, so generally acknowledged and admired, and which has an
   unbroken series of testimonies from the apostles down to our own day,
   that so you may have an intelligent belief, and may come to know that
   all your objections are the fruit of folly and perversity?" And again,
   in his Reply to Manichæus' Fundamental Epistle (sec. 18), alluding to
   the credulity required in those who accept Manichæan teaching on the
   mere authority of the teacher: "Whoever thoughtlessly yields this
   becomes a Manichæan, not by knowing undoubted truth, but by believing
   doubtful statements. Such were we when in our inexperienced youth we
   were deceived."

   [450] He has a like train of thought in another place (De Fide Rer. quæ
   non Vid. sec. 4): "If, then (harmony being destroyed), human society
   itself would not stand if we believe not that we see not, how much more
   should we have faith in divine things, though we see them not; which if
   we have it not, we do not violate the friendship of a few men, but the
   profoundest religion--so as to have as its consequence the profoundest
   misery." Again, referring to belief in Scripture, he argues (Con.
   Faust. xxxiii. 6) that, if we doubt its evidence, we may equally doubt
   that of any book, and asks, "How do we know the authorship of the works
   of Plato, Aristotle, Cicero, Varro, and other similar writers, but by
   the unbroken chain of evidence?" And once more he contends (De Mor.
   Cath. Eccles. xxix. 60) that, "The utter overthrow of all literature
   will follow and there will be an end to all books handed down from the
   past, if what is supported by such a strong popular belief, and
   established by the uniform testimony of so many men and so many times,
   is brought into such suspicion that it is not allowed to have the
   credit and the authority of common history."

   [451] See i. sec. 10, note, above.

   [452] Matt. vii. 13.
     __________________________________________________________________

   Chapter VI.--On the Source and Cause of True Joy,--The Example of the
   Joyous Beggar Being Adduced.

   9. I longed for honours, gains, wedlock; and Thou mockedst me. In these
   desires I underwent most bitter hardships, Thou being the more gracious
   the less Thou didst suffer anything which was not Thou to grow sweet to
   me. Behold my heart, O Lord, who wouldest that I should recall all
   this, and confess unto Thee. Now let my soul cleave to Thee, which Thou
   hast freed from that fast-holding bird-lime of death. How wretched was
   it! And Thou didst irritate the feeling of its wound, that, forsaking
   all else, it might be converted unto Thee,--who art above all, and
   without whom all things would be naught,--be converted and be healed.
   How wretched was I at that time, and how didst Thou deal with me, to
   make me sensible of my wretchedness on that day wherein I was preparing
   to recite a panegyric on the Emperor, [453] wherein I was to deliver
   many a lie, and lying was to be applauded by those who knew I lied; and
   my heart panted with these cares, and boiled over with the feverishness
   of consuming thoughts. For, while walking along one of the streets of
   Milan, I observed a poor mendicant,--then, I imagine, with a full
   belly,--joking and joyous; and I sighed, and spake to the friends
   around me of the many sorrows resulting from our madness, for that by
   all such exertions of ours,--as those wherein I then laboured, dragging
   along, under the spur of desires, the burden of my own unhappiness, and
   by dragging increasing it, we yet aimed only to attain that very
   joyousness which that mendicant had reached before us, who, perchance,
   never would attain it! For what he had obtained through a few begged
   pence, the same was I scheming for by many a wretched and tortuous
   turning,--the joy of a temporary felicity. For he verily possessed not
   true joy, but yet I, with these my ambitions, was seeking one much more
   untrue. And in truth he was joyous, I anxious; he free from care, I
   full of alarms. But should any one inquire of me whether I would rather
   be merry or fearful, I would reply, Merry. Again, were I asked whether
   I would rather be such as he was, or as I myself then was, I should
   elect to be myself, though beset with cares and alarms, but out of
   perversity; for was it so in truth? For I ought not to prefer myself to
   him because I happened to be more learned than he, seeing that I took
   no delight therein, but sought rather to please men by it; and that not
   to instruct, but only to please. Wherefore also didst Thou break my
   bones with the rod of Thy correction. [454]

   10. Away with those, then, from my soul, who say unto it, "It makes a
   difference from whence a man's joy is derived. That mendicant rejoiced
   in drunkenness; thou longedst to rejoice in glory." What glory, O Lord?
   That which is not in Thee. For even as his was no true joy, so was mine
   no true glory; [455] and it subverted my soul more. He would digest his
   drunkenness that same night, but many a night had I slept with mine,
   and risen again with it, and was to sleep again and again to rise with
   it, I know not how oft. It does indeed "make a difference whence a
   man's joy is derived." I know it is so, and that the joy of a faithful
   hope is incomparably beyond such vanity. Yea, and at that time was he
   beyond me, for he truly was the happier man; not only for that he was
   thoroughly steeped in mirth, I torn to pieces with cares, but he, by
   giving good wishes, had gotten wine, I, by lying, was following after
   pride. Much to this effect said I then to my dear friends, and I often
   marked in them how it fared with me; and I found that it went ill with
   me, and fretted, and doubled that very ill. And if any prosperity
   smiled upon me, I loathed to seize it, for almost before I could grasp
   it flew away.
     __________________________________________________________________

   [453] In the Benedictine edition it is suggested that this was probably
   Valentinian the younger, whose court was, according to Possidius (c.
   i.), at Milan when Augustin was professor of rhetoric there, who writes
   (Con. Litt. Petil. iii. 25) that he in that city recited a panegyric to
   Bauto, the consul, on the first of January, according to the
   requirements of his profession of rhetoric.

   [454] Prov. xxii. 15.

   [455] Here, as elsewhere, we have the feeling which finds its
   expression in i. sec. 1, above: "Thou hast formed us for Thyself, and
   our hearts are restless till they find rest in Thee."
     __________________________________________________________________

   Chapter VII.--He Leads to Reformation His Friend Alypius, Seized with
   Madness for the Circensian Games.

   11. These things we, who lived like friends together, jointly deplored,
   but chiefly and most familiarly did I discuss them with Alypius and
   Nebridius, of whom Alypius was born in the same town as myself, his
   parents being of the highest rank there, but he being younger than I.
   For he had studied under me, first, when I taught in our own town, and
   afterwards at Carthage, and esteemed me highly, because I appeared to
   him good and learned; and I esteemed him for his innate love of virtue,
   which, in one of no great age, was sufficiently eminent. But the vortex
   of Carthaginian customs (amongst whom these frivolous spectacles are
   hotly followed) had inveigled him into the madness of the Circensian
   games. But while he was miserably tossed about therein, I was
   professing rhetoric there, and had a public school. As yet he did not
   give ear to my teaching, on account of some ill-feeling that had arisen
   between me and his father. I had then found how fatally he doted upon
   the circus, and was deeply grieved that he seemed likely--if, indeed,
   he had not already done so--to cast away his so great promise. Yet had
   I no means of advising, or by a sort of restraint reclaiming him,
   either by the kindness of a friend or by the authority of a master. For
   I imagined that his sentiments towards me were the same as his
   father's; but he was not such. Disregarding, therefore, his father's
   will in that matter, he commenced to salute me, and, coming into my
   lecture-room, to listen for a little and depart.

   12. But it slipped my memory to deal with him, so that he should not,
   through a blind and headstrong desire of empty pastimes, undo so great
   a wit. But Thou, O Lord, who governest the helm of all Thou hast
   created, hadst not forgotten him, who was one day to be amongst Thy
   sons, the President of Thy sacrament; [456] and that his amendment
   might plainly be attributed to Thyself, Thou broughtest it about
   through me, but I knowing nothing of it. For one day, when I was
   sitting in my accustomed place, with my scholars before me, he came in,
   saluted me, sat himself down, and fixed his attention on the subject I
   was then handling. It so happened that I had a passage in hand, which
   while I was explaining, a simile borrowed from the Circensian games
   occurred to me, as likely to make what I wished to convey pleasanter
   and plainer, imbued with a biting jibe at those whom that madness had
   enthralled. Thou knowest, O our God, that I had no thought at that time
   of curing Alypius of that plague. But he took it to himself, and
   thought that I would not have said it but for his sake. And what any
   other man would have made a ground of offence against me, this worthy
   young man took as a reason for being offended at himself, and for
   loving me more fervently. For Thou hast said it long ago, and written
   in Thy book, "Rebuke a wise man, and he will love thee." [457] But I
   had not rebuked him, but Thou, who makest use of all consciously or
   unconsciously, in that order which Thyself knowest (and that order is
   right), wroughtest out of my heart and tongue burning coals, by which
   Thou mightest set on fire and cure the hopeful mind thus languishing.
   Let him be silent in Thy praises who meditates not on Thy mercies,
   which from my inmost parts confess unto Thee. For he upon that speech
   rushed out from that so deep pit, wherein he was wilfully plunged, and
   was blinded by its miserable pastimes; and he roused his mind with a
   resolute moderation; whereupon all the filth of the Circensian pastimes
   [458] flew off from him, and he did not approach them further. Upon
   this, he prevailed with his reluctant father to let him be my pupil. He
   gave in and consented. And Alypius, beginning again to hear me, was
   involved in the same superstition as I was, loving in the Manichæans
   that ostentation of continency [459] which he believed to be true and
   unfeigned. It was, however, a senseless and seducing continency,
   ensnaring precious souls, not able as yet to reach the height of
   virtue, and easily beguiled with the veneer of what was but a shadowy
   and feigned virtue.
     __________________________________________________________________

   [456] Compare v. sec. 17, note, above, and sec. 15, note, below.

   [457] Prov. ix. 8.

   [458] The games in the Provinces of the empire were on the same model
   as those held in the Circus Maximus at Rome, though not so imposing.
   This circus was one of those vast works executed by Tarquinius Priscus.
   Hardly a vestige of it at the present time remains, though the Cloaca
   Maxima, another of his stupendous works, has not, after more than 2500
   years, a stone displaced, and still performs its appointed service of
   draining the city of Rome into the Tiber. In the circus were exhibited
   chariot and foot races, fights on horseback, representations of battles
   (on which occasion camps were pitched in the circus), and the Grecian
   athletic sports introduced after the conquest of that country. See also
   sec. 13, note, below.

   [459] Augustin, in book v. sec. 9, above, refers to the reputed
   sanctity of Manichæus, and it may well be questioned whether the sect
   deserved that unmitigated reprobation he pours out upon them in his De
   Moribus, and in parts of his controversy with Faustus. Certain it is
   that Faustus laid claim, on behalf of his sect, to a very different
   moral character to that Augustin would impute to them. He says (Con.
   Faust. v. 1): "Do I believe the gospel? You ask me if I believe it,
   though my obedience to its commands shows that I do. I should rather
   ask you if you believe it, since you give no proof of your belief. I
   have left my father, mother, wife, and children, and all else that the
   Gospel requires (Matt. xix. 29); and do you ask if I believe the
   gospel? Perhaps you do not know what is called the gospel. The gospel
   is nothing else than the preaching and the precept of Christ. I have
   parted with all gold and silver, and have left off carrying money in my
   purse; content with daily food; without anxiety for to-morrow; and
   without solicitude about how I shall be fed, or wherewithal I shall be
   clothed: and do you ask if I believe the gospel? You see in me the
   blessings of the gospel (Matt. v. 3-11); and do you ask if I believe
   the gospel? You see me poor, meek, a peacemaker, pure in heart,
   mourning, hungering, thirsting, bearing persecutions and enmity for
   righteousness' sake; and do you doubt my belief in the gospel?" It is
   difficult to understand that Manichæanism can have spread as largely as
   it did at that time, if the asceticism of many amongst them had not
   been real. It may be noted that in his controversy with Fortunatus,
   Augustin strangely declines to discuss the charges of immorality that
   had been brought against the Manichæans; and in the last Chapter of his
   De Moribus, it appears to be indicated that one, if not more, of those
   whose evil deeds are there spoken of had a desire to follow the rule of
   life laid down by Manichæus.
     __________________________________________________________________

   Chapter VIII.--The Same When at Rome, Being Led by Others into the
   Amphitheatre, is Delighted with the Gladiatorial Games.

   13. He, not relinquishing that worldly way which his parents had
   bewitched him to pursue, had gone before me to Rome, to study law, and
   there he was carried away in an extraordinary manner with an incredible
   eagerness after the gladiatorial shows. For, being utterly opposed to
   and detesting such spectacles, he was one day met by chance by divers
   of his acquaintance and fellow-students returning from dinner, and they
   with a friendly violence drew him, vehemently objecting and resisting,
   into the amphitheatre, on a day of these cruel and deadly shows, he
   thus protesting: "Though you drag my body to that place, and there
   place me, can you force me to give my mind and lend my eyes to these
   shows? Thus shall I be absent while present, and so shall overcome both
   you and them." They hearing this, dragged him on nevertheless,
   desirous, perchance, to see whether he could do as he said. When they
   had arrived thither, and had taken their places as they could, the
   whole place became excited with the inhuman sports. But he, shutting up
   the doors of his eyes, forbade his mind to roam abroad after such
   naughtiness; and would that he had shut his ears also! For, upon the
   fall of one in the fight, a mighty cry from the whole audience stirring
   him strongly, he, overcome by curiosity, and prepared as it were to
   despise and rise superior to it, no matter what it were, opened his
   eyes, and was struck with a deeper wound in his soul than the other,
   whom he desired to see, was in his body; [460] and he fell more
   miserably than he on whose fall that mighty clamour was raised, which
   entered through his ears, and unlocked his eyes, to make way for the
   striking and beating down of his soul, which was bold rather than
   valiant hitherto; and so much the weaker in that it presumed on itself,
   which ought to have depended on Thee. For, directly he saw that blood,
   he therewith imbibed a sort of savageness; nor did he turn away, but
   fixed his eye, drinking in madness unconsciously, and was delighted
   with the guilty contest, and drunken with the bloody pastime. Nor was
   he now the same he came in, but was one of the throng he came unto, and
   a true companion of those who had brought him thither. Why need I say
   more? He looked, shouted, was excited, carried away with him the
   madness which would stimulate him to return, not only with those who
   first enticed him, but also before them, yea, and to draw in others.
   And from all this didst Thou, with a most powerful and most merciful
   hand, pluck him, and taughtest him not to repose confidence in himself,
   but in Thee--but not till long after.
     __________________________________________________________________

   [460] The scene of this episode was, doubtless, the great Flavian
   Amphitheatre, known by us at this day as the Colosseum. It stands in
   the valley between the Cælian and Esquiline hills, on the site of a
   lake formerly attached to the palace of Nero. Gibbon, in his graphic
   way, says of the building (Decline and Fall, i. 355): "Posterity
   admires, and will long admire, the awful remains of the amphitheatre of
   Titus, which so well deserved the epithet of colossal. It was a
   building of an elliptic figure, five hundred and sixty-four feet in
   length, and four hundred and sixty-seven in breadth, founded on
   fourscore arches, and rising, with four successive orders of
   architecture, to the height of one hundred and forty feet. The outside
   of the edifice was encrusted with marble, and decorated with statues.
   The slopes of the vast concave which formed the inside were filled and
   surrounded with sixty or eighty rows of seats of marble, likewise
   covered with cushions, and capable of receiving with ease above
   fourscore thousand spectators. Sixty-four vomitories (for by that name
   the doors were very aptly distinguished) poured forth the immense
   multitude; and the entrances, passages, and staircases were contrived
   with such exquisite skill, that each person, whether of the senatorial,
   the equestrian, or the plebeian order, arrived at his destined place
   without trouble or confusion. Nothing was omitted which in any respect
   could be subservient to the convenience or pleasure of the spectators.
   They were protected from the sun and rain by an ample canopy
   occasionally drawn over their heads. The air was continually refreshed
   by the playing of fountains, and profusely impregnated by the grateful
   scent of aromatics. In the centre of the edifice, the arena, or stage,
   was strewed with the finest sand, and successively assumed the most
   different forms; at one moment it seemed to rise out of the earth, like
   the garden of the Hesperides, and was afterwards broken into the rocks
   and caverns of Thrace. The subterraneous pipes conveyed an
   inexhaustible supply of water; and what had just before appeared a
   level plain might be suddenly converted into a wide lake, covered with
   armed vessels and replenished with the monsters of the deep. In the
   decoration of these scenes the Roman emperors displayed their wealth
   and liberality; and we read, on various occasions, that the whole
   furniture of the amphitheatre consisted either of silver, or of gold,
   or of amber." In this magnificent building were enacted venatios or
   hunting scenes, sea-fights, and gladiatorial shows, in all of which the
   greatest lavishness was exhibited. The men engaged were for the most
   part either criminals or captives taken in war. On the occasion of the
   triumph of Trajan for his victory over the Dacians, it is said that ten
   thousand gladiators were engaged in combat, and that in the naumachia
   or sea-fight shown by Domitian, ships and men in force equal to two
   real fleets were engaged, at an enormous expenditure of human life.
   "If," says James Martineau (Endeavours after the Christian Life, pp.
   261, 262), "you would witness a scene characteristic of the popular
   life of old, you must go to the amphitheatre of Rome, mingle with its
   eighty thousand spectators, and watch the eager faces of senators and
   people; observe how the masters of the world spend the wealth of
   conquest, and indulge the pride of power. See every wild creature that
   God has made to dwell, from the jungles of India to the mountains of
   Wales, from the forests of Germany to the deserts of Nubia, brought
   hither to be hunted down in artificial groves by thousands in an hour,
   behold the captives of war, noble, perhaps, and wise in their own land,
   turned loose, amid yells of insult, more terrible for their foreign
   tongue, to contend with brutal gladiators, trained to make death the
   favourite amusement, and present the most solemn of individual
   realities as a wholesale public sport; mark the light look with which
   the multitude, by uplifted finger, demands that the wounded combatant
   be slain before their eyes; notice the troop of Christian martyrs
   awaiting hand in hand the leap from the tiger's den. And when the day's
   spectacle is over, and the blood of two thousand victims stains the
   ring, follow the giddy crowd as it streams from the vomitories into the
   street, trace its lazy course into the Forum, and hear it there
   scrambling for the bread of private indolence doled out by the purse of
   public corruption; and see how it suns itself to sleep in the open
   ways, or crawls into foul dens till morning brings the hope of games
   and merry blood again;--and you have an idea of the Imperial people,
   and their passionate living for the moment, which the gospel found in
   occupation of the world." The desire for these shows increased as the
   empire advanced. Constantine failed to put a stop to them at Rome,
   though they were not admitted into the Christian capital he established
   at Constantinople. We have already shown (iii. sec. 2, note, above) how
   strongly attendance at stage-plays and scenes like these was condemned
   by the Christian teachers. The passion, however, for these exhibitions
   was so great, that they were only brought to an end after the monk
   Telemachus--horrified that Christians should witness such scenes--had
   been battered to death by the people in their rage at his flinging
   himself between the swordsmen to stop the combat. This tragic episode
   occurred in the year 403, at a show held in commemoration of a
   temporary success over the troops of Alaric.
     __________________________________________________________________

   Chapter IX.--Innocent Alypius, Being Apprehended as a Thief, is Set at
   Liberty by the Cleverness of an Architect.

   14. But this was all being stored up in his memory for a medicine
   hereafter. As was that also, that when he was yet studying under me at
   Carthage, and was meditating at noonday in the market-place upon what
   he had to recite (as scholars are wont to be exercised), Thou
   sufferedst him to be apprehended as a thief by the officers of the
   market-place. For no other reason, I apprehend, didst Thou, O our God,
   suffer it, but that he who was in the future to prove so great a man
   should now begin to learn that, in judging of causes, man should not
   with a reckless credulity readily be condemned by man. For as he was
   walking up and down alone before the judgment-seat with his tablets and
   pen, lo, a young man, one of the scholars, the real thief, privily
   bringing a hatchet, got in without Alypius' seeing him as far as the
   leaden bars which protect the silversmiths' shops, and began to cut
   away the lead. But the noise of the hatchet being heard, the
   silversmiths below began to make a stir, and sent to take in custody
   whomsoever they should find. But the thief, hearing their voices, ran
   away, leaving his hatchet, fearing to be taken with it. Now Alypius,
   who had not seen him come in, caught sight of him as he went out, and
   noted with what speed he made off. And, being curious to know the
   reasons, he entered the place, where, finding the hatchet, he stood
   wondering and pondering, when behold, those that were sent caught him
   alone, hatchet in hand, the noise whereof had startled them and brought
   them thither. They lay hold of him and drag him away, and, gathering
   the tenants of the market-place about them, boast of having taken a
   notorious thief, and thereupon he was being led away to apppear before
   the judge.

   15. But thus far was he to be instructed. For immediately, O Lord, Thou
   camest to the succour of his innocency, whereof Thou wert the sole
   witness. For, as he was being led either to prison or to punishment,
   they were met by a certain architect, who had the chief charge of the
   public buildings. They were specially glad to come across him, by whom
   they used to be suspected of stealing the goods lost out of the
   market-place, as though at last to convince him by whom these thefts
   were committed. He, however, had at divers times seen Alypius at the
   house of a certain senator, whom he was wont to visit to pay his
   respects; and, recognising him at once, he took him aside by the hand,
   and inquiring of him the cause of so great a misfortune, heard the
   whole affair, and commanded all the rabble then present (who were very
   uproarious and full of threatenings) to go with him. And they came to
   the house of the young man who had committed the deed. There, before
   the door, was a lad so young as not to refrain from disclosing the
   whole through the fear of injuring his master. For he had followed his
   master to the market-place. Whom, so soon as Alypius recognised, he
   intimated it to the architect; and he, showing the hatchet to the lad,
   asked him to whom it belonged. "To us," quoth he immediately; and on
   being further interrogated, he disclosed everything. Thus, the crime
   being transferred to that house, and the rabble shamed, which had begun
   to triumph over Alypius, he, the future dispenser of Thy word, and an
   examiner of numerous causes in Thy Church, [461] went away better
   experienced and instructed.
     __________________________________________________________________

   [461] "Alypius became Bishop of Thagaste (Aug. De Gestis c. Emerit.
   secs. 1 and 5). On the necessity which bishops were under of hearing
   secular causes, and its use, see Bingham, ii. c. 7."--E. B. P.
     __________________________________________________________________

   Chapter X.--The Wonderful Integrity of Alypius in Judgment. The Lasting
   Friendship of Nebridius with Augustin.

   16. Him, therefore, had I lighted upon at Rome, and he clung to me by a
   most strong tie, and accompanied me to Milan, both that he might not
   leave me, and that he might practise something of the law he had
   studied, more with a view of pleasing his parents than himself. There
   had he thrice sat as assessor with an uncorruptness wondered at by
   others, he rather wondering at those who could prefer gold to
   integrity. His character was tested, also, not only by the bait of
   covetousness, but by the spur of fear. At Rome, he was assessor to the
   Count of the Italian Treasury. [462] There was at that time a most
   potent senator, to whose favours many were indebted, of whom also many
   stood in fear. He would fain, by his usual power, have a thing granted
   him which was forbidden by the laws. This Alypius resisted; a bribe was
   promised, he scorned it with all his heart; threats were employed, he
   trampled them under foot,--all men being astonished at so rare a
   spirit, which neither coveted the friendship nor feared the enmity of a
   man at once so powerful and so greatly famed for his innumerable means
   of doing good or ill. Even the judge whose councillor Alypius was,
   although also unwilling that it should be done, yet did not openly
   refuse it, but put the matter off upon Alypius, alleging that it was he
   who would not permit him to do it; for verily, had the judge done it,
   Alypius would have decided otherwise. With this one thing in the way of
   learning was he very nearly led away,--that he might have books copied
   for him at prætorian prices. [463] But, consulting justice, he changed
   his mind for the better, esteeming equity, whereby he was hindered,
   more gainful than the power whereby he was permitted. These are little
   things, but "He that is faithful in that which is least, is faithful
   also in much." [464] Nor can that possibly be void which proceedeth out
   of the mouth of Thy Truth. "If, therefore, ye have not been faithful in
   the unrighteous mammon, who will commit to your trust the true riches?
   And if ye have not been faithful in that which is another man's, who
   shall give you that which is your own?" [465] He, being such, did at
   that time cling to me, and wavered in purpose, as I did, what course of
   life was to be taken.

   17. Nebridius also, who had left his native country near Carthage, and
   Carthage itself, where he had usually lived, leaving behind his fine
   paternal estate, his house, and his mother, who intended not to follow
   him, had come to Milan, for no other reason than that he might live
   with me in a most ardent search after truth and wisdom. Like me he
   sighed, like me he wavered, an ardent seeker after true life, and a
   most acute examiner of the most abstruse questions. [466] So were there
   three begging mouths, sighing out their wants one to the other, and
   waiting upon Thee, that Thou mightest give them their meat in due
   season. [467] And in all the bitterness which by Thy mercy followed our
   worldly pursuits, as we contemplated the end, why this suffering should
   be ours, darkness came upon us; and we turned away groaning and
   exclaiming, "How long shall these things be?" And this we often said;
   and saying so, we did not relinquish them, for as yet we had discovered
   nothing certain to which, when relinquished, we might betake ourselves.
     __________________________________________________________________

   [462] "The Lord High Treasurer of the Western Empire was called Comes
   Sacrarum largitionum. He had six other treasurers in so many provinces
   under him, whereof he of Italy was one under whom this Alypius had some
   office of judicature, something like (though far inferior) to our Baron
   of the Exchequer. See Sir Henry Spelman's Glossary, in the word Comes;
   and Cassiodor, Var. v. c. 40."--W. W.

   [463] Pretiis prætorianis. Du Cange says that "Pretium regium is the
   right of a king or lord to purchase commodities at a certain and
   definite price." This may perhaps help us to understand the phrase as
   above employed.

   [464] Luke xvi. 10.

   [465] Luke xvi. 11, 12.

   [466] Augustin makes a similar allusion to Nebridius' ardour in
   examining difficult questions, especially those which refer ad
   doctrinam pietatis, in his 98th Epistle.

   [467] Ps. cxlv. 15.
     __________________________________________________________________

   Chapter XI.--Being Troubled by His Grievous Errors, He Meditates
   Entering on a New Life.

   18. And I, puzzling over and reviewing these things, most marvelled at
   the length of time from that my nineteenth year, wherein I began to be
   inflamed with the desire of wisdom, resolving, when I had found her, to
   forsake all the empty hopes and lying insanities of vain desires. And
   behold, I was now getting on to my thirtieth year, sticking in the same
   mire, eager for the enjoyment of things present, which fly away and
   destroy me, whilst I say, "Tomorrow I shall discover it; behold, it
   will appear plainly, and I shall seize it; behold, Faustus will come
   and explain everything! O ye great men, ye Academicians, it is then
   true that nothing certain for the ordering of life can be attained!
   Nay, let us search the more diligently, and let us not despair. Lo, the
   things in the ecclesiastical books, which appeared to us absurd
   aforetime, do not appear so now, and may be otherwise and honestly
   interpreted. I will set my feet upon that step, where, as a child, my
   parents placed me, until the clear truth be discovered. But where and
   when shall it be sought? Ambrose has no leisure,--we have no leisure to
   read. Where are we to find the books? Whence or when procure them? From
   whom borrow them? Let set times be appointed, and certain hours be set
   apart for the health of the soul. Great hope has risen upon us, the
   Catholic faith doth not teach what we conceived, and vainly accused it
   of. Her learned ones hold it as an abomination to believe that God is
   limited by the form of a human body. And do we doubt to knock,' in
   order that the rest may be opened'? [468] The mornings are taken up by
   our scholars; how do we employ the rest of the day? Why do we not set
   about this? But when, then, pay our respects to our great friends, of
   whose favours we stand in need? When prepare what our scholars buy from
   us? When recreate ourselves, relaxing our minds from the pressure of
   care?"

   19. "Perish everything, and let us dismiss these empty vanities, and
   betake ourselves solely to the search after truth! Life is miserable,
   death uncertain. If it creeps upon us suddenly, in what state shall we
   depart hence, and where shall we learn what we have neglected here? Or
   rather shall we not suffer the punishment of this negligence? What if
   death itself should cut off and put an end to all care and feeling?
   This also, then, must be inquired into. But God forbid that it should
   be so. It is not without reason, it is no empty thing, that the so
   eminent height of the authority of the Christian faith is diffused
   throughout the entire world. Never would such and so great things be
   wrought for us, if, by the death of the body, the life of the soul were
   destroyed. Why, therefore, do we delay to abandon our hopes of this
   world, and give ourselves wholly to seek after God and the blessed
   life? But stay! Even those things are enjoyable; and they possess some
   and no little sweetness. We must not abandon them lightly, for it would
   be a shame to return to them again. Behold, now is it a great matter to
   obtain some post of honour! And what more could we desire? We have
   crowds of influential friends, though we have nothing else, and if we
   make haste a presidentship may be offered us; and a wife with some
   money, that she increase not our expenses; and this shall be the height
   of desire. Many men, who are great and worthy of imitation, have
   applied themselves to the study of wisdom in the marriage state."

   20. Whilst I talked of these things, and these winds veered about and
   tossed my heart hither and thither, the time passed on; but I was slow
   to turn to the Lord, and from day to day deferred to live in Thee, and
   deferred not daily to die in myself. Being enamoured of a happy life, I
   yet feared it in its own abode, and, fleeing from it, sought after it.
   I conceived that I should be too unhappy were I deprived of the
   embracements of a woman; [469] and of Thy merciful medicine to cure
   that infirmity I thought not, not having tried it. As regards
   continency, I imagined it to be under the control of our own strength
   (though in myself I found it not), being so foolish as not to know what
   is written, that none can be continent unless Thou give it; [470] and
   that Thou wouldst give it, if with heartfelt groaning I should knock at
   Thine ears, and should with firm faith cast my care upon Thee.
     __________________________________________________________________

   [468] Matt. vii. 7.

   [469] "I was entangled in the life of this world, clinging to dull
   hopes of a beauteous wife, the pomp of riches, the emptiness of
   honours, and the other hurtful and destructive pleasures" (Aug. De
   Util. Credendi, sec. 3). "After I had shaken off the Manichæans and
   escaped, especially when I had crossed the sea, the Academics long
   detained me tossing in the waves, winds from all quarters beating
   against my helm. And so I came to this shore, and there found a
   pole-star to whom to entrust myself. For I often observed in the
   discourses of our priest [Ambrose], and sometimes in yours [Theodorus],
   that you had no corporeal notions when you thought of God, or even of
   the soul, which of all things is next to God. But I was withheld, I
   own, from casting myself speedily into the bosom of true wisdom by the
   alluring hopes of marriage and honours; meaning, when I had obtained
   these, to press (as few singularly happy, had before me) with oar and
   sail into that haven, and there rest" (Aug. De Vita Beata, sec. 4).--E.
   B. P.

   [470] Wisd. viii. 2, Vulg.
     __________________________________________________________________

   Chapter XII.--Discussion with Alypius Concerning a Life of Celibacy.

   21. It was in truth Alypius who prevented me from marrying, alleging
   that thus we could by no means live together, having so much
   undistracted leisure in the love of wisdom, as we had long desired. For
   he himself was so chaste in this matter that it was wonderful--all the
   more, too, that in his early youth he had entered upon that path, but
   had not clung to it; rather had he, feeling sorrow and disgust at it,
   lived from that time to the present most continently. But I opposed him
   with the examples of those who as married men had loved wisdom, found
   favour with God, and walked faithfully and lovingly with their friends.
   From the greatness of whose spirit I fell far short, and, enthralled
   with the disease of the flesh and its deadly sweetness, dragged my
   chain along, fearing to be loosed; and, as if it pressed my wound,
   rejected his kind expostulations, as it were the hand of one who would
   unchain me. Moreover, it was by me that the serpent spake unto Alypius
   himself, weaving and laying in his path, by my tongue, pleasant snares,
   wherein his honourable and free feet [471] might be entangled.

   22. For when he wondered that I, for whom he had no slight esteem,
   stuck so fast in the bird-lime of that pleasure as to affirm whenever
   we discussed the matter that it would be impossible for me to lead a
   single life, and urged in my defence when I saw him wonder that there
   was a vast difference between the life that he had tried by stealth and
   snatches (of which he had now but a faint recollection, and might
   therefore, without regret, easily despise), and my sustained
   acquaintance with it, whereto if but the honourable name of marriage
   were added, he would not then be astonished at my inability to contemn
   that course,--then began he also to wish to be married, not as if
   overpowered by the lust of such pleasure, but from curiosity. For, as
   he said, he was anxious to know what that could be without which my
   life, which was so pleasing to him, seemed to me not life but a
   penalty. For his mind, free from that chain, was astounded at my
   slavery, and through that astonishment was going on to a desire of
   trying it, and from it to the trial itself, and thence, perchance, to
   fall into that bondage whereat he was so astonished, seeing he was
   ready to enter into "a covenant with death;" [472] and he that loves
   danger shall fall into it. [473] For whatever the conjugal honour be in
   the office of well-ordering a married life, and sustaining children,
   influenced us but slightly. But that which did for the most part
   afflict me, already made a slave to it, was the habit of satisfying an
   insatiable lust; him about to be enslaved did an admiring wonder draw
   on. In this state were we, until Thou, O most High, not forsaking our
   lowliness, commiserating our misery, didst come to our rescue by
   wonderful and secret ways.
     __________________________________________________________________

   [471] "Paulinus says that though he lived among the people and sat over
   them, ruling the sheep of the Lord's fold, as a watchful shepherd, with
   anxious sleeplessness, yet by renunciation of the world, and denial of
   flesh and blood, he had made himself a wilderness, severed from the
   many, called among the few" (Ap. Aug. Ep. 24, sec. 2). St. Jerome calls
   him "his holy and venerable brother, Father (Papa) Alypius" (Ep. 39,
   ibid.). Earlier, Augustin speaks of him as "abiding in union with him,
   to be an example to the brethren who wished to avoid the cares of this
   world" (Ep. 22); and to Paulinus (Ep. 27), [Romanianus] "is a relation
   of the venerable and truly blessed Bishop Alypius, whom you embrace
   with your whole heart deservedly; for whosoever thinks favourably of
   that man, thinks of the great mercy of God. Soon, by the help of God, I
   shall transfuse Alypius wholly into your soul [Paulinus had asked
   Alypius to write him his life, and Augustin had, at Alypius' request,
   undertaken to relieve him, and to do it]; for I feared chiefly lest he
   should shrink from laying open all which the Lord has bestowed upon
   him, lest, if read by any ordinary person (for it would not be read by
   you only), he should seem not so much to set forth the gifts of God
   committed to men, as to exalt himself."--E. B. P.

   [472] Isa. xxviii. 15.

   [473] Ecclus. iii. 27.
     __________________________________________________________________

   Chapter XIII.--Being Urged by His Mother to Take a Wife, He Sought a
   Maiden that Was Pleasing Unto Him.

   23. Active efforts were made to get me a wife. I wooed, I was engaged,
   my mother taking the greatest pains in the matter, that when I was once
   married, the health-giving baptism might cleanse me; for which she
   rejoiced that I was being daily fitted, remarking that her desires and
   Thy promises were being fulfilled in my faith. At which time, verily,
   both at my request and her own desire, with strong heartfelt cries did
   we daily beg of Thee that Thou wouldest by a vision disclose unto her
   something concerning my future marriage; but Thou wouldest not. She saw
   indeed certain vain and fantastic things, such as the earnestness of a
   human spirit, bent thereon, conjured up; and these she told me of, not
   with her usual confidence when Thou hadst shown her anything, but
   slighting them. For she could, she declared, through some feeling which
   she could not express in words, discern the difference betwixt Thy
   revelations and the dreams of her own spirit. Yet the affair was
   pressed on, and a maiden sued who wanted two years of the marriageable
   age; and, as she was pleasing, she was waited for.
     __________________________________________________________________

   Chapter XIV.--The Design of Establishing a Common Household with His
   Friends is Speedily Hindered.

   24. And many of us friends, consulting on and abhorring the turbulent
   vexations of human life, had considered and now almost determined upon
   living at ease and separate from the turmoil of men. And this was to be
   obtained in this way; we were to bring whatever we could severally
   procure, and make a common household, so that, through the sincerity of
   our friendship, nothing should belong more to one than the other; but
   the whole, being derived from all, should as a whole belong to each,
   and the whole unto all. It seemed to us that this society might consist
   of ten persons, some of whom were very rich, especially Romanianus,
   [474] our townsman, an intimate friend of mine from his childhood, whom
   grave business matters had then brought up to Court; who was the most
   earnest of us all for this project, and whose voice was of great weight
   in commending it, because his estate was far more ample than that of
   the rest. We had arranged, too, that two officers should be chosen
   yearly, for the providing of all necessary things, whilst the rest were
   left undisturbed. But when we began to reflect whether the wives which
   some of us had already, and others hoped to have, would permit this,
   all that plan, which was being so well framed, broke to pieces in our
   hands, and was utterly wrecked and cast aside. Thence we fell again to
   sighs and groans, and our steps to follow the broad and beaten ways
   [475] of the world; for many thoughts were in our heart, but Thy
   counsel standeth for ever. [476] Out of which counsel Thou didst mock
   ours, and preparedst Thine own, purposing to give us meat in due
   season, and to open Thy hand, and to fill our souls with blessing.
   [477]
     __________________________________________________________________

   [474] Romanianus was a relation of Alypius (Aug. Ep. 27, ad Paulin.),
   of talent which astonished Augustin himself (C. Acad. i. 1, ii. 1),
   "surrounded by affluence from early youth, and snatched by what are
   thought adverse circumstances from the absorbing whirlpools of life"
   (ibid.). Augustin frequently mentions his great wealth, as also this
   vexatious suit, whereby he was harassed (C. Acad. i. 1, ii. 1), and
   which so clouded his mind that his talents were almost unknown (C.
   Acad. ii. 2); as also his very great kindness to himself, when, "as a
   poor lad, setting out to foreign study, he had received him in his
   house, supported and (yet more) encouraged him; when deprived of his
   father, comforted, animated, aided him: when returning to Carthage, in
   pursuit of a higher employment, supplied him with all necessaries."
   "Lastly," says Augustin, "whatever ease I now enjoy, that I have
   escaped the bonds of useless desires, that, laying aside the weight of
   dead cares, I breathe, recover, return to myself, that with all
   earnestness I am seeking the truth [Augustin wrote this the year before
   his baptism], that I am attaining it, that I trust wholly to arrive at
   it, you encouraged, impelled, effected" (C. Acad. ii. 2). Augustin had
   "cast him headlong with himself" (as so many other of his friends) into
   the Manichæan heresy (ibid. i. sec. 3), and it is to be hoped that he
   extricated him with himself; but we only learn positively that he
   continued to be fond of the works of Augustin (Ep. 27), whereas in that
   which he dedicated to him (C. Acad.), Augustin writes very doubtingly
   to him, and afterwards recommends him to Paulinus, "to be cured wholly
   or in part by his conversation" (Ep. 27).--E. B. P.

   [475] Matt. vii. 13.

   [476] Ps. xxxiii. 11.

   [477] Ps. cxlv. 15, 16.
     __________________________________________________________________

   Chapter XV.--He Dismisses One Mistress, and Chooses Another.

   25. Meanwhile my sins were being multiplied, and my mistress being torn
   from my side as an impediment to my marriage, my heart, which clave to
   her, was racked, and wounded, and bleeding. And she went back to
   Africa, making a vow unto Thee never to know another man, leaving with
   me my natural son by her. But I, unhappy one, who could not imitate a
   woman, impatient of delay, since it was not until two years' time I was
   to obtain her I sought,--being not so much a lover of marriage as a
   slave to lust,--procured another (not a wife, though), that so by the
   bondage of a lasting habit the disease of my soul might be nursed up,
   and kept up in its vigour, or even increased, into the kingdom of
   marriage. Nor was that wound of mine as yet cured which had been caused
   by the separation from my former mistress, but after inflammation and
   most acute anguish it mortified, [478] and the pain became numbed, but
   more desperate.
     __________________________________________________________________

   [478] In his De Natura Con. Manich. he has the same idea. He is
   speaking of the evil that has no pain, and remarks: "Likewise in the
   body, better is a wound with pain than putrefaction without pain, which
   is specially styled corruption;" and the same idea is embodied in the
   extract from Caird's Sermons, on p. 5, note 7.
     __________________________________________________________________

   Chapter XVI.--The Fear of Death and Judgment Called Him, Believing in
   the Immortality of the Soul, Back from His Wickedness, Him Who
   Aforetime Believed in the Opinions of Epicurus.

   26. Unto Thee be praise, unto Thee be glory, O Fountain of mercies! I
   became more wretched, and Thou nearer. Thy right hand was ever ready to
   pluck me out of the mire, and to cleanse me, but I was ignorant of it.
   Nor did anything recall me from a yet deeper abyss of carnal pleasures,
   but the fear of death and of Thy future judgment, which, amid all my
   fluctuations of opinion, never left my breast. And in disputing with my
   friends, Alypius and Nebridius, concerning the nature of good and evil,
   I held that Epicurus had, in my judgment, won the palm, had I not
   believed that after death there remained a life for the soul, and
   places of recompense, which Epicurus would not believe. [479] And I
   demanded, "Supposing us to be immortal, and to be living in the
   enjoyment of perpetual bodily pleasure, and that without any fear of
   losing it, why, then, should we not be happy, or why should we search
   for anything else?"--not knowing that even this very thing was a part
   of my great misery, that, being thus sunk and blinded, I could not
   discern that light of honour and beauty to be embraced for its own
   sake, [480] which cannot be seen by the eye of the flesh, it being
   visible only to the inner man. Nor did I, unhappy one, consider out of
   what vein it emanated, that even these things, loathsome as they were,
   I with pleasure discussed with my friends. Nor could I, even in
   accordance with my then notions of happiness, make myself happy without
   friends, amid no matter how great abundance of carnal pleasures. And
   these friends assuredly I loved for their own sakes, and I knew myself
   to be loved of them again for my own sake. O crooked ways! Woe to the
   audacious soul which hoped that, if it forsook Thee, it would find some
   better thing! It hath turned and returned, on hack, sides, and belly,
   and all was hard, [481] and Thou alone rest. And behold, Thou art near,
   and deliverest us from our wretched wanderings, and stablishest us in
   Thy way, and dost comfort us, and say, "Run; I will carry you, yea, I
   will lead you, and there also will I carry you."

   ------------------------
     __________________________________________________________________

   [479] The ethics of Epicurus were a modified Hedonism (Diog. Laërt. De
   Vitis, etc., x. 123). With him the earth was a congeries of atoms
   (ibid. 38, 40), which atoms existed from eternity, and formed
   themselves, uninfluenced by the gods. The soul he held to be material.
   It was diffused through the body, and was in its nature somewhat like
   air. At death it was resolved into its original atoms, when the being
   ceased to exist (ibid. 63, 64). Hence death was a matter of
   indifference to man [ho thanatos ouden pros hemas, ibid. 124, etc.]. In
   that great upheaval after the scholasticism of the Middle Ages, the
   various ancient philosophies were revived. This of Epicurus was
   disentombed and, as it were, vitalized by Gassendi, in the beginning of
   the seventeenth century; and it has a special importance from its
   bearing on the physical theories and investigations of modern times.
   Archer Butler, adverting to the inadequacy of the chief philosophical
   schools to satisfy the wants of the age in the early days of the
   planting of Christianity (Lectures on Ancient Philosophy, ii. 333),
   says of the Epicurean: "Its popularity was unquestioned; its adaptation
   to a luxurious age could not be doubted. But it was not formed to
   satisfy the wants of the time, however it might minister to its
   pleasures. It was, indeed, as it still continues to be, the tacit
   philosophy of the careless, and might thus number a larger army of
   disciples than any contemporary system. But its supremacy existed only
   when it estimated numbers, it ceased when tried by weight. The eminent
   men of Rome were often its avowed favourers; but they were for the most
   part men eminent in arms and statesmanship, rather than the influential
   directors of the world of speculation. Nor could the admirable poetic
   art of Lucretius, or the still more attractive ease of Horace, confer
   such strength or dignity upon the system as to enable it to compete
   with the new and mysterious elements now upon all sides gathering into
   conflict."

   [480] See viii. sec. 17, note, below.

   [481] See above, iv. cc. 1, 10, and 12.
     __________________________________________________________________
     __________________________________________________________________

   Book VII.

   ------------------------

   He recalls the beginning of his youth, i.e. the thirty-first year of
   his age, in which very grave errors as to the nature of God and the
   origin of evil being distinguished, and the Sacred Books more
   accurately known, he at length arrives at a clear knowledge of God, not
   yet rightly apprehending Jesus Christ.

   ------------------------
     __________________________________________________________________

   Chapter I.--He Regarded Not God Indeed Under the Form of a Human Body,
   But as a Corporeal Substance Diffused Through Space.

   1. Dead now was that evil and abominable youth of mine, and I was
   passing into early manhood: as I increased in years, the fouler became
   I in vanity, who could not conceive of any substance but such as I saw
   with my own eyes. I thought not of Thee, O God, under the form of a
   human body. Since the time I began to hear something of wisdom, I
   always avoided this; and I rejoiced to have found the same in the faith
   of our spiritual mother, Thy Catholic Church. But what else to imagine
   Thee I knew not. And I, a man, and such a man, sought to conceive of
   Thee, the sovereign and only true God; and I did in my inmost heart
   believe that Thou wert incorruptible, and inviolable, and unchangeable;
   because, not knowing whence or how, yet most plainly did I see and feel
   sure that that which may be corrupted must be worse than that which
   cannot, and what cannot be violated did I without hesitation prefer
   before that which can, and deemed that which suffers no change to be
   better than that which is changeable. Violently did my heart cry out
   against all my phantasms, and with this one blow I endeavoured to beat
   away from the eye of my mind all that unclean crowd which fluttered
   around it. [482] And lo, being scarce put off, they, in the twinkling
   of an eye, pressed in multitudes around me, dashed against my face, and
   beclouded it; so that, though I thought not of Thee under the form of a
   human body, yet was I constrained to image Thee to be something
   corporeal in space, either infused into the world, or infinitely
   diffused beyond it,--even that incorruptible, inviolable, and
   unchangeable, which I preferred to the corruptible, and violable, and
   changeable; since whatsoever I conceived, deprived of this space,
   appeared as nothing to me, yea, altogether nothing, not even a void, as
   if a body were removed from its place and the place should remain empty
   of any body at all, whether earthy, terrestrial, watery, aerial, or
   celestial, but should remain a void place--a spacious nothing, as it
   were.

   2. I therefore being thus gross-hearted, nor clear even to myself,
   whatsoever was not stretched over certain spaces, nor diffused, nor
   crowded together, nor swelled out, or which did not or could not
   receive some of these dimensions, I judged to be altogether nothing.
   [483] For over such forms as my eyes are wont to range did my heart
   then range; nor did I see that this same observation, by which I formed
   those same images, was not of this kind, and yet it could not have
   formed them had not itself been something great. In like manner did I
   conceive of Thee, Life of my life, as vast through infinite spaces, on
   every side penetrating the whole mass of the world, and beyond it, all
   ways, through immeasurable and boundless spaces; so that the earth
   should have Thee, the heaven have Thee, all things have Thee, and they
   bounded in Thee, but Thou nowhere. For as the body of this air which is
   above the earth preventeth not the light of the sun from passing
   through it, penetrating it, not by bursting or by cutting, but by
   filling it entirely, so I imagined the body, not of heaven, air, and
   sea only, but of the earth also, to be pervious to Thee, and in all its
   greatest parts as well as smallest penetrable to receive Thy presence,
   by a secret inspiration, both inwardly and outwardly governing all
   things which Thou hast created. So I conjectured, because I was unable
   to think of anything else; for it was untrue. For in this way would a
   greater part of the earth contain a greater portion of Thee, and the
   less a lesser; and all things should so be full of Thee, as that the
   body of an elephant should contain more of Thee than that of a sparrow
   by how much larger it is, and occupies more room; and so shouldest Thou
   make the portions of Thyself present unto the several portions of the
   world, in pieces, great to the great, little to the little. But Thou
   art not such a one; nor hadst Thou as yet enlightened my darkness.
     __________________________________________________________________

   [482] See iii. sec. 12, iv. secs. 3 and 12, and v. sec. 19, above.

   [483] "For with what understanding can man apprehend God, who does not
   yet apprehend that very understanding itself of his own by which he
   desires to apprehend Him? And if he does already apprehend this, let
   him carefully consider that there is nothing in his own nature better
   than it: and let him see whether he can there see any outlines of
   forms, or brightness of colours, or greatness of space, or distance of
   parts, or extension of size, or any movements through intervals of
   place, or any such thing at all. Certainly we find nothing of all this
   in that, than which we find nothing better in our own nature, that is,
   in our own intellect, by which we apprehend wisdom according to our
   capacity. What, therefore, we do not find in that, which is our own
   best, we ought not to seek in Him, who is far better than that best of
   ours; that so we may understand God, if we are able, and as much as we
   are able, as good without quality, great without quantity, a Creator
   though He lack nothing, ruling but from no position, sustaining all
   things without having' them, in His wholeness everywhere yet without
   place, eternal without time, making things that are changeable without
   change of Himself, and without passion. Whoso thus thinks of God,
   although he cannot yet find out in all ways what He is, yet piously
   takes heed, as much as he is able, to think nothing of Him that He is
   not."--De Trin. v. 2.
     __________________________________________________________________

   Chapter II.--The Disputation of Nebridius Against the Manichæans, on
   the Question "Whether God Be Corruptible or Incorruptible."

   3. It was sufficient for me, O Lord, to oppose to those deceived
   deceivers and dumb praters (dumb, since Thy word sounded not forth from
   them) that which a long while ago, while we were at Carthage, Nebridius
   used to propound, at which all we who heard it were disturbed: "What
   could that reputed nation of darkness, which the Manichæans are in the
   habit of setting up as a mass opposed to Thee, have done unto Thee
   hadst Thou objected to fight with it? For had it been answered, It
   would have done Thee some injury,' then shouldest Thou be subject to
   violence and corruption; but if the reply were: It could do Thee no
   injury,' then was no cause assigned for Thy fighting with it; and so
   fighting as that a certain portion and member of Thee, or offspring of
   Thy very substance, should be blended with adverse powers and natures
   not of Thy creation, and be by them corrupted and deteriorated to such
   an extent as to be turned from happiness into misery, and need help
   whereby it might be delivered and purged; and that this offspring of
   Thy substance was the soul, to which, being enslaved, contaminated, and
   corrupted, Thy word, free, pure, and entire, might bring succour; but
   yet also the word itself being corruptible, because it was from one and
   the same substance. So that should they affirm Thee, whatsoever Thou
   art, that is, Thy substance whereby Thou art, to be incorruptible, then
   were all these assertions false and execrable; but if corruptible, then
   that were false, and at the first utterance to be abhorred." [484] This
   argument, then, was enough against those who wholly merited to be
   vomited forth from the surfeited stomach, since they had no means of
   escape without horrible sacrilege, both of heart and tongue, thinking
   and speaking such things of Thee.
     __________________________________________________________________

   [484] Similar arguments are made use of in his controversy with
   Fortunatus (Dis. ii. 5), where he says, that as Fortunatus could find
   no answer, so neither could he when a Manichæan, and that this led him
   to the true faith. Again, in his De Moribus (sec. 25), where he
   examines the answers which had been given, he commences: "For this
   gives rise to the question, which used to throw us into great
   perplexity, even when we were your zealous disciples, nor could we find
   any answer,--what the race of darkness would have done to God,
   supposing He had refused to fight with it at the cost of such calamity
   to part of Himself. For if God would not have suffered any loss by
   remaining quiet, we thought it hard that we had been sent to endure so
   much. Again, if He would have suffered, His nature cannot have been
   incorruptible, as it behooves the nature of God to be." We have
   already, in the note to book iv. sec. 26, referred to some of the
   matters touched on in this section; but they call for further
   elucidation. The following passage, quoted by Augustin from Manichæus
   himself (Con. Ep. Manich. 19), discloses to us (1) their ideas as to
   the nature and position of the two kingdoms: "In one direction, on the
   border of this bright and holy region, there was a land of darkness,
   deep and vast in extent, where abode fiery bodies, destructive races.
   Here was boundless darkness flowing from the same source in
   immeasurable abundance, with the productions properly belonging to it.
   Beyond this were muddy, turbid waters with their inhabitants; and
   inside of them winds terrible and violent, with their prince and their
   progenitors. Then, again, a fiery region of destruction, with its
   chiefs and peoples. And similarly inside of this, a race full of smoke
   and gloom, where abode the dreadful prince and chief of all, having
   around him innumerable princes, himself the mind and source of them
   all. Such are the five natures of the region of corruption." Augustin
   also designates them (ibid. sec. 20) "the five dens of the race of
   darkness." The nation of darkness desires to possess the kingdom of
   light, and prepares to make war upon it; and in the controversy with
   Faustus we have (2) the beginning and issue of the war (Con. Faust. ii.
   3; see also De Hæres, 46). Augustin says: "You dress up for our benefit
   some wonderful First Man, who came down from the race of light, to war
   with the race of darkness, armed with his waters against the waters of
   the enemy, and with his fire against their fire, and with his winds
   against their winds." And again (ibid. sec. 5): "You say that he
   mingled with the principles of darkness in his conflict with the race
   of darkness, that by capturing these principles the world might be made
   out of the mixture. So that, by your profane fancies, Christ is not
   only mingled with heaven and all the stars, but conjoined and
   compounded with the earth and all its productions--a Saviour no more,
   but needing to be saved by you, by your eating and disgorging Him. This
   foolish custom of making your disciples bring you food, that your teeth
   and stomach may be the means of relieving Christ, who is bound up in
   it, is a consequence of your profane fancies. You declare that Christ
   is liberated in this way,--not, however, entirely; for you hold that
   some tiny particles of no value still remain in the excrement, to be
   mixed up and compounded again and again in various material forms, and
   to be released and purified at any rate by the fire in which the world
   will be burned up, if not before. Nay, even then, you say, Christ is
   not entirely liberated, but some extreme particles of His good and
   divine nature, which have been so defiled that they cannot be cleansed,
   are condemned to stay for ever in the mass of darkness." The result of
   this commingling of the light with the darkness was, that a certain
   portion and member of God was turned "from happiness into misery," and
   placed in bondage in the world, and was in need of help "whereby it
   might be delivered and purged." (See also Con. Fortunat. i. 1.)
   Reference may be made (3), for information as to the method by which
   the divine substance was released in the eating of the elect, to the
   notes on book iii. sec. 18, above; and for the influence of the sun and
   moon in accomplishing that release, to the note on book v. sec, 12,
   above.
     __________________________________________________________________

   Chapter III.--That the Cause of Evil is the Free Judgment of the Will.

   4. But I also, as yet, although I said and was firmly persuaded, that
   Thou our Lord, the true God, who madest not only our souls but our
   bodies, and not our souls and bodies alone, but all creatures and all
   things, wert uncontaminable and inconvertible, and in no part mutable:
   yet understood I not readily and clearly what was the cause of evil.
   And yet, whatever it was, I perceived that it must be so sought out as
   not to constrain me by it to believe that the immutable God was
   mutable, lest I myself should become the thing that I was seeking out.
   I sought, therefore, for it free from care, certain of the
   untruthfulness of what these asserted, whom I shunned with my whole
   heart; for I perceived that through seeking after the origin of evil,
   they were filled with malice, in that they liked better to think that
   Thy Substance did suffer evil than that their own did commit it. [485]

   5. And I directed my attention to discern what I now heard, that free
   will [486] was the cause of our doing evil, and Thy righteous judgment
   of our suffering it. But I was unable clearly to discern it. So, then,
   trying to draw the eye of my mind from that pit, I was plunged again
   therein, and trying often, was as often plunged back again. But this
   raised me towards Thy light, that I knew as well that I had a will as
   that I had life: when, therefore, I was willing or unwilling to do
   anything, I was most certain that it was none but myself that was
   willing and unwilling; and immediately I perceived that there was the
   cause of my sin. But what I did against my will I saw that I suffered
   rather than did, and that judged I not to be my fault, but my
   punishment; whereby, believing Thee to be most just, I quickly
   confessed myself to be not unjustly punished. But again I said: "Who
   made me? Was it not my God, who is not only good, but goodness itself?
   Whence came I then to will to do evil, and to be unwilling to do good,
   that there might be cause for my just punishment? Who was it that put
   this in me, and implanted in me the root of bitterness, seeing I was
   altogether made by my most sweet God? If the devil were the author,
   whence is that devil? And if he also, by his own perverse will, of a
   good angel became a devil, whence also was the evil will in him whereby
   he became a devil, seeing that the angel was made altogether good by
   that most Good Creator?" By these reflections was I again cast down and
   stifled; yet not plunged into that hell of error (where no man
   confesseth unto Thee), [487] to think that Thou dost suffer evil,
   rather than that man doth it.
     __________________________________________________________________

   [485] See iv. sec. 26, note, above.

   [486] See iii. sec. 12, note, and iv. sec. 26, note, above.

   [487] Ps. vi. 5.
     __________________________________________________________________

   Chapter IV.--That God is Not Corruptible, Who, If He Were, Would Not Be
   God at All.

   6. For I was so struggling to find out the rest, as having already
   found that what was incorruptible must be better than the corruptible;
   and Thee, therefore, whatsoever Thou wert, did I acknowledge to be
   incorruptible. For never yet was, nor will be, a soul able to conceive
   of anything better than Thou, who art the highest and best good. But
   whereas most truly and certainly that which is incorruptible is to be
   preferred to the corruptible (like as I myself did now prefer it),
   then, if Thou were not incorruptible, I could in my thoughts have
   reached unto something better than my God. Where, then, I saw that the
   incorruptible was to be preferred to the corruptible, there ought I to
   seek Thee, and there observe "whence evil itself was," that is, whence
   comes the corruption by which Thy substance can by no means be
   profaned. For corruption, truly, in no way injures our God,--by no
   will, by no necessity, by no unforeseen chance,--because He is God, and
   what He wills is good, and Himself is that good; but to be corrupted is
   not good. Nor art Thou compelled to do anything against Thy will in
   that Thy will is not greater than Thy power. But greater should it be
   wert Thou Thyself greater than Thyself; for the will and power of God
   is God Himself. And what can be unforeseen by Thee, who knowest all
   things? Nor is there any sort of nature but Thou knowest it. And what
   more should we say "why that substance which God is should not be
   corruptible," seeing that if it were so it could not be God?
     __________________________________________________________________

   Chapter V.--Questions Concerning the Origin of Evil in Regard to God,
   Who, Since He is the Chief Good, Cannot Be the Cause of Evil.

   7. And I sought "whence is evil?" And sought in an evil way; nor saw I
   the evil in my very search. And I set in order before the view of my
   spirit the whole creation, and whatever we can discern in it, such as
   earth, sea, air, stars, trees, living creatures; yea, and whatever in
   it we do not see, as the firmament of heaven, all the angels, too, and
   all the spiritual inhabitants thereof. But these very beings, as though
   they were bodies, did my fancy dispose in such and such places, and I
   made one huge mass of all Thy creatures, distinguished according to the
   kinds of bodies,--some of them being real bodies, some what I myself
   had feigned for spirits. And this mass I made huge,--not as it was,
   which I could not know, but as large as I thought well, yet every way
   finite. But Thee, O Lord, I imagined on every part environing and
   penetrating it, though every way infinite; as if there were a sea
   everywhere, and on every side through immensity nothing but an infinite
   sea; and it contained within itself some sponge, huge, though finite,
   so that the sponge would in all its parts be filled from the
   immeasurable sea. So conceived I Thy Creation to be itself finite, and
   filled by Thee, the Infinite. And I said, Behold God, and behold what
   God hath created; and God is good, yea, most mightily and incomparably
   better than all these; but yet He, who is good, hath created them good,
   and behold how He encircleth and filleth them. Where, then, is evil,
   and whence, and how crept it in hither? What is its root, and what its
   seed? Or hath it no being at all? Why, then, do we fear and shun that
   which hath no being? Or if we fear it needlessly, then surely is that
   fear evil whereby the heart is unnecessarily pricked and
   tormented,--and so much a greater evil, as we have naught to fear, and
   yet do fear. Therefore either that is evil which we fear, or the act of
   fearing is in itself evil. Whence, therefore, is it, seeing that God,
   who is good, hath made all these things good? He, indeed, the greatest
   and chiefest Good, hath created these lesser goods; but both Creator
   and created are all good. Whence is evil? Or was there some evil matter
   of which He made and formed and ordered it, but left something in it
   which He did not convert into good? But why was this? Was He powerless
   to change the whole lump, so that no evil should remain in it, seeing
   that He is omnipotent? Lastly, why would He make anything at all of it,
   and not rather by the same omnipotency cause it not to be at all? Or
   could it indeed exist contrary to His will? Or if it were from
   eternity, why did He permit it so to be for infinite spaces of times in
   the past, and was pleased so long after to make something out of it? Or
   if He wished now all of a sudden to do something, this rather should
   the Omnipotent have accomplished, that this evil matter should not be
   at all, and that He only should be the whole, true, chief, and infinite
   Good. Or if it were not good that He, who was good, should not also be
   the framer and creator of what was good, then that matter which was
   evil being removed, and brought to nothing, He might form good matter,
   whereof He might create all things. For He would not be omnipotent were
   He not able to create something good without being assisted by that
   matter which had not been created by Himself. [488] Such like things
   did I revolve in my miserable breast, overwhelmed with most gnawing
   cares lest I should die ere I discovered the truth; yet was the faith
   of Thy Christ, our Lord and Saviour, as held in the Catholic Church,
   fixed firmly in my heart, unformed, indeed, as yet upon many points,
   and diverging from doctrinal rules, but yet my mind did not utterly
   leave it, but every day rather drank in more and more of it.
     __________________________________________________________________

   [488] See xi. sec. 7, note, below.
     __________________________________________________________________

   Chapter VI.--He Refutes the Divinations of the Astrologers, Deduced
   from the Constellations.

   8. Now also had I repudiated the lying divinations and impious
   absurdities of the astrologers. Let Thy mercies, out of the depth of my
   soul, confess unto thee [489] for this also, O my God. For Thou, Thou
   altogether,--for who else is it that calls us back from the death of
   all errors, but that Life which knows not how to die, and the Wisdom
   which, requiring no light, enlightens the minds that do, whereby the
   universe is governed, even to the fluttering leaves of trees?--Thou
   providedst also for my obstinacy wherewith I struggled with
   Vindicianus, [490] an acute old man, and Nebridius, a young one of
   remarkable talent; the former vehemently declaring, and the latter
   frequently, though with a certain measure of doubt, saying, "That no
   art existed by which to foresee future things, but that men's surmises
   had oftentimes the help of luck, and that of many things which they
   foretold some came to pass unawares to the predictors, who lighted on
   it by their oft speaking." Thou, therefore, didst provide a friend for
   me, who was no negligent consulter of the astrologers, and yet not
   thoroughly skilled in those arts, but, as I said, a curious consulter
   with them; and yet knowing somewhat, which he said he had heard from
   his father, which, how far it would tend to overthrow the estimation of
   that art, he knew not. This man, then, by name Firminius, having
   received a liberal education, and being well versed in rhetoric,
   consulted me, as one very dear to him, as to what I thought on some
   affairs of his, wherein his worldly hopes had risen, viewed with regard
   to his so-called constellations; and I, who had now begun to lean in
   this particular towards Nebridius' opinion, did not indeed decline to
   speculate about the matter, and to tell him what came into my
   irresolute mind, but still added that I was now almost persuaded that
   these were but empty and ridiculous follies. Upon this he told me that
   his father had been very curious in such books, and that he had a
   friend who was as interested in them as he was himself, who, with
   combined study and consultation, fanned the flame of their affection
   for these toys, insomuch that they would observe the moment when the
   very dumb animals which bred in their houses brought forth, and then
   observed the position of the heavens with regard to them, so as to
   gather fresh proofs of this so-called art. He said, moreover, that his
   father had told him, that at the time his mother was about to give
   birth to him (Firminius), a female servant of that friend of his
   father's was also great with child, which could not be hidden from her
   master, who took care with most diligent exactness to know of the birth
   of his very dogs. And so it came to pass that (the one for his wife,
   and the other for his servant, with the most careful observation,
   calculating the days and hours, and the smaller divisions of the hours)
   both were delivered at the same moment, so that both were compelled to
   allow the very selfsame constellations, even to the minutest point, the
   one for his son, the other for his young slave. For so soon as the
   women began to be in travail, they each gave notice to the other of
   what was fallen out in their respective houses, and had messengers
   ready to despatch to one another so soon as they had information of the
   actual birth, of which they had easily provided, each in his own
   province, to give instant intelligence. Thus, then, he said, the
   messengers of the respective parties met one another in such equal
   distances from either house, that neither of them could discern any
   difference either in the position of the stars or other most minute
   points. And yet Firminius, born in a high estate in his parents' house,
   ran his course through the prosperous paths of this world, was
   increased in wealth, and elevated to honours; whereas that slave--the
   yoke of his condition being unrelaxed--continued to serve his masters,
   as Firminius, who knew him, informed me.

   9. Upon hearing and believing these things, related by so reliable a
   person, all that resistance of mine melted away; and first I
   endeavoured to reclaim Firminius himself from that curiosity, by
   telling him, that upon inspecting his constellations, I ought, were I
   to foretell truly, to have seen in them parents eminent among their
   neighbours, a noble family in its own city, good birth, becoming
   education, and liberal learning. But if that servant had consulted me
   upon the same constellations, since they were his also, I ought again
   to tell him, likewise truly, to see in them the meanness of his origin,
   the abjectness of his condition, and everything else altogether removed
   from and at variance with the former. Whence, then, looking upon the
   same constellations, I should, if I spoke the truth, speak diverse
   things, or if I spoke the same, speak falsely; thence assuredly was it
   to be gathered, that whatever, upon consideration of the
   constellations, was foretold truly, was not by art, but by chance; and
   whatever falsely, was not from the unskillfulness of the art, but the
   error of chance.

   10. An opening being thus made, I ruminated within myself on such
   things, that no one of those dotards (who followed such occupations,
   and whom I longed to assail, and with derision to confute) might urge
   against me that Firminius had informed me falsely, or his father him: I
   turned my thoughts to those that are born twins, who generally come out
   of the womb so near one to another, that the small distance of time
   between them--how much force soever they may contend that it has in the
   nature of things--cannot be noted by human observation, or be expressed
   in those figures which the astrologer is to examine that he may
   pronounce the truth. Nor can they be true; for, looking into the same
   figures, he must have foretold the same of Esau and Jacob, [491]
   whereas the same did not happen to them. He must therefore speak
   falsely; or if truly, then, looking into the same figures, he must not
   speak the same things. Not then by art, but by chance, would he speak
   truly. For Thou, O Lord, most righteous Ruler of the universe, the
   inquirers and inquired of knowing it not, workest by a hidden
   inspiration that the consulter should hear what, according to the
   hidden deservings of souls, he ought to hear, out of the depth of Thy
   righteous judgment, to whom let not man say, "What is this?" or "Why
   that?" Let him not say so, for he is man.
     __________________________________________________________________

   [489] Ps. cvii. 8, Vulg.

   [490] See iv. sec. 5, note, above.

   [491] He uses the same illustration when speaking of the mathematici,
   or astrologers, in his De Doct. Christ. ii. 33.
     __________________________________________________________________

   Chapter VII.--He is Severely Exercised as to the Origin of Evil.

   11. And now, O my Helper, hadst Thou freed me from those fetters; and I
   inquired, "Whence is evil?" and found no result. But Thou sufferedst me
   not to be carried away from the faith by any fluctuations of thought,
   whereby I believed Thee both to exist, and Thy substance to be
   unchangeable, and that Thou hadst a care of and wouldest judge men; and
   that in Christ, Thy Son, our Lord, and the Holy Scriptures, which the
   authority of Thy Catholic Church pressed upon me, Thou hadst planned
   the way of man's salvation to that life which is to come after this
   death. These things being safe and immoveably settled in my mind, I
   eagerly inquired, "Whence is evil?" What torments did my travailing
   heart then endure! What sighs, O my God! Yet even there were Thine ears
   open, and I knew it not; and when in stillness I sought earnestly,
   those silent contritions of my soul were strong cries unto Thy mercy.
   No man knoweth, but only Thou, what I endured. For what was that which
   was thence through my tongue poured into the ears of my most familiar
   friends? Did the whole tumult of my soul, for which neither time nor
   speech was sufficient, reach them? Yet went the whole into Thine ears,
   all of which I bellowed out from the sightings of my heart; and my
   desire was before Thee, and the light of mine eyes was not with me;
   [492] for that was within, I without. Nor was that in place, but my
   attention was directed to things contained in place; but there did I
   find no resting-place, nor did they receive me in such a way as that I
   could say, "It is sufficient, it is well;" nor did they let me turn
   back, where it might be well enough with me. For to these things was I
   superior, but inferior to Thee; and Thou art my true joy when I am
   subjected to Thee, and Thou hadst subjected to me what Thou createdst
   beneath me. [493] And this was the true temperature and middle region
   of my safety, to continue in Thine image, and by serving Thee to have
   dominion over the body. But when I lifted myself proudly against Thee,
   and "ran against the Lord, even on His neck, with the thick bosses" of
   my buckler, [494] even these inferior things were placed above me, and
   pressed upon me, and nowhere was there alleviation or breathing space.
   They encountered my sight on every side in crowds and troops, and in
   thought the images of bodies obtruded themselves as I was returning to
   Thee, as if they would say unto me, "Whither goest thou, unworthy and
   base one?" And these things had sprung forth out of my wound; for thou
   humblest the proud like one that is wounded, [495] and through my own
   swelling was I separated from Thee; yea, my too much swollen face
   closed up mine eyes.
     __________________________________________________________________

   [492] Ps. xxxvii. 9-11, Vulg.

   [493] Man can only control the forces of nature by yielding obedience
   to nature's laws; and our true joy and safety is only to be found being
   "subjected" to God. So Augustin says in another place, (De Trin. x. 7),
   the soul is enjoined to know itself, "in order that it may consider
   itself, and live according to its own nature; that is, seek to be
   regulated according to its own nature, viz. under Him to whom it ought
   to be subject, and above those things to which it is to be preferred;
   under Him by whom it ought to be ruled, above those things which it
   ought to rule."

   [494] Job xv. 26.

   [495] Ps. lxxxix. 11. Vulg.
     __________________________________________________________________

   Chapter VIII.--By God's Assistance He by Degrees Arrives at the Truth.

   12. "But Thou, O Lord, shall endure for ever," [496] yet not for ever
   art Thou angry with us, because Thou dost commiserate our dust and
   ashes; and it was pleasing in Thy sight to reform my deformity, and by
   inward stings didst Thou disturb me, that I should be dissatisfied
   until Thou wert made sure to my inward sight. And by the secret hand of
   Thy remedy was my swelling lessened, and the disordered and darkened
   eyesight of my mind, by the sharp anointings of healthful sorrows, was
   from day to day made whole.
     __________________________________________________________________

   [496] Ps. cii. 12.
     __________________________________________________________________

   Chapter IX.--He Compares the Doctrine of the Platonists Concerning the
   Logos With the Much More Excellent Doctrine of Christianity.

   13. And Thou, willing first to show me how Thou "resistest the proud,
   but givest grace unto the humble" [497] and by how great art act of
   mercy Thou hadst pointed out to men the path of humility, in that Thy
   "Word was made flesh" and dwelt among men,--Thou procuredst for me, by
   the instrumentality of one inflated with most monstrous pride, certain
   books of the Platonists, [498] translated from Greek into Latin. [499]
   And therein I read, not indeed in the same words, but to the selfsame
   effect, [500] enforced by many and divers reasons, that, "In the
   beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was
   God. The same was in the beginning with God. All things were made by
   Him; and without Him was not any thing made that was made." That which
   was made by Him is "life; and the life was the light of men. And the
   light shineth in darkness; and the darkness comprehendeth it not."
   [501] And that the soul of man, though it "bears witness of the light,"
   [502] yet itself "is not that light; [503] but the Word of God, being
   God, is that true light that lighteth every man that cometh into the
   world." [504] And that "He was in the world, and the world was made by
   Him, and the world knew Him not." [505] But that "He came unto His own,
   and His own received Him not. [506] But as many as received Him, to
   them gave He power to become the sons of God, even to them that believe
   on His name." [507] This I did not read there.

   14. In like manner, I read there that God the Word was born not of
   flesh, nor of blood, nor of the will of man, nor of the will of the
   flesh, but of God. But that "the Word was made flesh, and dwelt among
   us," [508] I read not there. For I discovered in those books that it
   was in many and divers ways said, that the Son was in the form of the
   Father, and "thought it not robbery to be equal with God," for that
   naturally He was the same substance. But that He emptied Himself, "and
   took upon Him the form of a servant, and was made in the likeness of
   men: and being found in fashion as a man, He humbled Himself, and
   became obedient unto death, even the death of the cross. Wherefore God
   also hath highly exalted Him" from the dead, "and given Him a name
   above every name; that at the name of Jesus every knee should bow, of
   things in heaven, and things in earth, and things under the earth; and
   that every tongue should confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the
   glory of God the Father;" [509] those books have not. For that before
   all times, and above all times, Thy only-begotten Son remaineth
   unchangeably co-eternal with Thee; and that of "His fulness" souls
   receive, [510] that they may be blessed; and that by participation of
   the wisdom remaining in them they are renewed, that they may be wise,
   is there. But that "in due time Christ died for the ungodly," [511] and
   that Thou sparedst not Thine only Son, but deliveredst Him up for us
   all, [512] is not there. "Because Thou hast hid these things from the
   wise and prudent, and hast revealed them unto babes;" [513] that they
   "that labour and are heavy laden" might "come" unto Him and He might
   refresh them, [514] because He is "meek and lowly in heart." [515] "The
   meek will He guide in judgment; and the meek will He teach His way;"
   [516] looking upon our humility and our distress, and forgiving all our
   sins. [517] But such as are puffed up with the elation of would-be
   sublimer learning, do not hear Him saying, "Learn of Me; for I am meek
   and lowly in heart: and ye shall find rest unto your souls." [518]
   "Because that, when they knew God, they glorified Him not as God,
   neither were thankful; but became vain in their imaginations, and their
   foolish heart was darkened. Professing themselves to be wise, they
   became fools." [519]

   15. And therefore also did I read there, that they had changed the
   glory of Thy incorruptible nature into idols and divers forms,--"into
   an image made like to corruptible man, and to birds, and four-footed
   beasts, and creeping things," [520] namely, into that Egyptian food
   [521] for which Esau lost his birthright; [522] for that Thy first-born
   people worshipped the head of a four-footed beast instead of Thee,
   turning back in heart towards Egypt, and prostrating Thy image--their
   own soul--before the image "of an ox that eateth grass." [523] These
   things found I there; but I fed not on them. For it pleased Thee, O
   Lord, to take away the reproach of diminution from Jacob, that the
   elder should serve the younger; [524] and Thou hast called the Gentiles
   into Thine inheritance. And I had come unto Thee from among the
   Gentiles, and I strained after that gold which Thou willedst Thy people
   to take from Egypt, seeing that wheresoever it was it was Thine. [525]
   And to the Athenians Thou saidst by Thy apostle, that in Thee "we live,
   and move, and have our being;" as one of their own poets has said.
   [526] And verily these books came from thence. But I set not my mind on
   the idols of Egypt, whom they ministered to with Thy gold, [527] "who
   changed the truth of God into a lie, and worshipped and served the
   creature more than the Creator." [528]
     __________________________________________________________________

   [497] Jas. iv. 6, and l Pet. v. 5.

   [498] "This,"says Watts, "was likely to be the book of Amelius the
   Platonist, who hath indeed this beginning of St. John's Gospel, calling
   the apostle a barbarian." This Amelius was a disciple of Plotinus, who
   was the first to develope and formulate the Neo-Platonic doctrines, and
   of whom it is said that he would not have his likeness taken, nor be
   reminded of his birthday, because it would recall the existence of the
   body he so much despised. A popular account of the theories of
   Plotinus, and their connection with the doctrines of Plato and of
   Christianity respectively, will be found in Archer Butler's Lectures on
   Ancient Philosophy, vol. ii. pp. 348-358. For a more systematic view of
   his writings, see Ueberweg's History of Philosophy, sec. 68. Augustin
   alludes again in his De Vita Beata (sec. 4) to the influence the
   Platonic writings had on him at this time; and it is interesting to
   note how in God's providence they were drawing him to seek a fuller
   knowledge of Him, just as in his nineteenth year (book iii. sec. 7,
   above) the Hortensius of Cicero stimulated him to the pursuit of
   wisdom. Thus in his experience was exemplified the truth embodied in
   the saying of Clemens Alexandrinus,--"Philosophy led the Greeks to
   Christ, as the law did the Jews." Archbishop Trench, in his Hulsean
   Lectures (lecs. 1 and 3, 1846, "Christ the Desire of all Nations"),
   enters with interesting detail into this question, specially as it
   relates to the heathen world. "None," he says in lecture 3, "can
   thoughtfully read the early history of the Church without marking how
   hard the Jewish Christians found it to make their own the true idea of
   a Son of God, as indeed is witnessed by the whole Epistle to the
   Hebrews--how comparatively easy the Gentile converts; how the Hebrew
   Christians were continually in danger of sinking down into Ebionite
   heresies, making Christ but a man as other men, refusing to go on unto
   perfection, or to realize the truth of His higher nature; while, on the
   other hand, the genial promptness is as remarkable with which the
   Gentile Church welcomed and embraced the offered truth, God manifest in
   the flesh.' We feel that there must have been effectual preparations in
   the latter, which wrought its greater readiness for receiving and
   heartily embracing this truth when it arrived." The passage from
   Amelius the Platonist, referred to at the beginning of this note, is
   examined in Burton's Bampton Lectures, note 90. It has been adverted to
   by Eusebius, Theodoret, and perhaps by Augustin in the De Civ. Dei, x.
   29, quoted in note 2, sec. 25, below. See Kayes' Clement, pp. 116-124.

   [499] See i. sec. 23, note, above, and also his Life, in the last vol.
   of the Benedictine edition of his works, for a very fair estimate of
   his knowledge of Greek.

   [500] The Neo-Platonic ideas as to the "Word" or Logos, which Augustin
   (1) contrasts during the remainder of this book with the doctrine of
   the gospel, had its germ in the writings of Plato. The Greek term
   expresses both reason and the expression of reason in speech; and the
   Fathers frequently illustrate, by reference to this connection between
   ideas and uttered words, the fact that the "Word" that was with God had
   an incarnate existence in the world as the "Word" made flesh. By the
   Logos of the Alexandrian school something very different was meant from
   the Christian doctrine as to the incarnation, of which the above can
   only be taken as a dim illustration. It has been questioned, indeed,
   whether the philosophers, from Plotinus to the Gnostics of the time of
   St. John, believed the Logos and the supreme God to have in any sense
   separate "personalities." Dr. Burton, in his Bampton Lectures,
   concludes that they did not (lect. vii. p. 215, and note 93; compare
   Dorner, Person of Christ, i. 27, Clark); and quotes Origen when he
   points out to Celsus, that "while the heathen use the reason of God as
   another term for God Himself, the Christians use the term Logos for the
   Son of God." Another point of difference which appears in Augustin's
   review of Platonism above, is found in the Platonist's discarding the
   idea of the Logos becoming man. This the very genius of their
   philosophy forbade them to hold, since they looked on matter as impure.
   (2) It has been charged against Christianity by Gibbon and other
   sceptical writers, that it has borrowed largely from the doctrines of
   Plato; and it has been said that this doctrine of the Logos was taken
   from them by Justin Martyr. This charge, says Burton (ibid. p. 194),
   "has laid open in its supporters more inconsistencies and more
   misstatements than any other which ever has been advanced." We have
   alluded in the note to book iii. sec. 8, above, to Justin Martyr's
   search after truth. He endeavoured to find it successively in the
   Stoical, the Peripatetic, the Pythagorean, and the Platonic schools;
   and he appears to have thought as highly of Plato's philosophy as did
   Augustin. He does not, however, fail to criticise his doctrine when
   inconsistent with Christianity (see Burton, ibid. notes 18 and 86).
   Justin Martyr has apparently been chosen for attack as being the
   earliest of the post-apostolic Fathers. Burton, however, shows that
   Ignatius, who knew St. John, and was bishop of Antioch thirty years
   before his death, used precisely the same expression as applied to
   Christ (ibid. p. 204). This would appear to be a conclusive answer to
   this objection. (3) It may be well to note here Burton's general
   conclusions as to the employment of this term Logos in St. John, since
   it occurs frequently in this part of the Confessions. Every one must
   have observed St. John's use of the term is peculiar as compared with
   the other apostles, but it is not always borne in mind that a
   generation probably elapsed between the date of his gospel and that of
   the other apostolic writings. In this interval the Gnostic heresy had
   made great advances; and it would appear that John, finding this term
   Logos prevalent when he wrote, infused into it a nobler meaning, and
   pointed out to those being led away by this heresy that there was
   indeed One who might be called "the Word"--One who was not, indeed,
   God's mind, or as the word that comes from the mouth and passes away,
   but One who, while He had been "made flesh" like unto us, was yet
   co-eternal with God. "You will perceive," says Archer Butler (Ancient
   Philosophy, vol. ii. p. 10), "how natural, or rather how necessary, is
   such a process, when you remember that this is exactly what every
   teacher must do who speaks of God to a heathen; he adopts the term, but
   he refines and exalts its meaning. Nor, indeed, is the procedure
   different in any use whatever of language in sacred senses and for
   sacred purposes. It has been justly remarked, by (I think) Isaac
   Casaubon, that the principle of all these adaptations is expressed in
   the sentence of St. Paul, On agnoountes eusebeite, touton ego
   katangello humin." On the charge against Christianity of having
   borrowed from heathenism, reference may be made to Trench's Hulsean
   Lectures, lect. i. (1846); and for the sources of Gnosticism, and St.
   John's treatment of heresies as to the "Word," lects. ii. and v. in
   Mansel's Gnostic Heresies will be consulted with profit.

   [501] John i. 1-5.

   [502] Ibid. i. 7, 8.

   [503] See note, sec. 23, below.

   [504] John i. 9.

   [505] Ibid. i. 10.

   [506] Ibid. i. 11.

   [507] Ibid. i. 12.

   [508] Ibid. i. 14.

   [509] Phil. ii. 6-11.

   [510] John i. 16.

   [511] Rom. v. 6.

   [512] Rom. viii. 32.

   [513] Matt. xi. 25.

   [514] Ibid. ver. 28.

   [515] Ibid. ver. 29.

   [516] Ps. xxv. 9.

   [517] Ibid. ver. 18.

   [518] Matt. xi. 29.

   [519] Rom. i. 21, 22.

   [520] Ibid. i. 23.

   [521] In the Benedictine edition we have reference to Augustin's in Ps.
   xlvi. 6, where he says: "We find the lentile is an Egyptian food, for
   it abounds in Egypt, whence the Alexandrian lentile is esteemed so as
   to be brought to our country, as if it grew not here. Esau, by desiring
   Egyptian food, lost his birthright; and so the Jewish people, of whom
   it is said they turned back in heart to Egypt, in a manner craved for
   lentiles, and lost their birthright." See Ex. xvi. 3; Num. xi. 5.

   [522] Gen. xxv. 33, 34.

   [523] Ps. cvi. 20; Ex. xxxii. 1-6.

   [524] Rom. ix. 12.

   [525] Similarly, as to all truth being God's, Justin Martyr says:
   "Whatever things were rightly said among all men are the property of us
   Christians" (Apol. ii. 13). In this he parallels what Augustin claims
   in another place (De Doctr. Christ. ii. 28): "Let every good and true
   Christian understand that wherever truth may be found, it belongs to
   his Master." Origen has a similar allusion to that of Augustin above
   (Ep. ad Gregor. vol. i. 30), but echoes the experience of our erring
   nature, when he says that the gold of Egypt more frequently becomes
   transformed into an idol, than into an ornament for the tabernacle of
   God. Augustin gives us at length his views on this matter in his De
   Doctr. Christ. ii. 60, 61: "If those who are called philosophers, and
   especially the Platonists, have said aught that is true and in harmony
   with our faith, we are not only not to shrink from it, but to claim it
   for our own use from those who have unlawful possession of it. For, as
   the Egyptians had not only the idols and heavy burdens which the people
   of Israel hated and fled from, but also vessels and ornaments of gold
   and silver, and garments, which the same people when going out of Egypt
   appropriated to themselves, designing them for a better use,--not doing
   this on their own authority, but by the command of God, the Egyptians
   themselves, in their ignorance, providing them with things which they
   themselves were not making a good use of (Ex. iii. 21, 22, xii. 35,
   36); in the same way all branches of heathen learning have not only
   false and superstitious fancies and heavy burdens of unnecessary toil,
   which every one of us, when going out under the leadership of Christ
   from the fellowship of the heathen ought to abhor and avoid, but they
   contain also liberal instruction which is better adapted to the use of
   the truth, and some most excellent precepts of morality; and some
   truths in regard even to the worship of the One God are found among
   them. Now these are, so to speak, their gold and silver, which they did
   not create themselves, but dug out of the mines of God's providence
   which are everywhere scattered abroad, and are perversely and
   unlawfully prostituting to the worship of devils. These, therefore, the
   Christian, when he separates himself in spirit from the miserable
   fellowship of these men, ought to take away from them, and to devote to
   their proper use in preaching the gospel. Their garments, also,--that
   is, human institutions such as are adapted to that intercourse with men
   which is indispensable in this life,--we must take and turn to a
   Christian use. And what else have many good and faithful men among our
   brethren done? Do we not see with what quantity of gold and silver, and
   garments, Cyprian, that most persuasive teacher and most blessed
   martyr, was loaded when he came out of Egypt? How much Lactantius
   brought with him! And Victorinus, and Optatus, and Hilary, not to speak
   of living men! How much Greeks out of number have borrowed! And, prior
   to all these, that most faithful servant of God, Moses, had done the
   same thing; for of him it is written that he was learned in all the
   wisdom of the Egyptians (Acts vii. 22)....For what was done at the time
   of the exodus was no doubt a type prefiguring what happens now."

   [526] Acts xvii. 28.

   [527] Hosea ii. 8.

   [528] Rom. i. 25.
     __________________________________________________________________

   Chapter X.--Divine Things are the More Clearly Manifested to Him Who
   Withdraws into the Recesses of His Heart.

   16. And being thence warned to return to myself, I entered into my
   inward self, Thou leading me on; and I was able to do it, for Thou wert
   become my helper. And I entered, and with the eye of my soul (such as
   it was) saw above the same eye of my soul, above my mind, the
   Unchangeable Light. [529] Not this common light, which all flesh may
   look upon, nor, as it were, a greater one of the same kind, as though
   the brightness of this should be much more resplendent, and with its
   greatness fill up all things. Not like this was that light, but
   different, yea, very different from all these. Nor was it above my mind
   as oil is above water, nor as heaven above earth; but above it was,
   because it made me, and I below it, because I was made by it. He who
   knows the Truth knows that Light; and he that knows it knoweth
   eternity. Love knoweth it. O Eternal Truth, and true Love, and loved
   Eternity! [530] Thou art my God; to Thee do I sigh both night and day.
   When I first knew Thee, Thou liftedst me up, that I might see there was
   that which I might see, and that yet it was not I that did see. And
   Thou didst beat back the infirmity of my sight, pouring forth upon me
   most strongly Thy beams of light, and I trembled with love and fear;
   and I found myself to be far off from Thee, in the region of
   dissimilarity, as if I heard this voice of Thine from on high: "I am
   the food of strong men; grow, and thou shalt feed upon me; nor shall
   thou convert me, like the food of thy flesh, into thee, but thou shall
   be converted into me." And I learned that Thou for iniquity dost
   correct man, and Thou dost make my soul to consume away like a spider.
   [531] And I said, "Is Truth, therefore, nothing because it is neither
   diffused through space, finite, nor infinite?" And Thou criedst to me
   from afar, "Yea, verily, I Am that I Am.'" [532] And I heard this, as
   things are heard in the heart, nor was there room for doubt; and I
   should more readily doubt that I live than that Truth is not, which is
   "clearly seen, being understood by the things that are made." [533]
     __________________________________________________________________

   [529] Not the "corporeal brightness" which as a Manichee he had
   believed in, and to which reference has been made in iii. secs. 10, 12,
   iv. sec. 3, and sec. 2, above. The Christian belief he indicates in his
   De Trin. viii. 2: "God is Light (1 John i. 5), not in such way that
   these eyes see, but in such way as the heart sees when it is said, He
   is Truth.'" See also note 1, sec. 23, above.

   [530] If we knew not God, he says, we could not love Him (De Trin.
   viii. 12); but in language very similar to that above, he tells us "we
   are men, created in the image of our Creator, whose eternity is true,
   and whose truth is eternal; whose love is eternal and true, and who
   Himself is the eternal, true, and adorable Trinity, without confusion,
   without separation", (De Civ. Dei, xi. 28); God, then, as even the
   Platonists hold, being the principle of all knowledge. "Let Him," he
   concludes, in his De Civ. Dei (viii. 4), "be sought in whom all things
   are secured to us, let Him be discovered in whom all truth becomes
   certain to us, let Him be loved in whom all becomes right to us."

   [531] Ps. xxxix. 11, Vulg.

   [532] Ex. iii. 14. Augustin, when in his De Civ. Dei (viii. 11, 12) he
   makes reference to this text, leans to the belief, from certain
   parallels between Plato's doctrines and those of the word of God, that
   he may have derived information concerning the Old Testament Scriptures
   from an interpreter when in Egypt. He says: "The most striking thing in
   this connection, and that which most of all inclines me almost to
   assent to the opinion that Plato was not ignorant of those writings, is
   the answer which was given to the question elicited from the holy Moses
   when the words of God were conveyed to him by the angel; for when he
   asked what was the name of that God who was commanding him to go and
   deliver the Hebrew people out of Egypt, this answer was given: I am who
   am; and thou shalt say to the children of Israel, He who is sent me
   unto you;' as though, compared with Him that truly is, because He is
   unchangeable, those things which have been created mutable are not,--a
   truth which Plato vehemently held, and most diligently commended. And I
   know not whether this sentiment is anywhere to be found in the books of
   those who were before Plato, unless in that book where it is said, I am
   who am; and thou shalt say to the children of Israel, Who is sent me
   unto you.' But we need not determine from what source he learned these
   things,--whether it was from the books of the ancients who preceded him
   or, as is more likely, from the words of the apostle (Rom. i. 20),
   Because that which is known of God has been manifested among them, for
   God hath manifested it to them. For His invisible things from the
   creation of the world are clearly seen, being understood by those thing
   which have been made, also His eternal power and Godhead.'"--De Civ.
   Dei, viii. 11, 12.

   [533] Rom. i. 20.
     __________________________________________________________________

   Chapter XI.--That Creatures are Mutable and God Alone Immutable.

   17. And I viewed the other things below Thee, and perceived that they
   neither altogether are, nor altogether are not. They are, indeed,
   because they are from Thee; but are not, because they are not what Thou
   art. For that truly is which remains immutably. [534] It is good, then,
   for me to cleave unto God, [535] for if I remain not in Him, neither
   shall I in myself; but He, remaining in Himself, reneweth all things.
   [536] And Thou art the Lord my God, since Thou standest not in need of
   my goodness. [537]
     __________________________________________________________________

   [534] Therefore, he argues, is God called the I AM (De Nat. Boni, 19):
   for omnis mutatio facit non esse quod erat. Similarly, we find him
   speaking in his De Mor. Manich. (c. I.): "For that exists in the
   highest sense of the word which continues always the same, which is
   throughout like itself, which cannot in any part be corrupted or
   changed, which is not subject to time, which admits of no variation in
   its present as compared with its former condition. This is existence in
   its true sense." See also note 3, p. 158.

   [535] Ps. lxxiii. 28.

   [536] Wisd. vii. 27.

   [537] Ps. xvi. 2.
     __________________________________________________________________

   Chapter XII.--Whatever Things the Good God Has Created are Very Good.

   18. And it was made clear unto me that those things are good which yet
   are corrupted, which, neither were they supremely good, nor unless they
   were good, could be corrupted; because if supremely good, they were
   incorruptible, and if not good at all, there was nothing in them to be
   corrupted. For corruption harms, but, less it could diminish goodness,
   it could not harm. Either, then, corruption harms not, which cannot be;
   or, what is most certain, all which is corrupted is deprived of good.
   But if they be deprived of all good, they will cease to be. For if they
   be, and cannot be at all corrupted, they will become better, because
   they shall remain incorruptibly. And what more monstrous than to assert
   that those things which have lost all their goodness are made better?
   Therefore, if they shall be deprived of all good, they shall no longer
   be. So long, therefore, as they are, they are good; therefore
   whatsoever is, is good. That evil, then, which I sought whence it was,
   is not any substance; for were it a substance, it would be good. For
   either it would be an incorruptible substance, and so a chief good, or
   a corruptible substance, which unless it were good it could not be
   corrupted. I perceived, therefore, and it was made clear to me, that
   Thou didst make all things good, nor is there any substance at all that
   was not made by Thee; and because all that Thou hast made are not
   equal, therefore all things are; because individually they are good,
   and altogether very good, because our God made all things very good.
   [538]
     __________________________________________________________________

   [538] Gen. i. 31, and Ecclus. xxxix. 21. Evil, with Augustin, is a
   "privation of good." See iii. sec. 12, note, above.
     __________________________________________________________________

   Chapter XIII.--It is Meet to Praise the Creator for the Good Things
   Which are Made in Heaven and Earth.

   19. And to Thee is there nothing at all evil, and not only to Thee, but
   to Thy whole creation; because there is nothing without which can break
   in, and mar that order which Thou hast appointed it. But in the parts
   thereof, some things, because they harmonize not with others, are
   considered evil; [539] whereas those very things harmonize with others,
   and are good, and in themselves are good. And all these things which do
   not harmonize together harmonize with the inferior part which we call
   earth, having its own cloudy and windy sky concordant to it. Far be it
   from me, then, to say, "These things should not be." For should I see
   nothing but these, I should indeed desire better; but yet, if only for
   these, ought I to praise Thee; for that Thou art to be praised is shown
   from the "earth, dragons, and all deeps; fire, and hail; snow, and
   vapours; stormy winds fulfilling Thy word; mountains, and all hills;
   fruitful trees, and all cedars; beasts, and all cattle; creeping
   things, and flying fowl; kings of the earth, and all people; princes,
   and all judges of the earth; both young men and maidens; old men and
   children," praise Thy name. But when, "from the heavens," these praise
   Thee, praise Thee, our God, "in the heights," all Thy "angels," all Thy
   "hosts," "sun and moon," all ye stars and light, "the heavens of
   heavens," and the "waters that be above the heavens," praise Thy name.
   [540] I did not now desire better things, because I was thinking of
   all; and with a better judgment I reflected that the things above were
   better than those below, but that all were better than those above
   alone.
     __________________________________________________________________

   [539] See v. sec. 2, note 1, above, where Augustin illustrates the
   existence of good and evil by the lights and shades in a painting, etc.

   [540] Ps. cxlviii. 1-12.
     __________________________________________________________________

   Chapter XIV.--Being Displeased with Some Part Of God's Creation, He
   Conceives of Two Original Substances.

   20. There is no wholeness in them whom aught of Thy creation displeased
   no more than there was in me, when many things which Thou madest
   displeased me. And, because my soul dared not be displeased at my God,
   it would not suffer aught to be Thine which displeased it. Hence it had
   gone into the opinion of two substances, and resisted not, but talked
   foolishly. And, returning thence, it had made to itself a god, through
   infinite measures of all space; and imagined it to be Thee, and placed
   it in its heart, and again had become the temple of its own idol, which
   was to Thee an abomination. But after Thou hadst fomented the head of
   me unconscious of it, and closed mine eyes lest they should "behold
   vanity," [541] I ceased from myself a little, and my madness was lulled
   to sleep; and I awoke in Thee, and saw Thee to be infinite, though in
   another way; and this sight was not derived from the flesh.
     __________________________________________________________________

   [541] Ps. cxix. 37.
     __________________________________________________________________

   Chapter XV.--Whatever Is, Owes Its Being to God.

   21. And I looked back on other things, and I perceived that it was to
   Thee they owed their being, and that they were all bounded in Thee; but
   in another way, not as being in space, but because Thou holdest all
   things in Thine hand in truth: and all things are true so far as they
   have a being; nor is there any falsehood, unless that which is not is
   thought to be. And I saw that all things harmonized, not with their
   places only, but with their seasons also. And that Thou, who only art
   eternal, didst not begin to work after innumerable spaces of times; for
   that all spaces of times, both those which have passed and which shall
   pass, neither go nor come, save through Thee, working and abiding.
   [542]
     __________________________________________________________________

   [542] See xi. secs. 15, 16, 26, etc., below.
     __________________________________________________________________

   Chapter XVI.--Evil Arises Not from a Substance, But from the Perversion
   of the Will.

   22. And I discerned and found it no marvel, that bread which is
   distasteful to an unhealthy palate is pleasant to a healthy one; and
   that the light, which is painful to sore eyes, is delightful to sound
   ones. And Thy righteousness displeaseth the wicked; much more the viper
   and little worm, which Thou hast created good, fitting in with inferior
   parts of Thy creation; with which the wicked themselves also fit in,
   the more in proportion as they are unlike Thee, but with the superior
   creatures, in proportion as they become like to Thee. [543] And I
   inquired what iniquity was, and ascertained it not to be a substance,
   but a perversion of the will, bent aside from Thee, O God, the Supreme
   Substance, towards these lower things, and casting out its bowels,
   [544] and swelling outwardly.
     __________________________________________________________________

   [543] See v. sec. 2, note 1, above.

   [544] Ecclus x. 9. Commenting on this passage of the Apocrypha (De Mus.
   vi. 40), he says, that while the soul's happiness and life is in God,
   "what is to go into outer things, but to cast out its inward parts,
   that is, to place itself far from God--not by distance of place, but by
   the affection of the mind?"
     __________________________________________________________________

   Chapter XVII.--Above His Changeable Mind, He Discovers the Unchangeable
   Author of Truth.

   23. And I marvelled that I now loved Thee, and no phantasm instead of
   Thee. And yet I did not merit to enjoy my God, but was transported to
   Thee by Thy beauty, and presently torn away from Thee by mine own
   weight, sinking with grief into these inferior things. This weight was
   carnal custom. Yet was there a remembrance of Thee with me; nor did I
   any way doubt that there was one to whom I might cleave, but that I was
   not yet one who could cleave unto Thee; for that the body which is
   corrupted presseth down the soul, and the earthly dwelling weigheth
   down the mind which thinketh upon many things. [545] And most certain I
   was that Thy "invisible things from the creation of the world are
   clearly seen, being understood by the things that are made, even Thy
   eternal power and Godhead." [546] For, inquiring whence it was that I
   admired the beauty of bodies whether celestial or terrestrial, and what
   supported me in judging correctly on things mutable, and pronouncing,
   "This should be thus, this not,"--inquiring, then, whence I so judged,
   seeing I did so judge, I had found the unchangeable and true eternity
   of Truth, above my changeable mind. And thus, by degrees, I passed from
   bodies to the soul, which makes use of the senses of the body to
   perceive; and thence to its inward [547] faculty, to which the bodily
   senses represent outward things, and up to which reach the capabilities
   of beasts; and thence, again, I passed on to the reasoning faculty,
   [548] unto which whatever is received from the senses of the body is
   referred to be judged, which also, finding itself to be variable in me,
   raised itself up to its own intelligence, and from habit drew away my
   thoughts, withdrawing itself from the crowds of contradictory
   phantasms; that so it might find out that light [549] by which it was
   besprinkled, when, without all doubting, it cried out, "that the
   unchangeable was to be preferred before the changeable;" whence also it
   knew that unchangeable, which, unless it had in some way known, it
   could have had no sure ground for preferring it to the changeable. And
   thus, with the flash of a trembling glance, it arrived at that which
   is. And then I saw Thy invisible things understood by the things that
   are made. [550] But I was not able to fix my gaze thereon; and my
   infirmity being beaten back, I was thrown again on my accustomed
   habits, carrying along with me naught but a loving memory thereof, and
   an appetite for what I had, as it were, smelt the odour of, but was not
   yet able to eat.
     __________________________________________________________________

   [545] Wisd. ix. 15.

   [546] Rom. i. 20.

   [547] See above, sec. 10.

   [548] Here, and more explicitly in sec. 25, we have before us what has
   been called the "trichotomy" of man. This doctrine Augustin does not
   deny in theory, but appears to consider (De Anima, iv. 32) it prudent
   to overlook in practice. The biblical view of psychology may well be
   considered here not only on its own account, but as enabling us clearly
   to apprehend this passage and that which follows it. It is difficult to
   understand how any one can doubt that St. Paul, when speaking in 1
   Thess. v. 23, of our "spirit, soul, and body being preserved unto the
   coming of our Lord Jesus Christ," implies a belief in a kind of trinity
   in man. And it is very necessary to the understanding of other
   Scriptures that we should realize what special attributes pertain to
   the soul and the spirit respectively. It may be said, generally, that
   the soul (psuche) is that passionate and affectionate nature which is
   common to us and the inferior creatures, while the spirit (pneuma) is
   the higher intellectual nature which is peculiar to man. Hence our Lord
   in His agony in the garden says (Matt. xxvi. 38), "My Soul is exceeding
   sorrowful"--the soul being liable to emotions of pleasure and pain. In
   the same passage (ver 41) he says to the apostles who had slept during
   His great agony, "The Spirit indeed is willing, but the flesh is weak,"
   so that the spirit is the seat of the will. And that the spirit is also
   the seat of consciousness we gather from St. Paul's words (1 Cor. ii.
   11), "What man knoweth the things of a man, save the spirit of man
   which is in him? even so the things of God knoweth no man, but the
   Spirit of God." And it is on the spirit of man that the Spirit of God
   operates; whence we read (Rom. viii. 16), "The Spirit beareth witness
   with our spirit, that we are the children of God." It is important to
   note that the word "flesh" (sarx) has its special significance, as
   distinct from body. The word comes to us from the Hebrew through the
   Hellenistic Greek of the LXX., and in biblical language (see Bishop
   Pearson's Præfatio Parænetica to his edition of the LXX.) stands for
   our human nature with it worldly surroundings and liability to
   temptation; so that when it is said, "The Word was made flesh," we have
   what is equivalent to, "The Word put on human nature." It is,
   therefore, the flesh and the spirit that are ever represented in
   conflict one with the other when men are in the throes of temptation.
   So it must be while life lasts; for it is characteristic of our
   position in the world that we possess soulish bodies (to employ the
   barbarous but expressive word of Dr. Candlish in his Life in a Risen
   Saviour, p. 182), and only on the morning of the resurrection will the
   body be spiritual and suited to the new sphere of its existence: "It is
   sown a natural [psuchikon, "soulish"] body, it is raised a spiritual
   [pneumatikon] body" (1 Cor. xv. 44); "for," as Augustin says in his
   Enchiridion (c. xci.), "just as now the body is called animate (or,
   using the Greek term, as above, instead of the Latin, "soulish"),
   though it is a body and not a soul, so then the body shall be called
   spiritual, though it shall be a body, not a spirit....No part of our
   nature shall be in discord with another; but as we shall be free from
   enemies without, so we shall not have ourselves for enemies within."
   For further information on this most interesting subject, see
   Delitzsch, Biblical Psychology, ii. 4 ("The True and False
   Trichotomy"); Olshausen, Opuscula Theologica, iv. ("De Trichotomia")
   and cc. 2, 17, and 18 of R. W. Evans' Ministry of the Body, where the
   subject is discussed with thoughtfulness and spiritual insight. This
   matter is also treated of in the introductory chapters of Schlegel's
   Philosophy of Life.

   [549] That light which illumines the soul, he tells us in his De Gen.
   ad Lit. (xii. 31), is God Himself, from whom all light cometh; and,
   though created in His image and likeness, when it tries to discover
   Him, palpitat infirmitate, et minus valet. In sec. 13, above, speaking
   of Platonism, he describes it as holding "that the soul of man, though
   it bears witness of the Light,' yet itself is not that Light.'" In his
   De Civ. Dei, x. 2, he quotes from Plotinus (mentioned in note 2, sec.
   13, above) in regard to the Platonic doctrine as to enlightenment from
   on high. He says: "Plotinus, commenting on Plato, repeatedly and
   strongly asserts that not even the soul, which they believe to be the
   soul of the world, derives its blessedness from any other source than
   we do, viz. from that Light which is distinct from it and created it,
   and by whose intelligible illumination it enjoys light in things
   intelligible. He also compares those spiritual things to the vast and
   conspicuous heavenly bodies, as if God were the sun, and the soul the
   moon; for they suppose that the moon derives its light from the sun.
   That great Platonist, therefore, says that the rational soul, or rather
   the intellectual soul,--in which class he comprehends the souls of the
   blessed immortal who inhabit heaven,--has no nature superior to it save
   God, the Creator of the world and the soul itself, and that these
   heavenly spirits derive their blessed life, and the light of truth,
   from the same source as ourselves, agreeing with the gospel where we
   read, There was a man sent from God, whose name was John. The same came
   for a witness, to bear witness of that Light, that through Him all
   might believe. He was not that Light, but that he might bear witness of
   the Light. That was the true Light, which lighteth every man that
   cometh into the world' (John i. 6-9);--a distinction which sufficiently
   proves that the rational or intellectual soul, such as John had, cannot
   be its own light, but needs to receive illumination from another, the
   true Light. This John himself avows when he delivers his witness (ibid.
   16): We have all received of His fulness.'" Comp. Tertullian, De
   Testim. Anim., and the note to iv. sec. 25, above, where other
   references to God's being the Father of Lights are given.

   [550] Rom. i. 20.
     __________________________________________________________________

   Chapter XVIII.--Jesus Christ, the Mediator, is the Only Way of Safety.

   24. And I sought a way of acquiring strength sufficient to enjoy Thee;
   but I found it not until I embraced that "Mediator between God and man,
   the man Christ Jesus," [551] "who is over all, God blessed for ever,"
   [552] calling unto me, and saying, "I am the way, the truth, and the
   life," [553] and mingling that food which I was unable to receive with
   our flesh. For "the Word was made flesh," [554] that Thy wisdom, by
   which Thou createdst all things, might provide milk for our infancy.
   For I did not grasp my Lord Jesus,--I, though humbled, grasped not the
   humble One; [555] nor did I know what lesson that infirmity of His
   would teach us. For Thy Word, the Eternal Truth, pre-eminent above the
   higher parts of Thy creation, raises up those that are subject unto
   Itself; but in this lower world built for Itself a humble habitation of
   our clay, whereby He intended to abase from themselves such as would be
   subjected and bring them over unto Himself, allaying their swelling,
   and fostering their love; to the end that they might go on no further
   in self-confidence, but rather should become weak, seeing before their
   feet the Divinity weak by taking our "coats of skins;" [556] and
   wearied, might cast themselves down upon It, and It rising, might lift
   them up.
     __________________________________________________________________

   [551] 1 Tim. ii. 5.

   [552] Rom. ix. 5.

   [553] John xiv. 6.

   [554] John i. 14.

   [555] Christ descended that we may ascend. See iv. sec. 19, notes 1 and
   3, above.

   [556] Gen. iii. 21. Augustin frequently makes these "coats of skin"
   symbolize the mortality to which our first parents became subject by
   being deprived of the tree of life (see iv. sec. 15, note 3, above);
   and in his Enarr. in Ps. (ciii. 1, 8), he says they are thus symbolical
   inasmuch as the skin is only taken from animals when dead.
     __________________________________________________________________

   Chapter XIX.--He Does Not Yet Fully Understand the Saying of John, that
   "The Word Was Made Flesh."

   25. But I thought differently, thinking only of my Lord Christ as of a
   man of excellent wisdom, to whom no man could be equalled; especially
   for that, being wonderfully born of a virgin, He seemed, through the
   divine care for us, to have attained so great authority of
   leadership,--for an example of contemning temporal things for the
   obtaining of immortality. But what mystery there was in, "The Word was
   made flesh," [557] I could not even imagine. Only I had learnt out of
   what is delivered to us in writing of Him, that He did eat, drink,
   sleep, walk, rejoice in spirit, was sad, and discoursed; that flesh
   alone did not cleave unto Thy Word, but with the human soul and body.
   All know thus who know the unchangeableness of Thy Word, which I now
   knew as well as I could, nor did I at all have any doubt about it. For,
   now to move the limbs of the body at will, now not; now to be stirred
   by some affection, now not; now by signs to enunciate wise sayings, now
   to keep silence, are properties of a soul and mind subject to change.
   And should these things be falsely written of Him, all the rest would
   risk the imputation, nor would there remain in those books any saving
   faith for the human race. Since, then, they were written truthfully, I
   acknowledged a perfect man to be in Christ--not the body of a man only,
   nor with the body a sensitive soul without a rational, but a very man;
   whom, not only as being a form of truth, but for a certain great
   excellency of human nature and a more perfect participation of wisdom,
   I decided was to be preferred before others. But Alypius imagined the
   Catholics to believe that God was so clothed with flesh, that, besides
   God and flesh, there was no soul in Christ, and did not think that a
   human mind was ascribed to Him. And, because He was thoroughly
   persuaded that the actions which were recorded of Him could not be
   performed except by a vital and rational creature, he moved the more
   slowly towards the Christian faith. But, learning afterwards that this
   was the error of the Apollinarian heretics, [558] he rejoiced in the
   Catholic faith, and was conformed to it. But somewhat later it was, I
   confess, that I learned how in the sentence, "The Word was made flesh,"
   the Catholic truth can be distinguished from the falsehood of Photinus.
   [559] For the disapproval of heretics makes the tenets of Thy Church
   and sound doctrine to stand out boldly. [560] For there must be also
   heresies, that the approved may be made manifest among the weak. [561]
     __________________________________________________________________

   [557] We have already seen, in note 1, sec. 13, above, how this text
   (1) runs counter to Platonic beliefs as to the Logos. The following
   passage from Augustin's De Civ. Dei, x. 29, is worth putting on record
   in this connection:--"Are ye ashamed to be corrected? This is the vice
   of the proud. It is forsooth, a degradation for learned men to pass
   from the school of Plato to the discipleship of Christ, who by His
   Spirit taught a fisherman to think and to say, In the beginning was the
   Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. The same was in
   the beginning with God. All things were made by Him, and without Him
   was not any thing made that was made. In Him was life; and the life was
   the light of men. And the light shineth in darkness; and the darkness
   comprehended it not' (John i. 1-5). The old saint Simplicianus,
   afterwards Bishop of Milan, used to tell me that a certain Platonist
   was in the habit of saying that this opening passage of the holy Gospel
   entitled, According to John,' should be written in letters of gold, and
   hung up in all churches in the most conspicuous place. But the proud
   scorn to take God for their Master, because the Word was made flesh and
   dwelt among us' (John i. 14). So that with these miserable creatures it
   is not enough that they are sick, but they boast of their sickness, and
   are ashamed of the medicine which could heal them. And doing so, they
   secure not elevation, but a more disastrous fall." This text, too, as
   Irenæus has remarked, (2) entirely opposes the false teaching of the
   Docetæ, who, as their name imports, believed, with the Manichæans, that
   Christ only appeared to have a body; as was the case, they said, with
   the angels entertained by Abraham (see Burton's Bampton Lectures, lect.
   6). It is curious to note here that Augustin maintained that the Angel
   of the Covenant was not an anticipation, as it were, of the incarnation
   of the Word, but only a created angel (De Civ. Dei, xvi. 29, and De
   Trin. iii. 11), thus unconsciously playing into the hands of the
   Arians. See Bull's Def. Fid. Nic. i. 1, sec. 2, etc., and iv. 3, sec.
   14.

   [558] The founder of this heresy was Apollinaris the younger, Bishop of
   Laodicea, whose erroneous doctrine was condemned at the Council of
   Constantinople, A.D. 381. Note 4, sec. 23, above, on the "trichotomy,"
   affords help in understanding it. Apollinaris seems to have desired to
   exalt the Saviour, not to detract from His honour, like Arius. Before
   his time men had written much on the divine and much on the human side
   of our Lord's nature. He endeavoured to show (see Dorner's Person of
   Christ, A. ii. 252, etc., Clark) in what the two natures united
   differed from human nature. He concluded that our Lord had no need of
   the human pneuma, and that its place was supplied by the divine nature,
   so that God "the Word," the body and the psuche, constituted the being
   of the Saviour. Dr. Pusey quotes the following passages hereon:--"The
   faithful who believes and confesses in the Mediator a real human, i.e.
   our nature, although God the Word, taking it in a singular manner,
   sublimated it into the only Son of God, so that He who took it, and
   what He took, was one person in the Trinity. For, after man was
   assumed, there became not a quaternity but remained the Trinity, that
   assumption making in an ineffable way the truth of one person in God
   and man. Since we do not say that Christ is only God, as do the
   Manichæan heretics, nor only man, as the Photinian heretics, nor in
   such wise man as not to have anything which certainly belongs to human
   nature, whether the soul, or in the soul itself the rational mind, or
   the flesh not taken of the woman, but made of the Word, converted and
   changed into flesh, which three false and vain statements made three
   several divisions of the Apollinarian heretics; but we say that Christ
   is true God, born of God the Father, without any beginning of time, and
   also true man, born of a human mother in the fulness of time; and that
   His humanity, whereby He is inferior to the Father, does not derogate
   from His divinity, whereby He is equal to the Father" (De Dono Persev.
   sec. ult.). "There was formerly a heresy--its remnants perhaps still
   exist--of some called Apollinarians. Some of them said that that man
   whom the Word took, when the Word was made flesh,' had not the human,
   i.e. rational (logikon) mind, but was only a soul without human
   intelligence, but that the very Word of God was in that man instead of
   a mind. They were cast out,--the Catholic faith rejected them, and they
   made a heresy. It was established in the Catholic faith that that man
   whom the wisdom of God took had nothing less than other men, with
   regard to the integrity of man's nature, but as to the excellency of
   His person, had more than other men. For other men may be said to be
   partakers of the Word of God, having the Word of God, but none of them
   can be called the Word of God, which He was called when it is said, The
   Word was made flesh' " (in Ps. xxix., Enarr. ii. sec. 2). "But when
   they reflected that, if their doctrine were true, they must confess
   that the only-begotten Son of God, the Wisdom and Word of the Father,
   by whom all things were made, is believed to have taken a sort of brute
   with the figure of a human body, they were dissastisfied with
   themselves; yet not so as to amend, and confess that the whole man was
   assumed by the wisdom of God, without any diminution of nature, but
   still more boldly denied to Him the soul itself, and everything of any
   worth in man, and said that He only took human flesh" (De 83, Div.
   Quæst. qu. 80). Reference on the questions touched on in this note may
   be made to Neander's Church History, ii. 401, etc. (Clark); and
   Hagenbach, History of Doctrines, i. 270 (Clark).

   [559] See notes on p. 107.

   [560] Archbishop Trench's words on this sentence in the Confessions
   (Hulsean Lectures, lect. v. 1845) have a special interest in the
   present attitude of the Roman Church:--"Doubtless there is a true idea
   of scriptural developments which has always been recognised, to which
   the great Fathers of the Church have set their seal; this, namely, that
   the Church, informed and quickened by the Spirit of God, more and more
   discovers what in Holy Scripture is given her; but not this, that she
   unfolds by an independent power anything further therefrom. She has
   always possessed what she now possesses of doctrine and truth, only not
   always with the same distinctness of consciousness. She has not added
   to her wealth, but she has become more and more aware of that wealth;
   her dowry has remained always the same, but that dowry was so rich and
   so rare, that only little by little she has counted over and taken
   stock and inventory of her jewels. She has consolidated her doctrine,
   compelled to this by the challenges and provocation of enemies, or
   induced to it by the growing sense of her own needs." Perhaps no one,
   to turn from the Church to individual men, has been more indebted than
   was Augustin to controversies with heretics for the evolvement of
   truth.

   [561] 1 Cor. xi. 19.
     __________________________________________________________________

   Chapter XX.--He Rejoices that He Proceeded from Plato to the Holy
   Scriptures, and Not the Reverse.

   26. But having then read those books of the Platonists, and being
   admonished by them to search for incorporeal truth, I saw Thy invisible
   things, understood by those things that are made; [562] and though
   repulsed, I perceived what that was, which through the darkness of my
   mind I was not allowed to contemplate,--assured that Thou wert, and
   wert infinite, and yet not diffused in space finite or infinite; and
   that Thou truly art, who art the same ever, [563] varying neither in
   part nor motion; and that all other things are from Thee, on this most
   sure ground alone, that they are. Of these things was I indeed assured,
   yet too weak to enjoy Thee. I chattered as one well skilled; but had I
   not sought Thy way in Christ our Saviour, I would have proved not
   skilful, but ready to perish. For now, filled with my punishment, I had
   begun to desire to seem wise; yet mourned I not, but rather was puffed
   up with knowledge. [564] For where was that charity building upon the
   "foundation" of humility, "which is Jesus Christ"? [565] Or, when would
   these books teach me it? Upon these, therefore, I believe, it was Thy
   pleasure that I should fall before I studied Thy Scriptures, that it
   might be impressed on my memory how I was affected by them; and that
   afterwards when I was subdued by Thy books, and when my wounds were
   touched by Thy healing fingers, I might discern and distinguish what a
   difference there is between presumption and confession,--between those
   who saw whither they were to go, yet saw not the way, and the way which
   leadeth not only to behold but to inhabit the blessed country. [566]
   For had I first been moulded in Thy Holy Scriptures, and hadst Thou, in
   the familiar use of them, grown sweet unto me, and had I afterwards
   fallen upon those volumes, they might perhaps have withdrawn me from
   the solid ground of piety; or, had I stood firm in that wholesome
   disposition which I had thence imbibed, I might have thought that it
   could have been attained by the study of those books alone.
     __________________________________________________________________

   [562] Rom. i. 20.

   [563] See sec. 17, note, above.

   [564] 1 Cor. viii. 1.

   [565] 1 Cor. iii. 11.

   [566] We have already quoted a passage from Augustin's Sermons (v. sec.
   5, note 7, above), where Christ as God is described as the country we
   seek, while as man He is the way to go to it. The Fathers frequently
   point out in their controversies with the philosophers that it little
   profited that they should know of a goal to be attained unless they
   could learn the way to reach it. And, in accordance with the sentiment,
   Augustin says: "For it is as man that He is the Mediator and the Way.
   Since, if the way lieth between him who goes and the place whither he
   goes, there is hope of his reaching it; but if there be no way, or if
   he know not where it is, what boots it to know whither he should go?"
   (De Civ. Dei, xi. 2.) And again, in his De Trin. iv. 15: "But of what
   use is it for the proud man, who, on that account, is ashamed to embark
   upon the ship of wood, to behold from afar his country beyond the sea?
   Or how can it hurt the humble man not to behold it from so great a
   distance, when he is actually coming to it by that wood upon which the
   other disdains to be borne?"
     __________________________________________________________________

   Chapter XXI.--What He Found in the Sacred Books Which are Not to Be
   Found in Plato.

   27. Most eagerly, then, did I seize that venerable writing of Thy
   Spirit, but more especally the Apostle Paul; [567] and those
   difficulties vanished away, in which he at one time appeared to me to
   contradict himself, and the text of his discourse not to agree with the
   testimonies of the Law and the Prophets. And the face of that pure
   speech appeared to me one and the same; and I learned to "rejoice with
   trembling." [568] So I commenced, and found that whatsoever truth I had
   there read was declared here with the recommendation of Thy grace; that
   he who sees may not so glory as if he had not received [569] not only
   that which he sees, but also that he can see (for what hath he which he
   hath not received?); and that he may not only be admonished to see
   Thee, who art ever the same, but also may be healed, to hold Thee; and
   that he who from afar off is not able to see, may still walk on the way
   by which he may reach, behold, and possess Thee. For though a man
   "delight in the law of God after the inward man," [570] what shall he
   do with that other law in his members which warreth against the law of
   his mind, and bringeth him into captivity to the law of sin, which is
   in his members? [571] For Thou art righteous, O Lord, but we have
   sinned and committed iniquity, and have done wickedly, [572] and Thy
   hand is grown heavy upon us, and we are justly delivered over unto that
   ancient sinner, the governor of death; for he induced our will to be
   like his will, whereby he remained not in Thy truth. What shall
   "wretched man" do? "Who shall deliver him from the body of this death,"
   but Thy grace only, "through Jesus Christ our Lord,'" [573] whom Thou
   hast begotten co-eternal, and createdst [574] in the beginning of Thy
   ways, in whom the Prince of this world found nothing worthy of death,
   [575] yet killed he Him, and the handwriting which was contrary to us
   was blotted out? [576] This those writings contain not. Those pages
   contain not the expression of this piety,--the tears of confession, Thy
   sacrifice, a troubled spirit, "a broken and a contrite heart," [577]
   the salvation of the people, the espoused city, [578] the earnest of
   the Holy Ghost, [579] the cup of our redemption. [580] No man sings
   there, Shall not my soul be subject unto God? For of Him cometh my
   salvation, for He is my God and my salvation, my defender, I shall not
   be further moved. [581] No one there hears Him calling, "Come unto me
   all ye that labour." They scorn to learn of Him, because He is meek and
   lowly of heart; [582] for "Thou hast hid those things from the wise and
   prudent, and hast revealed them unto babes." [583] For it is one thing,
   from the mountain's wooded summit to see the land of peace, [584] and
   not to find the way thither,--in vain to attempt impassable ways,
   opposed and waylaid by fugitives and deserters, under their captain the
   "lion" [585] and the "dragon;" [586] and another to keep to the way
   that leads thither, guarded by the host of the heavenly general, where
   they rob not who have deserted the heavenly army, which they shun as
   torture. These things did in a wonderful manner sink into my bowels,
   when I read that "least of Thy apostles," [587] and had reflected upon
   Thy works, and feared greatly.

   ------------------------
     __________________________________________________________________

   [567] Literally, "The venerable pen of Thy Spirit (Logos); words which
   would seem to imply a belief on Augustin's part in a verbal inspiration
   of Scripture. That he gave Scripture the highest honour as God's
   inspired word is clear not only from this, but other passages in his
   works. It is equally clear, however, that he gave full recognition to
   the human element in the word. See De Cons. Evang. ii. 12, where both
   these aspects are plainly discoverable. Compare also ibid. c. 24.

   [568] Ps. ii. 11.

   [569] l Cor. iv. 7.

   [570] Rom. vii. 22.

   [571] Ibid. ver. 23.

   [572] Song of the Three Children, 4 sq.

   [573] Rom. vii. 24, 25.

   [574] Prov. viii. 22, as quoted from the old Italic version. It must
   not be understood to teach that the Lord is a creature. (1) Augustin,
   as indeed is implied in the Confessions above, understands the passage
   of the incarnation of Christ, and in his De Doct. Christ. i. 38, he
   distinctly so applies it: "For Christ...desiring to be Himself the Way
   to those who are just setting out, determined to take a fleshly body.
   Whence also that expression, The Lord created me in the beginning of
   his Way,'--that is, that those who wish to come might begin their
   journey in Him." Again, in a remarkable passage in his De Trin. i. 24,
   he makes a similar application of the words: "According to the form of
   a servant, it is said, The Lord created me in the beginning of His
   ways.' Because, according to the form of God, he said, I am the Truth;'
   and, according to the form of a servant, I am the Way.'" (2) Again,
   creasti is from the LXX. ektise, which is that version's rendering in
   this verse of the Hebrew qnny. The Vulgate, more correctly translating
   from the Hebrew, gives possedit, thus corresponding to our English
   version, "The Lord possessed me," etc. The LXX. would appear to have
   made an erroneous rendering here, for ktizo is generally in that
   version the equivalent for vr', "to create," while qgh is usually
   rendered by ktaomai, "to possess," "to acquire." It is true that
   Gesenius supposes that in a few passages, and Prov. viii. 22 among
   them, qnh should be rendered "to create;" but these very passages our
   authorized version renders "to get," or "to possess;" and, as Dr.
   Tregelles observes, referring to M'Call on the Divine Sonship, "in all
   passages cited for that sense, to possess' appears to be the true
   meaning."

   [575] John xviii. 38.

   [576] Col. ii. 14.

   [577] Ps. li. 17.

   [578] Rev. xxi. 2.

   [579] 2 Cor. v. 5.

   [580] Ps. cxvi. 13.

   [581] Ps. lxii. 1, 2.

   [582] Matt. xi. 28, 29.

   [583] Matt. xi. 25.

   [584] Deut. xxxii. 49.

   [585] 1 Pet. v. 8.

   [586] Rev. xii. 3.

   [587] 1 Cor. xv. 9. In giving an account, remarks Pusey, of this period
   to his friend and patron Romanianus, St. Augustin seems to have blended
   together this and the history of his completed conversion, which was
   also wrought in connection with words in the same apostle, but the
   account of which he uniformly suppresses, for fear, probably, of
   injuring the individual to whom he was writing (see on book ix. sec. 4,
   note, below). "Since that vehement flame which was about to seize me as
   yet was not, I thought that by which I was slowly kindled was the very
   greatest. When lo! certain books, when they had distilled a very few
   drops of most precious unguent on that tiny flame, it is past belief,
   Romanianus, past belief, and perhaps past what even you believe of me
   (and what could I say more?), nay, to myself also is it past belief,
   what a conflagration of myself they lighted. What ambition, what human
   show, what empty love of fame, or, lastly, what incitement or band of
   this mortal life could hold me then? I turned speedily and wholly back
   into myself. I cast but a glance, I confess, as one passing on, upon
   that religion which was implanted into us as boys, and interwoven with
   our very inmost selves; but she drew me unknowing to herself. So then,
   stumbling, hurrying, hesitating, I seized the Apostle Paul; for never,'
   said I, could they have wrought such things, or lived as it is plain
   they did live, if their writings and arguments were opposed to this so
   high good.' I read the whole most intently and carefully. But then,
   never so little light having been shed thereon, such a countenance of
   wisdom gleamed upon me, that if I could exhibit it--I say not to you,
   who ever hungeredst after her, though unknown--but to your very
   adversary (see book vi. sec. 24, note, above), casting aside and
   abandoning whatever now stimulates him so keenly to whatsoever
   pleasures, he would, amazed, panting, enkindled, fly to her Beauty"
   (Con. Acad. ii. 5).
     __________________________________________________________________
     __________________________________________________________________

   Book VIII.

   ------------------------

   He finally describes the thirty-second year of his age, the most
   memorable of his whole life, in which, being instructed by Simplicianus
   concerning the conversion of others, and the manner of acting, he is,
   after a severe struggle, renewed in his whole mind, and is converted
   unto God.

   ------------------------
     __________________________________________________________________

   Chapter I.--He, Now Given to Divine Things, and Yet Entangled by the
   Lusts of Love, Consults Simplicianus in Reference to the Renewing of
   His Mind.

   1. O My God, let me with gratitude remember and confess unto Thee Thy
   mercies bestowed upon me. Let my bones be steeped in Thy love, and let
   them say, Who is like unto Thee, O Lord? [588] "Thou hast loosed my
   bonds, I will offer unto Thee the sacrifice of thanksgiving." [589] And
   how Thou hast loosed them I will declare; and all who worship Thee when
   they hear these things shall say: "Blessed be the Lord in heaven and
   earth, great and wonderful is His name." Thy words had stuck fast into
   my breast, and I was hedged round about by Thee on every side. [590] Of
   Thy eternal life I was now certain, although I had seen it "through a
   glass darkly." [591] Yet I no longer doubted that there was an
   incorruptible substance, from which was derived all other substance;
   nor did I now desire to be more certain of Thee, but more stedfast in
   Thee. As for my temporal life, all things were uncertain, and my heart
   had to be purged from the old leaven. [592] The "Way," [593] the
   Saviour Himself, was pleasant unto me, but as yet I disliked to pass
   through its straightness. And Thou didst put into my mind, and it
   seemed good in my eyes, to go unto Simplicianus, [594] who appeared to
   me a faithful servant of Thine, and Thy grace shone in him. I had also
   heard that from his very youth he had lived most devoted to Thee. Now
   he had grown into years, and by reason of so great age, passed in such
   zealous following of Thy ways, he appeared to me likely to have gained
   much experience; and so in truth he had. Out of which experience I
   desired him to tell me (setting before him my griefs) which would be
   the most fitting way for one afflicted as I was to walk in Thy way.

   2. For the Church I saw to be full, and one went this way, and another
   that. But it was displeasing to me that I led a secular life; yea, now
   that my passions had ceased to excite me as of old with hopes of honour
   and wealth, a very grievous burden it was to undergo so great a
   servitude. For, compared with Thy sweetness, and the beauty of Thy
   house, which I loved, [595] those things delighted me no longer. But
   still very tenaciously was I held by the love of women; nor did the
   apostle forbid me to marry, although he exhorted me to something
   better, especially wishing that all men were as he himself was. [596]
   But I, being weak, made choice of the more agreeable place, and because
   of this alone was tossed up and down in all beside, faint and
   languishing with withering cares, because in other matters I was
   compelled, though unwilling, to agree to a married life, to which I was
   given up and enthralled. I had heard from the mouth of truth that
   "there be eunuchs, which have made themselves eunuchs for the kingdom
   of heaven's sake;" but, saith He, "he that is able to receive it, let
   him receive it." [597] Vain, assuredly, are all men in whom the
   knowledge of God is not, and who could not, out of the good things
   which are seen, find out Him who is good. [598] But I was no longer in
   that vanity; I had surmounted it, and by the united testimony of Thy
   whole creation had found Thee, our Creator, [599] and Thy Word, God
   with Thee, and together with Thee and the Holy Ghost [600] one God, by
   whom Thou createdst all things. There is yet another kind of impious
   men, who "when they knew God, they glorified Him not as God, neither
   were thankful." [601] Into this also had I fallen; but Thy right hand
   held me up, [602] and bore me away, and Thou placedst me where I might
   recover. For Thou hast said unto man, "Behold, the fear of the Lord,
   that is wisdom;" [603] and desire not to seem wise, [604] because,
   "Professing themselves to be wise, they became fools." [605] But I had
   now found the goodly pearl, [606] which, selling all that I had, [607]
   I ought to have bought; and I hesitated.
     __________________________________________________________________

   [588] Ps. xxxv. 10.

   [589] Ps. cxvi. 16, 17.

   [590] Job. i. 10.

   [591] 1 Cor. xiii. 12.

   [592] 1 Cor. v. 7.

   [593] John xiv. 6.

   [594] "Simplicianus became a successor of the most blessed Ambrose,
   Bishop of the Church of Milan' (Aug. Retract. ii. 1). To him St.
   Augustin wrote two books, De Diversis Quæstionibus (Op. t. vi. p. 82
   sq.), and calls him father' (ibid.), speaks of his fatherly affections
   from his most benevolent heart, not recent or sudden, but tried and
   known' (Ep. 37), requests his remarks and corrections of any books of
   his which might chance to fall into his holy hands' (ibid.) St. Ambrose
   mentions his having traversed the whole world, for the sake of the
   faith, and of acquiring divine knowledge, and having given the whole
   period of this life to holy reading, night and day: that he had an
   acute mind, whereby he took in intellectual studies, and was in the
   habit of proving how far the books of philosophy were gone astray from
   the truth,' Ep. 65, sec 5, p. 1052, ed. Ben. See also Tillemont, H. E.
   t. 10, Art. S. Simplicien.'"--E. B. P.

   [595] Ps. xxvi. 8.

   [596] 1 Cor. vii. 7.

   [597] Matt. xix. 12.

   [598] Wisd. xiii. 1.

   [599] See iv. sec, 18, and note, above.

   [600] "And the Holy Ghost." These words, though in the text of the
   Benedictine edition are not, as the editors point out, found in the
   majority of the best mss.

   [601] Rom. i. 21.

   [602] Ps. xviii. 35.

   [603] Job xxviii. 28.

   [604] Prov. iii. 7.

   [605] Rom. i. 22.

   [606] In his Quæst. ex. Matt. 13, likewise, Augustin compares Christ to
   the pearl of great price, who is in every way able to satisfy the
   cravings of man.

   [607] Matt. xiii. 46.
     __________________________________________________________________

   Chapter II.--The Pious Old Man Rejoices that He Read Plato and the
   Scriptures, and Tells Him of the Rhetorician Victorinus Having Been
   Converted to the Faith Through the Reading of the Sacred Books.

   3. To Simplicianus then I went,--the father of Ambrose [608] (at that
   time a bishop) in receiving Thy grace, and whom he truly loved as a
   father. To him I narrated the windings of my error. But when I
   mentioned to him that I had read certain books of the Platonists, which
   Victorinus, sometime Professor of Rhetoric at Rome (who died a
   Christian, as I had been told), had translated into Latin, he
   congratulated me that I had not fallen upon the writings of other
   philosophers, which were full of fallacies and deceit, "after the
   rudiments of the world," [609] whereas they, [610] in many ways, led to
   the belief in God and His word. [611] Then, to exhort me to the
   humility of Christ, [612] hidden from the wise, and revealed to little
   ones, [613] he spoke of Victorinus himself, [614] whom, whilst he was
   at Rome, he had known very intimately; and of him he related that about
   which I will not be silent. For it contains great praise of Thy grace,
   which ought to be confessed unto Thee, how that most learned old man,
   highly skilled in all the liberal sciences, who had read, criticised,
   and explained so many works of the philosophers; the teacher of so many
   noble senators; who also, as a mark of his excellent discharge of his
   duties, had (which men of this world esteem a great honour) both
   merited and obtained a statue in the Roman Forum, he,--even to that age
   a worshipper of idols, and a participator in the sacrilegious rites to
   which almost all the nobility of Rome were wedded, and had inspired the
   people with the love of

   "The dog Anubis, and a medley crew

   Of monster gods [who] 'gainst Neptune stand in arms,

   'Gainst Venus and Minerva, steel-clad Mars," [615]

   whom Rome once conquered, now worshipped, all which old Victorinus had
   with thundering eloquence defended so many years,--he now blushed not
   to be the child of Thy Christ, and an infant at Thy fountain,
   submitting his neck to the yoke of humility, and subduing his forehead
   to the reproach of the Cross.

   4. O Lord, Lord, who hast bowed the heavens and come down, touched the
   mountains and they did smoke, [616] by what means didst Thou convey
   Thyself into that bosom? He used to read, as Simplicianus said, the
   Holy Scripture, most studiously sought after and searched into all the
   Christian writings, and said to Simplicianus,--not openly, but
   secretly, and as a friend,--"Know thou that I am a Christian." To which
   he replied, "I will not believe it, nor will I rank you among the
   Christians unless I see you in the Church of Christ." Whereupon he
   replied derisively, "Is it then the walls that make Christians?" And
   this he often said, that he already was a Christian; and Simplicianus
   making the same answer, the conceit of the "walls" was by the other as
   often renewed. For he was fearful of offending his friends, proud
   demon-worshippers, from the height of whose Babylonian dignity, as from
   cedars of Lebanon which had not yet been broken by the Lord, [617] he
   thought a storm of enmity would descend upon him. But after that, from
   reading and inquiry, he had derived strength, and feared lest he should
   be denied by Christ before the holy angels if he now was afraid to
   confess Him before men, [618] and appeared to himself guilty of a great
   fault in being ashamed of the sacraments [619] of the humility of Thy
   word, and not being ashamed of the sacrilegious rites of those proud
   demons, whose pride he had imitated and their rites adopted, he became
   bold-faced against vanity, and shame-faced toward the truth, and
   suddenly and unexpectedly said to Simplicianus,--as he himself informed
   me,--"Let us go to the church; I wish to be made a Christian." But he,
   not containing himself for joy, accompanied him. And having been
   admitted to the first sacraments of instruction, [620] he not long
   after gave in his name, that he might be regenerated by baptism,--Rome
   marvelling, and the Church rejoicing. The proud saw, and were enraged;
   they gnashed with their teeth, and melted away! [621] But the Lord God
   was the hope of Thy servant, and He regarded not vanities and lying
   madness. [622]

   5. Finally, when the hour arrived for him to make profession of his
   faith (which at Rome they who are about to approach Thy grace are wont
   to deliver [623] from an elevated place, in view of the faithful
   people, in a set form of words learnt by heart), [624] the presbyters,
   he said, offered Victorinus to make his profession more privately, as
   the custom was to do to those who were likely, through bashfulness, to
   be afraid; but he chose rather to profess his salvation in the presence
   of the holy assembly. For it was not salvation that he taught in
   rhetoric, and yet he had publicly professed that. How much less,
   therefore, ought he, when pronouncing Thy word, to dread Thy meek
   flock, who, in the delivery of his own words, had not feared the mad
   multitudes! So, then, when he ascended to make his profession, all, as
   they recognised him, whispered his name one to the other, with a voice
   of congratulation. And who was there amongst them that did not know
   him? And there ran a low murmur through the mouths of all the rejoicing
   multitude, "Victorinus! Victorinus!" Sudden was the burst of exultation
   at the sight of him; and suddenly were they hushed, that they might
   hear him. He pronounced the true faith with an excellent boldness, and
   all desired to take him to their very heart--yea, by their love and joy
   they took him thither; such were the hands with which they took him.
     __________________________________________________________________

   [608] Simplicianus succeeded Ambrose, 397 A.D. He has already been
   referred to, in the extract from De Civ. Dei, in note 1, p. 113, above
   as "the old saint Simplicianus, afterwards Bishop of Milan." In Ep. p.
   37, Augustin addresses him as "his father, most worthy of being
   cherished with respect and sincere affection." When Simplicianus is
   spoken of above as "the father of Ambrose in receiving Thy grace,"
   reference is doubtless made to his having been instrumental in his
   conversion--he having "begotten" him "through the gospel" (1 Cor. iv.
   15). Ambrose, when writing to him (Ep. 65), concludes, "Vale, et nos
   parentis affectu dilige, ut facis."

   [609] Col. ii. 8.

   [610] i.e. the Platonists.

   [611] In like manner Augustin, in his De Civ. Dei (viii. 5), says: "No
   philosophers come nearer to us than the Platonists;" and elsewhere, in
   the same book, he speaks, in exalted terms, of their superiority to
   other philosophers. When he speaks of the Platonists, he means the
   Neo-Platonists, from whom he conceived that he could best derive a
   knowledge of Plato, who had, by pursuing the Socratic method in
   concealing his opinions, rendered it difficult "to discover clearly
   what he himself thought on various matters, any more than it is to
   discover what were the real opinions of Socrates" (ibid. sec 4).
   Whether Plato himself had or not knowledge of the revelation contained
   in the Old Testament Scriptures, as Augustin supposed (De Civ. Dei,
   viii. 11, 12), it is clear that the later Platonists were considerably
   affected by Judaic ideas, even as the philosophizing Jews were indebted
   to Platonism. This view has been embodied in the proverb frequently
   found in the Fathers, Latin as well as Greek, E Platon philonizei e
   Philon platonizei. Archer Butler, in the fourth of his Lectures on
   Ancient Philosophy, treats of the vitality of Plato's teaching and the
   causes of its influence, and shows how in certain points there is a
   harmony between his ideas and the precepts of the gospel. On the
   difficulty of unravelling the subtleties of the Platonic philosophy,
   see Burton's Bampton Lectures (lect. 3).

   [612] See iv. sec. 19, above.

   [613] Matt. xi. 25.

   [614] "Victorinus, by birth an African, taught rhetoric at Rome under
   Constantius, and in extreme old age, giving himself up to the faith of
   Christ, wrote some books against Arius, dialectically [and so] very
   obscure, which are not understood but by the learned, and a commentary
   on the Apostle" [Paul] (Jerome, De Viris Ill. c. 101). It is of the
   same, probably, that Gennadius speaks (De Viris Ill. c. 60), "that he
   commented in a Christian and pious strain, but inasmuch as he was a man
   taken up with secular literature, and not trained in the Divine
   Scriptures by any teacher, he produced what was comparatively of little
   weight." Comp. Jerome, Præf. in Comm. in Gal., and see Tillemont, 1. c.
   p. 179, sq. Some of his works are extant.--E. B. P.

   [615] Æneid, viii. 736-8. The Kennedys.

   [616] Ps. cxliv. 5.

   [617] Ps. xxix. 5.

   [618] Luke ix. 26.

   [619] "The Fathers gave the name of sacrament, or mystery, to
   everything which conveyed one signification or property to unassisted
   reason, and another to faith. Hence Cyprian speaks of the sacraments'
   of the Lord's Prayer, meaning the hidden meaning conveyed therein,
   which could only be appreciated by a Christian. The Fathers sometimes
   speak of confirmation as a sacrament, because the chrism signified the
   grace of the Holy Ghost; and the imposition of hands was not merely a
   bare sign, but the form by which it was conveyed. See Bingham, book
   xii. c. 1, sec. 4. Yet at the same time they continually speak of two
   great sacraments of the Christian Church" (Palmer's Origines Liturgicæ,
   vol. ii. c. 6, sec. 1, p. 201).

   [620] That is, he became a catechumen. In addition to the information
   on this subject, already given in the note to book vi. sec. 2, above,
   the following references to it may prove instructive. (1) Justin
   Martyr, describing the manner of receiving converts into the Church in
   his day, says (Apol. i. 61): "As many as are persuaded and believe that
   what we teach and say is true and undertake to be able to live
   accordingly, are instructed to pray, and to entreat God with fasting
   for the remission of their sins that are past, we praying and fasting
   with them. Then they are brought by us where there is water, and are
   regenerated in the same manner in which we were ourselves regenerated.
   And this washing is called illumination, because they who learn these
   things are illuminated in their understandings." And again (ibid. 65):
   "We, after we have thus washed him who has been convinced and has
   assented to our teaching, bring him to the place where those who are
   called brethren are assembled, in order that we may offer hearty
   prayers, in common for ourselves and for the baptized [illuminated]
   person, and for all others in every place....Having ended the prayers,
   we salute one another with a kiss. There is then brought to the
   president of the brethren bread, and a cup of wine mixed with water;
   and he, taking them, gives praise and glory to the Father of the
   universe, through the name of the Son and of the Holy Ghost....And when
   the president has given thanks, and all the people have expressed their
   assent, those who are called by us deacons give to each of those
   present, to partake of, the bread and wine mixed with water over which
   the thanksgiving was pronounced, and to those who are absent they carry
   away a portion." And once more (ibid. 66): "This food is called among
   us Eucharistia [the Eucharist], of which no one is allowed to partake
   but the man who believes that the things which we teach are true, and
   who has been washed with the washing that is for the remission of sins,
   and unto regeneration, and who is so living as Christ has enjoined."
   (2) In Watts' translation, we have the following note on this episode
   in our text: "Here be divers particulars of the primitive fashion, in
   this story of Victorinus. First, being converted, he was to take some
   well-known Christian (who was to be his godfather) to go with him to
   the bishop, who, upon notice of it, admitted him a catechumenus, and
   gave him those six points of catechistical doctrine mentioned Heb. vi,
   1, 2. When the time of baptism drew near, the young Christian came to
   give in his heathen name, which was presently registered, submitting
   himself to examination. On the eve, was he, in a set form, first, to
   renounce the devil, and to pronounce, I confess to Thee, O Christ,
   repeating the Creed with it, in the form here recorded. The time for
   giving in their names must be within the two first weeks in Lent; and
   the solemn day to renounce upon was Maundy Thursday. So bids the
   Council of Laodicea (Can. 45 and 46)." The renunciation adverted to by
   Watts in the above passage may be traced to an early period in the
   writings of the Fathers. It is mentioned by Tertullian, Ambrose, and
   Jerome, and "in the fourth century," says Palmer (Origines Liturgicæ,
   c. 5, sec. 2, where the authorities will be found), "the renunciation
   was made with great solemnity. Cyril of Jerusalem, speaking to those
   who had been recently baptized, said, First, you have entered into the
   vestibule of the baptistry, and, standing towards the west, you have
   heard, and been commanded, and stretch forth your hands, and renounce
   Satan as if he were present.' This rite of turning to the west at the
   renunciation of Satan is also spoken of by Jerome, Gregory, Nazianzen,
   and Ambrose; and it was sometimes performed with exsufflations and
   other external signs of enmity to Satan, and rejection of him and his
   works. To the present day these customs remain in the patriarchate of
   Constantinople, where the candidates for baptism turn to the west to
   renounce Satan, stretching forth their hands and using an exsufflation
   as a sign of enmity against him. And the Monophysites of Antioch and
   Jerusalem, Alexandria and Armenia, also retain the custom of renouncing
   Satan with faces turned to the west."

   [621] Ps. cxii. 10.

   [622] Ps. xxxi. 6, 14, 18.

   [623] Literally, "give back," reddere.

   [624] Anciently, as Palmer has noted in the introduction to his
   Origines Liturgicæ, the liturgies of the various churches were learnt
   by heart. They probably began to be committed to writing about
   Augustin's day. The reference, however, in this place, is to the
   Apostles' Creed, which, Dr. Pusey in a note remarks, was delivered
   orally to the catechumens to commit it to memory, and by them delivered
   back, i.e. publicly repeated before they were baptized. "The symbol
   [creed] bearing hallowed testimony, which ye have together received,
   and are this day severally to give back [reddidistis], are the words in
   which the faith of our mother the Church is solidly constructed on a
   stable foundation, which is Christ the Lord. For other foundation can
   no man lay,' etc. Ye have received them, and given back [reddidistis]
   what ye ought to retain in heart and mind, what ye should repeat in
   your beds, think on in the streets, and forget not in your meals, and
   while sleeping in body, in heart watch therein. For this is the faith,
   and the rule of salvation, that We believe in God, the Father
   Almighty,'" etc. (Aug. Serm. 215, in Redditione Symboli). "On the
   Sabbath day [Saturday], when we shall keep a vigil through the mercy of
   God, ye will give back [reddituri] not the [Lord's] Prayer, but the
   Creed" (Serm. 58, sec. ult.). "What ye have briefly heard, ye ought not
   only to believe, but to commit to memory in so many words, and utter
   with your mouth" (Serm. 214, in Tradit. Symb. 3, sec. 2). "Nor, in
   order to retain the very words of the Creed, ought ye any wise to write
   it, but to learn it thoroughly by hearing, nor, when ye have learnt it,
   ought ye to write it, but always to keep and refresh it in your
   memories.--This is my covenant, which I will make with them after those
   days,' saith the Lord; I will place my law in their minds, and in their
   hearts will I write it.' To convey this, the Creed is learnt by
   hearing, and not written on tables or any other substance, but on the
   heart" (Serm. 212, sec. 2). See the Roman Liturgy (Assem, Cod. Liturg.
   t. i. p. 11 sq., 16), and the Gothic and Gallican (pp. 30 sq., 38 sq.,
   40 sq., etc.). "The renunciation of Satan," to quote once more from
   Palmer's Origines (c. 5, sec. 3), "was always followed by a profession
   of faith in Christ, as it is now in the English ritual....The promise
   of obedience and faith in Christ was made by the catechumens and
   sponsors, with their faces turned towards the east, as we learn from
   Cyril of Jerusalem and many other writers. Tertullian speaks of the
   profession of faith made at baptism, in the Father, Son, and Holy
   Spirit, and in the Church. Cyprian mentions the interrogation, Dost
   thou believe in eternal life, and remission of sins through the Holy
   Church?' Eusebius and many other Fathers also speak of the profession
   of faith made at this time; and it is especially noted in the
   Apostolical Constitutions, which were written in the East at the end of
   the third or beginning of the fourth century. The profession of faith
   in the Eastern churches has generally been made by the sponsor, or the
   person to be baptized, not in the form of answers to questions, but by
   repeating the Creed after the priest. In the Western churches, the
   immemorial custom has been, for the priest to interrogate the candidate
   for baptism, or his sponsor, on the principal articles of the Christian
   faith."
     __________________________________________________________________

   Chapter III.--That God and the Angels Rejoice More on the Return of One
   Sinner Than of Many Just Persons.

   6. Good God, what passed in man to make him rejoice more at the
   salvation of a soul despaired of, and delivered from greater danger,
   than if there had always been hope of him, or the danger had been less?
   For so Thou also, O merciful Father, dost "joy over one sinner that
   repenteth, more than over ninety and nine just persons that need no
   repentance." And with much joyfulness do we hear, whenever we hear, how
   the lost sheep is brought home again on the Shepherd's shoulders, while
   the angels rejoice, and the drachma is restored to Thy treasury, the
   neighhours rejoicing with the woman who found it; [625] and the joy of
   the solemn service of Thy house constraineth to tears, when in Thy
   house it is read of Thy younger son that he "was dead, and is alive
   again, and was lost, and is found." [626] For Thou rejoicest both in us
   and in Thy angels, holy through holy charity. For Thou art ever the
   same; for all things which abide neither the same nor for ever, Thou
   ever knowest after the same manner.

   7. What, then, passes in the soul when it more delights at finding or
   having restored to it the thing it loves than if it had always
   possessed them? Yea, and other things bear witness hereunto; and all
   things are full of witnesses, crying out, "So it is." The victorious
   commander triumpheth; yet he would not have conquered had he not
   fought, and the greater the peril of the battle, the more the rejoicing
   of the triumph. The storm tosses the voyagers, threatens shipwreck, and
   every one waxes pale at the approach of death; but sky and sea grow
   calm, and they rejoice much, as they feared much. A loved one is sick,
   and his pulse indicates danger; all who desire his safety are at once
   sick at heart: he recovers, though not able as yet to walk with his
   former strength, and there is such joy as was not before when he walked
   sound and strong. Yea, the very pleasures of human life--not those only
   which rush upon us unexpectedly, and against our wills, but those that
   are voluntary and designed--do men obtain by difficulties. There is no
   pleasure at all in eating and drinking unless the pains of hunger and
   thirst go before. And drunkards eat certain salt meats with the view of
   creating a troublesome heat, which the drink allaying causes pleasure.
   It is also the custom that the affianced bride should not immediately
   be given up, that the husband may not less esteem her whom, as
   betrothed, he longed not for. [627]

   8. This law obtains in base and accursed joy; in that joy also which is
   permitted and lawful; in the sincerity of honest friendship; and in Him
   who was dead, and lived again, had been lost, and was found. [628] The
   greater joy is everywhere preceded by the greater pain. What meaneth
   this, O Lord my God, when Thou art, an everlasting joy unto Thine own
   self, and some things about Thee are ever rejoicing in Thee? [629] What
   meaneth this, that this portion of things thus ebbs and flows,
   alternately offended and reconciled? Is this the fashion of them, and
   is this all Thou hast allotted to them, whereas from the highest heaven
   to the lowest earth, from the beginning of the world to its end, from
   the angel to the worm, from the first movement unto the last, Thou
   settedst each in its right place, and appointedst each its proper
   seasons, everything good after its kind? Woe is me! How high art Thou
   in the highest, and how deep in the deepest! Thou withdrawest no
   whither, and scarcely do we return to Thee.
     __________________________________________________________________

   [625] Luke xv. 4-10.

   [626] Luke xv. 32.

   [627] See ix. sec 19, note.

   [628] Luke xv. 32.

   [629] See xii. sec. 12, and xiii. sec. 11, below.
     __________________________________________________________________

   Chapter IV.--He Shows by the Example of Victorinus that There is More
   Joy in the Conversion of Nobles.

   9. Haste, Lord, and act; stir us up, and call us back; inflame us, and
   draw us to Thee; stir us up, and grow sweet unto us; let us now love
   Thee, let us "run after Thee." [630] Do not many men, out of a deeper
   hell of blindness than that of Victorinus, return unto Thee, and
   approach, and are enlightened, receiving that light, which they that
   receive, receive power from Thee to become Thy sons? [631] But if they
   be less known among the people, even they that know them joy less for
   them. For when many rejoice together, the joy of each one is the fuller
   in that they are incited and inflamed by one another. Again, because
   those that are known to many influence many towards salvation, and take
   the lead with many to follow them. And, therefore, do they also who
   preceded them much rejoice in regard to them, because they rejoice not
   in them alone. May it be averted that in Thy tabernacle the persons of
   the rich should be accepted before the poor, or the noble before the
   ignoble; since rather "Thou hast chosen the weak things of the world to
   confound the things which are mighty and base things of the world, and
   things which are despised, hast Thou chosen, yea, and things which are
   not, to bring to naught things that are." [632] And yet, even that
   "least of the apostles," [633] by whose tongue Thou soundest out these
   words, when Paulus the proconsul [634] --his pride overcome by the
   apostle's warfare--was made to pass under the easy yoke [635] of Thy
   Christ, and became a provincial of the great King,--he also, instead of
   Saul, his former name, desired to be called Paul, [636] in testimony of
   so great a victory. For the enemy is more overcome in one of whom he
   hath more hold, and by whom he hath hold of more. But the proud hath he
   more hold of by reason of their nobility; and by them of more, by
   reason of their authority. [637] By how much the more welcome, then,
   was the heart of Victorinus esteemed, which the devil had held as an
   unassailable retreat, and the tongue of Victorinus, with which mighty
   and cutting weapon he had slain many; so much the more abundantly
   should Thy sons rejoice, seeing that our King hath bound the strong
   man, [638] and they saw his vessels taken from him and cleansed, [639]
   and made meet for Thy honour, and become serviceable for the Lord unto
   every good work. [640]
     __________________________________________________________________

   [630] Cant. i. 4.

   [631] John i. 12.

   [632] 1 Cor. i. 27, 28.

   [633] 1 Cor. xv. 9.

   [634] Acts. xiii. 12.

   [635] Matt. xi. 30.

   [636] "As Scipio, after the conquest of Africa, took the name of
   Africanus, so Saul also, being sent to preach to the Gentiles, brought
   back his trophy out of the first spoils won by the Church, the
   proconsul Sergius Paulus, and set up his banner, in that for Saul he
   was called Paul' (Jerome, Comm. in Ep. ad Philem. init). Origen
   mentions the same opinion (which is indeed suggested by the relation in
   the Acts), but thinks that the apostle had originally two names (Præf.
   in Comm. in Ep. ad Rom.), which, as a Roman, may very well have been,
   and yet that he made use of his Roman name Paul first in connection
   with the conversion of the proconsul; Chrysostom says that it was
   doubtless changed at the command of God, which is to be supposed, but
   still may have been at this time."--E. B. P.

   [637] "Satan makes choice of persons of place and power. These are
   either in the Commonwealth or church. If he can, he will secure the
   throne and the pulpit, as the two forts that command the whole
   line....A prince or a ruler may stand for a thousand; therefore saith
   Paul to Elymas when he would have turned the deputy from the faith, O
   full of all subtilty, thou child of the devil!' (Acts. xiii. 10). As if
   he had said, You have learned this of your father the devil,--to haunt
   the courts of princes, wind into the favour of great ones. There is a
   double policy Satan hath in gaining such to his side.--(a) None have
   such advantage to draw others to their way. Corrupt the captain, and it
   is hard if he bring not off his troop with him. When the princes--men
   of renown in their tribes--stood up with Korah, presently a multitude
   are drawn into the conspiracy (Num. xvi. 2, 19). Let Jeroboam set up
   idolatry, and Israel is soon in a snare. It is said [that] the people
   willingly walked after his commandment (Hos. v. 11). (b) Should the sin
   stay at court, and the infection go no further, yet the sin of such a
   one, though a good man, may cost a whole kingdom dear. Satan stood up
   against Israel, and provoked David to number Israel (1 Chron. xxi. 1).
   He owed Israel a spite, and he pays them home in their king's sin,
   which dropped in a fearful plague upon their heads,"--Gurnall, The
   Christian in Complete Armour, vol. i. part 2.

   [638] Matt. xii. 29.

   [639] Luke xi. 22, 25.

   [640] 2 Tim. ii. 21.
     __________________________________________________________________

   Chapter V.--Of the Causes Which Alienate Us from God.

   10. But when that man of Thine, Simplicianus, related this to me about
   Victorinus, I burned to imitate him; and it was for this end he had
   related it. But when he had added this also, that in the time of the
   Emperor Julian, there was a law made by which Christians were forbidden
   to teach grammar and oratory, [641] and he, in obedience to this law,
   chose rather to abandon the wordy school than Thy word, by which Thou
   makest eloquent the tongues of the dumb, [642] --he appeared to me not
   more brave than happy, in having thus discovered an opportunity of
   waiting on Thee only, which thing I was sighing for, thus bound, not
   with the irons of another, but my own iron will. My will was the enemy
   master of, and thence had made a chain for me and bound me. Because of
   a perverse will was lust made; and lust indulged in became custom; and
   custom not resisted became necessity. By which links, as it were,
   joined together (whence I term it a "chain"), did a hard bondage hold
   me enthralled. [643] But that new will which had begun to develope in
   me, freely to worship Thee, and to wish to enjoy Thee, O God, the only
   sure enjoyment, was not able as yet to overcome my former wilfulness,
   made strong by long indulgence. Thus did my two wills, one old and the
   other new, one carnal, the other spiritual, contend within me; and by
   their discord they unstrung my soul.

   11. Thus came I to understand, from my own experience, what I had read,
   how that "the flesh lusteth against the Spirit, and the Spirit against
   the flesh." [644] I verily lusted both ways; [645] yet more in that
   which I approved in myself, than in that which I disapproved in myself.
   For in this last it was now rather not "I," [646] because in much I
   rather suffered against my will than did it willingly. And yet it was
   through me that custom became more combative against me, because I had
   come willingly whither I willed not. And who, then, can with any
   justice speak against it, when just punishment follows the sinner?
   [647] Nor had I now any longer my wonted excuse, that as yet I
   hesitated to be above the world and serve Thee, because my perception
   of the truth was uncertain; for now it was certain. But I, still bound
   to the earth, refused to be Thy soldier; and was as much afraid of
   being freed from all embarrassments, as we ought to fear to be
   embarrassed.

   12. Thus with the baggage of the world was I sweetly burdened, as when
   in slumber; and the thoughts wherein I meditated upon Thee were like
   unto the efforts of those desiring to awake, who, still overpowered
   with a heavy drowsiness, are again steeped therein. And as no one
   desires to sleep always, and in the sober judgment of all waking is
   better, yet does a man generally defer to shake off drowsiness, when
   there is a heavy lethargy in all his limbs, and, though displeased, yet
   even after it is time to rise with pleasure yields to it, so was I
   assured that it were much better for me to give up myself to Thy
   charity, than to yield myself to my own cupidity; but the former course
   satisfied and vanquished me, the latter pleased me and fettered me.
   [648] Nor had I aught to answer Thee calling to me, "Awake, thou that
   sleepest, and arise from the dead, and Christ shall give thee light."
   [649] And to Thee showing me on every side, that what Thou saidst was
   true, I, convicted by the truth, had nothing at all to reply, but the
   drawling and drowsy words: "Presently, lo, presently;" "Leave me a
   little while." But "presently, presently," had no present; and my
   "leave me a little while" went on for a long while. [650] In vain did I
   "delight in Thy law after the inner man," when "another law in my
   members warred against the law of my mind, and brought me into
   captivity to the law of sin which is in my members." For the law of sin
   is the violence of custom, whereby the mind is drawn and held, even
   against its will; deserving to be so held in that it so willingly falls
   into it. "O wretched man that I am! who shall deliver me from the body
   of this death" but Thy grace only, through Jesus Christ our Lord? [651]
     __________________________________________________________________

   [641] During the reign of Constantius, laws of a persecuting character
   were enacted against Paganism, which led multitudes nominally to adopt
   the Christian faith. When Julian the Apostate came to the throne, he
   took steps immediately to reinstate Paganism in all its ancient
   splendour. His court was filled with Platonic philosophers and
   diviners, and he sacrificed daily to the gods. But, instead of
   imitating the example of his predecessor, and enacting laws against the
   Christians, he endeavoured by subtlety to destroy their faith. In
   addition to the measures mentioned by Augustin above, he endeavoured to
   foment divisions in the Church by recalling the banished Donatists, and
   stimulating them to disseminate their doctrines, and he himself wrote
   treatises against it. In order, if possible, to counteract the
   influence of Christianity, he instructed his priests to imitate the
   Christians in their relief of the poor and care for the sick. But while
   in every way enacting measures of disability against the Christians, he
   showed great favour to the Jews, and with the view of confuting the
   predictions of Christ, went so far as to encourage them to rebuild the
   Temple.

   [642] Wisd. x. 21.

   [643] There would appear to be a law at work in the moral and spiritual
   worlds similar to that of gravitation in the natural, which "acts
   inversely as the square of the distance." As we are more affected, for
   example, by events that have taken place near us either in time or
   place, than by those which are more remote, so in spiritual things, the
   monitions of conscience would seem to become feeble with far greater
   rapidity than the continuance of our resistance would lead us to
   expect, while the power of sin, in like proportion, becomes strong.
   When tempted, men see not the end from the beginning. The allurement,
   however, which at first is but as a gossamer thread, is soon felt to
   have the strength of a cable. "Evil men and seducers wax worse and
   worse" (2 Tim. iii. 13), and when it is too late they learn that the
   embrace of the siren is but the prelude to destruction. "Thus,"as
   Gurnall has it (The Christian in Complete Armour, vol. i. part 2),
   "Satan leads poor creatures down into the depths of sin by winding
   stairs, that let them not see the bottom whither they are going....Many
   who at this day lie in open profaneness, never thought they should have
   rolled so far from their modest beginnings. O Christians, give not
   place to Satan, no, not an inch, in his first motions. He that is a
   beggar and a modest one without doors, will command the house if let
   in. Yield at first, and thou givest away thy strength to resist him in
   the rest; when the hem is worn, the whole garment will ravel out, if it
   be not mended by timely repentance." See Müller, Lehre von der Sünde,
   book v., where the beginnings and alarming progress of evil in the soul
   are graphically described. See ix. sec. 18, note, below.

   [644] Gal. v. 17.

   [645] See iv. sec. 26, note, and v. sec. 18, above.

   [646] Rom. vii. 20.

   [647] See v. sec. 2, note 6, above.

   [648] Illud placebat et vincebat; hoc libebat et vinciebat. Watts
   renders freely, "But notwithstanding that former course pleased and
   overcame my reason, yet did this latter tickle and enthrall my senses."

   [649] Eph. v. 14.

   [650] As Bishop Wilberforce, eloquently describing this condition of
   mind, says, in his sermon on The Almost Christian, "New, strange wishes
   were rising in his heart. The Mighty One was brooding over its
   currents, was stirring up its tides, was fain to overrule their
   troubled flow--to arise in open splendour on his eyes; to glorify his
   life with His own blessed presence. And he himself was evidently
   conscious of the struggle; he was almost won; he was drawn towards that
   mysterious birth, and he well-nigh yielded. He even knew what was
   passing within his soul; he could appreciate something of its
   importance, of the living value of that moment. If that conflict was
   indeed visible to higher powers around him; if they who longed to keep
   him in the kingdom of darkness, and they who were ready to rejoice at
   his repentance--if they could see the inner waters of that troubled
   heart, as they surged and eddied underneath these mighty influences,
   how must they have waited for the doubtful choice! how would they
   strain their observation to see if that Almost should turn into an
   Altogether, or die away again, and leave his heart harder than it had
   been before!"

   [651] Rom. vii. 22-24. This difficilis et periculosus locus (Serm.
   cliv. 1) he interprets differently at different periods of his life. In
   this place, as elsewhere in his writings, he makes the passage refer
   (according to the general interpretation in the Church up to that time)
   to man convinced of sin under the influence of the law, but not under
   grace. In his Retractations, however (i. 23, sec. 1), he points out
   that he had found reason to interpret the passage not of man convinced
   of sin, but of man renewed and regenerated in Christ Jesus. This is the
   view constantly taken in his anti-Pelagian writings, which were
   published subsequently to the date of his Confessions; and indeed this
   change in interpretation probably arose from the pressure of the
   Pelagian controversy (see Con. Duas Ep. Pel. i. 10, secs. 18 and 22),
   and the fear lest the old view should too much favour the heretics, and
   their exaltation of the powers of the natural man to the disparagement
   of the influence of the grace of God.
     __________________________________________________________________

   Chapter VI.--Pontitianus' Account of Antony, the Founder of Monachism,
   and of Some Who Imitated Him.

   13. And how, then, Thou didst deliver me out of the bonds of carnal
   desire, wherewith I was most firmly fettered, and out of the drudgery
   of worldly business, will I now declare and confess unto Thy name, "O
   Lord, my strength and my Redeemer." [652] Amid increasing anxiety, I
   was transacting my usual affairs, and daily sighing unto Thee. I
   resorted as frequently to Thy church as the business, under the burden
   of which I groaned, left me free to do. Alypius was with me, being
   after the third sitting disengaged from his legal occupation, and
   awaiting further opportunity of selling his counsel, as I was wont to
   sell the power of speaking, if it can be supplied by teaching. But
   Nebridius had, on account of our friendship, consented to teach under
   Verecundus, a citizen and a grammarian of Milan, and a very intimate
   friend of us all; who vehemently desired, and by the right of
   friendship demanded from our company, the faithful aid he greatly stood
   in need of. Nebridius, then, was not drawn to this by any desire of
   gain (for he could have made much more of his learning had he been so
   inclined), but, as a most sweet and kindly friend, he would not be
   wanting in an office of friendliness, and slight our request. But in
   this he acted very discreetly, taking care not to become known to those
   personages whom the world esteems great; thus avoiding distraction of
   mind, which he desired to have free and at leisure as many hours as
   possible, to search, or read, or hear something concerning wisdom.

   14. Upon a certain day, then, Nebridius being away (why, I do not
   remember), lo, there came to the house to see Alypius and me,
   Pontitianus, a countryman of ours, in so far as he was an African, who
   held high office in the emperor's court. What he wanted with us I know
   not, but we sat down to talk together, and it fell out that upon a
   table before us, used for games, he noticed a book; he took it up,
   opened it, and, contrary to his expectation, found it to be the Apostle
   Paul,--for he imagined it to be one of those books which I was wearing
   myself out in teaching. At this he looked up at me smilingly, and
   expressed his delight and wonder that he had so unexpectedly found this
   book, and this only, before my eyes. For he was both a Christian and
   baptized, and often prostrated himself before Thee our God in the
   church, in constant and daily prayers. When, then, I had told him that
   I bestowed much pains upon these writings, a conversation ensued on his
   speaking of Antony, [653] the Egyptian monk, whose name was in high
   repute among Thy servants, though up to that time not familiar to us.
   When he came to know this, he lingered on that topic, imparting to us a
   knowledge of this man so eminent, and marvelling at our ignorance. But
   we were amazed, hearing Thy wonderful works most fully manifested in
   times so recent, and almost in our own, wrought in the true faith and
   the Catholic Church. We all wondered--we, that they were so great, and
   he, that we had never heard of them.

   15. From this his conversation turned to the companies in the
   monasteries, and their manners so fragrant unto Thee, and of the
   fruitful deserts of the wilderness, of which we knew nothing. And there
   was a monastery at Milan [654] full of good brethren, without the walls
   of the city, under the fostering care of Ambrose, and we were ignorant
   of it. He went on with his relation, and we listened intently and in
   silence. He then related to us how on a certain afternoon, at Triers,
   when the emperor was taken up with seeing the Circensian games, [655]
   he and three others, his comrades, went out for a walk in the gardens
   close to the city walls, and there, as they chanced to walk two and
   two, one strolled away with him, while the other two went by
   themselves; and these, in their rambling, came upon a certain cottage
   inhabited by some of Thy servants, "poor in spirit," of whom "is the
   kingdom of heaven," [656] where they found a book in which was written
   the life of Antony. This one of them began to read, marvel at, and be
   inflamed by it; and in the reading, to meditate on embracing such a
   life, and giving up his worldly employments to serve Thee. And these
   were of the body called "Agents for Public Affairs." [657] Then,
   suddenly being overwhelmed with a holy love and a sober sense of shame,
   in anger with himself, he cast his eyes upon his friend, exclaiming,
   "Tell me, I entreat thee, what end we are striving for by all these
   labours of ours. What is our aim? What is our motive in doing service?
   Can our hopes in court rise higher than to be ministers of the emperor?
   And in such a position, what is there not brittle, and fraught with
   danger, and by how many dangers arrive we at greater danger? And when
   arrive we thither? But if I desire to become a friend of God, behold, I
   am even now made it." Thus spake he, and in the pangs of the travail of
   the new life, he turned his eyes again upon the page and continued
   reading, and was inwardly changed where Thou sawest, and his mind was
   divested of the world, as soon became evident; for as he read, and the
   surging of his heart rolled along, he raged awhile, discerned and
   resolved on a better course, and now, having become Thine, he said to
   his friend, "Now have I broken loose from those hopes of ours, and am
   determined to serve God; and this, from this hour, in this place, I
   enter upon. If thou art reluctant to imitate me, hinder me not." The
   other replied that he would cleave to him, to share in so great a
   reward and so great a service. Thus both of them, being now Thine, were
   building a tower at the necessary cost, [658] --of forsaking all that
   they had and following Thee. Then Pontitianus, and he that had walked
   with him through other parts of the garden, came in search of them to
   the same place, and having found them, reminded them to return as the
   day had declined. But they, making known to him their resolution and
   purpose, and how such a resolve had sprung up and become confirmed in
   them, entreated them not to molest them, if they refused to join
   themselves unto them. But the others, no whit changed from their former
   selves, did yet (as he said) bewail themselves, and piously
   congratulated them, recommending themselves to their prayers; and with
   their hearts inclining towards earthly things, returned to the palace.
   But the other two, setting their affections upon heavenly things,
   remained in the cottage. And both of them had affianced brides, who,
   when they heard of this, dedicated also their virginity unto God.
     __________________________________________________________________

   [652] Ps. xix. 14.

   [653] It may be well here to say a few words in regard to Monachism and
   Antony's relation to it:--(1) There is much in the later Platonism,
   with its austerities and bodily mortifications (see vii. sec. 13, note
   2, above), which is in common with the asceticism of the early Church.
   The Therapeutæ of Philo, indeed, of whom there were numbers in the
   neighbourhood of Alexandria in the first century, may be considered as
   the natural forerunners of the Egyptian monks. (2) Monachism, according
   to Sozomen (i. 12), had its origin in a desire to escape persecution by
   retirement into the wilderness. It is probable, however, that, as in
   the case of Paul the hermit of Thebais, the desire for freedom from the
   cares of life, so that by contemplation and mortification of the body,
   the logos or inner reason (which was held to be an emanation of God)
   might be purified, had as much to do with the hermit life as a fear of
   persecution. Mosheim, indeed (Ecc. Hist. i. part 2, c. 3), supposes
   Paul to have been influenced entirely by these Platonic notions. (3)
   Antony was born in the district of Thebes, A.D. 251, and visited Paul
   in the Egyptian desert a little before his death. To Antony is the
   world indebted for establishing communities of monks, as distinguished
   from the solitary asceticism of Paul; he therefore is rightly viewed as
   the founder of Monachism. He appears to have known little more than how
   to speak his native Coptic, yet during his long life (said to have been
   100 years) he by his fervent enthusiasm made for himself a name little
   inferior to that of the "king of men," Athanasius, whom in the time of
   the Arian troubles he stedfastly supported, and by whom his life has
   been handed down to us. Augustin, in his De Doctr. Christ. (Prol. sec.
   4), speaks of him as "a just and holy man, who, not being able to read
   himself, is said to have committed the Scriptures to memory through
   hearing them read by others, and by dint of wise meditation to have
   arrived at a thorough understanding of them." (4) According to Sozomen
   (iii. 14), monasteries had not been established in Europe A.D. 340.
   They were, Baronius tells us, introduced into Rome about that date by
   Athanasius, during a visit to that city. Athanasius mentions "ascetics"
   as dwelling at Rome A.D. 355. Ambrose, Bishop of Milan, Martin, Bishop
   of Tours, and Jerome were enthusiastic suppporters of the system. (5)
   Monachism in Europe presented more of its practical and less of its
   contemplative side, than in its cradle in the East. An example of how
   the monks of the East did work for the good of others is seen in the
   instance of the monks of Pachomius; still in this respect, as in
   matters of doctrine, the West has generally shown itself more practical
   than the East. Probably climate and the style of living consequent
   thereon have much to do with this. Sulpicius Severus (dial. i. 2, De
   Vita Martini) may be taken to give a quaint illustration of this, when
   he makes one of his characters say, as he hears of the mode of living
   of the Eastern monks, that their diet was only suited to angels.
   However mistaken we may think the monkish systems to be, it cannot be
   concealed that in the days of anarchy and semi-barbarism they were
   oftentimes centres of civilisation. Certainly in its originating idea
   of meditative seclusion, there is much that is worthy of commendation;
   for, as Farindon has it (Works, iv. 130), "This has been the practice
   not only of holy men, but of heathen men. Thus did Tully, and Antony,
   and Crassus make way to that honour and renown which they afterwards
   purchased in eloquence (Cicero, De Officiis, ii. 13, viii. 7); thus did
   they pass a solitudine in scholas, a scholis in forum,--from their
   secret retirement into the schools, and from the schools into the
   pleading-place.'"

   [654] Augustin, when comparing Christian with Manichæan asceticism,
   says in his De Mor. Eccl. Cath. (sec. 70), "I saw at Milan a
   lodging-house of saints, in number not a few, presided over by one
   presbyter, a man of great excellence and learning." In the previous
   note we have given the generally received opinion, that the first
   monastery in Europe was established at Rome. It may be mentioned here
   that Muratori maintains that the institution was transplanted from the
   East first to Milan; others contend that the first European society was
   at Aquileia.

   [655] See vi. sec. 12, note 1, above.

   [656] Matt. v. 3. Roman commentators are ever ready to use this text of
   Scripture as an argument in favour of monastic poverty, and some may
   feel disposed from its context to imagine such an interpretation to be
   implied in this place. This, however, can hardly be so. Augustin
   constantly points out in his sermons, etc. in what the poverty that is
   pleasing to God consists. "Pauper Dei," he says (in Ps. cxxxi. 15), "in
   animo est, non in sacculo;" and his interpretation of this passage in
   his Exposition of the Sermon on the Mount (i. 3) is entirely opposed to
   the Roman view. We there read: "The poor in spirit are rightly
   understood here as meaning the humble and God-fearing, i.e. those who
   have not a spirit which puffeth up. Nor ought blessedness to begin at
   any other point whatever, if indeed it is to reach the highest wisdom.
   The fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom' (Ps. cxi. 10);
   whereas, on the other hand also, pride' is entitled the beginning of
   all sin' (Ecclus. x. 13). Let the proud, therefore, seek after and love
   the kingdoms of the earth, but blessed are the poor in spirit, for
   theirs is the kingdom of heaven.'"

   [657] "Agentes in rebus. There was a society of them still about the
   court. Their militia or employments were to gather in the emperor's
   tributes; to fetch in offenders; to do Palatini obsequia, offices of
   court provide corn, etc., ride on errands like messengers of the
   chamber, lie abroad as spies and intelligencers. They were often
   preferred to places of magistracy in the provinces; such were called
   Principes or Magistriani. St. Hierome upon Abdias, c. 1, calls them
   messengers. They succeeded the Frumentarii, between which two and the
   Curiosi and the Speculatores there was not much difference."--W. W.

   [658] Luke xiv. 26-35.
     __________________________________________________________________

   Chapter VII.--He Deplores His Wretchedness, that Having Been Born
   Thirty-Two Years, He Had Not Yet Found Out the Truth.

   16. Such was the story of Pontitianus. But Thou, O Lord, whilst he was
   speaking, didst turn me towards myself, taking me from behind my back,
   where I had placed myself while unwilling to exercise self-scrutiny;
   and Thou didst set me face to face with myself, that I might behold how
   foul I was, and how crooked and sordid, bespotted and ulcerous. And I
   beheld and loathed myself; and whither to fly from myself I discovered
   not. And if I sought to turn my gaze away from myself, he continued his
   narrative, and Thou again opposedst me unto myself, and thrustedst me
   before my own eyes, that I might discover my iniquity, and hate it.
   [659] I had known it, but acted as though I knew it not,--winked at it,
   and forgot it.

   17. But now, the more ardently I loved those whose healthful affections
   I heard tell of, that they had given up themselves wholly to Thee to be
   cured, the more did I abhor myself when compared with them. For many of
   my years (perhaps twelve) had passed away since my nineteenth, when, on
   the reading of Cicero's Hortensius, [660] I was roused to a desire for
   wisdom; and still I was delaying to reject mere worldly happiness, and
   to devote myself to search out that whereof not the finding alone, but
   the bare search, [661] ought to have been preferred before the
   treasures and kingdoms of this world, though already found, and before
   the pleasures of the body, though encompassing me at my will. But I,
   miserable young man, supremely miserable even in the very outset of my
   youth, had entreated chastity of Thee, and said, "Grant me chastity and
   continency, but not yet." For I was afraid lest Thou shouldest hear me
   soon, and soon deliver me from the disease of concupiscence, which I
   desired to have satisfied rather than extinguished. And I had wandered
   through perverse ways in a sacrilegious superstition; not indeed
   assured thereof, but preferring that to the others, which I did not
   seek religiously, but opposed maliciously.

   18. And I had thought that I delayed from day to day to reject worldly
   hopes and follow Thee only, because there did not appear anything
   certain whereunto to direct my course. And now had the day arrived in
   which I was to be laid bare to myself, and my conscience was to chide
   me. "Where art thou, O my tongue? Thou saidst, verily, that for an
   uncertain truth thou wert not willing to cast off the baggage of
   vanity. Behold, now it is certain, and yet doth that burden still
   oppress thee; whereas they who neither have so worn themselves out with
   searching after it, nor yet have spent ten years and more in thinking
   thereon, have had their shoulders unburdened, and gotten wings to fly
   away." Thus was I inwardly consumed and mightily confounded with an
   horrible shame, while Pontitianus was relating these things. And he,
   having finished his story, and the business he came for, went his way.
   And unto myself, what said I not within myself? With what scourges of
   rebuke lashed I not my soul to make it follow me, struggling to go
   after Thee! Yet it drew back; it refused, and exercised not itself. All
   its arguments were exhausted and confuted. There remained a silent
   trembling; and it feared, as it would death, to be restrained from the
   flow of that custom whereby it was wasting away even to death.
     __________________________________________________________________

   [659] Ps. xxxvi. 2.

   [660] See iii. sec. 7, above.

   [661] It is interesting to compare with this passage the views
   contained in Augustin's three books, Con. Academicos,--the earliest of
   his extant works, and written about this time. Licentius there
   maintains that the "bare search" for truth renders a man happy, while
   Trygetius contends that the "finding alone" can produce happiness.
   Augustin does not agree with the doctrine of the former, and points out
   that while the Academics held the probable to be attainable, it could
   not be so without the true, by which the probable is measured and
   known. And, in his De Vita Beata, he contends that he who seeks truth
   and finds it not, has not attained happiness, and that though the grace
   of God be indeed guiding him, he must not expect complete happiness
   (Retractations, i. 2) till after death. Perhaps no sounder philosophy
   can be found than that evidenced in the life of Victor Hugo's good
   Bishop Myriel, who rested in the practice of love, and was content to
   look for perfect happiness, and a full unfolding of God's mysteries, to
   the future life:--"Aimez-vous les uns les autres, il declarait cela
   complet, ne souhaitait rien de plus et c'était là toute sa doctrine. Un
   jour, cet homme qui se croyait philosophe,' ce senateur, déjà nommé,
   dit à l'évêque: Mais voyez donc le spectacle du monde; guerre de tous
   contre tous; le plus fort a le plus d'ésprit. Votre aimez-vous les uns
   les autres est une bêtise.'--Eh bien,' répondit Monseigneur Bienvenu,
   sans disputer, si c'est une bêtise, l'âme doit s'y enfermer comme la
   perle dans l'huitre.' Il s'y enfermait donc, il y vivait, il s'en
   satisfaisait absolument, laissant de côté les questions prodigieuses
   qui attirent et qui épouvantent, les perspectives insoudables de
   l'abstraction, les précipices de la métaphysique, toutes ces
   profondeurs convergentes, pour l'apôtre, à Dieu, pour l'athée, au
   néant: la destinée, le bien et le mal, la guerre de l'être contre
   l'être, la conscience de l'homme, le somnambulisme pensif de l'animal,
   la transformation par la mort, la récapitulation d'existences qui
   contient le tombeau, la greffe incompréhensible des amours successifs
   sur le moi persistant, l'essence, la substance, le Nil et l'Ens, l'âme,
   la nature, la liberté, la nécessité; problèmes à pic, épaisseurs
   sinistres, où se penchent les gigantesques archanges de l'ésprit
   humain; formidables abimes que Lucrèce, Manon, Saint Paul, et Dante
   contemplent avec cet oeil fulgurant qui semble, en regardant fixement
   l'infini, y faire eclore les étoiles. Monseigneur Bienvenu était
   simplement un homme qui constatait du dehors les questions mystérieuses
   sans les scruter, sans les agiter, et sans en troubler son propre
   ésprit; et qui avait dans l'âme le grave respect de l'ombre."--Les
   Misérables, c. xiv.
     __________________________________________________________________

   Chapter VIII.--The Conversation with Alypius Being Ended, He Retires to
   the Garden, Whither His Friend Follows Him.

   19. In the midst, then, of this great strife of my inner dwelling,
   which I had strongly raised up against my soul in the chamber of my
   heart, [662] troubled both in mind and countenance, I seized upon
   Alypius, and exclaimed: "What is wrong with us? What is this? What
   heardest thou? The unlearned start up and take' heaven, [663] and we,
   with our learning, but wanting heart, see where we wallow in flesh and
   blood! Because others have preceded us, are we ashamed to follow, and
   not rather ashamed at not following?" Some such words I gave utterance
   to, and in my excitement flung myself from him, while he gazed upon me
   in silent astonishment. For I spoke not in my wonted tone, and my brow,
   cheeks, eyes, colour, tone of voice, all expressed my emotion more than
   the words. There was a little garden belonging to our lodging, of which
   we had the use, as of the whole house; for the master, our landlord,
   did not live there. Thither had the tempest within my breast hurried
   me, where no one might impede the fiery struggle in which I was engaged
   with myself, until it came to the issue that Thou knewest, though I did
   not. But I was mad that I might be whole, and dying that I might have
   life, knowing what evil thing I was, but not knowing what good thing I
   was shortly to become. Into the garden, then, I retired, Alypius
   following my steps. For his presence was no bar to my solitude; or how
   could he desert me so troubled? We sat down at as great a distance from
   the house as we could. I was disquieted in spirit, being most impatient
   with myself that I entered not into Thy will and covenant, O my God,
   which all my bones cried out unto me to enter, extolling it to the
   skies. And we enter not therein by ships, or chariots, or feet, no, nor
   by going so far as I had come from the house to that place where we
   were sitting. For not to go only, but to enter there, was naught else
   but to will to go, but to will it resolutely and thoroughly; not to
   stagger and sway about this way and that, a changeable and half-wounded
   will, wrestling, with one part falling as another rose.

   20. Finally, in the very fever of my irresolution, I made many of those
   motions with my body which men sometimes desire to do, but cannot, if
   either they have not the limbs, or if their limbs be bound with
   fetters, weakened by disease, or hindered in any other way. Thus, if I
   tore my hair, struck my forehead, or if, entwining my fingers, I
   clasped my knee, this I did because I willed it. But I might have
   willed and not done it, if the power of motion in my limbs had not
   responded. So many things, then, I did, when to have the will was not
   to have the power, and I did not that which both with an unequalled
   desire I longed more to do, and which shortly when I should will I
   should have the power to do; because shortly when I should will, I
   should will thoroughly. For in such things the power was one with the
   will, and to will was to do, and yet was it not done; and more readily
   did the body obey the slightest wish of the soul in the moving its
   limbs at the order of the mind, than the soul obeyed itself to
   accomplish in the will alone this its great will.
     __________________________________________________________________

   [662] Isa. xxvi. 20, and Matt. vi. 6.

   [663] Matt. xi. 12.
     __________________________________________________________________

   Chapter IX.--That the Mind Commandeth the Mind, But It Willeth Not
   Entirely.

   21. Whence is this monstrous thing? And why is it? Let Thy mercy shine
   on me, that I may inquire, if so be the hiding-places of man's
   punishment, and the darkest contritions of the sons of Adam, may
   perhaps answer me. Whence is this monstrous thing? and why is it? The
   mind commands the body, and it obeys forthwith; the mind commands
   itself, and is resisted. The mind commands the hand to be moved, and
   such readiness is there that the command is scarce to be distinguished
   from the obedience. Yet the mind is mind, and the hand is body. The
   mind commands the mind to will, and yet, though it be itself, it
   obeyeth not. Whence this monstrous thing? and why is it? I repeat, it
   commands itself to will, and would not give the command unless it
   willed; yet is not that done which it commandeth. But it willeth not
   entirely; therefore it commandeth not entirely. For so far forth it
   commandeth, as it willeth; and so far forth is the thing commanded not
   done, as it willeth not. For the will commandeth that there be a
   will;--not another, but itself. But it doth not command entirely,
   therefore that is not which it commandeth. For were it entire, it would
   not even command it to be, because it would already be. It is,
   therefore, no monstrous thing partly to will, partly to be unwilling,
   but an infirmity of the mind, that it doth not wholly rise, sustained
   by truth, pressed down by custom. And so there are two wills, because
   one of them is not entire; and the one is supplied with what the other
   needs.
     __________________________________________________________________

   Chapter X.--He Refutes the Opinion of the Manichæans as to Two Kinds of
   Minds,--One Good and the Other Evil.

   22. Let them perish from Thy presence, [664] O God, as "vain talkers
   and deceivers" [665] of the soul do perish, who, observing that there
   were two wills in deliberating, affirm that there are two kinds of
   minds in us,--one good, the other evil. [666] They themselves verily
   are evil when they hold these evil opinions; and they shall become good
   when they hold the truth, and shall consent unto the truth, that Thy
   apostle may say unto them, "Ye were sometimes darkness, but now are ye
   light in the Lord." [667] But, they, desiring to be light, not "in the
   Lord," but in themselves, conceiving the nature of the soul to be the
   same as that which God is, [668] are made more gross darkness; for that
   through a shocking arrogancy they went farther from Thee, "the true
   Light, which lighteth every man that cometh into the world." [669] Take
   heed what you say, and blush for shame; draw near unto Him and be
   "lightened," and your faces shall not be "ashamed." [670] I, when I was
   deliberating upon serving the Lord my God now, as I had long
   purposed,--I it was who willed, I who was unwilling. It was I, even I
   myself. I neither willed entirely, nor was entirely unwilling.
   Therefore was I at war with myself, and destroyed by myself. And this
   destruction overtook me against my will, and yet showed not the
   presence of another mind, but the punishment of mine own. [671] "Now,
   then, it is no more I that do it, but sin that dwelleth in me," [672]
   --the punishment of a more unconfined sin, in that I was a son of Adam.

   23. For if there be as many contrary natures as there are conflicting
   wills, there will not now be two natures only, but many. If any one
   deliberate whether he should go to their conventicle, or to the
   theatre, those men [673] at once cry out, "Behold, here are two
   natures,--one good, drawing this way, another bad, drawing back that
   way; for whence else is this indecision between conflicting wills?" But
   I reply that both are bad--that which draws to them, and that which
   draws back to the theatre. But they believe not that will to be other
   than good which draws to them. Supposing, then, one of us should
   deliberate, and through the conflict of his two wills should waver
   whether he should go to the theatre or to our church, would not these
   also waver what to answer? For either they must confess, which they are
   not willing to do, that the will which leads to our church is good, as
   well as that of those who have received and are held by the mysteries
   of theirs, or they must imagine that there are two evil natures and two
   evil minds in one man, at war one with the other; and that will not be
   true which they say, that there is one good and another bad; or they
   must be converted to the truth, and no longer deny that where any one
   deliberates, there is one soul fluctuating between conflicting wills.

   24. Let them no more say, then, when they perceive two wills to be
   antagonistic to each other in the same man, that the contest is between
   two opposing minds, of two opposing substances, from two opposing
   principles, the one good and the other bad. For Thou, O true God, dost
   disprove, check, and convince them; like as when both wills are bad,
   one deliberates whether he should kill a man by poison, or by the
   sword; whether he should take possession of this or that estate of
   another's, when he cannot both; whether he should purchase pleasure by
   prodigality, or retain his money by covetousness; whether he should go
   to the circus or the theatre, if both are open on the same day; or,
   thirdly, whether he should rob another man's house, if he have the
   opportunity; or, fourthly, whether he should commit adultery, if at the
   same time he have the means of doing so,--all these things concurring
   in the same point of time, and all being equally longed for, although
   impossible to be enacted at one time. For they rend the mind amid four,
   or even (among the vast variety of things men desire) more antagonistic
   wills, nor do they yet affirm that there are so many different
   substances. Thus also is it in wills which are good. For I ask them, is
   it a good thing to have delight in reading the apostle, or good to have
   delight in a sober psalm, or good to discourse on the gospel? To each
   of these they will answer, "It is good." What, then, if all equally
   delight us, and all at the same time? Do not different wills distract
   the mind, when a man is deliberating which he should rather choose? Yet
   are they all good, and are at variance until one be fixed upon, whither
   the whole united will may be borne, which before was divided into many.
   Thus, also, when above eternity delights us, and the pleasure of
   temporal good holds us down below, it is the same soul which willeth
   not that or this with an entire will, and is therefore torn asunder
   with grievous perplexities, while out of truth it prefers that, but out
   of custom forbears not this.
     __________________________________________________________________

   [664] Ps. lxviii. 2.

   [665] Titus i. 10.

   [666] And that therefore they were not responsible for their evil
   deeds, it not being they that sinned, but the nature of evil in them.
   See iv. sec. 26, and note, above, where the Manichæan doctrines in this
   matter are fully treated.

   [667] Eph. v. 8.

   [668] See iv. sec. 26, note, above.

   [669] John i. 9.

   [670] Ps. xxxiv. 5.

   [671] See v. sec. 2, note 6, above, and x. sec. 5, note, below.

   [672] Rom. vii. 17.

   [673] The Manichæans.
     __________________________________________________________________

   Chapter XI.--In What Manner the Spirit Struggled with the Flesh, that
   It Might Be Freed from the Bondage of Vanity.

   25. Thus was I sick and tormented, accusing myself far more severely
   than was my wont, tossing and turning me in my chain till that was
   utterly broken, whereby I now was but slightly, but still was held. And
   Thou, O Lord, pressedst upon me in my inward parts by a severe mercy,
   redoubling the lashes of fear and shame, lest I should again give way,
   and that same slender remaining tie not being broken off, it should
   recover strength, and enchain me the faster. For I said mentally, "Lo,
   let it be done now, let it be done now." And as I spoke, I all but came
   to a resolve. I all but did it, yet I did it not. Yet fell I not back
   to my old condition, but took up my position hard by, and drew breath.
   And I tried again, and wanted but very little of reaching it, and
   somewhat less, and then all but touched and grasped it; and yet came
   not at it, nor touched, nor grasped it, hesitating to die unto death,
   and to live unto life; and the worse, whereto I had been habituated,
   prevailed more with me than the better, which I had not tried. And the
   very moment in which I was to become another man, the nearer it
   approached me, the greater horror did it strike into me; but it did not
   strike me back, nor turn me aside, but kept me in suspense.

   26. The very toys of toys, and vanities of vanities, my old mistresses,
   still enthralled me; they shook my fleshly garment, and whispered
   softly, "Dost thou part with us? And from that moment shall we no more
   be with thee for ever? And from that moment shall not this or that be
   lawful for thee for ever?" And what did they suggest to me in the words
   "this or that?" What is it that they suggested, O my God? Let Thy mercy
   avert it from the soul of Thy servant. What impurities did they
   suggest! What shame! And now I far less than half heard them, not
   openly showing themselves and contradicting me, but muttering, as it
   were, behind my back, and furtively plucking me as I was departing, to
   make me look back upon them. Yet they did delay me, so that I hesitated
   to burst and shake myself free from them, and to leap over whither I
   was called,--an unruly habit saying to me, "Dost thou think thou canst
   live without them?"

   27. But now it said this very faintly; for on that side towards which I
   had set my face, and whither I trembled to go, did the chaste dignity
   of Continence appear unto me, cheerful, but not dissolutely gay,
   honestly alluring me to come and doubt nothing, and extending her holy
   hands, full of a multiplicity of good examples, to receive and embrace
   me. There were there so many young men and maidens, a multitude of
   youth and every age, grave widows and ancient virgins, and Continence
   herself in all, not barren, but a fruitful mother of children of joys,
   by Thee, O Lord, her Husband. And she smiled on me with an encouraging
   mockery, as if to say, "Canst not thou do what these youths and maidens
   can? Or can one or other do it of themselves, and not rather in the
   Lord their God? The Lord their God gave me unto them. Why standest thou
   in thine own strength, and so standest not? Cast thyself upon Him; fear
   not, He will not withdraw that thou shouldest fall; cast thyself upon
   Him without fear, He will receive thee, and heal thee." And I blushed
   beyond measure, for I still heard the muttering of those toys, and hung
   in suspense. And she again seemed to say, "Shut up thine ears against
   those unclean members of thine upon the earth, that they may be
   mortified. [674] They tell thee of delights, but not as doth the law of
   the Lord thy God." [675] This controversy in my heart was naught but
   self against self. But Alypius, sitting close by my side, awaited in
   silence [676] the result of my unwonted emotion.
     __________________________________________________________________

   [674] Col. iii. 5.

   [675] Ps. cxix. 85, Old ver.

   [676] As in nature, the men of science tell us, no two atoms touch, but
   that, while an inner magnetism draws them together, a secret repulsion
   keeps them apart, so it is with human souls. Into our deepest feelings
   our dearest friends cannot enter. In the throes of conversion, for
   example, God's ministering servants may assist, but He alone can bring
   the soul to the birth. So it was here in the case of Augustin. He felt
   that now even the presence of his dear friend would be a burden,--God
   alone could come near, so as to heal the sore wound of his spirit--and
   Alypius was a friend who knew how to keep silence, and to await the
   issue of his friend's profound emotion. How comfortable a thing to find
   in those who would give consolation the spirit that animated the
   friends of Job, when "they sat down with him upon the ground seven days
   and seven nights, and none spake a word unto him; for they saw that his
   grief was very great" (Job ii. 13). Well has Rousseau said: "Les
   consolations indiscrètes ne font qu' aigrir les violentes afflictions.
   L' indifference et la froideur trouvent aisément des paroles, mais la
   tristesse et le silence sont alors le vrai langage de l'amitié." A
   beautiful exemplification of this is found in Victor Hugo's portrait of
   Bishop Myriel, in Les Misérables (c. iv.), from which we have quoted a
   few pages back:--"Il savait s'asseoir et se taire de longues heures
   auprès de l'homme que avait perdu la femme qu'ii aimait, de la mére qui
   avait perdu son enfant. Comme il savait le moment de se taire, il
   savait aussi le moment de parler. O admirable consolateur! il ne
   cherchait pas à effacer la douleur par l'oubli, mais à l'agrandir et à
   la dignifier par l'ésperance."
     __________________________________________________________________

   Chapter XII.--Having Prayed to God, He Pours Forth a Shower of Tears,
   And, Admonished by a Voice, He Opens the Book and Reads the Words in
   Rom. XIII. 13; By Which, Being Changed in His Whole Soul, He Discloses
   the Divine Favour to His Friend and His Mother.

   28. But when a profound reflection had, from the secret depths of my
   soul, drawn together and heaped up all my misery before the sight of my
   heart, there arose a mighty storm, accompanied by as mighty a shower of
   tears. Which, that I might pour forth fully, with its natural
   expressions, I stole away from Alypius; for it suggested itself to me
   that solitude was fitter for the business of weeping. [677] So I
   retired to such a distance that even his presence could not be
   oppressive to me. Thus was it with me at that time, and he perceived
   it; for something, I believe, I had spoken, wherein the sound of my
   voice appeared choked with weeping, and in that state had I risen up.
   He then remained where we had been sitting, most completely astonished.
   I flung myself down, how, I know not, under a certain fig-tree, giving
   free course to my tears, and the streams of mine eyes gushed out, an
   acceptable sacrifice unto Thee. [678] And, not indeed in these words,
   yet to this effect, spake I much unto Thee,--"But Thou, O Lord, how
   long?" [679] "How long, Lord? Wilt Thou be angry for ever? Oh, remember
   not against us former iniquities;" [680] for I felt that I was
   enthralled by them. I sent up these sorrowful cries,--"How long, how
   long? Tomorrow, and tomorrow? Why not now? Why is there not this hour
   an end to my uncleanness?"

   29. I was saying these things and weeping in the most bitter contrition
   of my heart, when, lo, I heard the voice as of a boy or girl, I know
   not which, coming from a neighbouring house, chanting, and oft
   repeating, "Take up and read; take up and read." Immediately my
   countenance was changed, and I began most earnestly to consider whether
   it was usual for children in any kind of game to sing such words; nor
   could I remember ever to have heard the like. So, restraining the
   torrent of my tears, I rose up, interpreting it no other way than as a
   command to me from Heaven to open the book, and to read the first

   Chapter I should light upon. For I had heard of Antony, [681] that,
   accidentally coming in whilst the gospel was being read, he received
   the admonition as if what was read were addressed to him, "Go and sell
   that thou hast, and give to the poor, and thou shalt have treasure in
   heaven; and come and follow me." [682] And by such oracle was he
   forthwith converted unto Thee. So quickly I returned to the place where
   Alypius was sitting; for there had I put down the volume of the
   apostles, when I rose thence. I grasped, opened, and in silence read
   that paragraph on which my eyes first fell,--"Not in rioting and
   drunkenness, not in chambering and wantonness, not in strife and
   envying; but put ye on the Lord Jesus Christ, and make not provision
   for the flesh, to fulfil the lusts thereof." [683] No further would I
   read, nor did I need; for instantly, as the sentence ended,--by a
   light, as it were, of security infused into my heart,--all the gloom of
   doubt vanished away.

   30. Closing the book, then, and putting either my finger between, or
   some other mark, I now with a tranquil countenance made it known to
   Alypius. And he thus disclosed to me what was wrought in him, which I
   knew not. He asked to look at what I had read. I showed him; and he
   looked even further than I had read, and I knew not what followed. This
   it was, verily, "Him that is weak in the faith, receive ye;" [684]
   which he applied to himself, and discovered to me. By this admonition
   was he strengthened; and by a good resolution and purpose, very much in
   accord with his character (wherein, for the better, he was always far
   different from me), without any restless delay he joined me. Thence we
   go in to my mother. We make it known to her,--she rejoiceth. We relate
   how it came to pass,--she leapeth for joy, and triumpheth, and blesseth
   Thee, who art "able to do exceeding abundantly above all that we ask or
   think; [685] for she perceived Thee to have given her more for me than
   she used to ask by her pitiful and most doleful groanings. For Thou
   didst so convert me unto Thyself, that I sought neither a wife, nor any
   other of this world's hopes,--standing in that rule of faith [686] in
   which Thou, so many years before, had showed me unto her in a vision.
   And thou didst turn her grief into a gladness, [687] much more
   plentiful than she had desired, and much dearer and chaster than she
   used to crave, by having grandchildren of my body.

   ------------------------
     __________________________________________________________________

   [677] See note 3, page 71.

   [678] 1 Pet. ii. 5.

   [679] Ps. vi. 3

   [680] Ps. lxxix. 5, 8.

   [681] See his Life by St. Athanasius, secs. 2, 3.

   [682] Matt. xix. 2l.

   [683] Rom. xiii. 13, 14.

   [684] Rom. xiv. 1.

   [685] Eph. iii. 20.

   [686] See book iii. sec. 19.

   [687] Ps. xxx. 11.
     __________________________________________________________________
     __________________________________________________________________

   Book IX.

   ------------------------

   He speaks of his design of forsaking the profession of rhetoric; of the
   death of his friends, Nebridius and Verecundus; of having received
   baptism in the thirty-third year of his age; and of the virtues and
   death of his mother, Monica.

   ------------------------
     __________________________________________________________________

   Chapter I.--He Praises God, the Author of Safety, and Jesus Christ, the
   Redeemer, Acknowledging His Own Wickedness.

   1. "O Lord, truly I am Thy servant; I am Thy servant, and the son of
   Thine handmaid: Thou hast loosed my bonds. I will offer to Thee the
   sacrifice of thanksgiving." [688] Let my heart and my tongue praise
   Thee, and let all my bones say, "Lord, who is like unto Thee?" [689]
   Let them so say, and answer Thou me, and "say unto my soul, I am Thy
   salvation." [690] Who am I, and what is my nature? How evil have not my
   deeds been; or if not my deeds, my words; or if not my words, my will?
   But Thou, O Lord, art good and merciful, and Thy right hand had respect
   unto the profoundness of my death, and removed from the bottom of my
   heart that abyss of corruption. And this was the result, that I willed
   not to do what I willed, and willed to do what thou willedst. [691] But
   where, during all those years, and out of what deep and secret retreat
   was my free will summoned forth in a moment, whereby I gave my neck to
   Thy "easy yoke," and my shoulders to Thy "light burden," [692] O Christ
   Jesus, "my strength and my Redeemer"? [693] How sweet did it suddenly
   become to me to be without the delights of trifles! And what at one
   time I feared to lose, it was now a joy to me to put away. [694] For
   Thou didst cast them away from me, Thou true and highest sweetness.
   Thou didst cast them away, and instead of them didst enter in Thyself,
   [695] --sweeter than all pleasure, though not to flesh and blood;
   brighter than all light, but more veiled than all mysteries; more
   exalted than all honour, but not to the exalted in their own conceits.
   Now was my soul free from the gnawing cares of seeking and getting, and
   of wallowing and exciting the itch of lust. And I babbled unto Thee my
   brightness, my riches, and my health, the Lord my God.
     __________________________________________________________________

   [688] Ps. cxvi. 16, 17.

   [689] Ibid. xxxv. 10.

   [690] Ibid. xxxv. 3.

   [691] Volebas, though a few mss. have nolebas; and Watts accordingly
   renders "nilledst."

   [692] Matt. xi. 30.

   [693] Ps. xix. 14.

   [694] Archbishop Trench, in his exposition of the parable of the Hid
   Treasure, which the man who found sold all that he had to buy, remarks
   on this passage of the Confessions: "Augustin excellently illustrates
   from his own experience this part of the parable. Describing the crisis
   of his own conversion, and how easy he found it, through this joy, to
   give up all those pleasures of sin that he had long dreaded to be
   obliged to renounce, which had long held him fast bound in the chains
   of evil custom, and which if he renounced, it had seemed to him as
   though life itself would not be worth the living, he exclaims, How
   sweet did it suddenly become to me,'" etc.

   [695] His love of earthly things was expelled by the indwelling love of
   God, "for," as he says in his De Musica, vi. 52, "the love of the
   things of time could only be expelled by some sweetness of things
   eternal." Compare also Dr. Chalmers' sermon on The Expulsive Power of a
   New Affection (the ninth of his "Commercial Discourses"), where this
   idea is expanded.
     __________________________________________________________________

   Chapter II.--As His Lungs Were Affected, He Meditates Withdrawing
   Himself from Public Favour.

   2. And it seemed good to me, as before Thee, not tumultuously to snatch
   away, but gently to withdraw the service of my tongue from the talker's
   trade; that the young, who thought not on Thy law, nor on Thy peace,
   but on mendacious follies and forensic strifes, might no longer
   purchase at my mouth equipments for their vehemence. And opportunely
   there wanted but a few days unto the Vacation of the Vintage; [696] and
   I determined to endure them, in order to leave in the usual way, and,
   being redeemed by Thee, no more to return for sale. Our intention then
   was known to Thee; but to men--excepting our own friends--was it not
   known. For we had determined among ourselves not to let it get abroad
   to any; although Thou hadst given to us, ascending from the valley of
   tears, [697] and singing the song of degrees, "sharp arrows," and
   destroying coals, against the "deceitful tongue," [698] which in giving
   counsel opposes, and in showing love consumes, as it is wont to do with
   its food.

   3. Thou hadst penetrated our hearts with Thy charity, and we carried
   Thy words fixed, as it were, in our bowels; and the examples of Thy
   servant, whom of black Thou hadst made bright, and of dead, alive,
   crowded in the bosom of our thoughts, burned and consumed our heavy
   torpor, that we might not topple into the abyss; and they enkindled us
   exceedingly, that every breath of the deceitful tongue of the gainsayer
   might inflame us the more, not extinguish us. Nevertheless, because for
   Thy name's sake which Thou hast sanctified throughout the earth, this,
   our vow and purpose, might also find commenders, it looked like a
   vaunting of oneself not to wait for the vacation, now so near, but to
   leave beforehand a public profession, and one, too, under general
   observation; so that all who looked on this act of mine, and saw how
   near was the vintage-time I desired to anticipate, would talk of me a
   great deal as if I were trying to appear to be a great person. And what
   purpose would it serve that people should consider and dispute about my
   intention, and that our good should be evil spoken of? [699]

   4. Furthermore, this very summer, from too great literary labour, my
   lungs [700] began to be weak, and with difficulty to draw deep breaths;
   showing by the pains in my chest that they were affected, and refusing
   too loud or prolonged speaking. This had at first been a trial to me,
   for it compelled me almost of necessity to lay down that burden of
   teaching; or, if I could be cured and become strong again, at least to
   leave it off for a while. But when the full desire for leisure, that I
   might see that Thou art the Lord, [701] arose, and was confirmed in me,
   my God, Thou knowest I even began to rejoice that I had this excuse
   ready,--and that not a feigned one,--which might somewhat temper the
   offence taken by those who for their sons' good wished me never to have
   the freedom of sons. Full, therefore, with such joy, I bore it till
   that period of time had passed,--perhaps it was some twenty days,--yet
   they were bravely borne; for the cupidity which was wont to sustain
   part of this weighty business had departed, and I had remained
   overwhelmed had not its place been supplied by patience. Some of Thy
   servants, my brethren, may perchance say that I sinned in this, in that
   having once fully, and from my heart, entered on Thy warfare, I
   permitted myself to sit a single hour in the seat of falsehood. I will
   not contend. But hast not Thou, O most merciful Lord, pardoned and
   remitted this sin also, with my others, so horrible and deadly, in the
   holy water?
     __________________________________________________________________

   [696] "In harvest and vintage time had the lawyers their vacation. So
   Minutius Felix. Scholars, their Non Terminus, as here; yea, divinity
   lectures and catechizings then ceased. So Cyprian, Ep. 2. The law terms
   gave way also to the great festivals of the Church. Theodosius forbade
   any process to go out from fifteen days before Easter till the Sunday
   after. For the four Terms, see Caroli Calvi, Capitula, Act viii. p.
   90."--W. W.

   [697] Ps. lxxxiv. 6.

   [698] Ps. cxx. 3, 4, according to the Old Ver. This passage has many
   difficulties we need not enter into. The Vulgate, however, we may say,
   renders verse 3: "Quid detur tibi aut quid apponatur tibi ad linguam
   dolosam,"--that is, shall be given as a defence against the tongues of
   evil speakers. In this way Augustin understands it, and in his
   commentary on this place makes the fourth verse give the answer to the
   third. Thus, "sharp arrows" he interprets to be the word of God, and
   "destroying coals" those who, being converted to Him, have become
   examples to the ungodly.

   [699] Rom. xiv. 16.

   [700] In his De Vita Beata, sec. 4, and Con. Acad. i. 3, he also
   alludes to this weakness of his chest. He was therefore led to give up
   his professorship, partly from this cause, and partly from a desire to
   devote himself more entirely to God's service. See also p. 115, note.

   [701] Ps. xlvi. 10.
     __________________________________________________________________

   Chapter III.--He Retires to the Villa of His Friend Verecundus, Who Was
   Not Yet a Christian, and Refers to His Conversion and Death, as Well as
   that of Nebridius.

   5. Verecundus was wasted with anxiety at that our happiness, since he,
   being most firmly held by his bonds, saw that he would lose our
   fellowship. For he was not yet a Christian, though his wife was one of
   the faithful; [702] and yet hereby, being more firmly enchained than by
   anything else, was he held back from that journey which we had
   commenced. Nor, he declared, did he wish to be a Christian on any other
   terms than those that were impossible. However, he invited us most
   courteously to make use of his country house so long as we should stay
   there. Thou, O Lord, wilt "recompense" him for this "at the
   resurrection of the just," [703] seeing that Thou hast already given
   him "the lot of the righteous." [704] For although, when we were absent
   at Rome, he, being overtaken with bodily sickness, and therein being
   made a Christian, and one of the faithful, departed this life, yet
   hadst Thou mercy on him, and not on him only, but on us also; [705]
   lest, thinking on the exceeding kindness of our friend to us, and
   unable to count him in Thy flock, we should be tortured with
   intolerable grief. Thanks be unto Thee, our God, we are Thine. Thy
   exhortations, consolations, and faithful promises assure us that Thou
   now repayest Verecundus for that country house at Cassiacum, where from
   the fever of the world we found rest in Thee, with the perpetual
   freshness of Thy Paradise, in that Thou hast forgiven him his earthly
   sins, in that mountain flowing with milk, [706] that fruitful
   mountain,--Thine own.

   6. He then was at that time full of grief; but Nebridius was joyous.
   Although he also, not being yet a Christian, had fallen into the pit of
   that most pernicious error of believing Thy Son to be a phantasm, [707]
   yet, coming out thence, he held the same belief that we did; not as yet
   initiated in any of the sacraments of Thy Church, but a most earnest
   inquirer after truth. [708] Whom, not long after our conversion and
   regeneration by Thy baptism, he being also a faithful member of the
   Catholic Church, and serving Thee in perfect chastity and continency
   amongst his own people in Africa, when his whole household had been
   brought to Christianity through him, didst Thou release from the flesh;
   and now he lives in Abraham's bosom. Whatever that may be which is
   signified by that bosom, [709] there lives my Nebridius, my sweet
   friend, Thy son, O Lord, adopted of a freedman; there he liveth. For
   what other place could there be for such a soul? There liveth he,
   concerning which he used to ask me much,--me, an inexperienced, feeble
   one. Now he puts not his ear unto my mouth, but his spiritual mouth
   unto Thy fountain, and drinketh as much as he is able, wisdom according
   to his desire,--happy without end. Nor do I believe that he is so
   inebriated with it as to forget me, [710] seeing Thou, O Lord, whom he
   drinketh, art mindful of us. Thus, then, were we comforting the
   sorrowing Verecundus (our friendship being untouched) concerning our
   conversion, and exhorting him to a faith according to his condition, I
   mean, his married state. And tarrying for Nebridius to follow us, which
   being so near, he was just about to do, when, behold, those days passed
   over at last; for long and many they seemed, on account of my love of
   easeful liberty, that I might sing unto Thee from my very marrow. My
   heart said unto Thee,--I have sought Thy face; "Thy face, Lord, will I
   seek." [711]
     __________________________________________________________________

   [702] See vi. sec. 1, note, above.

   [703] Luke xiv. 14.

   [704] Ps. cxxv. 2.

   [705] Phil. ii. 27.

   [706] Literally, In monte incaseato, "the mountain of curds," from the
   Old Ver. of Ps. lxviii. 16. The Vulgate renders coagulatus. But the
   Authorized Version is nearer the true meaning, when it renders gvnnym,
   hunched, as "high." The LXX. renders it teturomenos, condensed, as if
   from gvynh, cheese. This divergence arises from the unused root gvn, to
   be curved, having derivatives meaning (1) "hunch-backed," when applied
   to the body, and (2) "cheese" or "curds," when applied to milk.
   Augustin, in his exposition of this place, makes the "mountain" to be
   Christ, and parallels it with Isa. ii. 2; and the "milk" he interprets
   of the grace that comes from Him for Christ's little ones: Ipse est
   mons incaseatus, propter parvulos gratia tanquam lacte nutriendos.

   [707] See. v. 16, note, above.

   [708] See vi. 17, note 6, above.

   [709] Though Augustin, in his Quæst. Evang. ii. qu. 38, makes Abraham's
   bosom to represent the rest into which the Gentiles entered after the
   Jews had put it from them, yet he, for the most part, in common with
   the early Church (see Serm. xiv. 3; Con. Faust. xxxiii. 5; and Eps.
   clxiv. 7, and clxxxvii. Compare also Tertullian, De Anima, lviii),
   takes it to mean the resting-place of the souls of the righteous after
   death. Abraham's bosom, indeed, is the same as the "Paradise" of Luke
   xxiii. 43. The souls of the faithful after they are delivered from the
   flesh are in "joy and felicity" (De Civ. Dei, i. 13, and xiii. 19); but
   they will not have "their perfect consummation and bliss both in body
   and soul" until the morning of the resurrection, when they shall be
   endowed with "spiritual bodies." See note p. 111; and for the
   difference between the ades of Luke xvi. 23, that is, the place of
   departed spirits,--into which it is said in the Apostles' Creed Christ
   descended,--and geenna, or Hell, see Campbell on The Gospels, i. 253.
   In the A.V. both Greek words are rendered "Hell."

   [710] See sec. 37, note, below.

   [711] Ps. xxvii. 8.
     __________________________________________________________________

   Chapter IV.--In the Country He Gives His Attention to Literature, and
   Explains the Fourth Psalm in Connection with the Happy Conversion of
   Alypius. He is Troubled with Toothache.

   7. And the day arrived on which, in very deed, I was to be released
   from the Professorship of Rhetoric, from which in intention I had been
   already released. And done it was; and Thou didst deliver my tongue
   whence Thou hadst already delivered my heart; and full of joy I blessed
   Thee for it, and retired with all mine to the villa. [712] What I
   accomplished here in writing, which was now wholly devoted to Thy
   service, though still, in this pause as it were, panting from the
   school of pride, my books testify, [713] --those in which I disputed
   with my friends, and those with myself alone [714] before Thee; and
   what with the absent Nebridius, my letters [715] testify. And when can
   I find time to recount all Thy great benefits which Thou bestowedst
   upon us at that time, especially as I am hasting on to still greater
   mercies? For my memory calls upon me, and pleasant it is to me, O Lord,
   to confess unto Thee, by what inward goads Thou didst subdue me, and
   how Thou didst make me low, bringing down the mountains and hills of my
   imaginations, and didst straighten my crookedness, and smooth my rough
   ways; [716] and by what means Thou also didst subdue that brother of my
   heart, Alypius, unto the name of Thy only-begotten, our Lord and
   Saviour Jesus Christ, which he at first refused to have inserted in our
   writings. For he rather desired that they should savour of the "cedars"
   of the schools, which the Lord hath now broken down, [717] than of the
   wholesome herbs of the Church, hostile to serpents.

   8. What utterances sent I up unto Thee, my God, when I read the Psalms
   of David, [718] those faithful songs and sounds of devotion which
   exclude all swelling of spirit, when new to Thy true love, at rest in
   the villa with Alypius, a catechumen like myself, my mother cleaving
   unto us,--in woman's garb truly, but with a man's faith, with the
   peacefulness of age, full of motherly love and Christian piety! What
   utterances used I to send up unto Thee in those Psalms, and how was I
   inflamed towards Thee by them, and burned to rehearse them, if it were
   possible, throughout the whole world, against the pride of the human
   race! And yet they are sung throughout the whole world, and none can
   hide himself from Thy heat. [719] With what vehement and bitter sorrow
   was I indignant at the Manichæans; whom yet again I pitied, for that
   they were ignorant of those sacraments, those medicaments, and were mad
   against the antidote which might have made them sane! I wished that
   they had been somewhere near me then, and, without my being aware of
   their presence, could have beheld my face, and heard my words, when I
   read the fourth Psalm in that time of my leisure,--how that Psalm
   wrought upon me. When I called upon Thee, Thou didst hear me, O God of
   my righteousness; Thou hast enlarged me when I was in distress; have
   mercy upon me, and hear my prayer. [720] Oh that they might have heard
   what I uttered on these words, without my knowing whether they heard or
   no, lest they should think that I spake it because of them! For, of a
   truth, neither should I have said the same things, nor in the way I
   said them, if I had perceived that I was heard and seen by them; and
   had I spoken them, they would not so have received them as when I spake
   by and for myself before Thee, out of the private feelings of my soul.

   9. I alternately quaked with fear, and warmed with hope, and with
   rejoicing in Thy mercy, O Father. And all these passed forth, both by
   mine eyes and voice, when Thy good Spirit, turning unto us, said, O ye
   sons of men, how long will ye be slow of heart? "How long will ye love
   vanity, and seek after leasing?" [721] For I had loved vanity, and
   sought after leasing. And Thou, O Lord, hadst already magnified Thy
   Holy One, raising Him from the dead, and setting Him at Thy right hand,
   [722] whence from on high He should send His promise, [723] the
   Paraclete, "the Spirit of Truth." [724] And He had already sent Him,
   [725] but I knew it not; He had sent Him, because He was now magnified,
   rising again from the dead, and ascending into heaven. For till then
   "the Holy Ghost was not yet given, because that Jesus was not yet
   glorified." [726] And the prophet cries out, How long will ye be slow
   of heart? How long will ye love vanity, and seek after leasing? Know
   this, that the Lord hath magnified His Holy One. He cries out, "How
   long?" He cries out, "Know this," and I, so long ignorant, "loved
   vanity, and sought after leasing." And therefore I heard and trembled,
   because these words were spoken unto such as I remembered that I myself
   had been. For in those phantasms which I once held for truths was there
   "vanity" and "leasing." And I spake many things loudly and earnestly,
   in the sorrow of my remembrance, which, would that they who yet "love
   vanity and seek after leasing" had heard! They would perchance have
   been troubled, and have vomited it forth, and Thou wouldest hear them
   when they cried unto Thee; [727] for by a true [728] death in the flesh
   He died for us, who now maketh intercession for us [729] with Thee.

   10. I read further, "Be ye angry, and sin not." [730] And how was I
   moved, O my God, who had now learned to "be angry" with myself for the
   things past, so that in the future I might not sin! Yea, to be justly
   angry; for that it was not another nature of the race of darkness [731]
   which sinned for me, as they affirm it to be who are not angry with
   themselves, and who treasure up to themselves wrath against the day of
   wrath, and of the revelation of Thy righteous judgment. [732] Nor were
   my good things [733] now without, nor were they sought after with eyes
   of flesh in that sun; [734] for they that would have joy from without
   easily sink into oblivion, and are wasted upon those things which are
   seen and temporal, and in their starving thoughts do lick their very
   shadows. Oh, if only they were wearied out with their fasting, and
   said, "Who will show us any good?" [735] And we would answer, and they
   hear, O Lord. The light of Thy countenance is lifted up upon us. [736]
   For we are not that Light, which lighteth every man, [737] but we are
   enlightened by Thee, that we, who were sometimes darkness, may be light
   in Thee. [738] Oh that they could behold the internal Eternal, [739]
   which having tasted I gnashed my teeth that I could not show It to
   them, while they brought me their heart in their eyes, roaming abroad
   from Thee, and said, "Who will show us any good?" But there, where I
   was angry with myself in my chamber, where I was inwardly pricked,
   where I had offered my "sacrifice," slaying my old man, and beginning
   the resolution of a new life, putting my trust in Thee, [740] --there
   hadst Thou begun to grow sweet unto me, and to "put gladness in my
   heart." [741] And I cried out as I read this outwardly, and felt it
   inwardly. Nor would I be increased [742] with worldly goods, wasting
   time and being wasted by time; whereas I possessed in Thy eternal
   simplicity other corn, and wine, and oil. [743]

   11. And with a loud cry from my heart, I called out in the following
   verse, "Oh, in peace!" and "the self-same!" [744] Oh, what said he, "I
   will lay me down and sleep!" [745] For who shall hinder us, when "shall
   be brought to pass the saying that is written, Death is swallowed up in
   victory?" [746] And Thou art in the highest degree "the self-same," who
   changest not; and in Thee is the rest which forgetteth all labour, for
   there is no other beside Thee, nor ought we to seek after those many
   other things which are not what Thou art; but Thou, Lord, only makest
   me to dwell in hope. [747] These things I read, and was inflamed; but
   discovered not what to do with those deaf and dead, of whom I had been
   a pestilent member,--a bitter and a blind declaimer against the
   writings be-honied with the honey of heaven and luminous with Thine own
   light; and I was consumed on account of the enemies of this Scripture.

   12. When shall I call to mind all that took place in those holidays?
   Yet neither have I forgotten, nor will I be silent about the severity
   of Thy scourge, and the amazing quickness of Thy mercy. [748] Thou
   didst at that time torture me with toothache; [749] and when it had
   become so exceeding great that I was not able to speak, it came into my
   heart to urge all my friends who were present to pray for me to Thee,
   the God of all manner of health. And I wrote it down on wax, [750] and
   gave it to them to read. Presently, as with submissive desire we bowed
   our knees, that pain departed. But what pain? Or how did it depart? I
   confess to being much afraid, my Lord my God, seeing that from my
   earliest years I had not experienced such pain. And Thy purposes were
   profoundly impressed upon me; and, rejoicing in faith, I praised Thy
   name. And that faith suffered me not to be at rest in regard to my past
   sins, which were not yet forgiven me by Thy baptism.
     __________________________________________________________________

   [712] As Christ went into the wilderness after His baptism (Matt. iv.
   1), and Paul into Arabia after his conversion (Gal. i. 17), so did
   Augustin here find in his retirement a preparation for his future work.
   He tells us of this time of his life (De Ordin. i. 6) that his habit
   was to spend the beginning or end, and often almost half the night, in
   watching and searching for truth, and says further (ibid. 29), that "he
   almost daily asked God with tears that his wounds might be healed, and
   often proved to himself that he was unworthy to be healed as soon as he
   wished."

   [713] These books are (Con. Acad. i. 4) his three disputations Against
   the Academics, his De Vita Beata, begun (ibid. 6) "Idibus Novembris die
   ejus natali;" and (Retract. i. 3) his two books De Ordine.

   [714] That is, his two books of Soliloquies. In his Retractations, i.
   4, sec 1, he tells us that in these books he held an argument,--me
   interrogans, mihique respondens, tanquam duo essemus, ratio et ego.

   [715] Several of these letters to Nebridius will be found in the two
   vols. of Letters in this series.

   [716] Luke iii. 5.

   [717] Ps. xxix. 5.

   [718] Reference may with advantage be made to Archbishop Trench's
   Hulsean Lectures (1845), who in his third lect., on "The Manifoldness
   of Scripture," adverts to this very passage, and shows in an
   interesting way how the Psalms have ever been to the saints of God, as
   Luther said, "a Bible in little," affording satisfaction to their needs
   in every kind of trial, emergency, and experience.

   [719] Ps. xix. 6.

   [720] Ps. iv. 1.

   [721] Ibid. ver. 23.

   [722] Eph. i. 20.

   [723] Luke xxiv. 49.

   [724] John xiv. 16, 17.

   [725] Acts ii. 1-4.

   [726] John vii. 39.

   [727] Ps. iv. 1.

   [728] See v. 16, note, above.

   [729] Rom. viii. 34.

   [730] Eph. iv. 26.

   [731] See iv. 26, note, above.

   [732] Rom. ii. 5.

   [733] Ps. iv. 6.

   [734] See v. 12, note, above.

   [735] Ps. iv. 6.

   [736] Ibid.

   [737] John i. 9.

   [738] Eph. v. 8.

   [739] Internum æternum, but some mss. read internum lumen æternum.

   [740] Ps. iv. 5.

   [741] Ps. iv. 7.

   [742] That is, lest they should distract him from the true riches. For,
   as he says in his exposition of the fourth Psalm, "Cum dedita
   temporalibus voluptatibus anima semper exardescit cupiditate, nec
   satiari potest." He knew that the prosperity of the soul (3 John 2)
   might be injuriously affected by the prosperity of the body; and
   disregarding the lower life (bios) and its "worldly goods," he pressed
   on to increase the treasure he had within,--the true life (zoe) which
   he had received from God. See also Enarr. in Ps. xxxviii. 6.

   [743] Ps. iv. 7.

   [744] Ibid. ver. 8, Vulg.

   [745] Ps. iv. 8; in his comment whereon, Augustin applies this passage
   as above.

   [746] 1 Cor. xv. 54.

   [747] Ps. iv. 9, Vulg.

   [748] Compare the beautiful Talmudical legend quoted by Jeremy Taylor
   (Works, viii. 397, Eden's ed.), that of the two archangels, Gabriel and
   Michael, Gabriel has two wings that he may "fly swiftly" (Dan. ix. 21)
   to bring the message of peace, while Michael has but one, that he may
   labour in his flight when he comes forth on his ministries of justice.

   [749] In his Soliloquies (see note, sec. 7, above), he refers in i. 21
   to this period. He there tells us that his pain was so great that it
   prevented his learning anything afresh, and only permitted him to
   revolve in his mind what he had already learnt. Compare De Quincey's
   description of the agonies he had to endure from tooth ache in his
   Confessions of an Opium Eater.

   [750] That is, on the waxen tablet used by the ancients. The iron
   stilus, or pencil, used for writing, was pointed at one end and
   flattened at the other--the flattened circular end being used to erase
   the writing by smoothing down the wax. Hence vertere stilum signifies
   to put out or correct. See sec. 19, below.
     __________________________________________________________________

   Chapter V.--At the Recommendation of Ambrose, He Reads the Prophecies
   of Isaiah, But Does Not Understand Them.

   13. The vintage vacation being ended, I gave the citizens of Milan
   notice that they might provide their scholars with another seller of
   words; because both of my election to serve Thee, and my inability, by
   reason of the difficulty of breathing and the pain in my chest, to
   continue the Professorship. And by letters I notified to Thy bishop,
   [751] the holy man Ambrose, my former errors and present resolutions,
   with a view to his advising me which of Thy books it was best for me to
   read, so that I might be readier and fitter for the reception of such
   great grace. He recommended Isaiah the Prophet; [752] I believe,
   because he foreshows more clearly than others the gospel, and the
   calling of the Gentiles. But I, not understanding the first portion of
   the book, and imagining the whole to be like it, laid it aside,
   intending to take it up hereafter, when better practised in our Lord's
   words.
     __________________________________________________________________

   [751] Antistiti.

   [752] In his De Civ. Dei, xviii. 29, he likewise alludes to the
   evangelical character of the writings of Isaiah.
     __________________________________________________________________

   Chapter VI.--He is Baptized at Milan with Alypius and His Son
   Adeodatus. The Book "De Magistro."

   14. Thence, when the time had arrived at which I was to give in my
   name, [753] having left the country, we returned to Milan. Alypius also
   was pleased to be born again with me in Thee, being now clothed with
   the humility appropriate to Thy sacraments, and being so brave a tamer
   of the body, as with unusual fortitude to tread the frozen soil of
   Italy with his naked feet. We took into our company the boy Adeodatus,
   born of me carnally, of my sin. Well hadst Thou made him. He was barely
   fifteen years, yet in wit excelled many grave and learned men. [754] I
   confess unto Thee Thy gifts, O Lord my God, Creator of all, and of
   exceeding power to reform our deformities; for of me was there naught
   in that boy but the sin. For that we fostered him in Thy discipline,
   Thou inspiredst us, none other,--Thy gifts I confess unto Thee. There
   is a book of ours, which is entitled The Master. [755] It is a dialogue
   between him and me. Thou knowest that all things there put into the
   mouth of the person in argument with me were his thoughts in his
   sixteenth year. Many others more wonderful did I find in him. That
   talent was a source of awe to me. And who but Thou could be the worker
   of such marvels? Quickly didst Thou remove his life from the earth; and
   now I recall him to mind with a sense of security, in that I fear
   nothing for his childhood or youth, or for his whole self. We took him
   coeval with us in Thy grace, to be educated in Thy discipline; and we
   were baptized, [756] and solicitude about our past life left us. Nor
   was I satiated in those days with the wondrous sweetness of considering
   the depth of Thy counsels concerning the salvation of the human race.
   How greatly did I weep in Thy hymns and canticles, deeply moved by the
   voices of Thy sweet-speaking Church! The voices flowed into mine ears,
   and the truth was poured forth into my heart, whence the agitation of
   my piety overflowed, and my tears ran over, and blessed was I therein.
     __________________________________________________________________

   [753] "They were baptized at Easter, and gave up their names before the
   second Sunday in Lent, the rest of which they were to spend in fasting,
   humility, prayer, and being examined in the scrutinies (Tertull. Lib.
   de Bapt. c. 20). Therefore went they to Milan, that the bishop might
   see their preparation. Adjoining to the cathedrals were there certain
   lower houses for them to lodge and be exercised in, till the day of
   baptism" (Euseb. x. 4).--W. W. See also Bingham, x. 2, sec. 6; and
   above, note 4, p. 89; note 4, p. 118, and note 8, p. 118.

   [754] In his De Vita Beata, sec. 6, he makes a similar illusion to the
   genius of Adeodatus.

   [755] This book, in which he and his son are the interlocutors, will be
   found in vol. i. of the Benedictine edition, and is by the editors
   assumed to be written about A.D. 389. Augustin briefly gives its
   argument in his Retractations, i. 12. He says: "There it is disputed,
   sought, and discovered that there is no master who teaches man
   knowledge save God, as it is written in the gospel (Matt. xxiii. 10),
   One is your Master, even Christ.'"

   [756] He was baptized by Ambrose, and tradition says, as he came out of
   the water, they sang alternate verses of the Te Deum (ascribed by some
   to Ambrose), which, in the old offices of the English Church is called
   "The Song of Ambrose and Augustin." In his Con. Julian. Pelag. i. 10,
   he speaks of Ambrose as being one whose devoted labours and perils were
   known throughout the whole Roman world, and says: "In Christo enim Jesu
   per evangelium ipse me genuit, et eo Christi ministro lavacrum
   regenerationis accepti." See also the last sec. of his De Nupt. et
   Concup., and Ep. cxlvii. 23. In notes 3, p. 50, and 4, p. 89, will be
   found references to the usages of the early Church as to baptism.
     __________________________________________________________________

   Chapter VII.--Of the Church Hymns Instituted at Milan; Of the Ambrosian
   Persecution Raised by Justina; And of the Discovery of the Bodies of
   Two Martyrs.

   15. Not long had the Church of Milan begun to employ this kind of
   consolation and exhortation, the brethren singing together with great
   earnestness of voice and heart. For it was about a year, or not much
   more, since Justina, the mother of the boy-Emperor Valentinian,
   persecuted [757] Thy servant Ambrose in the interest of her heresy, to
   which she had been seduced by the Arians. The pious people kept guard
   in the church, prepared to die with their bishop, Thy servant. There my
   mother, Thy handmaid, bearing a chief part of those cares and
   watchings, lived in prayer. We, still unmelted by the heat of Thy
   Spirit, were yet moved by the astonished and disturbed city. At this
   time it was instituted that, after the manner of the Eastern Church,
   hymns and psalms should be sung, lest the people should pine away in
   the tediousness of sorrow; which custom, retained from then till now,
   is imitated by many, yea, by almost all of Thy congregations throughout
   the rest of the world.

   16. Then didst Thou by a vision make known to Thy renowned bishop [758]
   the spot where lay the bodies of Gervasius and Protasius, the martyrs
   (whom Thou hadst in Thy secret storehouse preserved uncorrupted for so
   many years), whence Thou mightest at the fitting time produce them to
   repress the feminine but royal fury. For when they were revealed and
   dug up and with due honour transferred to the Ambrosian Basilica, not
   only they who were troubled with unclean spirits (the devils confessing
   themselves) were healed, but a certain man also, who had been blind
   [759] many years, a well-known citizen of that city, having asked and
   been told the reason of the people's tumultuous joy, rushed forth,
   asking his guide to lead him thither. Arrived there, he begged to be
   permitted to touch with his handkerchief the bier of Thy saints, whose
   death is precious in Thy sight. [760] When he had done this, and put it
   to his eyes, they were forthwith opened. Thence did the fame spread;
   thence did Thy praises burn,--shine; thence was the mind of that enemy,
   though not yet enlarged to the wholeness of believing, restrained from
   the fury of persecuting. Thanks be to Thee, O my God. Whence and
   whither hast Thou thus led my remembrance, that I should confess these
   things also unto Thee,--great, though I, forgetful, had passed them
   over? And yet then, when the "savour" of Thy "ointments" was so
   fragrant, did we not "run after Thee." [761] And so I did the more
   abundantly weep at the singing of Thy hymns, formerly panting for Thee,
   and at last breathing in Thee, as far as the air can play in this house
   of grass.
     __________________________________________________________________

   [757] The Bishop of Milan who preceded Ambrose was an Arian, and though
   Valentinian the First approved the choice of Ambrose as bishop,
   Justina, on his death, greatly troubled the Church. Ambrose
   subsequently had great influence over both Valentinian the Second and
   his brother Gratian. The persecution referred to above, says Pusey, was
   "to induce him to give up to the Arians a church,--the Portian Basilica
   without the walls; afterwards she asked for the new Basilica within the
   walls, which was larger." See Ambrose, Epp. 20-22; Serm. c. Auxentium
   de Basilicis Tradendis, pp. 852-880, ed. Bened.; cf. Tillemont, Hist.
   Eccl. St. Ambroise, art. 44-48, pp. 76-82. Valentinian was then at
   Milan. See next sec., the beginning of note.

   [758] Antistiti.

   [759] Augustin alludes to this, amongst other supposed miracles, in his
   De Civ. Dei, xxii. 8; and again in Serm. cclxxxvi. sec. 4, where he
   tells us that the man, after being cured, made a vow that he would for
   the remainder of his life serve in that Basilica where the bodies of
   the martyrs lay. St. Ambrose also examines the miracle at great length
   in one of his sermons. We have already referred in note 5, p. 69 to the
   origin of these false miracles in the early Church. Lecture vi. series
   2, of Blunt's Lectures on the Right Use of the Early Fathers, is
   devoted to an examination of the various passages in the Ante-Nicene
   Fathers where the continuance of miracles in the Church is either
   expressed or implied. The reader should also refer to the note on p.
   485 of vol. ii. of the City of God, in this series.

   [760] Ps. cxvi. 15.

   [761] Cant. i. 3, 4.
     __________________________________________________________________

   Chapter VIII.--Of the Conversion of Evodius, and the Death of His
   Mother When Returning with Him to Africa; And Whose Education He
   Tenderly Relates.

   17. Thou, who makest men to dwell of one mind in a house, [762] didst
   associate with us Evodius also, a young man of our city, who, when
   serving as an agent for Public Affairs, [763] was converted unto Thee
   and baptized prior to us; and relinquishing his secular service,
   prepared himself for Thine. We were together, [764] and together were
   we about to dwell with a holy purpose. We sought for some place where
   we might be most useful in our service to Thee, and were going back
   together to Africa. And when we were at the Tiberine Ostia my mother
   died. Much I omit, having much to hasten. Receive my confessions and
   thanksgivings, O my God, for innumerable things concerning which I am
   silent. But I will not omit aught that my soul has brought forth as to
   that Thy handmaid who brought me forth,--in her flesh, that I might be
   born to this temporal light, and in her heart, that I might be born to
   life eternal. [765] I will speak not of her gifts, but Thine in her;
   for she neither made herself nor educated herself. Thou createdst her,
   nor did her father nor her mother know what a being was to proceed from
   them. And it was the rod of Thy Christ, the discipline of Thine only
   Son, that trained her in Thy fear, in the house of one of Thy faithful
   ones, who was a sound member of Thy Church. Yet this good discipline
   did she not so much attribute to the diligence of her mother, as that
   of a certain decrepid maid-servant, who had carried about her father
   when an infant, as little ones are wont to be carried on the backs of
   elder girls. For which reason, and on account of her extreme age and
   very good character, was she much respected by the heads of that
   Christian house. Whence also was committed to her the care of her
   master's daughters, which she with diligence performed, and was earnest
   in restraining them when necessary, with a holy severity, and
   instructing them with a sober sagacity. For, excepting at the hours in
   which they were very temperately fed at their parents' table, she used
   not to permit them, though parched with thirst, to drink even water;
   thereby taking precautions against an evil custom, and adding the
   wholesome advice, "You drink water only because you have not control of
   wine; but when you have come to be married, and made mistresses of
   storeroom and cellar, you will despise water, but the habit of drinking
   will remain." By this method of instruction, and power of command, she
   restrained the longing of their tender age, and regulated the very
   thirst of the girls to such a becoming limit, as that what was not
   seemly they did not long for.

   18. And yet--as Thine handmaid related to me, her son--there had stolen
   upon her a love of wine. For when she, as being a sober maiden, was as
   usual bidden by her parents to draw wine from the cask, the vessel
   being held under the opening, before she poured the wine into the
   bottle, she would wet the tips of her lips with a little, for more than
   that her inclination refused. For this she did not from any craving for
   drink, but out of the overflowing buoyancy of her time of life, which
   bubbles up with sportiveness, and is, in youthful spirits, wont to be
   repressed by the gravity of elders. And so unto that little, adding
   daily littles (for "he that contemneth small things shall fall by
   little and little"), [766] she contracted such a habit as, to drink off
   eagerly her little cup nearly full of wine. Where, then, was the
   sagacious old woman with her earnest restraint? Could anything prevail
   against a secret disease if Thy medicine, O Lord, did not watch over
   us? Father, mother, and nurturers absent, Thou present, who hast
   created, who callest, who also by those who are set over us workest
   some good for the salvation of our souls, what didst Thou at that time,
   O my God? How didst Thou heal her? How didst Thou make her whole? Didst
   Thou not out of another woman's soul evoke a hard and bitter insult, as
   a surgeon's knife from Thy secret store, and with one thrust remove all
   that putrefaction? [767] For the maidservant who used to accompany her
   to the cellar, falling out, as it happens, with her little mistress,
   when she was alone with her, cast in her teeth this vice, with very
   bitter insult, calling her a "wine-bibber." Stung by this taunt, she
   perceived her foulness, and immediately condemned and renounced it.
   Even as friends by their flattery pervert, so do enemies by their
   taunts often correct us. Yet Thou renderest not unto them what Thou
   dost by them, but what was proposed by them. For she, being angry,
   desired to irritate her young mistress, not to cure her; and did it in
   secret, either because the time and place of the dispute found them
   thus, or perhaps lest she herself should be exposed to danger for
   disclosing it so late. But Thou, Lord, Governor of heavenly and earthly
   things, who convertest to Thy purposes the deepest torrents, and
   disposest the turbulent current of the ages, [768] healest one soul by
   the unsoundness of another; lest any man, when he remarks this, should
   attribute it unto his own power if another, whom he wishes to be
   reformed, is so through a word of his.
     __________________________________________________________________

   [762] Ps. lxviii. 6.

   [763] See viii. sec. 15, note, above.

   [764] We find from his Retractations (i. 7, sec. 1), that at this time
   he wrote his De Moribus Ecclesiæ Catholicæ and his De Moribus
   Manichæorum. He also wrote (ibid. 8, sec. I) his De Animæ Quantitate,
   and (ibid. 9, sec. I) his three books De Libero Arbitrio.

   [765] In his De Vita Beata and in his De Dono Persev. he attributes all
   that he was to his mother's tears and prayers.

   [766] Ecclus. xix. 1. Augustin frequently alludes to the subtle power
   of little things. As when he says,--illustrating (Serm. cclxxviii.) by
   the plagues of Egypt,--tiny insects, if they be numerous enough, will
   be as harmful as the bite of great beasts; and (Serm. lvi.) a hill of
   sand, though composed of tiny grains, will crush a man as surely as the
   same weight of lead. Little drops (Serm. lviii.) make the river, and
   little leaks sink the ship; wherefore, he urges, little things must not
   be despised. "Men have usually," says Sedgwick in his Anatomy of Secret
   Sins, "been first wading in lesser sins who are now swimming in great
   transgressions." It is in the little things of evil that temptation has
   its greatest strength. The snowflake is little and not to be accounted
   of, but from its multitudinous accumulation results the dread power of
   the avalanche. Satan often seems to act as it is said Pompey did, when
   he could not gain entrance to a city. He persuaded the citizens to
   admit a few of his weak and wounded soldiers, who, when they had become
   strong, opened the gates to his whole army. But if little things have
   such subtlety in temptation, they have likewise higher ministries. The
   Jews, in their Talmudical writings, have many parables illustrating how
   God by little things tries and proves men to see if they are fitted for
   greater things. They say, for example, that He tried David when keeping
   sheep in the wilderness, to see whether he would be worthy to rule over
   Israel, the sheep of his inheritance. See Ch. Schoettgen, Hor. Heb. et
   Talmud, i. 300.

   [767] "Animam oportet assiduis saliri tentationibus,' says St. Ambrose.
   Some errors and offences do rub salt upon a good man's integrity, that
   it may not putrefy with presumption."--Bishop Hacket's Sermons, p 210.

   [768] Not only is this true in private, but in public concerns. Even in
   the crucifixion of our Lord, the wicked rulers did (Acts. iv. 26) what
   God's hand and God's counsel had before determined to be done. Perhaps
   by reason of His infinite knowledge it is that God, who knows our
   thoughts long before (Ps. cxxxix. 2, 4), weaves man's self-willed
   purposes into the pattern which His inscrutable providence has before
   ordained. Or, to use Augustin's own words (De Civ. Dei, xxii. 2), "It
   is true that wicked men do many things contrary to God's will; but so
   great is His wisdom and power, that all things which seem adverse to
   His purpose do still tend towards those just and good ends and issues
   which He Himself has foreknown."
     __________________________________________________________________

   Chapter IX.--He Describes the Praiseworthy Habits of His Mother; Her
   Kindness Towards Her Husband and Her Sons.

   19. Being thus modestly and soberly trained, and rather made subject by
   Thee to her parents, than by her parents to Thee, when she had arrived
   at a marriageable age, she was given to a husband whom she served as
   her lord. And she busied herself to gain him to Thee, preaching Thee
   unto him by her behaviour; by which Thou madest her fair, and
   reverently amiable, and admirable unto her husband. For she so bore the
   wronging of her bed as never to have any dissension with her husband on
   account of it. For she waited for Thy mercy upon him, that by believing
   in Thee he might become chaste. And besides this, as he was earnest in
   friendship, so was he violent in anger; but she had learned that an
   angry husband should not be resisted, neither in deed, nor even in
   word. But so soon as he was grown calm and tranquil, and she saw a
   fitting moment, she would give him a reason for her conduct, should he
   have been excited without cause. In short, while many matrons, whose
   husbands were more gentle, carried the marks of blows on their
   dishonoured faces, and would in private conversation blame the lives of
   their husbands, she would blame their tongues, monishing them gravely,
   as if in jest: "That from the hour they heard what are called the
   matrimonial tablets [769] read to them, they should think of them as
   instruments whereby they were made servants; so, being always mindful
   of their condition, they ought not to set themselves in opposition to
   their lords." And when they, knowing what a furious husband she
   endured, marvelled that it had never been reported, nor appeared by any
   indication, that Patricius had beaten his wife, or that there had been
   any domestic strife between them, even for a day, and asked her in
   confidence the reason of this, she taught them her rule, which I have
   mentioned above. They who observed it experienced the wisdom of it, and
   rejoiced; those who observed it not were kept in subjection, and
   suffered.

   20. Her mother-in-law, also, being at first prejudiced against her by
   the whisperings of evil-disposed servants, she so conquered by
   submission, persevering in it with patience and meekness, that she
   voluntarily disclosed to her son the tongues of the meddling servants,
   whereby the domestic peace between herself and her daughter-in-law had
   been agitated, begging him to punish them for it. When, therefore, he
   had--in conformity with his mother's wish, and with a view to the
   discipline of his family, and to ensure the future harmony of its
   members--corrected with stripes those discovered, according to the will
   of her who had discovered them, she promised a similar reward to any
   who, to please her, should say anything evil to her of her
   daughter-in-law. And, none now daring to do so, they lived together
   with a wonderful sweetness of mutual good-will.

   21. This great gift Thou bestowedst also, my God, my mercy, upon that
   good handmaid of Thine, out of whose womb Thou createdst me, even that,
   whenever she could, she showed herself such a peacemaker between any
   differing and discordant spirits, that when she had heard on both sides
   most bitter things, such as swelling and undigested discord is wont to
   give vent to, when the crudities of enmities are breathed out in bitter
   speeches to a present friend against an absent enemy, she would
   disclose nothing about the one unto the other, save what might avail to
   their reconcilement. A small good this might seem to me, did I not know
   to my sorrow countless persons, who, through some horrible and
   far-spreading infection of sin, not only disclose to enemies mutually
   enraged the things said in passion against each other, but add some
   things that were never spoken at all; whereas, to a generous man, it
   ought to seem a small thing not to incite or increase the enmities of
   men by ill-speaking, unless he endeavour likewise by kind words to
   extinguish them. Such a one was she,--Thou, her most intimate
   Instructor, teaching her in the school of her heart.

   22. Finally, her own husband, now towards the end of his earthly
   existence, did she gain over unto Thee; and she had not to complain of
   that in him, as one of the faithful, which, before he became so, she
   had endured. She was also the servant of Thy servants. Whosoever of
   them knew her, did in her much magnify, honour, and love Thee; for that
   through the testimony of the fruits of a holy conversation, they
   perceived Thee to be present in her heart. For she had "been the wife
   of one man," had requited her parents, had guided her house piously,
   was "well-reported of for good works," had "brought up children," [770]
   as often travailing in birth of them [771] as she saw them swerving
   from Thee. Lastly, to all of us, O Lord (since of Thy favour Thou
   sufferest Thy servants to speak), who, before her sleeping in Thee,
   [772] lived associated together, having received the grace of Thy
   baptism, did she devote, care such as she might if she had been mother
   of us all; served us as if she had been child of all.
     __________________________________________________________________

   [769] That is, not only from the time of actual marriage, but from the
   time of betrothal, when the contract was written upon tablets (see note
   10, p. 133), and signed by the contracting parties. The future wife was
   then called sponsa sperata or pacta. Augustin alludes to this above
   (vii. sec. 7), when he says, "It is also the custom that the affianced
   bride (pactæ sponsæ) should not immediately be given up, that the
   husband may not less esteem her whom, as betrothed, he longed not for"
   (non suspiraverit sponsus). It should be remembered, in reading this
   section, that women amongst the Romans were not confined after the
   Eastern fashion of the Greeks to separate apartments, but had charge of
   the domestic arrangements and the training of the children.

   [770] 1 Tim. v. 4, 9, 10, 14.

   [771] Gal. iv. 19.

   [772] 1 Thess. iv. 14.
     __________________________________________________________________

   Chapter X.--A Conversation He Had with His Mother Concerning the
   Kingdom of Heaven.

   23. As the day now approached on which she was to depart this life
   (which day Thou knewest, we did not), it fell out--Thou, as I believe,
   by Thy secret ways arranging it--that she and I stood alone, leaning in
   a certain window, from which the garden of the house we occupied at
   Ostia could be seen; at which place, removed from the crowd, we were
   resting ourselves for the voyage, after the fatigues of a long journey.
   We then were conversing alone very pleasantly; and, "forgetting those
   things which are behind, and reaching forth unto those things which are
   before," [773] we were seeking between ourselves in the presence of the
   Truth, which Thou art, of what nature the eternal life of the saints
   would be, which eye hath not seen, nor ear heard, neither hath entered
   into the heart of man. [774] But yet we opened wide the mouth of our
   heart, after those supernal streams of Thy fountain, "the fountain of
   life," which is "with Thee;" [775] that being sprinkled with it
   according to our capacity, we might in some measure weigh so high a
   mystery.

   24. And when our conversation had arrived at that point, that the very
   highest pleasure of the carnal senses, and that in the very brightest
   material light, seemed by reason of the sweetness of that life not only
   not worthy of comparison, but not even of mention, we, lifting
   ourselves with a more ardent affection towards "the Selfsame," [776]
   did gradually pass through all corporeal things, and even the heaven
   itself, whence sun, and moon, and stars shine upon the earth; yea, we
   soared higher yet by inward musing, and discoursing, and admiring Thy
   works; and we came to our own minds, and went beyond them, that we
   might advance as high as that region of unfailing plenty, where Thou
   feedest Israel [777] for ever with the food of truth, and where life is
   that Wisdom by whom all these things are made, both which have been,
   and which are to come; and she is not made, but is as she hath been,
   and so shall ever be; yea, rather, to "have been," and "to be
   hereafter," are not in her, but only "to be," seeing she is eternal,
   for to "have been" and "to be hereafter" are not eternal. And while we
   were thus speaking, and straining after her, we slightly touched her
   with the whole effort of our heart; and we sighed, and there left bound
   "the first-fruits of the Spirit;" [778] and returned to the noise of
   our own mouth, where the word uttered has both beginning and end. And
   what is like unto Thy Word, our Lord, who remaineth in Himself without
   becoming old, and "maketh all things new"? [779]

   25. We were saying, then, If to any man the tumult of the flesh were
   silenced,--silenced the phantasies of earth, waters, and
   air,--silenced, too, the poles; yea, the very soul be silenced to
   herself, and go beyond herself by not thinking of herself,--silenced
   fancies and imaginary revelations, every tongue, and every sign, and
   whatsoever exists by passing away, since, if any could hearken, all
   these say, "We created not ourselves, but were created by Him who
   abideth for ever:" If, having uttered this, they now should be
   silenced, having only quickened our ears to Him who created them, and
   He alone speak not by them, but by Himself, that we may hear His word,
   not by fleshly tongue, nor angelic voice, nor sound of thunder, nor the
   obscurity of a similitude, but might hear Him--Him whom in these we
   love--without these, like as we two now strained ourselves, and with
   rapid thought touched on that Eternal Wisdom which remaineth over all.
   If this could be sustained, and other visions of a far different kind
   be withdrawn, and this one ravish, and absorb, and envelope its
   beholder amid these inward joys, so that his life might be eternally
   like that one moment of knowledge which we now sighed after, were not
   this "Enter thou into the joy of Thy Lord"? [780] And when shall that
   be? When we shall all rise again; but all shall not be changed. [781]

   26. Such things was I saying; and if not after this manner, and in
   these words, yet, Lord, Thou knowest, that in that day when we were
   talking thus, this world with all its delights grew contemptible to us,
   even while we spake. Then said my mother, "Son, for myself, I have no
   longer any pleasure in aught in this life. What I want here further,
   and why I am here, I know not, now that my hopes in this world are
   satisfied. There was indeed one thing for which I wished to tarry a
   little in this life, and that was that I might see thee a Catholic
   Christian before I died. [782] My God has exceeded this abundantly, so
   that I see thee despising all earthly felicity, made His servant,--what
   do I here?"
     __________________________________________________________________

   [773] Phil. iii. 13.

   [774] 1 Cor. ii. 9.; Isa. lxiv. 4.

   [775] Ps. xxxvi. 9.

   [776] Ps. iv. 8, Vulg.

   [777] Ps. lxxx. 5.

   [778] Rom. viii. 23.

   [779] Wisd. vii. 27.

   [780] Matt. xxv. 21.

   [781] 1 Cor. xv. 51, however, is, "we shall all be changed."

   [782] Dean Stanley (Canterbury Sermons, serm. 10) draws the following,
   amongst other lessons, from God's dealings with Augustin. "It is an
   example," he says, "like the conversion of St. Paul, of the fact that
   from time to time God calls His servants not by gradual, but by sudden
   changes. These conversions are, it is true, the exceptions and not the
   rule of Providence, but such examples as Augustin show us that we must
   acknowledge the truth of the exceptions when they do occur. It is also
   an instance how, even in such sudden conversions, previous good
   influences have their weight. The prayers of his mother, the silent
   influence of his friend, the high character of Ambrose, the preparation
   for Christian truth in the writings of heathen philosophers, were all
   laid up, as it were, waiting for the spark, and, when it came, the fire
   flashed at once through every corner of his soul."
     __________________________________________________________________

   Chapter XI.--His Mother, Attacked by Fever, Dies at Ostia.

   27. What reply I made unto her to these things I do not well remember.
   However, scarcely five days after, or not much more, she was prostrated
   by fever; and while she was sick, she one day sank into a swoon, and
   was for a short time unconscious of visible things. We hurried up to
   her; but she soon regained her senses, and gazing on me and my brother
   as we stood by her, she said to us inquiringly, "Where was I?" Then
   looking intently at us stupefied with grief, "Here," saith she, "shall
   you bury your mother." I was silent, and refrained from weeping; but my
   brother said something, wishing her, as the happier lot, to die in her
   own country and not abroad. She, when she heard this, with anxious
   countenance arrested him with her eye, as savouring of such things, and
   then gazing at me, "Behold," saith she, "what he saith;" and soon after
   to us both she saith, "Lay this body anywhere, let not the care for it
   trouble you at all. This only I ask, that you will remember me at the
   Lord's altar, wherever you be." And when she had given forth this
   opinion in such words as she could, she was silent, being in pain with
   her increasing sickness.

   28. But, as I reflected on Thy gifts, O thou invisible God, which Thou
   instillest into the hearts of Thy faithful ones, whence such marvellous
   fruits do spring, I did rejoice and give thanks unto Thee, calling to
   mind what I knew before, how she had ever burned with anxiety
   respecting her burial-place, which she had provided and prepared for
   herself by the body of her husband. For as they had lived very
   peacefully together, her desire had also been (so little is the human
   mind capable of grasping things divine) that this should be added to
   that happiness, and be talked of among men, that after her wandering
   beyond the sea, it had been granted her that they both, so united on
   earth, should lie in the same grave. But when this uselessness had,
   through the bounty of Thy goodness, begun to be no longer in her heart,
   I knew not, and I was full of joy admiring what she had thus disclosed
   to me; though indeed in that our conversation in the window also, when
   she said, "What do I here any longer?" she appeared not to desire to
   die in her own country. I heard afterwards, too, that at the time we
   were at Ostia, with a maternal confidence she one day, when I was
   absent, was speaking with certain of my friends on the contemning of
   this life, and the blessing of death; and when they--amazed at the
   courage which Thou hadst given to her, a woman--asked her whether she
   did not dread leaving her body at such a distance from her own city,
   she replied, "Nothing is far to God; nor need I fear lest He should be
   ignorant at the end of the world of the place whence He is to raise me
   up." On the ninth day, then, of her sickness, the fifty-sixth year of
   her age, and the thirty-third of mine, was that religious and devout
   soul set free from the body.
     __________________________________________________________________

   Chapter XII.--How He Mourned His Dead Mother.

   29. I closed her eyes; and there flowed a great sadness into my heart,
   and it was passing into tears, when mine eyes at the same time, by the
   violent control of my mind, sucked back the fountain dry, and woe was
   me in such a struggle! But, as soon as she breathed her last the boy
   Adeodatus burst out into wailing, but, being checked by us all, he
   became quiet. In like manner also my own childish feeling, which was,
   through the youthful voice of my heart, finding escape in tears, was
   restrained and silenced. For we did not consider it fitting to
   celebrate that funeral with tearful plaints and groanings; [783] for on
   such wise are they who die unhappy, or are altogether dead, wont to be
   mourned. But she neither died unhappy, nor did she altogether die. For
   of this were we assured by the witness of her good conversation, her
   "faith unfeigned," [784] and other sufficient grounds.

   3o. What, then, was that which did grievously pain me within, but the
   newly-made wound, from having that most sweet and dear habit of living
   together suddenly broken off? I was full of joy indeed in her
   testimony, when, in that her last illness, flattering my dutifulness,
   she called me "kind," and recalled, with great affection of love, that
   she had never heard any harsh or reproachful sound come out of my mouth
   against her. But yet, O my God, who madest us, how can the honour which
   I paid to her be compared with her slavery for me? As, then, I was left
   destitute of so great comfort in her, my soul was stricken, and that
   life torn apart as it were, which, of hers and mine together, had been
   made but one.

   31. The boy then being restrained from weeping, Evodius took up the
   Psalter, and began to sing--the whole house responding--the Psalm, "I
   will sing of mercy and judgment: unto Thee, O Lord." [785] But when
   they heard what we were doing, many brethren and religious women came
   together; and whilst they whose office it was were, according to
   custom, making ready for the funeral, I, in a part of the house where I
   conveniently could, together with those who thought that I ought not to
   be left alone, discoursed on what was suited to the occasion; and by
   this alleviation of truth mitigated the anguish known unto Thee--they
   being unconscious of it, listened intently, and thought me to be devoid
   of any sense of sorrow. But in Thine ears, where none of them heard,
   did I blame the softness of my feelings, and restrained the flow of my
   grief, which yielded a little unto me; but the paroxysm returned again,
   though not so as to burst forth into tears, nor to a change of
   countenance, though I knew what I repressed in my heart. And as I was
   exceedingly annoyed that these human things had such power over me,
   [786] which in the due order and destiny of our natural condition must
   of necessity come to pass, with a new sorrow I sorrowed for my sorrow,
   and was wasted by a twofold sadness.

   32. So, when the body was carried forth, we both went and returned
   without tears. For neither in those prayers which we poured forth unto
   Thee when the sacrifice of our redemption [787] was offered up unto
   Thee for her,--the dead body being now placed by the side of the grave,
   as the custom there is, prior to its being laid therein,--neither in
   their prayers did I shed tears; yet was I most grievously sad in secret
   all the day, and with a troubled mind entreated Thee, as I was able, to
   heal my sorrow, but Thou didst not; fixing, I believe, in my memory by
   this one lesson the power of the bonds of all habit, even upon a mind
   which now feeds not upon a fallacious word. It appeared to me also a
   good thing to go and bathe, I having heard that the bath [balneum] took
   its name from the Greek balaneion, because it drives trouble from the
   mind. Lo, this also I confess unto Thy mercy, "Father of the
   fatherless," [788] that I bathed, and felt the same as before I had
   done so. For the bitterness of my grief exuded not from my heart. Then
   I slept, and on awaking found my grief not a little mitigated; and as I
   lay alone upon my bed, there came into my mind those true verses of Thy
   Ambrose, for Thou art--

   "Deus creator omnium,

   Polique rector, vestiens

   Diem decora lumine,

   Noctem sopora gratia;

   Artus solutos ut quies

   Reddat laboris usui,

   Mentesque fessas allevet,

   Luctusque solvat anxios." [789]

   33. And then little by little did I bring back my former thoughts of
   Thine handmaid, her devout conversation towards Thee, her holy
   tenderness and attentiveness towards us, which was suddenly taken away
   from me; and it was pleasant to me to weep in Thy sight, for her and
   for me, concerning her and concerning myself. And I set free the tears
   which before I repressed, that they might flow at their will, spreading
   them beneath my heart; and it rested in them, for Thy ears were nigh
   me,--not those of man, who would have put a scornful interpretation on
   my weeping. But now in writing I confess it unto Thee, O Lord! Read it
   who will, and interpret how he will; and if he finds me to have sinned
   in weeping for my mother during so small a part of an hour,--that
   mother who was for a while dead to mine eyes, who had for many years
   wept for me, that I might live in Thine eyes,--let him not laugh at me,
   but rather, if he be a man of a noble charity, let him weep for my sins
   against Thee, the Father of all the brethren of Thy Christ.
     __________________________________________________________________

   [783] For this would be to sorrow as those that have no hope.
   Chrysostom accordingly frequently rebukes the Roman custom of hiring
   persons to wail for the dead (see e.g. Hom. xxxii. in Matt.); and
   Augustin in Serm. 2 of his De Consol. Mor. makes the same objection,
   and also reproves those Christians who imitated the Romans in wearing
   black as the sign of mourning. But still (as in his own case on the
   death of his mother) he admits that there is a grief at the departure
   of friends that is both natural and seemly. In a beautiful passage in
   his De Civ. Dei (xix. 8), he says: "That he who will have none of this
   sadness must, if possible, have no friendly intercourse....Let him
   burst with ruthless insensibility the bonds of every human
   relationship;" and he continues: "Though the cure is effected all the
   more easily and rapidly the better condition the soul is in, we must
   not on this account suppose that there is nothing at all to heal." See
   p. 140, note 2, below.

   [784] 1 Tim. i. 5.

   [785] Ps. ci. 1. "I suppose they continued to the end of Psalm cii.
   This was the primitive fashion; Nazianzen says that his speechless
   sister Gorgonia's lips muttered the fourth Psalm: I will lie down in
   peace and sleep.' As St. Austen lay a dying, the company prayed
   (Possid.). That they had prayers between the departure and burial, see
   Tertull. De Anima, c. 51. They used to sing both at the departure and
   burial. Nazianzen, Orat. 10, says, the dead Cæsarius was carried from
   hymns to hymns. The priests were called to sing (Chrysost. Hom. 70, ad
   Antioch). They sang the 116th Psalm usually (see Chrysost. Hom. 4, in
   c. 2, ad Hebræos)."--W. W. See also note 13, p. 141, below.

   [786] In addition to the remarks quoted in note 1, see Augustin's
   recognition of the naturalness and necessity of exercising human
   affections, such as sorrow, in his De Civ. Dei, xiv. 9.

   [787] "Here my Popish translator says, that the sacrifice of the mass
   was offered for the dead. That the ancients had communion with their
   burials, I confess. But for what? (1) To testify their dying in the
   communion of the Church. (2) To give thanks for their departure. (3) To
   Pray God to give them place in His Paradise, (4) and a part in the
   first resurrection; but not as a propitiatory sacrifice to deliver them
   out of purgatory, which the mass is now only meant for."--W. W. See
   also note 13, p. 141.

   [788] Ps. lxviii. 5.

   [789] Rendered as follows in a translation of the first ten books of
   the Confessions, described on the title-page as "Printed by J. C., for
   John Crook, and are to be sold at the sign of the Ship,' in St. Paul's
   Churchyard. 1660":-- "O God, the world's great Architect, Who dost
   heaven's rowling orbs direct; Cloathing the day with beauteous light,
   And with sweet slumbers silent night; When wearied limbs new vigour
   gain From rest, new labours to sustain, When hearts oppressed do meet
   relief, And anxious minds forget their grief." See x. sec. 52, below,
   where this hymn is referred to.
     __________________________________________________________________

   Chapter XIII.--He Entreats God for Her Sins, and Admonishes His Readers
   to Remember Her Piously.

   34. But,--my heart being now healed of that wound, in so far as it
   could be convicted of a carnal [790] affection,--I pour out unto Thee,
   O our God, on behalf of that Thine handmaid, tears of a far different
   sort, even that which flows from a spirit broken by the thoughts of the
   dangers of every soul that dieth in Adam. And although she, having been
   "made alive" in Christ [791] even before she was freed from the flesh
   had so lived as to praise Thy name both by her faith and conversation,
   yet dare I not say [792] that from the time Thou didst regenerate her
   by baptism, no word went forth from her mouth against Thy precepts.
   [793] And it hath been declared by Thy Son, the Truth, that "Whosoever
   shall say to his brother, Thou fool, shall be in danger of hell fire."
   [794] And woe even unto the praiseworthy life of man, if, putting away
   mercy, Thou shouldest investigate it. But because Thou dost not
   narrowly inquire after sins, we hope with confidence to find some place
   of indulgence with Thee. But whosoever recounts his true merits [795]
   to Thee, what is it that he recounts to Thee but Thine own gifts? Oh,
   if men would know themselves to be men; and that "he that glorieth"
   would "glory in the Lord!" [796]

   35. I then, O my Praise and my Life, Thou God of my heart, putting
   aside for a little her good deeds, for which I joyfully give thanks to
   Thee, do now beseech Thee for the sins of my mother. Hearken unto me,
   through that Medicine of our wounds who hung upon the tree, and who,
   sitting at Thy right hand, "maketh intercession for us." [797] I know
   that she acted mercifully, and from the heart [798] forgave her debtors
   their debts; do Thou also forgive her debts, [799] whatever she
   contracted during so many years since the water of salvation. Forgive
   her, O Lord, forgive her, I beseech Thee; "enter not into judgment"
   with her. [800] Let Thy mercy be exalted above Thy justice, [801]
   because Thy words are true, and Thou hast promised mercy unto "the
   merciful;" [802] which Thou gavest them to be who wilt "have mercy" on
   whom Thou wilt "have mercy," and wilt "have compassion" on whom Thou
   hast had compassion. [803]

   36. And I believe Thou hast already done that which I ask Thee; but
   "accept the free-will offerings of my mouth, O Lord." [804] For she,
   when the day of her dissolution was near at hand, took no thought to
   have her body sumptuously covered, or embalmed with spices; nor did she
   covet a choice monument, or desire her paternal burial-place. These
   things she entrusted not to us, but only desired to have her name
   remembered at Thy altar, which she had served without the omission of a
   single day; [805] whence she knew that the holy sacrifice was
   dispensed, by which the handwriting that was against us is blotted out;
   [806] by which the enemy was triumphed over, [807] who, summing up our
   offences, and searching for something to bring against us, found
   nothing in Him [808] in whom we conquer. Who will restore to Him the
   innocent blood? Who will repay Him the price with which He bought us,
   so as to take us from Him? Unto the sacrament of which our ransom did
   Thy handmaid bind her soul by the bond of faith. Let none separate her
   from Thy protection. Let not the "lion" and the "dragon" [809]
   introduce himself by force or fraud. For she will not reply that she
   owes nothing, lest she be convicted and got the better of by the wily
   deceiver; but she will answer that her "sins are forgiven" [810] by Him
   to whom no one is able to repay that price which He, owing nothing,
   laid down for us.

   37. May she therefore rest in peace with her husband, before or after
   whom she married none; whom she obeyed, with patience bringing forth
   fruit [811] unto Thee, that she might gain him also for Thee. And
   inspire, O my Lord my God, inspire Thy servants my brethren, Thy sons
   my masters, who with voice and heart and writings I serve, that so many
   of them as shall read these confessions may at Thy altar remember
   Monica, Thy handmaid, together with Patricius, her sometime husband, by
   whose flesh Thou introducedst me into this life, in what manner I know
   not. May they with pious affection be mindful of my parents in this
   transitory light, of my brethren that are under Thee our Father in our
   Catholic mother, and of my fellow-citizens in the eternal Jerusalem,
   which the wandering of Thy people sigheth for from their departure
   until their return. That so my mother's last entreaty to me may,
   through my confessions more than through my prayers, be more abundantly
   fulfilled to her through the prayers of many. [812]

   ------------------------
     __________________________________________________________________

   [790] Rom. viii. 7.

   [791] 1 Cor. xv. 22. The universalists of every age have interpreted
   the word "all" here so as to make salvation by Christ Jesus extend to
   every child of Adam. If their interpretation were true, Monica's spirit
   need not have been troubled at the thought of the danger of
   unregenerate souls. But Augustin in his De Civ. Dei, xiii. 23, gives
   the import of the word: "Not that all who die in Adam shall be members
   of Christ--for the great majority shall be punished in eternal
   death,--but he uses the word all' in both clauses because, as no one
   dies in an animal body except in Adam, so no one is quickened a
   spiritual body save in Christ." See x. sec. 68, note 1, below.

   [792] For to have done so would have been to go perilously near to the
   heresy of the Pelagians, who laid claim to the possibility of attaining
   perfection in this life by the power of free-will, and without the
   assistance of divine grace; and went even so far, he tells us (Ep.
   clxxvi. 2), as to say that those who had so attained need not utter the
   petition for forgiveness in the Lord's Prayer,--ut ei non sit jam
   necessarium dicere "Dimitte nobis debita nostra." Those in our own day
   who enunciate perfectionist theories,-- though, it is true, not denying
   the grace of God as did these,--may well ponder Augustin's forcible
   words in his De Pecc. Mer. et Rem. iii. 13: "Optandum est ut fiat,
   conandum est ut fiat, supplicandum est ut fiat; non tamen quasi factum
   fuerit, confitendum." We are indeed commanded to be perfect (Matt. v.
   48); and the philosophy underlying the command is embalmed in the words
   of the proverb, "Aim high, and you will strike high." But he who lives
   nearest to God will have the humility of heart which will make him
   ready to confess that in His sight he is a "miserable sinner." Some
   interesting remarks on this subject will be found in Augustin's De Civ.
   Dei, xiv. 9, on the text, "If we say we have no sin," etc. (1 John i.
   8.) On sins after baptism, see note on next section.

   [793] Matt. xii. 36.

   [794] Matt. v. 22.

   [795] There is a passage parallel to this in his Ep. to Sextus (cxciv.
   19). "Merits" therefore would appear to be used simply in the sense of
   good actions. Compare sec. 17, above, xiii. sec. 1, below, and Ep. cv.
   That righteousness is not by merit, appears from Ep. cxciv.; Ep.
   clxxvii., to Innocent; and Serm.ccxciii.

   [796] 2 Cor. x. 17.

   [797] Rom. viii. 34.

   [798] Matt. xviii. 35.

   [799] Matt. vi. 12. Augustin here as elsewhere applies this petition in
   the Lord's Prayer to the forgiveness of sins after baptism. He does so
   constantly. For example, in his Ep. cclxv. he says: "We do not ask for
   those to be forgiven which we doubt not were forgiven in baptism; but
   those which, though small, are frequent, and spring from the frailty of
   human nature." Again, in his Con Ep. Parmen. ii. 10, after using almost
   the same words, he points out that it is a prayer against daily sins;
   and in his De Civ. Dei, xxi. 27, where he examines the passage in
   relation to various erroneous beliefs, he says it "was a daily prayer
   He [Christ] was teaching, and it was certainly to disciples already
   justified He was speaking. What, then, does He mean by your sins'
   (Matt. vi. 14), but those sins from which not even you who are
   justified and sanctified can be free?" See note on the previous
   section; and also for the feeling in the early Church as to sins after
   baptism, the note on i. sec. 17, above.

   [800] Ps. cxliii. 2.

   [801] Jas. ii. 13.

   [802] Matt. v. 7.

   [803] Rom. ix. 15.

   [804] Ps. cxix. 108.

   [805] See v. sec. 17, above.

   [806] Col. ii. 14.

   [807] See his De Trin. xiii. 18, the passage beginning, "What then is
   the righteousness by which the devil was conquered?"

   [808] John xiv. 30.

   [809] Ps. xci. 13.

   [810] Matt. ix. 2.

   [811] Luke viii. 15.

   [812] The origin of prayers for the dead dates back probably to the
   close of the second century. In note 1, p. 90, we have quoted from
   Tertullian's De Corona Militis, where he says "Oblationes pro defunctis
   pro natalitiis annua die facimus." In his De Monogamia, he speaks of a
   widow praying for her departed husband, that "he might have rest, and
   be a partaker in the first resurrection." From this time a catena of
   quotations from the Fathers might be given, if space permitted, showing
   how, beginning with early expressions of hope for the dead, there, in
   process of time, arose prayers even for the unregenerate, until at last
   there was developed purgatory on the one side, and creature-worship on
   the other. That Augustin did not entertain the idea of creature-worship
   will be seen from his Ep. to Maximus, xvii. 5. In his De Dulcit. Quæst.
   2 (where he discusses the whole question), he concludes that prayer
   must not be made for all, because all have not led the same life in the
   flesh. Still, in his Enarr. in Ps. cviii. 17, he argues from the case
   of the rich man in the parable, that the departed do certainly "have a
   care for us." Aërius, towards the close of the fourth century, objected
   to prayers for the dead, chiefly on the ground (see Usher's Answer to a
   Jesuit, iii. 258) of their uselessness. In the Church of England, as
   will be seen by reference to Keeling's Liturgicæ Britannicæ, pp. 210,
   335, 339, and 341, prayers for the dead were eliminated from the second
   Prayer Book; and to the prudence of this step Palmer bears testimony in
   his Origines Liturgicæ, iv. 10, justifying it on the ground that the
   retaining of these prayers implied a belief in her holding the doctrine
   of purgatory. Reference may be made to Epiphanius, Adv. Hær. 75; Bishop
   Bull, Sermon 3; and Bingham, xv. 3, secs. 15, 16, and xxiii. 3, sec.
   13.
     __________________________________________________________________
     __________________________________________________________________

   Book X.

   ------------------------

   Having manifested what he was and what he is, he shows the great fruit
   of his confession; and being about to examine by what method God and
   the happy life may be found, he enlarges on the nature and power of
   memory. Then he examines his own acts, thoughts and affections, viewed
   under the threefold division of temptation; and commemorates the Lord,
   the one mediator of God and men.

   ------------------------
     __________________________________________________________________

   Chapter I.--In God Alone is the Hope and Joy of Man.

   1. Let me know Thee, O Thou who knowest me; let me know Thee, as I am
   known. [813] O Thou strength of my soul, enter into it, and prepare it
   for Thyself, that Thou mayest have and hold it without "spot or
   wrinkle." [814] This is my hope, "therefore have I spoken;" [815] and
   in this hope do I rejoice, when I rejoice soberly. Other things of this
   life ought the less to be sorrowed for, the more they are sorrowed for;
   and ought the more to be sorrowed for, the less men do sorrow for them.
   For behold, "Thou desirest truth," [816] seeing that he who does it
   "cometh to the light." [817] This wish I to do in confession in my
   heart before Thee, and in my writing before many witnesses.
     __________________________________________________________________

   [813] 1 Cor. xiii. 12.

   [814] Eph. v. 27.

   [815] Ps. cxvi. 10.

   [816] Ps. 1i. 6.

   [817] John iii. 20.
     __________________________________________________________________

   Chapter II.--That All Things are Manifest to God. That Confession Unto
   Him is Not Made by the Words of the Flesh, But of the Soul, and the Cry
   of Reflection.

   2. And from Thee, O Lord, unto whose eyes the depths of man's
   conscience are naked, [818] what in me could be hidden though I were
   unwilling to confess to Thee? For so should I hide Thee from myself,
   not myself from Thee. But now, because my groaning witnesseth that I am
   dissatisfied with myself, Thou shinest forth, and satisfiest, and art
   beloved and desired; that I may blush for myself, and renounce myself,
   and choose Thee, and may neither please Thee nor myself, except in
   Thee. To Thee, then, O Lord, am I manifest, whatever I am, and with
   what fruit I may confess unto Thee I have spoken. Nor do I it with
   words and sounds of the flesh, but with the words of the soul, and that
   cry of reflection which Thine ear knoweth. For when I am wicked, to
   confess to Thee is naught but to be dissatisfied with myself; but when
   I am truly devout, it is naught but not to attribute it to myself,
   because Thou, O Lord, dost "bless the righteous;" [819] but first Thou
   justifiest him "ungodly." [820] My confession, therefore, O my God, in
   Thy sight, is made unto Thee silently, and yet not silently. For in
   noise it is silent, in affection it cries aloud. For neither do I give
   utterance to anything that is right unto men which Thou hast not heard
   from me before, nor dost Thou hear anything of the kind from me which
   Thyself saidst not first unto me.
     __________________________________________________________________

   [818] Heb. iv. 13.

   [819] Ps. v. 12.

   [820] Rom. iv. 5.
     __________________________________________________________________

   Chapter III.--He Who Confesseth Rightly Unto God Best Knoweth Himself.

   3. What then have I to do with men, that they should hear my
   confessions, as if they were going to cure all my diseases? [821] A
   people curious to know the lives of others, but slow to correct their
   own. Why do they desire to hear from me what I am, who are unwilling to
   hear from Thee what they are? And how can they tell, when they hear
   from me of myself, whether I speak the truth, seeing that no man
   knoweth what is in man, "save the spirit of man which is in him "?
   [822] But if they hear from Thee aught concerning themselves, they will
   not be able to say, "The Lord lieth." For what is it to hear from Thee
   of themselves, but to know themselves? And who is he that knoweth
   himself and saith, "It is false," unless he himself lieth? But because
   "charity believeth all things" [823] (amongst those at all events whom
   by union with itself it maketh one), I too, O Lord, also so confess
   unto Thee that men may hear, to whom I cannot prove whether I confess
   the truth, yet do they believe me whose ears charity openeth unto me.

   4. But yet do Thou, my most secret Physician, make clear to me what
   fruit I may reap by doing it. For the confessions of my past
   sins,--which Thou hast "forgiven" and "covered," [824] that Thou
   mightest make me happy in Thee, changing my soul by faith and Thy
   sacrament,--when they are read and heard, stir up the heart, that it
   sleep not in despair and say, "I cannot;" but that it may awake in the
   love of Thy mercy and the sweetness of Thy grace, by which he that is
   weak is strong, [825] if by it he is made conscious of his own
   weakness. As for the good, they take delight in hearing of the past
   errors of such as are now freed from them; and they delight, not
   because they are errors, but because they have been and are so no
   longer. For what fruit, then, O Lord my God, to whom my conscience
   maketh her daily confession, more confident in the hope of Thy mercy
   than in her own innocency,--for what fruit, I beseech Thee, do I
   confess even to men in Thy presence by this book what I am at this
   time, not what I have been? For that fruit I have both seen and spoken
   of, but what I am at this time, at the very moment of making my
   confessions, divers people desire to know, both who knew me and who
   knew me not,--who have heard of or from me,--but their ear is not at my
   heart, where I am whatsoever I am. They are desirous, then, of hearing
   me confess what I am within, where they can neither stretch eye, nor
   ear, nor mind; they desire it as those willing to believe,--but will
   they understand? For charity, by which they are good, says unto them
   that I do not lie in my confessions, and she in them believes me.
     __________________________________________________________________

   [821] Ps. ciii. 3.

   [822] 1 Cor. ii. 11.

   [823] 1 Cor. xiii. 7.

   [824] Ps. xxxii. 1.

   [825] 2 Cor. xii. 10.
     __________________________________________________________________

   Chapter IV.--That in His Confessions He May Do Good, He Considers
   Others.

   5. But for what fruit do they desire this? Do they wish me happiness
   when they learn how near, by Thy gift, I come unto Thee; and to pray
   for me, when they learn how much I am kept back by my own weight? To
   such will I declare myself. For it is no small fruit, O Lord my God,
   that by many thanks should be given to Thee on our behalf, [826] and
   that by many Thou shouldest be entreated for us. Let the fraternal soul
   love that in me which Thou teachest should be loved, and lament that in
   me which Thou teachest should be lamented. Let a fraternal and not an
   alien soul do this, nor that "of strange children, whose mouth speaketh
   vanity, and their right hand is a right hand of falsehood," [827] but
   that fraternal one which, when it approves me, rejoices for me, but
   when it disapproves me, is sorry for me; because whether it approves or
   disapproves it loves me. To such will I declare myself; let them
   breathe freely at my good deeds, and sigh over my evil ones. My good
   deeds are Thy institutions and Thy gifts, my evil ones are my
   delinquencies and Thy judgments. [828] Let them breathe freely at the
   one, and sigh over the other; and let hymns and tears ascend into Thy
   sight out of the fraternal hearts--Thy censers. [829] And do Thou, O
   Lord, who takest delight in the incense of Thy holy temple, have mercy
   upon me according to Thy great mercy, [830] "for Thy name's sake;"
   [831] and on no account leaving what Thou hast begun in me, do Thou
   complete what is imperfect in me.

   6. This is the fruit of my confessions, not of what I was, but of what
   I am, that I may confess this not before Thee only, in a secret
   exultation with trembling, [832] and a secret sorrow with hope, but in
   the ears also of the believing sons of men,--partakers of my joy, and
   sharers of my mortality, my fellow-citizens and the companions of my
   pilgrimage, those who are gone before, and those that are to follow
   after, and the comrades of my way. These are Thy servants, my brethren,
   those whom Thou wishest to be Thy sons; my masters, whom Thou hast
   commanded me to serve, if I desire to live with and of Thee. But this
   Thy word were little to me did it command in speaking, without going
   before in acting. This then do I both in deed and word, this I do under
   Thy wings, in too great danger, were it not that my soul, under Thy
   wings, is subject unto Thee, and my weakness known unto Thee. I am a
   little one, but my Father liveth for ever, and my Defender is
   "sufficient" [833] for me. For He is the same who begat me and who
   defends me; and Thou Thyself art all my good; even Thou, the
   Omnipotent, who art with me, and that before I am with Thee. To such,
   therefore, whom Thou commandest me to serve will I declare, not what I
   was, but what I now am, and what I still am. But neither do I judge
   myself. [834] Thus then I would be heard.
     __________________________________________________________________

   [826] 2 Cor. i. 11.

   [827] Ps. cxliv. 11.

   [828] In note 9, p. 79, we have seen how God makes man's sin its own
   punishment. Reference may also be made to Augustin's Con. Advers. Leg.
   et Proph. i. 14, where he argues that "the punishment of a man's
   disobedience is found in himself, when he in his turn cannot get
   obedience even from himself." And again, in his De Lib. Arb. v. 18, he
   says, God punishes by taking from him that which he does not use well,
   "et qui recte facere cum possit noluit amittat posse cum velit." See
   also Serm. clxxi. 4, and Ep. cliii.

   [829] Rev. viii. 3.

   [830] Ps. li. l.

   [831] Ps. xxv. 11.

   [832] Ps. ii. 11.

   [833] 2 Cor. xii. 9.

   [834] 1 Cor. iv. 3.
     __________________________________________________________________

   Chapter V.--That Man Knoweth Not Himself Wholly.

   7. For it is Thou, Lord, that judgest me; [835] for although no "man
   knoweth the things of a man, save the spirit of man which is in him,"
   [836] yet is there something of man which "the spirit of man which is
   in him" itself knoweth not. But Thou, Lord, who hast made him, knowest
   him wholly. I indeed, though in Thy sight I despise myself, and reckon
   "myself but dust and ashes," [837] yet know something concerning Thee,
   which I know not concerning myself. And assuredly "now we see through a
   glass darkly," not yet "face to face." [838] So long, therefore, as I
   be "absent" from Thee, I am more "present" with myself than with Thee;
   [839] and yet know I that Thou canst not suffer violence; [840] but for
   myself I know not what temptations I am able to resist, and what I am
   not able. [841] But there is hope, because Thou art faithful, who wilt
   not suffer us to be tempted above that we are able, but wilt with the
   temptation also make a way to escape, that we may be able to bear it.
   [842] I would therefore confess what I know concerning myself; I will
   confess also what I know not concerning myself. And because what I do
   know of myself, I know by Thee enlightening me; and what I know not of
   myself, so long I know not until the time when my "darkness be as the
   noonday" [843] in Thy sight.
     __________________________________________________________________

   [835] 1 Cor. iv. 4.

   [836] 1 Cor. ii. 11.

   [837] Gen. xviii. 27.

   [838] 1 Cor. xiii. 12.

   [839] 2 Cor. v. 6.

   [840] See Nebridius' argument against the Manichæans, as to God's not
   being violable, in vii. sec. 3, above, and the note thereon.

   [841] See his Enarr. in Ps. lv. 8 and xciii. 19, where he beautifully
   describes how the winds and waves of temptation will be stilled if
   Christ be present in the ship. See also Serm. lxiii.; and Eps. cxxx.
   22, and clxxvii. 4.

   [842] 1 Cor. x. 13.

   [843] Isa. lviii. 10.
     __________________________________________________________________

   Chapter VI.--The Love of God, in His Nature Superior to All Creatures,
   is Acquired by the Knowledge of the Senses and the Exercise of Reason.

   8. Not with uncertain, but with assured consciousness do I love Thee, O
   Lord. Thou hast stricken my heart with Thy word, and I loved Thee. And
   also the heaven, and earth, and all that is therein, behold, on every
   side they say that I should love Thee; nor do they cease to speak unto
   all, "so that they are without excuse." [844] But more profoundly wilt
   Thou have mercy on whom Thou wilt have mercy, and compassion on whom
   Thou wilt have compassion, [845] otherwise do both heaven and earth
   tell forth Thy praises to deaf ears. But what is it that I love in
   loving Thee? Not corporeal beauty, nor the splendour of time, nor the
   radiance of the light, so pleasant to our eyes, nor the sweet melodies
   of songs of all kinds, nor the fragrant smell of flowers, and
   ointments, and spices, not manna and honey, not limbs pleasant to the
   embracements of flesh. I love not these things when I love my God; and
   yet I love a certain kind of light, and sound, and fragrance, and food,
   and embracement in loving my God, who is the light, sound, fragrance,
   food, and embracement of my inner man--where that light shineth unto my
   soul which no place can contain, where that soundeth which time
   snatcheth not away, where there is a fragrance which no breeze
   disperseth, where there is a food which no eating can diminish, and
   where that clingeth which no satiety can sunder. This is what I love,
   when I love my God.

   9. And what is this? I asked the earth; and it answered, "I am not He;"
   and whatsoever are therein made the same confession. I asked the sea
   and the deeps, and the creeping things that lived, and they replied,
   "We are not thy God, seek higher than we." I asked the breezy air, and
   the universal air with its inhabitants answered, "Anaximenes [846] was
   deceived, I am not God." I asked the heavens, the sun, moon, and stars:
   "Neither," say they, "are we the God whom thou seekest." And I answered
   unto all these things which stand about the door of my flesh, "Ye have
   told me concerning my God, that ye are not He; tell me something about
   Him." And with a loud voice they exclaimed, "He made us." My
   questioning was my observing of them; and their beauty was their reply.
   [847] And I directed my thoughts to myself, and said, "Who art thou?"
   And I answered, "A man." And lo, in me there appear both body and soul,
   the one without, the other within. By which of these should I seek my
   God, whom I had sought through the body from earth to heaven, as far as
   I was able to send messengers--the beams of mine eyes? But the better
   part is that which is inner; for to it, as both president and judge,
   did all these my corporeal messengers render the answers of heaven and
   earth and all things therein, who said, "We are not God, but He made
   us." These things was my inner man cognizant of by the ministry of the
   outer; I, the inner man, knew all this--I, the soul, through the senses
   of my body. I asked the vast bulk of the earth of my God, and it
   answered me, "I am not He, but He made me."

   10. Is not this beauty visible to all whose senses are unimpaired? Why
   then doth it not speak the same things unto all? Animals, the very
   small and the great, see it, but they are unable to question it,
   because their senses are not endowed with reason to enable them to
   judge on what they report. But men can question it, so that "the
   invisible things of Him . . . are clearly seen, being understood by the
   things that are made;" [848] but by loving them, they are brought into
   subjection to them; and subjects are not able to judge. Neither do the
   creatures reply to such as question them, unless they can judge; nor
   will they alter their voice (that is, their beauty), [849] if so be one
   man only sees, another both sees and questions, so as to appear one way
   to this man, and another to that; but appearing the same way to both,
   it is mute to this, it speaks to that--yea, verily, it speaks unto all
   but they only understand it who compare that voice received from
   without with the truth within. For the truth declareth unto me,
   "Neither heaven, nor earth, nor any body is thy God." This, their
   nature declareth unto him that beholdeth them. "They are a mass; a mass
   is less in part than in the whole." Now, O my soul, thou art my better
   part, unto thee I speak; for thou animatest the mass of thy body,
   giving it life, which no body furnishes to a body but thy God is even
   unto thee the Life of life.
     __________________________________________________________________

   [844] Rom. i. 20.

   [845] Rom. ix. 15.

   [846] Anaximenes of Miletus was born about 520 B.C. According to his
   philosophy the air was animate, and from it, as from a first principle,
   all things in heaven, earth, and sea sprung, first by condensation
   (puknosis), and after that by a process of rarefaction (araiosis). See
   Ep. cxviii. 23; and Aristotle, Phys. iii. 4. Compare this theory and
   that of Epicurus (p. 100, above) with those of modern physicists; and
   see thereon The Unseen Universe, arts. 85, etc., and 117, etc.

   [847] In Ps. cxliv. 13, the earth he describes as "dumb," but as
   speaking to us while we meditate upon its beauty--Ipsa inquisitio
   interrogatio est.

   [848] Rom. i. 20.

   [849] See note 2 to previous section.
     __________________________________________________________________

   Chapter VII.--That God is to Be Found Neither from the Powers of the
   Body Nor of the Soul.

   11. What then is it that I love when I love my God? Who is He that is
   above the head of my soul? By my soul itself will I mount up unto Him.
   I will soar beyond that power of mine whereby I cling to the body, and
   fill the whole structure of it with life. Not by that power do I find
   my God; for then the horse and the mule, "which have no understanding,"
   [850] might find Him, since it is the same power by which their bodies
   also live. But there is another power, not that only by which I
   quicken, but that also by which I endow with sense my flesh, which the
   Lord hath made for me; bidding the eye not to hear, and the ear not to
   see; but that, for me to see by, and this, for me to hear by; and to
   each of the other senses its own proper seat and office, which being
   different, I, the single mind, do through them govern. I will soar also
   beyond this power of mine; for this the horse and mule possess, for
   they too discern through the body.
     __________________________________________________________________

   [850] Ps. xxxii. 9.
     __________________________________________________________________

   Chapter VIII.----Of the Nature and the Amazing Power of Memory.

   12. I will soar, then, beyond this power of my nature also, ascending
   by degrees unto Him who made me. And I enter the fields and roomy
   chambers of memory, where are the treasures of countless images,
   imported into it from all manner of things by the senses. There is
   treasured up whatsoever likewise we think, either by enlarging or
   diminishing, or by varying in any way whatever those things which the
   sense hath arrived at; yea, and whatever else hath been entrusted to it
   and stored up, which oblivion hath not yet engulfed and buried. When I
   am in this storehouse, I demand that what I wish should be brought
   forth, and some things immediately appear; others require to be longer
   sought after, and are dragged, as it were, out of some hidden
   receptacle; others, again, hurry forth in crowds, and while another
   thing is sought and inquired for, they leap into view, as if to say,
   "Is it not we, perchance?" These I drive away with the hand of my heart
   from before the face of my remembrance, until what I wish be discovered
   making its appearance out of its secret cell. Other things suggest
   themselves without effort, and in continuous order, just as they are
   called for,--those in front giving place to those that follow, and in
   giving place are treasured up again to be forthcoming when I wish it.
   All of which takes place when I repeat a thing from memory.

   13. All these things, each of which entered by its own avenue, are
   distinctly and under general heads there laid up: as, for example,
   light, and all colours and forms of bodies, by the eyes; sounds of all
   kinds by the ears; all smells by the passage of the nostrils; all
   flavours by that of the mouth; and by the sensation of the whole body
   is brought in what is hard or soft, hot or cold, smooth or rough, heavy
   or light, whether external or internal to the body. All these doth that
   great receptacle of memory, with its many and indescribable
   departments, receive, to be recalled and brought forth when required;
   each, entering by its own door, is hid up in it. And yet the things
   themselves do not enter it, but only the images of the things perceived
   are there ready at hand for thought to recall. And who can tell how
   these images are formed, notwithstanding that it is evident by which of
   the senses each has been fetched in and treasured up? For even while I
   live in darkness and silence, I can bring out colours in memory if I
   wish, and discern between black and white, and what others I wish; nor
   yet do sounds break in and disturb what is drawn in by mine eyes, and
   which I am considering, seeing that they also are there, and are
   concealed, laid up, as it were, apart. For these too I can summon if I
   please, and immediately they appear. And though my tongue be at rest,
   and my throat silent, yet can I sing as much as I will; and those
   images of colours, which notwithstanding are there, do not interpose
   themselves and interrupt when another treasure is under consideration
   which flowed in through the ears. So the remaining things carried in
   and heaped up by the other senses, I recall at my pleasure. And I
   discern the scent of lilies from that of violets while smelling
   nothing; and I prefer honey to grape-syrup, a smooth thing to a rough,
   though then I neither taste nor handle, but only remember.

   14. These things do I within, in that vast chamber of my memory. For
   there are nigh me heaven, earth, sea, and whatever I can think upon in
   them, besides those which I have forgotten. There also do I meet with
   myself, and recall myself,--what, when, or where I did a thing, and how
   I was affected when I did it. There are all which I remember, either by
   personal experience or on the faith of others. Out of the same supply
   do I myself with the past construct now this, now that likeness of
   things, which either I have experienced, or, from having experienced,
   have believed; and thence again future actions, events, and hopes, and
   upon all these again do I meditate as if they were present. "I will do
   this or that," say I to myself in that vast womb of my mind, filled
   with the images of things so many and so great, "and this or that shall
   follow upon it." "Oh that this or that might come to pass!" "God avert
   this or that!" Thus speak I to myself; and when I speak, the images of
   all I speak about are present, out of the same treasury of memory; nor
   could I say anything at all about them were the images absent.

   15. Great is this power of memory, exceeding great, O my God,--an inner
   chamber large and boundless! Who has plumbed the depths thereof? Yet it
   is a power of mine, and appertains unto my nature; nor do I myself
   grasp all that I am. Therefore is the mind too narrow to contain
   itself. And where should that be which it doth not contain of itself?
   Is it outside and not in itself? How is it, then, that it doth not
   grasp itself? A great admiration rises upon me; astonishment seizes me.
   And men go forth to wonder at the heights of mountains, the huge waves
   of the sea, the broad flow of the rivers, the extent of the ocean, and
   the courses of the stars, and omit to wonder at themselves; nor do they
   marvel that when I spoke of all these things, I was not looking on them
   with my eyes, and yet could not speak of them unless those mountains,
   and waves, and rivers, and stars which I saw, and that ocean which I
   believe in, I saw inwardly in my memory, and with the same vast spaces
   between as when I saw them abroad. But I did not by seeing appropriate
   them when I looked on them with my eyes; nor are the things themselves
   with me, but their images. And I knew by what corporeal sense each made
   impression on me.
     __________________________________________________________________

   Chapter IX.--Not Only Things, But Also Literature and Images, are Taken
   from the Memory, and are Brought Forth by the Act of Remembering.

   16. And yet are not these all that the illimitable capacity of my
   memory retains. Here also is all that is apprehended of the liberal
   sciences, and not yet forgotten--removed as it were into an inner
   place, which is not a place; nor are they the images which are
   retained, but the things themselves. For what is literature, what skill
   in disputation, whatsoever I know of all the many kinds of questions
   there are, is so in my memory, as that I have not taken in the image
   and left the thing without, or that it should have sounded and passed
   away like a voice imprinted on the ear by that trace, whereby it might
   be recorded, as though it sounded when it no longer did so; or as an
   odour while it passes away, and vanishes into wind, affects the sense
   of smell, whence it conveys the image of itself into the memory, which
   we realize in recollecting; or like food, which assuredly in the belly
   hath now no taste, and yet hath a kind of taste in the memory, or like
   anything that is by touching felt by the body, and which even when
   removed from us is imagined by the memory. For these things themselves
   are not put into it, but the images of them only are caught up, with a
   marvellous quickness, and laid up, as it were, in most wonderful
   garners, and wonderfully brought forth when we remember.
     __________________________________________________________________

   Chapter X.--Literature is Not Introduced to the Memory Through the
   Senses, But is Brought Forth from Its More Secret Places.

   17. But truly when I hear that there are three kinds of questions,
   "Whether a thing is?--what it is?--of what kind it is?" I do indeed
   hold fast the images of the sounds of which these words are composed,
   and I know that those sounds passed through the air with a noise, and
   now are not. But the things themselves which are signified by these
   sounds I never arrived at by any sense of the body, nor ever perceived
   them otherwise than by my mind; and in my memory have I laid up not
   their images, but themselves, which, how they entered into me, let them
   tell if they are able. For I examine all the gates of my flesh, but
   find not by which of them they entered. For the eyes say, "If they were
   coloured, we announced them." The ears say, "If they sounded, we gave
   notice of them." The nostrils say, "If they smell, they passed in by
   us." The sense of taste says, "If they have no flavour, ask not me."
   The touch says, "If it have not body, I handled it not, and if I never
   handled it, I gave no notice of it." Whence and how did these things
   enter into my memory? I know not how. For when I learned them, I gave
   not credit to the heart of another man, but perceived them in my own;
   and I approved them as true, and committed them to it, laying them up,
   as it were, whence I might fetch them when I willed. There, then, they
   were, even before I learned them, but were not in my memory. Where were
   they, then, or wherefore, when they were spoken, did I acknowledge
   them, and say, "So it is, it is true," unless as being already in the
   memory, though so put back and concealed, as it were, in more secret
   caverns, that had they not been drawn forth by the advice of another I
   would not, perchance, have been able to conceive of them?
     __________________________________________________________________

   Chapter XI.--What It is to Learn and to Think.

   18. Wherefore we find that to learn these things, whose images we drink
   not in by our senses, but perceive within as they are by themselves,
   without images, is nothing else but by meditation as it were to
   concentrate, and by observing to take care that those notions which the
   memory did before contain scattered and confused, be laid up at hand,
   as it were, in that same memory, where before they lay concealed,
   scattered and neglected, and so the more easily present themselves to
   the mind well accustomed to observe them. And how many things of this
   sort does my memory retain which have been found out already, and, as I
   said, are, as it were, laid up ready to hand, which we are said to have
   learned and to have known; which, should we for small intervals of time
   cease to recall, they are again so submerged and slide back, as it
   were, into the more remote chambers, that they must be evolved thence
   again as if new (for other sphere they have none), and must be
   marshalled [cogenda] again that they may become known; that is to say,
   they must be collected [colligenda], as it were, from their dispersion;
   whence we have the word cogitare. For cogo [I collect] and cogito [I
   recollect] have the same relation to each other as ago and agito, facio
   and factito. But the mind has appropriated to itself this word
   [cogitation], so that not that which is collected anywhere, but what is
   collected, [851] that is marshalled, [852] in the mind, is properly
   said to be "cogitated." [853]
     __________________________________________________________________

   [851] Colligitur.

   [852] Cogitur.

   [853] Cogitari.
     __________________________________________________________________

   Chapter XII.--On the Recollection of Things Mathematical.

   19. The memory containeth also the reasons and innumerable laws of
   numbers and dimensions, none of which hath any sense of the body
   impressed, seeing they have neither colour, nor sound, nor taste, nor
   smell, nor sense of touch. I have heard the sound of the words by which
   these things are signified when they are discussed; but the sounds are
   one thing, the things another. For the sounds are one thing in Greek,
   another in Latin; but the things themselves are neither Greek, nor
   Latin, nor any other language. I have seen the lines of the craftsmen,
   even the finest, like a spider's web; but these are of another kind,
   they are not the images of those which the eye of my flesh showed me;
   he knoweth them who, without any idea whatsoever of a body, perceives
   them within himself. I have also observed the numbers of the things
   with which we number all the senses of the body; but those by which we
   number are of another kind, nor are they the images of these, and
   therefore they certainly are. Let him who sees not these things mock me
   for saying them; and I will pity him, whilst he mocks me.
     __________________________________________________________________

   Chapter XIII.--Memory Retains All Things.

   20. All these things I retain in my memory, and how I learnt them I
   retain. I retain also many things which I have heard most falsely
   objected against them, which though they be false, yet is it not false
   that I have remembered them; and I remember, too, that I have
   distinguished between those truths and these falsehoods uttered against
   them; and I now see that it is one thing to distinguish these things,
   another to remember that I often distinguished them, when I often
   reflected upon them. I both remember, then, that I have often
   understood these things, and what I now distinguish and comprehend I
   store away in my memory, that hereafter I may remember that I
   understood it now. Therefore also I remember that I have remembered; so
   that if afterwards I shall call to mind that I have been able to
   remember these things, it will be through the power of memory that I
   shall call it to mind.
     __________________________________________________________________

   Chapter XIV.--Concerning the Manner in Which Joy and Sadness May Be
   Brought Back to the Mind and Memory.

   21. This same memory contains also the affections of my mind; not in
   the manner in which the mind itself contains them when it suffers them,
   but very differently according to a power peculiar to memory. For
   without being joyous, I remember myself to have had joy; and without
   being sad, I call to mind my past sadness; and that of which I was once
   afraid, I remember without fear; and without desire recall a former
   desire. Again, on the contrary, I at times remember when joyous my past
   sadness, and when sad my joy. Which is not to be wondered at as regards
   the body; for the mind is one thing, the body another. If I, therefore,
   when happy, recall some past bodily pain, it is not so strange a thing.
   But now, as this very memory itself is mind (for when we give orders to
   have a thing kept in memory, we say, "See that you bear this in mind;"
   and when we forget a thing, we say, "It did not enter my mind," and,
   "It slipped from my mind," thus calling the memory itself mind), as
   this is so, how comes it to pass that when being joyful I remember my
   past sorrow, the mind has joy, the memory sorrow,--the mind, from the
   joy than is in it, is joyful, yet the memory, from the sadness that is
   in it, is not sad? Does not the memory perchance belong unto the mind?
   Who will say so? The memory doubtless is, so to say, the belly of the
   mind, and joy and sadness like sweet and bitter food, which, when
   entrusted to the memory, are, as it were, passed into the belly, where
   they can be reposited, but cannot taste. It is ridiculous to imagine
   these to be alike; and yet they are not utterly unlike.

   22. But behold, out of my memory I educe it, when I affirm that there
   be four perturbations of the mind,--desire, joy, fear, sorrow; and
   whatsoever I shall be able to dispute on these, by dividing each into
   its peculiar species, and by defining it, there I find what I may say,
   and thence I educe it; yet am I not disturbed by any of these
   perturbations when by remembering them I call them to mind; and before
   I recollected and reviewed them, they were there; wherefore by
   remembrance could they be brought thence. Perchance, then, even as meat
   is in ruminating brought up out of the belly, so by calling to mind are
   these educed from the memory. Why, then, does not the disputant, thus
   recollecting, perceive in the mouth of his meditation the sweetness of
   joy or the bitterness of sorrow? Is the comparison unlike in this
   because not like in all points? For who would willingly discourse on
   these subjects, if, as often as we name sorrow or fear, we should be
   compelled to be sorrowful or fearful? And yet we could never speak of
   them, did we not find in our memory not merely the sounds of the names,
   according to the images imprinted on it by the senses of the body, but
   the notions of the things themselves, which we never received by any
   door of the flesh, but which the mind itself, recognising by the
   experience of its own passions, entrusted to the memory, or else which
   the memory itself retained without their being entrusted to it.
     __________________________________________________________________

   Chapter XV.--In Memory There are Also Images of Things Which are
   Absent.

   23. But whether by images or no, who can well affirm? For I name a
   stone, I name the sun, and the things themselves are not present to my
   senses, but their images are near to my memory. I name some pain of the
   body, yet it is not present when there is no pain; yet if its image
   were not in my memory, I should be ignorant what to say concerning it,
   nor in arguing be able to distinguish it from pleasure. I name bodily
   health when sound in body; the thing itself is indeed present with me,
   but unless its image also were in my memory, I could by no means call
   to mind what the sound of this name signified. Nor would sick people
   know, when health was named, what was said, unless the same image were
   retained by the power of memory, although the thing itself were absent
   from the body. I name numbers whereby we enumerate; and not their
   images, but they themselves are in my memory. I name the image of the
   sun, and this, too, is in my memory. For I do not recall the image of
   that image, but itself, for the image itself is present when I remember
   it. I name memory, and I know what I name. But where do I know it,
   except in the memory itself? Is it also present to itself by its image,
   and not by itself?
     __________________________________________________________________

   Chapter XVI.--The Privation of Memory is Forgetfulness.

   24. When I name forgetfulness, and know, too, what I name, whence
   should I know it if I did not remember it? I do not say the sound of
   the name, but the thing which it signifies which, had I forgotten, I
   could not know what that sound signified. When, therefore, I remember
   memory, then is memory present with itself, through itself. But when I
   remember forgetfulness, there are present both memory and
   forgetfulness,--memory, whereby I remember, forgetfulness, which I
   remember. But what is forgetfulness but the privation of memory? How,
   then, is that present for me to remember, since, when it is so, I
   cannot remember? But if what we remember we retain in memory, yet,
   unless we remembered forgetfulness, we could never at the hearing of
   the name know the thing meant by it, then is forgetfulness retained by
   memory. Present, therefore, it is, lest we should forget it; and being
   so, we do forget. Is it to be inferred from this that forgetfulness,
   when we remember it, is not present to the memory through itself, but
   through its image; because, were forgetfulness present through itself,
   it would not lead us to remember, but to forget? Who will now
   investigate this? Who shall understand how it is?

   25. Truly, O Lord, I labour therein, and labour in myself. I am become
   a troublesome soil that requires overmuch labour. For we are not now
   searching out the tracts of heaven, or measuring the distances of the
   stars, or inquiring about the weight of the earth. It is I myself--I,
   the mind--who remember. It is not much to be wondered at, if what I
   myself am not be far from me. But what is nearer to me than myself?
   And, behold, I am not able to comprehend the force of my own memory,
   though I cannot name myself without it. For what shall I say when it is
   plain to me that I remember forgetfulness? Shall I affirm that which I
   remember is not in my memory? Or shall I say that forgetfulness is in
   my memory with the view of my not forgetting? Both of these are most
   absurd. What third view is there? How can I assert that the image of
   forgetfulness is retained by my memory, and not forgetfulness itself,
   when I remember it? And how can I assert this, seeing that when the
   image of anything is imprinted on the memory, the thing itself must of
   necessity be present first by which that image may be imprinted? For
   thus do I remember Carthage; thus, all the places to which I have been;
   thus, the faces of men whom I have seen, and things reported by the
   other senses; thus, the health or sickness of the body. For when these
   objects were present, my memory received images from them, which, when
   they were present, I might gaze on and reconsider in my mind, as I
   remembered them when they were absent. If, therefore, forgetfulness is
   retained in the memory through its image, and not through itself, then
   itself was once present, that its image might be taken. But when it was
   present, how did it write its image on the memory, seeing that
   forgetfulness by its presence blots out even what it finds already
   noted? And yet, in whatever way, though it be incomprehensible and
   inexplicable, yet most certain I am that I remember also forgetfulness
   itself, whereby what we do remember is blotted out.
     __________________________________________________________________

   Chapter XVII.--God Cannot Be Attained Unto by the Power of Memory,
   Which Beasts and Birds Possess.

   26. Great is the power of memory; very wonderful is it, O my God, a
   profound and infinite manifoldness; and this thing is the mind, and
   this I myself am. What then am I, O my God? Of what nature am I? A life
   various and manifold, and exceeding vast. Behold, in the numberless
   fields, and caves, and caverns of my memory, full without number of
   numberless kinds of things, either through images, as all bodies are;
   or by the presence of the things themselves, as are the arts; or by
   some notion or observation, as the affections of the mind are, which,
   even though the mind doth not suffer, the memory retains, while
   whatsoever is in the memory is also in the mind: through all these do I
   run to and fro, and fly; I penetrate on this side and that, as far as I
   am able, and nowhere is there an end. So great is the power of memory,
   so great the power of life in man, whose life is mortal. What then
   shall I do, O Thou my true life, my God? I will pass even beyond this
   power of mine which is called memory--I will pass beyond it, that I may
   proceed to Thee, O Thou sweet Light. What sayest Thou to me? Behold, I
   am soaring by my mind towards Thee who remainest above me. I will also
   pass beyond this power of mine which is called memory, wishful to reach
   Thee whence Thou canst be reached, and to cleave unto Thee whence it is
   possible to cleave unto Thee. For even beasts and birds possess memory,
   else could they never find their lairs and nests again, nor many other
   things to which they are used; neither indeed could they become used to
   anything, but by their memory. I will pass, then, beyond memory also,
   that I may reach Him who has separated me from the four-footed beasts
   and the fowls of the air, making me wiser than they. I will pass beyond
   memory also, but where shall I find Thee, O Thou truly good and assured
   sweetness? But where shall I find Thee? If I find Thee without memory,
   then am I unmindful of Thee. And how now shall I find Thee, if I do not
   remember Thee?
     __________________________________________________________________

   Chapter XVIII.--A Thing When Lost Could Not Be Found Unless It Were
   Retained in the Memory.

   27. For the woman who lost her drachma, and searched for it with a
   lamp, [854] unless she had remembered it, would never have found it.
   For when it was found, whence could she know whether it were the same,
   had she not remembered it? I remember to have lost and found many
   things; and this I know thereby, that when I was searching for any of
   them, and was asked, "Is this it?" "Is that it?" I answered "No," until
   such time as that which I sought were offered to me. Which had I not
   remembered,--whatever it were,--though it were offered me, yet would I
   not find it, because I could not recognise it. And thus it is always,
   when we search for and find anything that is lost. Notwithstanding, if
   anything be by accident lost from the sight, not from the memory,--as
   any visible body,--the image of it is retained within, and is searched
   for until it be restored to sight; and when it is found, it is
   recognised by the image which is within. Nor do we say that we have
   found what we had lost unless we recognise it; nor can we recognise it
   unless we remember it. But this, though lost to the sight, was retained
   in the memory.
     __________________________________________________________________

   [854] Luke xv. 8.
     __________________________________________________________________

   Chapter XIX.--What It is to Remember.

   28. But how is it when the memory itself loses anything, as it happens
   when we forget anything and try to recall it? Where finally do we
   search, but in the memory itself? And there, if perchance one thing be
   offered for another, we refuse it, until we meet with what we seek; and
   when we do, we exclaim, "This is it!" which we should not do unless we
   knew it again, nor should we recognise it unless we remembered it.
   Assuredly, therefore, we had forgotten it. Or, had not the whole of it
   slipped our memory, but by the part by which we had hold was the other
   part sought for; since the memory perceived that it did not revolve
   together as much as it was accustomed to do, and halting, as if from
   the mutilation of its old habit, demanded the restoration of that which
   was wanting. For example, if we see or think of some man known to us,
   and, having forgotten his name, endeavour to recover it, whatsoever
   other thing presents itself is not connected with it; because it was
   not used to be thought of in connection with him, and is consequently
   rejected, until that is present whereon the knowledge reposes fittingly
   as its accustomed object. And whence, save from the memory itself, does
   that present itself? For even when we recognise it as put in mind of it
   by another, it is thence it comes. For we do not believe it as
   something new, but, as we recall it, admit what was said to be correct.
   But if it were entirely blotted out of the mind, we should not, even
   when put in mind of it, recollect it. For we have not as yet entirely
   forgotten what we remember that we have forgotten. A lost notion, then,
   which we have entirely forgotten, we cannot even search for.
     __________________________________________________________________

   Chapter XX.--We Should Not Seek for God and the Happy Life Unless We
   Had Known It.

   29. How, then, do I seek Thee, O Lord? For when I seek Thee, my God, I
   seek a happy life. [855] I will seek Thee, that my soul may live. [856]
   For my body liveth by my soul, and my soul liveth by Thee. How, then,
   do I seek a happy life, seeing that it is not mine till I can say, "It
   is enough!" in that place where I ought to say it? How do I seek it? Is
   it by remembrance, as though I had forgotten it, knowing too that I had
   forgotten it? or, longing to learn it as a thing unknown, which either
   I had never known, or had so forgotten it as not even to remember that
   I had forgotten it? Is not a happy life the thing that all desire, and
   is there any one who altogether desires it not? But where did they
   acquire the knowledge of it, that they so desire it? Where have they
   seen it, that they so love it? Truly we have it, but how I know not.
   Yea, there is another way in which, when any one hath it, he is happy;
   and some there be that are happy in hope. These have it in an inferior
   kind to those that are happy in fact; and yet are they better off than
   they who are happy neither in fact nor in hope. And even these, had
   they it not in some way, would not so much desire to be happy, which
   that they do desire is most certain. How they come to know it, I cannot
   tell, but they have it by some kind of knowledge unknown to me, who am
   in much doubt as to whether it be in the memory; for if it be there,
   then have we been happy once; whether all individually, or as in that
   man who first sinned, in whom also we all died, [857] and from whom we
   are all born with misery, I do not now ask; but I ask whether the happy
   life be in the memory? For did we not know it, we should not love it.
   We hear the name, and we all acknowledge that we desire the thing; for
   we are not delighted with the sound only. For when a Greek hears it
   spoken in Latin, he does not feel delighted, for he knows not what is
   spoken; but we are delighted, [858] as he too would be if he heard it
   in Greek; because the thing itself is neither Greek nor Latin, which
   Greeks and Latins, and men of all other tongues, long so earnestly to
   obtain. It is then known unto all, and could they with one voice be
   asked whether they wished to be happy, without doubt they would all
   answer that they would. And this could not be unless the thing itself,
   of which it is the name, were retained in their memory.
     __________________________________________________________________

   [855] See note, p. 75, above.

   [856] Amos v. 4.

   [857] 1 Cor. xv. 22; see p. 140, note 3, and note p. 73, above.

   [858] That is, as knowing Latin.
     __________________________________________________________________

   Chapter XXI.--How a Happy Life May Be Retained in the Memory.

   30. But is it so as one who has seen Carthage remembers it? No. For a
   happy life is not visible to the eye, because it is not a body. Is it,
   then, as we remember numbers? No. For he that hath these in his
   knowledge strives not to attain further; but a happy life we have in
   our knowledge, and, therefore, do we love it, while yet we wish further
   to attain it that we may be happy. Is it, then, as we remember
   eloquence? No. For although some, when they hear this name, call the
   thing to mind, who, indeed, are not yet eloquent, and many who wish to
   be so, whence it appears to be in their knowledge; yet have these by
   their bodily perceptions noticed that others are eloquent, and been
   delighted with it, and long to be so,--although they would not be
   delighted save for some interior knowledge, nor desire to be so unless
   they were delighted,--but a happy life we can by no bodily perception
   make experience of in others. Is it, then, as we remember joy? It may
   be so; for my joy I remember, even when sad, like as I do a happy life
   when I am miserable. Nor did I ever with perception of the body either
   see, hear, smell, taste, or touch my joy; but I experienced it in my
   mind when I rejoiced; and the knowledge of it clung to my memory, so
   that I can call it to mind sometimes with disdain and at others with
   desire, according to the difference of the things wherein I now
   remember that I rejoiced. For even from unclean things have I been
   bathed with a certain joy, which now calling to mind, I detest and
   execrate; at other times, from good and honest things, which, with
   longing, I call to mind, though perchance they be not nigh at hand, and
   then with sadness do I call to mind a former joy.

   31. Where and when, then, did I experience my happy life, that I should
   call it to mind, and love and long for it? Nor is it I alone or a few
   others who wish to be happy, but truly all; which, unless by certain
   knowledge we knew, we should not wish with so certain a will. But how
   is this, that if two men be asked whether they would wish to serve as
   soldiers one, it may be, would reply that he would, the other that he
   would not; but if they were asked whether they would wish to be happy,
   both of them would unhesitatingly say that they would; and this one
   would wish to serve, and the other not, from no other motive but to be
   happy? Is it, perchance, that as one joys in this, and another in that,
   so do all men agree in their wish for happiness, as they would agree,
   were they asked, in wishing to have joy,--and this joy they call a
   happy life? Although, then, one pursues joy in this way, and another in
   that, all have one goal, which they strive to attain, namely, to have
   joy. This life, being a thing which no one can say he has not
   experienced, it is on that account found in the memory, and recognised
   whenever the name of a happy life is heard.
     __________________________________________________________________

   Chapter XXII.--A Happy Life is to Rejoice in God, and for God.

   32. Let it be far, O Lord,--let it be far from the heart of Thy servant
   who confesseth unto Thee; let it be far from me to think myself happy,
   be the joy what it may. For there is a joy which is not granted to the
   "wicked," [859] but to those who worship Thee thankfully, whose joy
   Thou Thyself art. And the happy life is this,--to rejoice unto Thee, in
   Thee, and for Thee; this it is, and there is no other. [860] But those
   who think there is another follow after another joy, and that not the
   true one. Their will, however, is not turned away from some shadow of
   joy.
     __________________________________________________________________

   [859] Isa. xlviii. 22.

   [860] Since "life eternal is the supreme good," as he remarks in his De
   Civ. Dei, xix. 4. Compare also ibid. viii. sec. 8, where he argues that
   the highest good is God, and that he who loves Him is in the enjoyment
   of that good. See also note on the chief good, p. 75, above.
     __________________________________________________________________

   Chapter XXIII.--All Wish to Rejoice in the Truth.

   33. It is not, then, certain that all men wish to be happy, since those
   who wish not to rejoice in Thee, which is the only happy life, do not
   verily desire the happy life. Or do all desire this, but because "the
   flesh lusteth against the spirit, and the spirit against the flesh," so
   that they "cannot do the things that they would," [861] they fall upon
   that which they are able to do, and with that are content; because that
   which they are not able to do, they do not so will as to make them
   able? [862] For I ask of every man, whether he would rather rejoice in
   truth or in falsehood. They will no more hesitate to say, "in truth,"
   than to say, "that they wish to be happy." For a happy life is joy in
   the truth. For this is joy in Thee, who art "the truth," [863] O God,
   "my light," [864] "the health of my countenance, and my God." [865] All
   wish for this happy life; this life do all wish for, which is the only
   happy one; joy in the truth do all wish for. [866] I have had
   experience of many who wished to deceive, but not one who wished to be
   deceived. Where, then, did they know this happy life, save where they
   knew also the truth? For they love it, too, since they would not be
   deceived. And when they love a happy life, which is naught else but joy
   in the truth, assuredly they love also the truth; which yet they would
   not love were there not some knowledge of it in the memory. Wherefore,
   then, do they not rejoice in it? Why are they not happy? Because they
   are more entirely occupied with other things which rather make them
   miserable, than that which would make them happy, which they remember
   so little of. For there is yet a little light in men; let them
   walk--let them "walk," that the "darkness" seize them not. [867]

   34. Why, then, doth truth beget hatred [868] and that man of thine,
   [869] preaching the truth become an enemy unto them, whereas a happy
   life is loved, which is naught else but joy in the truth; unless that
   truth is loved in such a sort as that those who love aught else wish
   that to be the truth which they love, and, as they are willing to be
   deceived, are unwilling to be convinced that they are so? Therefore do
   they hate the truth for the sake of that thing which they love instead
   of the truth. They love truth when she shines on them, and hate her
   when she rebukes them. For, because they are not willing to be
   deceived, and wish to deceive, they love her when she reveals herself,
   and hate her when she reveals them. On that account shall she so
   requite them, that those who were unwilling to be discovered by her she
   both discovers against their will, and discovers not herself unto them.
   Thus, thus, truly thus doth the human mind, so blind and sick, so base
   and unseemly, desire to lie concealed, but wishes not that anything
   should be concealed from it. But the opposite is rendered unto
   it,--that itself is not concealed from the truth, but the truth is
   concealed from it. Yet, even while thus wretched, it prefers to rejoice
   in truth rather than in falsehood. Happy then will it be, when, no
   trouble intervening, it shall rejoice in that only truth by whom all
   things else are true.
     __________________________________________________________________

   [861] Gal. v. 17.

   [862] See viii. sec. 20, above.

   [863] John xiv. 6.

   [864] Ps. xxvii. 1.

   [865] Ps. xlii. 11.

   [866] See sec. 29, above.

   [867] John xii. 35.

   [868] "Veritas parit odium." Compare Terence, Andria, i. 1, 41:
   "Obsequiam amicos, veritas odium parit."

   [869] John viii. 40.
     __________________________________________________________________

   Chapter XXIV.--He Who Finds Truth, Finds God.

   35. Behold how I have enlarged in my memory seeking Thee, O Lord; and
   out of it have I not found Thee. Nor have I found aught concerning
   Thee, but what I have retained in memory from the time I learned Thee.
   For from the time I learned Thee have I never forgotten Thee. For where
   I found truth, there found I my God, who is the Truth itself, [870]
   which from the time I learned it have I not forgotten. And thus since
   the time I learned Thee, Thou abidest in my memory; and there do I find
   Thee whensoever I call Thee to remembrance, and delight in Thee. These
   are my holy delights, which Thou hast bestowed upon me in Thy mercy,
   having respect unto my poverty.
     __________________________________________________________________

   [870] See iv. c. 12, and vii. c. 10, above.
     __________________________________________________________________

   Chapter XXV.--He is Glad that God Dwells in His Memory.

   36. But where in my memory abidest Thou, O Lord, where dost Thou there
   abide? What manner of chamber hast Thou there formed for Thyself? What
   sort of sanctuary hast Thou erected for Thyself? Thou hast granted this
   honour to my memory, to take up Thy abode in it; but in what quarter of
   it Thou abidest, I am considering. For in calling Thee to mind, [871] I
   soared beyond those parts of it which the beasts also possess, since I
   found Thee not there amongst the images of corporeal things; and I
   arrived at those parts where I had committed the affections of my mind,
   nor there did I find Thee. And I entered into the very seat of my mind,
   which it has in my memory, since the mind remembers itself also--nor
   wert Thou there. For as Thou art not a bodily image, nor the affection
   of a living creature, as when we rejoice, condole, desire, fear,
   remember, forget, or aught of the kind; so neither art Thou the mind
   itself, because Thou art the Lord God of the mind; and all these things
   are changed, but Thou remainest unchangeable over all, yet vouchsafest
   to dwell in my memory, from the time I learned Thee. But why do I now
   seek in what part of it Thou dwellest, as if truly there were places in
   it? Thou dost dwell in it assuredly, since I have remembered Thee from
   the time I learned Thee, and I find Thee in it when I call Thee to
   mind.
     __________________________________________________________________

   [871] In connection with Augustin's views as to memory, Locke's Essay
   on the Human Understanding, ii. 10, and Stewart's Philosophy of the
   Human Mind, c. 6, may be profitably consulted.
     __________________________________________________________________

   Chapter XXVI.--God Everywhere Answers Those Who Take Counsel of Him.

   37. Where, then, did I find Thee, so as to be able to learn Thee? For
   Thou wert not in my memory before I learned Thee. Where, then, did I
   find Thee, so as to be able to learn Thee, but in Thee above me? Place
   there is none; we go both "backward" and "forward," [872] and there is
   no place. Everywhere, O Truth, dost Thou direct all who consult Thee,
   and dost at once answer all, though they consult Thee on divers things.
   Clearly dost Thou answer, though all do not with clearness hear. All
   consult Thee upon whatever they wish, though they hear not always that
   which they wish. He is Thy best servant who does not so much look to
   hear that from Thee which he himself wisheth, as to wish that which he
   heareth from Thee.
     __________________________________________________________________

   [872] Job xxiii. 8.
     __________________________________________________________________

   Chapter XXVII.--He Grieves that He Was So Long Without God.

   38. Too late did I love Thee, O Fairness, so ancient, and yet so new!
   Too late did I love Thee! For behold, Thou wert within, and I without,
   and there did I seek Thee; I, unlovely, rushed heedlessly among the
   things of beauty Thou madest. [873] Thou wert with me, but I was not
   with Thee. Those things kept me far from Thee, which, unless they were
   in Thee, were not. Thou calledst, and criedst aloud, and forcedst open
   my deafness. Thou didst gleam and shine, and chase away my blindness.
   Thou didst exhale odours, and I drew in my breath and do pant after
   Thee. I tasted, and do hunger and thirst. Thou didst touch me, and I
   burned for Thy peace.
     __________________________________________________________________

   [873] See p. 74, note 1, above.
     __________________________________________________________________

   Chapter XXVIII.--On the Misery of Human Life.

   39. When I shall cleave unto Thee with all my being, then shall I in
   nothing have pain and labour; and my life shall be a real life, being
   wholly full of Thee. But now since he whom Thou fillest is the one Thou
   liftest up, I am a burden to myself, as not being full of Thee. Joys of
   sorrow contend with sorrows of joy; and on which side the victory may
   be I know not. Woe is me! Lord, have pity on me. My evil sorrows
   contend with my good joys; and on which side the victory may be I know
   not. Woe is me! Lord, have pity on me. Woe is me! Lo, I hide not my
   wounds; Thou art the Physician, I the sick; Thou merciful, I miserable.
   Is not the life of man upon earth a temptation? [874] Who is he that
   wishes for vexations and difficulties? Thou commandest them to be
   endured, not to be loved. For no man loves what he endures, though he
   may love to endure. For notwithstanding he rejoices to endure, he would
   rather there were naught for him to endure. [875] In adversity, I
   desire prosperity; in prosperity, I fear adversity. What middle place,
   then, is there between these, where human life is not a temptation? Woe
   unto the prosperity of this world, once and again, from fear of
   misfortune and a corruption of joy! Woe unto the adversities of this
   world, once and again, and for the third time, from the desire of
   prosperity; and because adversity itself is a hard thing, and makes
   shipwreck of endurance! Is not the life of man upon earth a temptation,
   and that without intermission? [876]
     __________________________________________________________________

   [874] Job vii. 1. The Old Ver. rendering tsv' by tentatio, after the
   LXX. peiraterion. The Vulg. has militia, which ="warfare" in margin of
   A.V.

   [875] "It will not be safe," says Anthony Farindon (vol. iv. Christ's
   Temptation, serm. 107), "for us to challenge and provoke a temptation,
   but to arm and prepare ourselves against it; to stand upon our guard,
   and neither to offer battle nor yet refuse it. Sapiens feret ista, non
   eliget: It is the part of a wise man not to seek for evil, but to
   endure it.' And to this end it concerneth every man to exercise ten
   pneumatiken sunesin, his spiritual wisdom,' that he may discover
   Spiritus ductiones et diaboli seductiones, the Spirit's leadings and
   the devil's seducements.'" See also Augustin's Serm. lxxvi. 4, and p.
   79, note 9, above.

   [876] We have ever to endure temptation, either in the sense of a
   testing, as when it is said, "God did tempt Abraham" (Gen. xxii. 1); or
   with the additional idea of yielding to the temptation, and so
   committing sin, as in the use of the word in the Lord's Prayer (Matt.
   vi. 13); for, as Dyke says in his Michael and the Dragon (Works, i.
   203, 204): "No sooner have we bathed and washed our souls in the waters
   of Repentance, but we must presently expect the fiery darts of Satan's
   temptations to be driving at us. What we get and gain from Satan by
   Repentance, he seeks to regain and recover by his Temptations. We must
   not think to pass quietly out of Egypt without Pharaoh's pursuit, nor
   to travel the wilderness of this world without the opposition of the
   Amalekites." Compare Augustin, In Ev. Joann. Tract. xliii. 6, and Serm.
   lvii. 9. See also p. 79, note 3, above.
     __________________________________________________________________

   Chapter XXIX.--All Hope is in the Mercy of God.

   40. And my whole hope is only in Thy exceeding great mercy. Give what
   Thou commandest, and command what Thou wilt. Thou imposest continency
   upon us, [877] "nevertheless, when I perceived," saith one, "that I
   could not otherwise obtain her, except God gave her me; . . . that was
   a point of wisdom also to know whose gift she was." [878] For by
   continency are we bound up and brought into one, whence we were
   scattered abroad into many. For he loves Thee too little who loves
   aught with Thee, which he loves not for Thee, [879] O love, who ever
   burnest, and art never quenched! O charity, my God, kindle me! Thou
   commandest continency; give what Thou commandest, and command what Thou
   wilt.
     __________________________________________________________________

   [877] In his 38th Sermon, he distinguishes between continentia and
   sustinentia; the first guarding us from the allurements of worldliness
   and sin, while the second enables us to endure the troubles of life.

   [878] Wisd. viii. 21.

   [879] In his De Trin. ix. 13 ("In what desire and love differ"), he
   says, that when the creature is loved for itself, and the love of it is
   not referred to its Creator, it is desire (cupiditas) and not true
   love. See also p. 129, note 8, above.
     __________________________________________________________________

   Chapter XXX.--Of the Perverse Images of Dreams, Which He Wishes to Have
   Taken Away.

   41. Verily, Thou commandest that I should be continent from the "lust
   of the flesh, and the lust of the eyes, and the pride of life." [880]
   Thou hast commanded me to abstain from concubinage; and as to marriage
   itself, Thou hast advised something better than Thou hast allowed. And
   because Thou didst give it, it was done; and that before I became a
   dispenser of Thy sacrament. But there still exist in my memory--of
   which I have spoken much--the images of such things as my habits had
   fixed there; and these rush into my thoughts, though strengthless, when
   I am awake; but in sleep they do so not only so as to give pleasure,
   but even to obtain consent, and what very nearly resembles reality.
   [881] Yea, to such an extent prevails the illusion of the image, both
   in my soul and in my flesh, that the false persuade me, when sleeping,
   unto that which the true are not able when waking. Am I not myself at
   that time, O Lord my God? And there is yet so much difference between
   myself and myself, in that instant wherein I pass back from waking to
   sleeping, or return from sleeping to waking! Where, then, is the reason
   which when waking resists such suggestions? And if the things
   themselves be forced on it, I remain unmoved. Is it shut up with the
   eyes? Or is it put to sleep with the bodily senses? But whence, then,
   comes it to pass, that even in slumber we often resist, and, bearing
   our purpose in mind, and continuing most chastely in it, yield no
   assent to such allurements? And there is yet so much difference that,
   when it happeneth otherwise, upon awaking we return to peace of
   conscience; and by this same diversity do we discover that it was not
   we that did it, while we still feel sorry that in some way it was done
   in us.

   42. Is not Thy hand able, O Almighty God, to heal all the diseases of
   my soul, [882] and by Thy more abundant grace to quench even the
   lascivious motions of my sleep? Thou wilt increase in me, O Lord, Thy
   gifts more and more, that my soul may follow me to Thee, disengaged
   from the bird-lime of concupiscence; that it may not be in rebellion
   against itself, and even in dreams not simply not, through sensual
   images, commit those deformities of corruption, even to the pollution
   of the flesh, but that it may not even consent unto them. For it is no
   great thing for the Almighty, who is "able to do . . . above all that
   we ask or think," [883] to bring it about that no such influence--not
   even so slight a one as a sign might restrain--should afford
   gratification to the chaste affection even of one sleeping; and that
   not only in this life, but at my present age. But what I still am in
   this species of my ill, have I confessed unto my good Lord; rejoicing
   with trembling [884] in that which Thou hast given me, and bewailing
   myself for that wherein I am still imperfect; trusting that Thou wilt
   perfect Thy mercies in me, even to the fulness of peace, which both
   that which is within and that which is without [885] shall have with
   Thee, when death is swallowed up in victory. [886]
     __________________________________________________________________

   [880] 1 John ii. 16. Dilating on Ps. viii. he makes these three roots
   of sin to correspond to the threefold nature of our Lord's temptation
   in the wilderness. See also p. 80, note 5, above.

   [881] In Augustin's view, then, dreams appear to result from our
   thoughts and feelings when awake. In this he has the support of
   Aristotle (Ethics, i. 13), as also that of Solomon, who says (Eccles.
   v. 3), "A dream cometh through the multitude of business." An apt
   illustration of this is found in the life of the great Danish sculptor,
   Thorwaldsen. It is said that he could not satisfy himself with his
   models for The Christ, in the Frauenkirche at Copenhagen,--as Da Vinci
   before him was never able to paint the face of the Christ in His noble
   fresco of the Last Supper,--and that it was only in consequence of a
   dream (that dream doubtless the result of his stedfast search for an
   ideal) that this great work was accomplished. But see Ep. clix.

   [882] Ps. ciii. 3.

   [883] Eph. iii. 20.

   [884] Ps. ii. 11.

   [885] See note 4, p. 140, above.

   [886] 1 Cor. xv. 54.
     __________________________________________________________________

   Chapter XXXI.--About to Speak of the Temptations of the Lust of the
   Flesh, He First Complains of the Lust of Eating and Drinking.

   43. There is another evil of the day that I would were "sufficient"
   unto it. [887] For by eating and drinking we repair the daily decays of
   the body, until Thou destroyest both food and stomach, when Thou shall
   destroy my want with an amazing satiety, and shalt clothe this
   corruptible with an eternal incorruption. [888] But now is necessity
   sweet unto me, and against this sweetness do I fight, lest I be
   enthralled; and I carry on a daily war by fasting, [889] oftentimes
   "bringing my body into subjection," [890] and my pains are expelled by
   pleasure. For hunger and thirst are in some sort pains; they consume
   and destroy like unto a fever, unless the medicine of nourishment
   relieve us. The which, since it is at hand through the comfort we
   receive of Thy gifts, with which land and water and air serve our
   infirmity, our calamity is called pleasure.

   44. This much hast Thou taught me, that I should bring myself to take
   food as medicine. But during the time that I am passing from the
   uneasiness of want to the calmness of satiety, even in the very passage
   doth that snare of concupiscence lie in wait for me. For the passage
   itself is pleasure, nor is there any other way of passing thither,
   whither necessity compels us to pass. And whereas health is the reason
   of eating and drinking, there joineth itself as an hand-maid a perilous
   delight, which mostly tries to precede it, in order that I may do for
   her sake what I say I do, or desire to do, for health's sake. Nor have
   both the same limit; for what is sufficient for health is too little
   for pleasure. And oftentimes it is doubtful whether it be the necessary
   care of the body which still asks nourishment, or whether a sensual
   snare of desire offers its ministry. In this uncertainty does my
   unhappy soul rejoice, and therein prepares an excuse as a defence, glad
   that it doth not appear what may be Sufficient for the moderation of
   health, that so under the pretence of health it may conceal the
   business of pleasure. These temptations do I daily endeavour to resist,
   and I summon Thy right hand to my help, and refer my excitements to
   Thee, because as yet I have no resolve in this matter.

   45. I hear the voice of my God commanding, let not "your hearts be
   overcharged with surfeiting and drunkenness." [891] "Drunkenness," it
   is far from me; Thou wilt have mercy, that it approach not near unto
   me. But "surfeiting" sometimes creepeth upon Thy servant; Thou wilt
   have mercy, that it may be far from me. For no man can be continent
   unless Thou give it. [892] Many things which we pray for dost Thou give
   us; and what good soever we receive before we prayed for it, do we
   receive from Thee, and that we might afterwards know this did we
   receive it from Thee. Drunkard was I never, but I have known drunkards
   to be made sober men by Thee. Thy doing, then, was it, that they who
   never were such might not be so, as from Thee it was that they who have
   been so heretofore might not remain so always; and from Thee, too was
   it, that both might know from whom it was. I heard another voice of
   Thine, "Go not after thy lusts, but refrain thyself from thine
   appetites." [893] And by Thy favour have I heard this saying likewise,
   which I have much delighted in, "Neither if we eat, are we the better;
   neither if we eat not, are we the worse;" [894] which is to say, that
   neither shall the one make me to abound, nor the other to be wretched.
   I heard also another voice, "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 . . . I can do all things through Christ which
   strengtheneth me." [895] Lo! a soldier of the celestial camp--not dust
   as we are. But remember, O Lord, "that we are dust," [896] and that of
   dust Thou hast created man; [897] and he "was lost, and is found."
   [898] Nor could he do this of his own power, seeing that he whom I so
   loved, saying these things through the afflatus of Thy inspiration, was
   of that same dust. "I can," saith he, "do all things through Him which
   strengtheneth me." [899] Strengthen me, that I may be able. Give what
   Thou commandest, and command what Thou wilt. [900] He confesses to have
   received, and when he glorieth, he glorieth in the Lord. [901] Another
   have I heard entreating that he might receive,--"Take from me," saith
   he, "the greediness of the belly;" [902] by which it appeareth, O my
   holy God, that Thou givest when what Thou commandest to be done is
   done.

   46. Thou hast taught me, good Father, that "unto the pure all things
   are pure;" [903] but "it is evil for that man who eateth with offence;"
   [904] "and that every creature of Thine is good, and nothing to be
   refused, if it be received with, thanksgiving;" [905] and that "meat
   commendeth us not to God;" [906] and that no man should "judge us in
   meat or in drink;" [907] and that he that eateth, let him not despise
   him that eateth not; and let not him that eateth not judge him that
   eateth. [908] These things have I learned, thanks and praise be unto
   Thee, O my God and Master, who dost knock at my ears and enlighten my
   heart; deliver me out of all temptation. It is not the uncleanness of
   meat that I fear, but the uncleanness of lusting. I know that
   permission was granted unto Noah to eat every kind of flesh [909] that
   was good for food; [910] that Elias was fed with flesh; [911] that
   John, endued with a wonderful abstinence, was not polluted by the
   living creatures (that is, the locusts [912] ) which he fed on. I know,
   too, that Esau was deceived by a longing for lentiles, [913] and that
   David took blame to himself for desiring water, [914] and that our King
   was tempted not by flesh but bread. [915] And the people in the
   wilderness, therefore, also deserved reproof, not because they desired
   flesh, but because, in their desire for food, they murmured against the
   Lord. [916]

   47. Placed, then, in the midst of these temptations, I strive daily
   against longing for food and drink. For it is not of such a nature as
   that I am able to resolve to cut it off once for all, and not touch it
   afterwards, as I was able to do with concubinage. The bridle of the
   throat, therefore, is to be held in the mean of slackness and
   tightness. [917] And who, O Lord, is he who is not in some degree
   carried away beyond the bounds of necessity? Whoever he is, he is
   great; let him magnify Thy name. But I am not such a one, "for I am a
   sinful man." [918] Yet do I also magnify Thy name; and He who hath
   "overcome the world" [919] maketh intercession to Thee for my sins,
   [920] accounting me among the "feeble members" of His body, [921]
   because Thine eyes saw that of him which was imperfect; and in Thy book
   all shall be written. [922]
     __________________________________________________________________

   [887] Matt. vi. 34.

   [888] 1 Cor. xv. 54.

   [889] In Augustin's time, and indeed till the Council of Orleans, A.D.
   538, fasting appears to have been left pretty much to the individual
   conscience. We find Tertullian in his De Jejunio lamenting the slight
   observance it received during his day. We learn, however, from the
   passage in Justin Martyr, quoted in note 4, on p. 118, above, that in
   his time it was enjoined as a preparation for Baptism.

   [890] 1 Cor. ix. 27.

   [891] Luke xxi. 34.

   [892] Wisd. viii. 21.

   [893] Ecclus. xviii. 30.

   [894] 1 Cor. viii. 8.

   [895] Phil. iv. 11-14.

   [896] Ps. ciii. 14.

   [897] Gen. iii. 19.

   [898] Luke xv. 32.

   [899] Phil. iv. 13.

   [900] In his De Dono Persev. sec. 53, he tells us that these words were
   quoted to Pelagius, when at Rome, by a certain bishop, and that they
   excited him to contradict them so warmly as nearly to result in a
   rupture between Pelagius and the bishop.

   [901] 1 Cor. i. 31.

   [902] Ecclus. xxiii. 6.

   [903] Titus i. 15.

   [904] Rom. xiv. 20.

   [905] 1 Tim. iv. 4.

   [906] 1 Cor. viii. 8.

   [907] Col. ii. 16.

   [908] Rom. xiii. 23.

   [909] He here refers to the doctrine of the Manichæans in the matter of
   eating flesh. In his De Mor. Manich. secs. 36, 37, he discusses the
   prohibition of flesh to the "Elect." From Ep. ccxxxvi. we find that the
   "Hearers" had not to practice abstinence from marriage and from eating
   flesh. For other information on this subject, see notes, pp. 66 and 83.

   [910] Gen. ix. 3.

   [911] 1 Kings xvii. 6.

   [912] Matt. iii. 4.

   [913] Gen. xxv. 34.

   [914] 2 Sam. xxiii. 15-17.

   [915] Matt. iv. 3.

   [916] Num. xi.

   [917] So all God's gifts are to be used, but not abused; and those who
   deny the right use of any, do so by virtually accepting the principle
   of asceticism. As Augustin, in his De Mor. Ecc. Cath. sec. 39, says of
   all transient things, we "should use them as far as is required for the
   purposes and duties of life, with the moderation of an employer instead
   of the ardour of a lover."

   [918] Luke v. 8.

   [919] John xvi. 33.

   [920] Rom. viii. 34.

   [921] 1 Cor. xii. 22.

   [922] Ps. cxxxix. 16; he similarly applies this passage when commenting
   on it in Ps. cxxxviii. 21, and also in Serm. cxxxv.
     __________________________________________________________________

   Chapter XXXII.--Of the Charms of Perfumes Which are More Easily
   Overcome.

   48. With the attractions of odours I am not much troubled. When absent
   I do not seek them; when present I do not refuse them; and am prepared
   ever to be without them. At any rate thus I appear to myself; perchance
   I am deceived. For that also is a lamentable darkness wherein my
   capacity that is in me is concealed, so that my mind, making inquiry
   into herself concerning her own powers, ventures not readily to credit
   herself; because that which is already in it is, for the most part,
   concealed, unless experience reveal it. And no man ought to feel secure
   [923] in this life, the whole of which is called a temptation, [924]
   that he, who could be made better from worse, may not also from better
   be made worse. Our sole hope, our sole confidence, our sole assured
   promise, is Thy mercy.
     __________________________________________________________________

   [923] "For some," says Thomas Taylor (Works, vol. I. "Christ's
   Temptation," p. 11), "through vain prefidence of God's protection, run
   in times of contagion into infected houses, which upon just calling a
   man may: but for one to run out of his calling in the way of an
   ordinary visitation, he shall find that God's angels have commission to
   protect him no longer than he is in his way (Ps. xci. 11), and that
   being out of it, this arrow of the Lord shall sooner hit him than
   another that is not half so confident." We should not, as Fuller
   quaintly says, "hollo in the ears of a sleeping temptation;" and when
   we are tempted, let us remember that if (Hibbert, Syntagma Theologicum,
   p. 342) "a giant knock while the door is shut, he may with ease be
   still kept out; but if once open, that he gets in but a limb of
   himself, then there is no course left to keep out the remaining bulk."
   See also Augustin on Peter's case, De Corrept. et Grat. c. 9.

   [924] Job vii. 1, Old Vers. See p. 153, note 1.
     __________________________________________________________________

   Chapter XXXIII.--He Overcame the Pleasures of the Ear, Although in the
   Church He Frequently Delighted in the Song, Not in the Thing Sung.

   49. The delights of the ear had more powerfully inveigled and conquered
   me, but Thou didst unbind and liberate me. Now, in those airs which Thy
   words breathe soul into, when sung with a sweet and trained voice, do I
   somewhat repose; yet not so as to cling to them, but so as to free
   myself when I wish. But with the words which are their life do they,
   that they may gain admission into me, strive after a place of some
   honour in my heart; and I can hardly assign them a fitting one.
   Sometimes I appear to myself to give them more respect than, is
   fitting, as I perceive that our minds are more devoutly and earnestly
   elevated into a flame of piety by the holy words themselves when they
   are thus sung, than when they are not; and that all affections of our
   spirit, by their own diversity, have their appropriate measures in the
   voice and singing, wherewith by I know not what secret relationship
   they are stimulated. But the gratification of my flesh, to which the
   mind ought never to be given over to be enervated, often beguiles me,
   while the sense does not so attend on reason as to follow her
   patiently; but having gained admission merely for her sake, it strives
   even to run on before her, and be her leader. Thus in these things do I
   sin unknowing, but afterwards do I know it.

   50. Sometimes, again, avoiding very earnestly this same deception, I
   err out of too great preciseness; and sometimes so much as to desire
   that every air of the pleasant songs to which David's Psalter is often
   used, be banished both from my ears and those of the Church itself; and
   that way seemed unto me safer which I remembered to have been often
   related to me of Athanasius, Bishop of Alexandria, who obliged the
   reader of the psalm to give utterance to it with so slight an
   inflection of voice, that it was more like speaking than singing.
   Notwithstanding, when I call to mind the tears I shed at the songs of
   Thy Church, at the outset of my recovered faith, and how even now I am
   moved not by the singing but by what is sung, when they are sung with a
   clear and skilfully modulated voice, I then acknowledge the great
   utility of this custom. Thus vacillate I between dangerous pleasure and
   tried soundness; being inclined rather (though I pronounce no
   irrevocable opinion upon the subject) to approve of the use of singing
   in the church, that so by the delights of the ear the weaker minds may
   be stimulated to a devotional frame. Yet when it happens to me to be
   more moved by the singing than by what is sung, I confess myself to
   have sinned criminally, and then I would rather not have heard the
   singing. See now the condition I am in! Weep with me, and weep for me,
   you who so control your inward feelings as that good results ensue. As
   for you who do not thus act, these things concern you not. But Thou, O
   Lord my God, give ear, behold and see, and have mercy upon me, and heal
   me, [925] --Thou, in whose sight I am become a puzzle to myself; and
   "this is my infirmity." [926]
     __________________________________________________________________

   [925] Ps. vi. 2.

   [926] Ps. lxxvii. 10.
     __________________________________________________________________

   Chapter XXXIV.--Of the Very Dangerous Allurements of the Eyes; On
   Account of Beauty of Form, God, the Creator, is to Be Praised.

   51. There remain the delights of these eyes of my flesh, concerning
   which to make my confessions in the hearing of the ears of Thy temple,
   those fraternal and devout ears; and so to conclude the temptations of
   "the lust of the flesh" [927] which still assail me, groaning and
   desiring to be clothed upon with my house from heaven. [928] The eyes
   delight in fair and varied forms, and bright and pleasing colours.
   Suffer not these to take possession of my soul; let God rather possess
   it, He who made these things "very good" [929] indeed; yet is He my
   good, not these. And these move me while awake, during the day; nor is
   rest from them granted me, as there is from the voices of melody,
   sometimes, in silence, from them all. For that queen of colours, the
   light, flooding all that we look upon, wherever I be during the day,
   gliding past me in manifold forms, doth soothe me when busied about
   other things, and not noticing it. And so strongly doth it insinuate
   itself, that if it be suddenly withdrawn it is looked for longingly,
   and if long absent doth sadden the mind.

   52. O Thou Light, which Tobias saw, [930] when, his eyes being closed,
   he taught his son the way of life; himself going before with the feet
   of charity, never going astray. Or that which Isaac saw, when his
   fleshly "eyes were dim, so that he could not see" [931] by reason of
   old age; it was permitted him, not knowingly to bless his sons, but in
   blessing them to know them. Or that which Jacob saw, when he too, blind
   through great age, with an enlightened heart, in the persons of his own
   sons, threw light upon the races of the future people, presignified in
   them; and laid his hands, mystically crossed, upon his grandchildren by
   Joseph, not as their father, looking outwardly, corrected them, but as
   he himself distinguished them. [932] This is the light, the only one,
   and all those who see and love it are one. But that corporeal light of
   which I was speaking seasoneth the life of the world for her blind
   lovers, with a tempting and fatal sweetness. But they who know how to
   praise Thee for it, "O God, the world's great Architect," [933] take it
   up in Thy hymn, and are not taken up with it [934] in their sleep. Such
   desire I to be. I resist seductions of the eyes, lest my feet with
   which I advance on Thy way be entangled; and I raise my invisible eyes
   to Thee, that Thou wouldst be pleased to "pluck my feet out of the
   net." [935] Thou dost continually pluck them out, for they are
   ensnared. Thou never ceasest to pluck them out, but I, constantly
   remain fast in the snares set all around me; because Thou "that keepest
   Israel shall neither slumber nor sleep." [936]

   53. What numberless things, made by divers arts and manufactures, both
   in our apparel, shoes, vessels, and every kind of work, in pictures,
   too, and sundry images, and these going far beyond necessary and
   moderate use and holy signification, have men added for the enthralment
   of the eyes; following outwardly what they make, forsaking inwardly Him
   by whom they were made, yea, and destroying that which they themselves
   were made! But I, O my God and my Joy, do hence also sing a hymn unto
   Thee, and offer a sacrifice of praise unto my Sanctifier, [937] because
   those beautiful patterns, which through the medium of men's souls are
   conveyed into their artistic hands, [938] emanate from that Beauty
   which is above our souls, which my soul sigheth after day and night.
   But as for the makers and followers of those outward beauties, they
   from thence derive the way of approving them, but not of using them.
   [939] And though they see Him not, yet is He there, that they might not
   go astray, but keep their strength for Thee, [940] and not dissipate it
   upon delicious lassitudes. And I, though I both say and perceive this,
   impede my course with such beauties, but Thou dost rescue me, O Lord,
   Thou dost rescue me; "for Thy loving-kindness is before mine eyes."
   [941] For I am taken miserably, and Thou rescuest me mercifully;
   sometimes not perceiving it, in that I had come upon them hesitatingly;
   at other times with pain, because I was held fast by them.
     __________________________________________________________________

   [927] 1 John ii. 16.

   [928] 2 Cor. v. 2.

   [929] Gen. i. 31.

   [930] Tobit iv.

   [931] Gen. xxvii. 1.

   [932] Gen. xlviii. 13-19.

   [933] From the beginning of the hymn of St. Ambrose, part of which is
   quoted, ix. sec. 32, above.

   [934] Assumunt eam, in hymno tuo, non absumuntur ab ea.

   [935] Ps. xxv. 15.

   [936] Ps. cxxi. 4.

   [937] Sanctificatori meo, but some mss. have sacreficatori.

   [938] See xi. sec. 7, and note, below.

   [939] See note 6, sec. 40, above.

   [940] Ps. lviii. 10, Vulg.

   [941] Ps. xxvi. 3.
     __________________________________________________________________

   Chapter XXXV.--Another Kind of Temptation is Curiosity, Which is
   Stimulated by the Lust of the Eyes.

   54. In addition to this there is another form of temptation, more
   complex in its peril. For besides that concupiscence of the flesh which
   lieth in the gratification of all senses and pleasures, wherein its
   slaves who "are far from Thee perish," [942] there pertaineth to the
   soul, through the same senses of the body, a certain vain and curious
   longing, cloaked under the name of knowledge and learning, not of
   having pleasure in the flesh, but of making experiments through the
   flesh. This longing, since it originates in an appetite for knowledge,
   and the sight being the chief amongst the senses in the acquisition of
   knowledge, is called in divine language, "the lust of the eyes." [943]
   For seeing belongeth properly to the eyes; yet we apply this word to
   the other senses also, when we exercise them in the search after
   knowledge. For we do not say, Listen how it glows, smell how it
   glistens, taste how it shines, or feel how it flashes, since 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 thus the general
   experience of the senses, as was said before, is termed "the lust of
   the eyes," because the function of seeing, wherein the eyes hold the
   pre-eminence, the other senses by way of similitude take possession of,
   whensoever they seek out any knowledge.

   55. But by this is it more clearly discerned, when pleasure and when
   curiosity is pursued by the senses; for pleasure follows after objects
   that are beautiful, melodious, fragrant, savoury, soft; but curiosity,
   for experiment's sake, seeks the contrary of these,--not with a view of
   undergoing uneasiness, but from the passion of experimenting upon and
   knowing them. For what pleasure is there to see, in a lacerated corpse,
   that which makes you shudder? And yet if it lie near, we flock thither,
   to be made sad, and to turn pale. Even in sleep they fear lest they
   should see it. Just as if when awake any one compelled them to go and
   see it, or any report of its beauty had attracted them! Thus also is it
   with the other senses, which it were tedious to pursue. From this
   malady of curiosity are all those strange sights exhibited in the
   theatre. Hence do we proceed to search out the secret powers of nature
   (which is beside our end), which to know profits not, [944] and wherein
   men desire nothing but to know. Hence, too, with that same end of
   perverted knowledge we consult magical arts. Hence, again, even in
   religion itself, is God tempted, when signs and wonders are eagerly
   asked of Him,--not desired for any saving end, but to make trial only.

   56. In this so vast a wilderness, replete with snares and dangers, lo,
   many of them have I lopped off, and expelled from my heart, as Thou, O
   God of my salvation, hast enabled me to do. And yet when dare I say,
   since so many things of this kind buzz around our daily life,--when
   dare I say that no such thing makes me intent to see it, or creates in
   me vain solicitude? It is true that the theatres never now carry me
   away, nor do I now care to know the courses of the stars, nor hath my
   soul at any time consulted departed spirits; all sacrilegious oaths I
   abhor. O Lord my God, to whom I owe all humble and single-hearted
   service, with what subtlety of suggestion does the enemy influence me
   to require some sign from Thee! But by our King, and by our pure land
   chaste country Jerusalem, I beseech Thee, that as any consenting unto
   such thoughts is far from me, so may it always be farther and farther.
   But when I entreat Thee for the salvation of any, the end I aim at is
   far otherwise, and Thou who doest what Thou wilt, givest and wilt give
   me willingly to "follow" Thee. [945]

   57. Nevertheless, in how many most minute and contemptible things is
   our curiosity daily tempted, and who can number how often we succumb?
   How often, when people are narrating idle tales, do we begin by
   tolerating them, lest we should give offence unto the weak; and then
   gradually we listen willingly! I do not now-a-days go to the circus to
   see a dog chasing a hare; [946] but if by chance I pass such a coursing
   in the fields, it possibly distracts me even from some serious thought,
   and draws me after it,--not that I turn the body of my beast aside, but
   the inclination of my mind. And except Thou, by demonstrating to me my
   weakness, dost speedily warn me, either through the sight itself, by
   some reflection to rise to Thee, or wholly to despise and pass it by,
   I, vain one, am absorbed by it. How is it, when sitting at home, a
   lizard catching flies, or a spider entangling them as they rush into
   her nets, oftentimes arrests me? Is the feeling of curiosity not the
   same because these are such tiny creatures? From them I proceed to
   praise Thee, the wonderful Creator and Disposer of all things; but it
   is not this that first attracts my attention. It is one thing to get up
   quickly, and another not to fall, and of such things is my life full;
   and my only hope is in Thy exceeding great mercy. For when this heart
   of ours is made the receptacle of such things, and bears crowds of this
   abounding vanity, then are our prayers often interrupted and disturbed
   thereby; and whilst in Thy presence we direct the voice of our heart to
   Thine ears, this so great a matter is broken off by the influx of I
   know not what idle thoughts.
     __________________________________________________________________

   [942] Ps. lxiii. 27.

   [943] 1 John ii. 16.

   [944] Augustin's great end was to attain the knowledge of God. Hence,
   in his Soliloquia, i. 7, we read: "Deum et animam scire cupio. Nihilne
   plus? Nihil omnino." And he only esteemed the knowledge of physical
   laws so far as they would lead to Him. (See v. sec. 7, above, and the
   note there.) In his De Ordine, ii. 14, 15, etc., writing at the time of
   his conversion, he had contended that the knowledge of the liberal
   sciences would lead to a knowledge of the divine wisdom; but in his
   Retractations (i. 3, sec. 2) he regrets this, pointing out that while
   many holy men have not this knowledge, many who have it are not holy.
   Compare also Enchir. c. 16; Serm. lxviii. 1, 2; and De Civ. Dei, ix.
   22.

   [945] John xxi. 22.

   [946] In allusion to those venatios, or hunting scenes, in which the
   less savage animals were slain. These were held in the circus, which
   was sometimes planted for the occasion, so as to resemble a forest. See
   Smith's Greek and Roman Antiquities, under "Venatio," and vi. sec. 13,
   note, above.
     __________________________________________________________________

   Chapter XXXVI.--A Third Kind is "Pride" Which is Pleasing to Man, Not
   to God.

   58. Shall we, then, account this too amongst such things as are to be
   lightly esteemed, or shall anything restore us to hope, save Thy
   complete mercy, since Thou hast begun to change us? And Thou knowest to
   what extent Thou hast already changed me, Thou who first healest me of
   the lust of vindicating myself, that so Thou mightest forgive all my
   remaining "iniquities," and heal all my "diseases," and redeem my life
   from corruption, and crown me with "loving-kindness and tender
   mercies," and satisfy my desire with "good things;" [947] who didst
   restrain my pride with Thy fear, and subdue my neck to Thy "yoke." And
   now I bear it, and it is "light" [948] unto me, because so hast Thou
   promised, and made it, and so in truth it was, though I knew it not,
   when I feared to take it up. But, O Lord,--Thou who alone reignest
   without pride, because Thou art the only true Lord, who hast no
   lord,--hath this third kind of temptation left me, or can it leave me
   during this life?

   59. The desire to be feared and loved of men, with no other view than
   that I may experience a joy therein which is no joy, is a miserable
   life, and unseemly ostentation. Hence especially it arises that we do
   not love Thee, nor devoutly fear Thee. And therefore dost Thou resist
   the proud, but givest grace unto the humble; [949] and Thou thunderest
   upon the ambitious designs of the world, and "the foundations of the
   hills" tremble. [950] Because now certain offices of human society
   render it necessary to be loved and feared of men, the adversary of our
   true blessedness presseth hard upon us, everywhere scattering his
   snares of "well done, well done;" that while acquiring them eagerly, we
   may be caught unawares, and disunite our joy from Thy truth, and fix it
   on the deceits of men; and take pleasure in being loved and feared, not
   for Thy sake, but in Thy stead, by which means, being made like unto
   him, he may have them as his, not in harmony of love, but in the
   fellowship of punishment; who aspired to exalt his throne in the north,
   [951] that dark and cold they might serve him, imitating Thee in
   perverse and distorted ways. But we, O Lord, lo, we are Thy "little
   flock;" [952] do Thou possess us, stretch Thy wings over us, and let us
   take refuge under them. Be Thou our glory; let us be loved for Thy
   sake, and Thy word feared in us. They who desire to be commended of men
   when Thou blamest, will not be defended of men when Thou judgest; nor
   will they be delivered when Thou condemnest. But when not the sinner is
   praised in the desires of his soul, nor he blessed who doeth unjustly,
   [953] but a man is praised for some gift that Thou hast bestowed upon
   him, and he is more gratified at the praise for himself, than that he
   possesses the gift for which he is praised, such a one is praised while
   Thou blamest. And better truly is he who praised than the one who was
   praised. For the gift of God in man was pleasing to the one, while the
   other was better pleased with the gift of man than that of God.
     __________________________________________________________________

   [947] Ps. ciii. 3-5.

   [948] Matt. xi. 30.

   [949] Jas. iv. 6.

   [950] Ps. xviii. 7.

   [951] Isa. xiv. 13, 14.

   [952] Luke xii. 32.

   [953] Ps. x. 3, in Vulg. and LXX.
     __________________________________________________________________

   Chapter XXXVII.--He is Forcibly Goaded on by the Love of Praise.

   60. By these temptations, O Lord, are we daily tried; yea, unceasingly
   are we tried. Our daily "furnace" [954] is the human tongue. And in
   this respect also dost Thou command us to be continent. Give what Thou
   commandest, and command what Thou wilt. Regarding this matter, Thou
   knowest the groans of my heart, and the rivers [955] of mine eyes. For
   I am not able to ascertain how far I am clean of this plague, and I
   stand in great fear of my "secret faults," [956] which Thine eyes
   perceive, though mine do not. For in other kinds of temptations I have
   some sort of power of examining myself; but in this, hardly any. For,
   both as regards the pleasures of the flesh and an idle curiosity, I see
   how far I have been able to hold my mind in check when I do without
   them, either voluntarily or by reason of their not being at hand; [957]
   for then I inquire of myself how much more or less troublesome it is to
   me not to have them. Riches truly which are sought for in order that
   they may minister to some one of these three "lusts," [958] or to two,
   or the whole of them, if the mind be not able to see clearly whether,
   when it hath them, it despiseth them, they may be cast on one side,
   that so it may prove itself. But if we desire to test our power of
   doing without praise, need we live ill, and that so flagitiously and
   immoderately as that every one who knows us shall detest us? What
   greater madness than this can be either said or conceived? But if
   praise both is wont and ought to be the companion of a good life and of
   good works, we should as little forego its companionship as a good life
   itself. But unless a thing be absent, I do not know whether I shall be
   contented or troubled at being without it.

   61. What, then, do I confess unto Thee, O Lord, in this kind of
   temptation? What, save that I am delighted with praise, but more with
   the truth itself than with praise? For were I to have my choice,
   whether I had rather, being mad, or astray on all things, be praised by
   all men, or, being firm and well-assured in the truth, be blamed by
   all, I see which I should choose. Yet would I be unwilling that the
   approval of another should even add to my joy for any good I have. Yet
   I admit that it doth increase it, and, more than that, that dispraise
   doth diminish it. And when I am disquieted at this misery of mine, an
   excuse presents itself to me, the value of which Thou, God, knowest,
   for it renders me uncertain. For since it is not continency alone that
   Thou hast enjoined upon us, that is, from what things to hold back our
   love, but righteousness also, that is, upon what to bestow it, and hast
   wished us to love not Thee only, but also our neighbour, [959] --often,
   when gratified by intelligent praise, I appear to myself to be
   gratified by the proficiency or towardliness of my neighbour, and again
   to be sorry for evil in him when I hear him dispraise either that which
   he understands not, or is good. For I am sometimes grieved at mine own
   praise, either when those things which I am displeased at in myself be
   praised in me, or even lesser and trifling goods are more valued than
   they should be. But, again, how do I know whether I am thus affected,
   because I am unwilling that he who praiseth me should differ from me
   concerning myself--not as being moved with consideration for him, but
   because the same good things which please me in myself are more
   pleasing to me when they also please another? For, in a sort, I am not
   praised when my judgment of myself is not praised; since either those
   things which are displeasing to me are praised, or those more so which
   are less pleasing to me. Am I then uncertain of myself in this matter?

   62. Behold, O Truth, in Thee do I see that I ought not to be moved at
   my own praises for my own sake, but for my neighbour's good. And
   whether it be so, in truth I know not. For concerning this I know less
   of myself than dost Thou. I beseech Thee now, O my God, to reveal to me
   myself also, that I may confess unto my brethren, who are to pray for
   me, what I find in myself weak. Once again let me more diligently
   examine myself. [960] If, in mine own praise, I am moved with
   consideration for my neighbour, why am I less moved if some other man
   be unjustly dispraised than if it be myself? Why am I more irritated at
   that reproach which is cast upon myself, than at that which is with
   equal injustice cast upon another in my presence? Am I ignorant of this
   also? or does it remain that I deceive myself, [961] and do not the
   "truth" [962] before Thee in my heart and tongue? Put such madness far
   from me, O Lord, lest my mouth be to me the oil of sinners, to anoint
   my head. [963]
     __________________________________________________________________

   [954] Isa. xlviii. 10, and Prov. xxvii. 21.

   [955] Lam. iii. 48.

   [956] Ps. xix. 12. See note 5, page 47, above.

   [957] In his De Vera Relig. sec. 92, he points out that adversity also,
   when it comes to a good man, will disclose to him how far his heart is
   set on worldly things: "Hoc enim sine amore nostro aderat, quod sine
   dolore discedit."

   [958] 1 John ii. 16. See beginning of sec. 41, above.

   [959] Lev. xix. 18. See book xii. secs. 35, 41, below.

   [960] It may be well, in connection with the striking piece of
   soul-anatomy in this and the last two sections, to advert to other
   passages in which Augustin speaks of the temptation arising from the
   praise of men. In Serm. cccxxxix. 1, he says that he does not
   altogether dislike praise when it comes from the good, though feeling
   it to be a snare, and does not reject it: "Ne ingrati sint quibus
   prædico." That is, as he says above, he accepted it for his
   "neighbour's good," since, had his neighbour not been ready to give
   praise, it would have indicated a wrong condition of heart in him. We
   are, therefore, as he argues in his De Serm. Dom. in Mon. ii. 1, 2, 6,
   to see that the design of our acts be not that men should see and
   praise us (compare also Enarr. in Ps. lxv. 2). If they praise us it is
   well, since it shows that their heart is right; but if we "act rightly
   only because of the praise of men" (Matt. vi. 2, 5), we seek our own
   glory and not that of God. See also Serms. xciii. 9, clix. 10, etc.;
   and De Civ. Dei, v. 13, 14.

   [961] Gal. vi. 3.

   [962] 1 John i. 8.

   [963] Ps. cxli. 5, according to the Vulg. and LXX. The Authorized
   Version (with which the Targum is in accord) gives the more probable
   sense, when it makes the oil to be that of the righteous and not that
   of the sinner: "Let the righteous smite me, it shall be a kindness; and
   let him reprove me, it shall be an excellent oil, which shall not break
   my head."
     __________________________________________________________________

   Chapter XXXVIII.--Vain-Glory is the Highest Danger.

   63. "I am poor and needy," [964] yet better am I while in secret
   groanings I displease myself, and seek for Thy mercy, until what is
   lacking in me be renewed and made complete, even up to that peace of
   which the eye of the proud is ignorant. Yet the word which proceedeth
   out of the mouth, and actions known to men, have a most dangerous
   temptation from the love of praise, which, for the establishing of a
   certain excellency of our own, gathers together solicited suffrages. It
   tempts, even when within I reprove myself for it, on the very ground
   that it is reproved; and often man glories more vainly of the very
   scorn of vain-glory; wherefore it is not any longer scorn of vain-glory
   whereof it glories, for he does not truly contemn it when he inwardly
   glories.
     __________________________________________________________________

   [964] Ps. cix. 22.
     __________________________________________________________________

   Chapter XXXIX.--Of the Vice of Those Who, While Pleasing Themselves,
   Displease God.

   64. Within also, within is another evil, arising out of the same kind
   of temptation; whereby they become empty who please themselves in
   themselves, although they please not, or displease, or aim at pleasing
   others. But in pleasing themselves, they much displease Thee, not
   merely taking pleasure in things not good as if they were good, but in
   Thy good things as though they were their own; or even as if in Thine,
   yet as though of their own merits; or even as if though of Thy grace,
   yet not with friendly rejoicings, but as envying that grace to others.
   [965] In all these and similar perils and labours Thou perceivest the
   trembling of my heart, and I rather feel my wounds to be cured by Thee
   than not inflicted by me.
     __________________________________________________________________

   [965] See his De Civ. Dei, v. 20, where he compares the truly pious
   man, who attributes all his good to God's mercy, "giving thanks for
   what in him is healed, and pouring out prayers for the healing of that
   which is yet unhealed," with the philosophers who make their chief end
   pleasure or human glory.
     __________________________________________________________________

   Chapter XL.--The Only Safe Resting-Place for the Soul is to Be Found in
   God.

   65. Where hast Thou not accompanied me, O Truth, [966] teaching me both
   what to avoid and what to desire, when I submitted to Thee what I could
   perceive of sublunary things, and asked Thy counsel? With my external
   senses, as I could, I viewed the world, and noted the life which my
   body derives from me, and these my senses. Thence I advanced inwardly
   into the recesses of my memory,--the manifold rooms, wondrously full of
   multitudinous wealth; and I considered and was afraid, and could
   discern none of these things without Thee, and found none of them to be
   Thee. Nor was I myself the discoverer of these things,--I, who went
   over them all, and laboured to distinguish and to value everything
   according to its dignity, accepting some things upon the report of my
   senses, and questioning about others which I felt to be mixed up with
   myself, distinguishing and numbering the reporters themselves, and in
   the vast storehouse of my memory investigating some things, laying up
   others, taking out others. Neither was I myself when I did this (that
   is, that ability of mine whereby I did it), nor was it Thou, for Thou
   art that never-failing light which I took counsel of as to them all,
   whether they were what they were, and what was their worth; and I heard
   Thee teaching and commanding me. And this I do often; this is a delight
   to me, and, as far as I can get relief from necessary duties, to this
   gratification do I resort. Nor in all these which I review when
   consulting Thee, find I a secure place for my soul, save in Thee, into
   whom my scattered members may be gathered together, and nothing of me
   depart from Thee. [967] And sometimes Thou dost introduce me to a most
   rare affection, inwardly, to an inexplicable sweetness, which, if it
   should be perfected in me, I know not to what point that life might not
   arrive. But by these wretched weights [968] of mine do I relapse into
   these things, and am sucked in by my old customs, and am held, and
   sorrow much, yet am much held. To such an extent does the burden of
   habit press us down. In this way I can be, but will not; in that I
   will, but cannot,--on both ways miserable.
     __________________________________________________________________

   [966] See xii. sec. 35, below.

   [967] See ix. sec. 10, note, above, and xi. sec. 39, below.

   [968] Heb. xii. 1.
     __________________________________________________________________

   Chapter XLI.--Having Conquered His Triple Desire, He Arrives at
   Salvation.

   66. And thus have I reflected upon the wearinesses of my sins, in that
   threefold "lust," [969] and have invoked Thy right hand to my aid. For
   with a wounded heart have I seen Thy brightness, and being beaten back
   I exclaimed, "Who can attain unto it?" "I am cut off from before Thine
   eyes." [970] Thou art the Truth, who presidest over all things, but I,
   through my covetousness, wished not to lose Thee, but with Thee wished
   to possess a lie; as no one wishes so to speak falsely as himself to be
   ignorant of the truth. So then I lost Thee, because Thou deignest not
   to be enjoyed with a lie.
     __________________________________________________________________

   [969] See p. 153, note 7, above.

   [970] Ps. xxxi. 22.
     __________________________________________________________________

   Chapter XLII.--In What Manner Many Sought the Mediator.

   67. Whom could I find to reconcile me to Thee? Was I to solicit the
   angels? By what prayer? By what sacraments? Many striving to return
   unto Thee, and not able of themselves, have, as I am told, tried this,
   and have fallen into a longing for curious visions, [971] and were held
   worthy to be deceived. For they, being exalted, sought Thee by the
   pride of learning, thrusting themselves forward rather than beating
   their breasts, and so by correspondence of heart drew unto themselves
   the princes of the air, [972] the conspirators and companions in pride,
   by whom, through the power of magic, [973] they were deceived, seeking
   a mediator by whom they might be cleansed; but none was there. For the
   devil it was, transforming himself into an angel of light. [974] And he
   much allured proud flesh, in that he had no fleshly body. For they were
   mortal, and sinful; but Thou, O Lord, to whom they arrogantly sought to
   be reconciled, art immortal, and sinless. But a mediator between God
   and man ought to have something like unto God, and something like unto
   man; lest being in both like unto man, he should be far from God; or if
   in both like unto God, he should be far from man, and so should not be
   a mediator. That deceitful mediator, then, by whom in Thy secret
   judgments pride deserved to be deceived, hath one thing in common with
   man, that is, sin; another he would appear to have with God, and, not
   being clothed with mortality of flesh, would boast that he was
   immortal. [975] But since "the wages of sin is death," [976] this hath
   he in common with men, that together with them he should be condemned
   to death.
     __________________________________________________________________

   [971] It would be easy so to do, since even amongst believers, as we
   find from Evodius' letter to Augustin (Ep. clvi.), there was a
   prevalent belief that the blessed dead visited the earth, and that
   visions had an important bearing on human affairs. See also Augustin's
   answer to Evodius, in Ep. clix.; Chrysostom, De Sacer. vi. 4; and on
   Visions, see sec. 41, note, above.

   [972] Eph. ii. 2.

   [973] See note 5, p. 69, above.

   [974] 2 Cor. xi. 14.

   [975] In his De Civ. Dei, x. 24, in speaking of the Incarnation of
   Christ as a mystery unintelligible to Porphyry's pride, he has a
   similar passage, in which he speaks of the "true and benignant
   Mediator," and the "malignant and deceitful mediators." See vii. sec.
   24, above.

   [976] Rom. vi. 23.
     __________________________________________________________________

   Chapter XLIII.--That Jesus Christ, at the Same Time God and Man, is the
   True and Most Efficacious Mediator.

   68. But the true Mediator, whom in Thy secret mercy Thou hast pointed
   out to the humble, and didst send, that by His example [977] also they
   might learn the same humility--that "Mediator between God and men, the
   man Christ Jesus," [978] appeared between mortal sinners and the
   immortal Just One--mortal with men, just with God; that because the
   reward of righteousness is life and peace, He might, by righteousness
   conjoined with God, cancel the death of justified sinners, which He
   willed to have in common with them. [979] Hence He was pointed out to
   holy men of old; to the intent that they, through faith in His Passion
   to come, [980] even as we through faith in that which is past, might be
   saved. For as man He was Mediator; but as the Word He was not between,
   [981] because equal to God, and God with God, and together with the
   Holy Spirit [982] one God.

   69. How hast Thou loved us, [983] O good Father, who sparedst not Thine
   only Son, but deliveredst Him up for us wicked ones! [984] How hast
   Thou loved us, for whom He, who thought it no robbery to be equal with
   Thee, "became obedient unto death, even the death of the cross;" [985]
   He alone "free among the dead," [986] that had power to lay down His
   life, and power to take it again; [987] for us was He unto Thee both
   Victor and Victim, and the Victor as being the Victim; for us was He
   unto Thee both Priest and Sacrifice, and Priest as being the Sacrifice;
   of slaves making us Thy sons, by being born of Thee, and serving us.
   Rightly, then, is my hope strongly fixed on Him, that Thou wilt heal
   all my diseases [988] by Him who sitteth at Thy right hand and maketh
   intercession for us; [989] else should I utterly despair. [990] For
   numerous and great are my infirmities, yea, numerous and great are
   they; but Thy medicine is greater. We might think that Thy Word was
   removed from union with man, and despair of ourselves had He not been
   "made flesh and dwelt among us." [991]

   70. Terrified by my sins and the load of my misery, I had resolved in
   my heart, and meditated flight into the wilderness; [992] but Thou
   didst forbid me, and didst strengthen me, saying, therefore, Christ
   "died for all, that they which live should not henceforth live unto
   themselves, but unto Him which died for them." [993] Behold, O Lord, I
   cast my care upon Thee, [994] that I may live, and "behold wondrous
   things out of Thy law." [995] Thou knowest my unskilfulness and my
   infirmities; teach me, and heal me. Thine only Son--He "in whom are hid
   all the treasures of wisdom and knowledge" [996] --hath redeemed me
   with His blood. Let not the proud speak evil of me, [997] because I
   consider my ransom, and eat and drink, and distribute; and poor, desire
   to be satisfied from Him, together with those who eat and are
   satisfied, and they praise the Lord that seek him. [998]

   ------------------------
     __________________________________________________________________

   [977] See notes 3, p. 71, and 9 and 11, p. 74, above.

   [978] 1 Tim. ii. 5.

   [979] Not that our Lord is to be supposed, as some have held, to have
   been under the law of death in Adam, because "in Adam all die" (1 Cor.
   xv. 22; see the whole of c. 23, in De Civ. Dei, xiii, and compare ix.
   sec. 34, note 3, above); for he says in Serm. ccxxxii. 5: "As there was
   nothing in us from which life could spring, so there was nothing in Him
   from which death could come." He laid down His life (John x. 18), and
   as being partaker of the divine nature, could see no corruption (Acts
   ii. 27). This is the explanation Augustin gives in his comment on Ps.
   lxxxv. 5 (quoted in the next section) of Christ's being "free among the
   dead." So also in his De Trin. xiii. 18, he says he was thus free
   because "solus enim a debito mortis liber est mortuus." The true
   analogy between the first and second Adam is surely then to be found in
   our Lord's being free from the law of death by reason of His divine
   nature, and Adam before his transgression being able to avert death by
   partaking of the Tree of Life. Christ was, it is true, a child of Adam,
   but a child of Adam miraculously born. See note 3, p. 73, above.

   [980] See De Trin. iv. 2; and Trench, Hulsean Lectures (1845), latter
   part of lect. iv.

   [981] Medius, alluding to mediator immediately before. See his De Civ.
   Dei, ix. 15, and xi. 2, for an enlargement of this distinction between
   Christ as man and Christ as the Word. Compare also De Trin. i. 20 and
   xiii. 13; and Mansel, Bampton Lectures, lect. v. note 20.

   [982] Some mss. omit Cum spiritu sancto.

   [983] Christ did not, as in the words of a well-known hymn, "change the
   wrath to love." For, as Augustin remarks in a very beautiful passage in
   Ev. Joh. Tract. cx. 6, God loved us before the foundation of the world,
   and the reconcilement wrought by Christ must not be "so understood as
   if the Son reconciled us unto Him in this respect, that He now began to
   love those whom He formerly hated, in the same way as enemy is
   reconciled to enemy, so that thereafter they become friends, and mutual
   love takes the place of their mutual hatred; but we were reconciled
   unto Him who already loved us, but with whom we were at enmity because
   of our sin. Whether I say the truth on this let the apostle testify,
   when he says: God commendeth His love towards us, in that, while we
   were yet sinners, Christ died for us'" (Rom. v. 8, 9). He similarly
   applies the text last quoted in his De Trin. xiii. 15. See also ibid.
   sec. 21, where he speaks of the wrath of God, and ibid. iv. 2. Compare
   Archbishop Thomson, Bampton Lectures, lect. vii., and note 95.

   [984] Rom. viii. 34, which is not "for us wicked ones," but "for us
   all," as the Authorized Version has it; and we must not narrow the
   words. Augustin, in Ev. Joh. Tract. cx. 2, it will be remembered, when
   commenting on John xvii. 21, "that they all may be one...that the world
   may believe Thou hast sent me," limits "the world" to the believing
   world, and continues (ibid.sec. 4), "Ipsi sunt enim mundus, non
   permanens inimicus, qualis est mundis damnationi prædestinatus." On
   Christ being a ransom for all, see Archbishop Thomson, Bampton
   Lectures, lect. vii. part 5, and note 101.

   [985] Phil. ii. 6, 8.

   [986] Ps. lxxxviii. 5; see sec. 68, note, above.

   [987] John x. 18.

   [988] Ps. ciii. 3.

   [989] Rom. viii. 34.

   [990] See note 11, p. 140, above.

   [991] John i. 14.

   [992] Ps. lv. 7.

   [993] 2 Cor. v. 15.

   [994] Ps. lv. 22.

   [995] Ps. cxix. 18.

   [996] Col. ii. 3. Compare Dean Mansel, Bampton Lectures, lect. v. and
   note 22.

   [997] Ps. cxix. 122, Old Ver. He may perhaps here allude to the
   spiritual pride of the Donatists, who, holding rigid views as to purity
   of discipline, disparaged both his life and doctrine, pointing to his
   Manichæanism and the sinfulness of life before baptism. In his Answer
   to Petilian, iii. 11, 20, etc., and Serm. 3, sec. 19, on Ps. xxxvi., he
   alludes at length to the charges brought against him, referring then
   finally to his own confessions in book iii. above.

   [998] Ps. xxii. 26. Augustin probably alludes here to the Lord's
   Supper, in accordance with the general Patristic interpretation.
     __________________________________________________________________
     __________________________________________________________________

   Book XI.

   ------------------------

   The design of his confessions being declared, he seeks from God the
   knowledge of the Holy Scriptures, and begins to expound the words of
   Genesis I. I, concerning the creation of the world. The questions of
   rash disputers being refuted, "What did God before he created the
   world?" That he might the better overcome his opponents, he adds a
   copious disquisition concerning time.

   ------------------------
     __________________________________________________________________

   Chapter I.--By Confession He Desires to Stimulate Towards God His Own
   Love and That of His Readers.

   1. O Lord, since eternity is Thine, art Thou ignorant of the things
   which I say unto Thee? Or seest Thou at the time that which cometh to
   pass in time? Why, therefore, do I place before Thee so many relations
   of things? Not surely that Thou mightest know them through me, but that
   I may awaken my own love and that of my readers towards Thee, that we
   may all say, "Great is the Lord, and greatly to be praised." [999] I
   have already said, and shall say, for the love of Thy love do I this.
   For we also pray, and yet Truth says, "Your Father knoweth what things
   ye have need of before ye ask Him." [1000] Therefore do we make known
   unto Thee our love, in confessing unto Thee our own miseries and Thy
   mercies upon us, that Thou mayest free us altogether, since Thou hast
   begun, that we may cease to be wretched in ourselves, and that we may
   be blessed in Thee; since Thou hast called us, that we may be poor in
   spirit, and meek, and mourners, and hungering and athirst after
   righteousness, and merciful, and pure in heart, and peacemakers. [1001]
   Behold, I have told unto Thee many things, which I could and which I
   would, for Thou first wouldest that I should confess unto Thee, the
   Lord my God, for Thou art good, since Thy "mercy endureth for ever."
   [1002]
     __________________________________________________________________

   [999] Ps. xcvi. 4. See note 3, page 45, above.

   [1000] Matt. vi. 8.

   [1001] Matt. v. 3-9.

   [1002] Ps. cxviii. 1.
     __________________________________________________________________

   Chapter II.--He Begs of God that Through the Holy Scriptures He May Be
   Led to Truth.

   2. But when shall I suffice with the tongue of my pen to express all
   Thy exhortations, and all Thy terrors, and comforts, and guidances,
   whereby Thou hast led me to preach Thy Word and to dispense Thy
   Sacrament [1003] unto Thy people? And if I suffice to utter these
   things in order, the drops [1004] of time are dear to me. Long time
   have I burned to meditate in Thy law, and in it to confess to Thee my
   knowledge and ignorance, the beginning of Thine enlightening, and the
   remains of my darkness, until infirmity be swallowed up by strength.
   And I would not that to aught else those hours should flow away, which
   I find free from the necessities of refreshing my body, and the care of
   my mind, and of the service which we owe to men, and which, though we
   owe not, even yet we pay. [1005]

   3. O Lord my God, hear my prayer, and let Thy mercy regard my longing,
   since it bums not for myself alone, but because it desires to benefit
   brotherly charity; and Thou seest into my heart, that so it is. I would
   sacrifice to Thee the service of my thought and tongue; and do Thou
   give what I may offer unto Thee. For "I am poor and needy," [1006] Thou
   rich unto all that call upon Thee, [1007] who free from care carest for
   us. Circumcise from all rashness and from all lying my inward and
   outward lips. [1008] Let Thy Scriptures be my chaste delights. Neither
   let me be deceived in them, nor deceive out of them. [1009] Lord, hear
   and pity, O Lord my God, light of the blind, and strength of the weak;
   even also light of those that see, and strength of the strong, hearken
   unto my soul, and hear it crying "out of the depths." [1010] For unless
   Thine ears be present in the depths also, whither shall we go? whither
   shall we cry? "The day is Thine, and the night also is Thine." [1011]
   At Thy nod the moments flee by. Grant thereof space for our meditations
   amongst the hidden things of Thy law, nor close it against us who
   knock. For not in vain hast Thou willed that the obscure secret of so
   many pages should be written. Nor is it that those forests have not
   their harts, [1012] betaking themselves therein, and ranging, and
   walking, and feeding, lying down, and ruminating. Perfect me, O Lord,
   and reveal them unto me. Behold, Thy voice is my joy, Thy voice
   surpasseth the abundance of pleasures. Give that which I love, for I do
   love; and this hast Thou given. Abandon not Thine own gifts, nor
   despise Thy grass that thirsteth. Let me confess unto Thee whatsoever I
   shall have found in Thy books, and let me hear the voice of praise, and
   let me imbibe Thee, and reflect on the wonderful things of Thy law;
   [1013] even from the beginning, wherein Thou madest the heaven and the
   earth, unto the everlasting kingdom of Thy holy city that is with Thee.

   4. Lord, have mercy on me and hear my desire. For I think that it is
   not of the earth, nor of gold and silver, and precious stones, nor
   gorgeous apparel, nor honours and powers, nor the pleasures of the
   flesh, nor necessaries for the body, and this life of our pilgrimage;
   all which are added to those that seek Thy kingdom and Thy
   righteousness. [1014] Behold, O Lord my God, whence is my desire. The
   unrighteous have told me of delights, but not such as Thy law, O Lord.
   [1015] Behold whence is my desire. Behold, Father, look and see, and
   approve; and let it be pleasing in the sight of Thy mercy, that I may
   find grace before Thee, that the secret things of Thy Word may be
   opened unto me when I knock. [1016] I beseech, by our Lord Jesus
   Christ, Thy Son, "the Man of Thy right hand, the Son of man, whom Thou
   madest strong for Thyself," [1017] as Thy Mediator and ours, through
   whom Thou hast sought us, although not seeking Thee, but didst seek us
   that we might seek Thee, [1018] --Thy Word through whom Thou hast made
   all things, [1019] and amongst them me also, Thy Only-begotten, through
   whom Thou hast called to adoption the believing people, and therein me
   also. I beseech Thee through Him, who sitteth at Thy right hand, and
   "maketh intercession for us," [1020] "in whom are hid all treasures of
   wisdom and knowledge." [1021] Him [1022] do I seek in Thy books. Of Him
   did Moses write; [1023] this saith Himself; this saith the Truth.
     __________________________________________________________________

   [1003] He very touchingly alludes in Serm. ccclv. 2 to the way in which
   he was forced against his will (as was frequently the custom in those
   days), first, to become a presbyter (A.D. 391), and, four years later,
   coadjutor to Valerius, Bishop of Hippo (Ep. xxxi. 4, and Ep. ccxiii.
   4), whom on his death he succeeded. His own wish was to establish a
   monastery, and to this end he sold his patrimony, "which consisted of
   only a few small fields" (Ep. cxxvi. 7). He absolutely dreaded to
   become a bishop, and as he knew his name was highly esteemed in the
   Church, he avoided cities in which the see was vacant. His former
   backsliding had made him humble; and he tells us in the sermon above
   referred to, "Cavebam hoc, et agebam quantam poteram, ut in loco humili
   salvarer ne in alto periclitarer." Augustin also alludes to his
   ordination in Ep. xxi., addressed to Bishop Valerius.

   [1004] "He alludes to the hour-glasses of his time, which went by
   water, as ours do now by sand."--W. W.

   [1005] Augustin, in common with other bishops, had his time much
   invaded by those who sought his arbitration or judicial decision in
   secular matters, and in his De Op. Monach. sec. 37, he says, what many
   who have much mental toil will readily appreciate, that he would rather
   have spent the time not occupied in prayer and the study of the
   Scriptures in working with his hands, as did the monks, than have to
   bear these tumultuosissimas perplexitates. In the year 426 we find him
   (Ep. ccxiii) designating Eraclius, in public assembly, as his successor
   in the see, and to relieve him (though, meanwhile, remaining a
   presbyter) of these anxious duties. See vi. sec. 15, and note 1, above;
   and also ibid. sec. 3.

   [1006] Ps. lxxxvi. 1.

   [1007] Rom. x. 12.

   [1008] Ex. vi. 12.

   [1009] Augustin is always careful to distinguish between the certain
   truths of faith and doctrine which all may know, and the mysteries of
   Scripture which all have not the ability equally to apprehend. "Among
   the things," he says (De Doctr. Christ. ii. 14), "that are plainly laid
   down in Scripture, are to be found all matters that concern faith, and
   the manner of life." As to the Scriptures that are obscure, he is slow
   to come to conclusions, lest he should "be deceived in them or deceive
   out of them." In his De Gen. ad Lit. i. 37, he gives a useful warning
   against forcing our own meaning on Scripture in doubtful questions,
   and, ibid. viii. 5, we have the memorable words: "Melius est dubitare
   de rebus occultis, quam litigare de incertis." For examples of how
   careful he is in such matters not to go beyond what is written, see his
   answer to the question raised by Evodius,--a question which reminds us
   of certain modern speculations (see The Unseen Universe, arts. 61, 201,
   etc.),--whether the soul on departing from the body has not still a
   body of some kind, and at least some of the senses proper to a body;
   and also (Ep. clxiv.) his endeavours to unravel Evodius' difficulties
   as to Christ's preaching to the spirits in prison (1 Pet. iii. 18-21).
   Similarly, he says, as to the Antichrist of 2 Thess. ii. 1-7 (De Civ.
   Dei, xx. 19): "I frankly confess I know not what he means. I will,
   nevertheless, mention such conjectures as I have heard or read." See
   notes, pp. 64 and 92, above.

   [1010] Ps. cxxx. 1.

   [1011] Ps. lxxiv. 16.

   [1012] Ps. xxix. 9. In his comment on this place as given in the Old
   Version, "vox Domini perficientis cervos," he makes the forest with its
   thick darkness to symbolize the mysteries of Scripture, where the harts
   ruminating thereon represent the pious Christian meditating on those
   mysteries (see vi. sec. 3, note, above). In this same passage he speaks
   of those who are thus being perfected as overcoming the poisoned
   tongues. This is an allusion to the fabled power the stags had of
   enticing serpents from their holes by their breath, and then destroying
   them. Augustin is very fond of this kind of fable from natural history.
   In his Enarr. in Ps. cxxix. and cxli., we have similar allusions to the
   supposed habits of stags; and, ibid. ci., we have the well-known fable
   of the pelican in its charity reviving its young, and feeding them with
   its own blood. This use of fables was very common with the mediæval
   writers, and those familiar with the writings of the sixteenth and
   seventeenth centuries will recall many illustrations of it amongst the
   preachers of those days.

   [1013] Ps. xxvi. 7.

   [1014] Matt. vi. 33.

   [1015] Ps. cxix. 85.

   [1016] See p. 48, note 5, above.

   [1017] Ps. lxxx. 17.

   [1018] See note 9, p. 74, above.

   [1019] John i. 3.

   [1020] Rom. viii. 34.

   [1021] Col. ii. 3.

   [1022] Many mss., however, read ipsos, and not ipsum.

   [1023] John v. 4-6.
     __________________________________________________________________

   Chapter III.--He Begins from the Creation of the World--Not
   Understanding the Hebrew Text.

   5. Let me hear and understand how in the beginning Thou didst make the
   heaven and the earth. [1024] Moses wrote this; he wrote and
   departed,--passed hence from Thee to Thee. Nor now is he before me; for
   if he were I would hold him, and ask him, and would adjure him by Thee
   that he would open unto me these things, and I would lend the ears of
   my body to the sounds bursting forth from his mouth. And should he
   speak in the Hebrew tongue, in vain would it beat on my senses, nor
   would aught touch my mind; but if in Latin, I should know what he said.
   But whence should I know whether he said what was true? But if I knew
   this even, should I know it from him? Verily within me, within in the
   chamber of my thought, Truth, neither Hebrew, [1025] nor Greek, nor
   Latin, nor barbarian, without the organs of voice and tongue, without
   the sound of syllables, would say, "He speaks the truth," and I,
   forthwith assured of it, confidently would say unto that man of Thine,
   "Thou speakest the truth." As, then, I cannot inquire of him, I beseech
   Thee,--Thee, O Truth, full of whom he spake truth,--Thee, my God, I
   beseech, forgive my sins; and do Thou, who didst give to that Thy
   servant to speak these things, grant to me also to understand them.
     __________________________________________________________________

   [1024] Gen. i. 1.

   [1025] Augustin was not singular amongst the early Fathers in not
   knowing Hebrew, for of the Greeks only Origen, and of the Latins
   Jerome, knew anything of it. We find him confessing his ignorance both
   here and elsewhere (Enarr. in Ps. cxxxvi. 7, and De Doctr. Christ. ii.
   22); and though he recommends a knowledge of Hebrew as well as Greek,
   to correct "the endless diversity of the Latin translators" (De Doctr.
   Christ. ii. 16); he speaks as strongly as does Grinfield, in his
   Apology for the Septuagint, in favour of the claims of that version to
   "biblical and canonical authority" (Eps. xxviii., lxxi., and lxxv.; De
   Civ. Dei, xviii. 42, 43; De Doctr. Christ. ii. 22). He discountenanced
   Jerome's new translation, probably from fear of giving offence, and, as
   we gather from Ep. lxxi. 5, not without cause. From the tumult he there
   describes as ensuing upon Jerome's version being read, the outcry would
   appear to have been as great as when, on the change of the old style of
   reckoning to the new, the ignorant mob clamoured to have back their
   eleven days!
     __________________________________________________________________

   Chapter IV.--Heaven and Earth Cry Out that They Have Been Created by
   God.

   6. Behold, the heaven and earth are; they proclaim that they were made,
   for they are changed and varied. Whereas whatsoever hath not been made,
   and yet hath being, hath nothing in it which there was not before; this
   is what it is to be changed and varied. They also proclaim that they
   made not themselves; "therefore we are, because we have been made; we
   were not therefore before we were, so that we could have made
   ourselves." And the voice of those that speak is in itself an evidence.
   Thou, therefore, Lord, didst make these things; Thou who art beautiful,
   for they are beautiful; Thou who art good, for they are good; Thou who
   art, for they are. Nor even so are they beautiful, nor good, nor are
   they, as Thou their Creator art; compared with whom they are neither
   beautiful, nor good, nor are at all. [1026] These things we know,
   thanks be to Thee. And our knowledge, compared with Thy knowledge, is
   ignorance.
     __________________________________________________________________

   [1026] It was the doctrine of Aristotle that excellence of character is
   the proper object of love, and in proportion as we recognise such
   excellence in others are we attracted to become like them (see
   Sidgwick's Methods of Ethics, book iv. c. 5, sec. 4). If this be true
   of the creature, how much more should it be so of the Creator, who is
   the perfection of all that we can conceive of goodness and truth.
   Compare De Trin. viii. 3-6, De Vera Relig. 57, and an extract from
   Athanese Coquerel in Archbishop Thomson's Bampton Lectures, note 73.
     __________________________________________________________________

   Chapter V.--God Created the World Not from Any Certain Matter, But in
   His Own Word.

   7. But how didst Thou make the heaven and the earth, and what was the
   instrument of Thy so mighty work? For it was not as a human worker
   fashioning body from body, according to the fancy of his mind, in
   somewise able to assign a form which it perceives in itself by its
   inner eye. [1027] And whence should he be able to do this, hadst not
   Thou made that mind? And he assigns to it already existing, and as it
   were having a being, a form, as clay, or stone, or wood, or gold, or
   such like. And whence should these things be, hadst not Thou appointed
   them? Thou didst make for the workman his body,--Thou the mind
   commanding the limbs,--Thou the matter whereof he makes anything,
   [1028] --Thou the capacity whereby he may apprehend his art, and see
   within what he may do without,--Thou the sense of his body, by which,
   as by an interpreter, he may from mind unto matter convey that which he
   doeth, and report to his mind what may have been done, that it within
   may consult the truth, presiding over itself, whether it be well done.
   All these things praise Thee, the Creator of all. But how dost Thou
   make them? How, O God, didst Thou make heaven and earth? Truly, neither
   in the heaven nor in the earth didst Thou make heaven and earth; nor in
   the air, nor in the waters, since 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 wherein it could be made before it was made,
   that it might be; nor didst Thou hold anything in Thy hand wherewith to
   make heaven and earth. For whence couldest Thou have what Thou hadst
   not made, whereof to make anything? For what is, save because Thou art?
   Therefore Thou didst speak and they were made, [1029] and in Thy Word
   Thou madest these things. [1030]
     __________________________________________________________________

   [1027] See x. sec 40, note 6, and sec. 53, above.

   [1028] That is, the artificer makes, God creates. The creation of
   matter is distinctively a doctrine of revelation. The ancient
   philosophers believed in the eternity of matter. As Lucretius puts it
   (i. 51): "Nullam rem e nihilo gigni divinitus unquam." See Burton,
   Bampton Lectures, lect. iii. and notes 18-21, and Mansel, Bampton
   Lectures, lect. iii. note 12. See also p. 76, note 8, above, for the
   Manichæan doctrine as to the hule; and The Unseen Universe, arts. 85,
   86, 151, and 160, for the modern doctrine of "continuity." See also
   Kalisch, Commentary on Gen. i. 1.

   [1029] Ps. xxxiii. 9.

   [1030] Ibid. ver. 6.
     __________________________________________________________________

   Chapter VI.--He Did Not, However, Create It by a Sounding and Passing
   Word.

   8. But how didst Thou speak? Was it in that manner in which the voice
   came from the cloud, saying, "This is my beloved Son"? [1031] For that
   voice was uttered and passed away, began and ended. The syllables
   sounded and passed by, the second after the first, the third after the
   second, and thence in order, until the last after the rest, and silence
   after the last. Hence it is clear and plain that the motion of a
   creature expressed it, itself temporal, obeying Thy Eternal will. And
   these thy words formed at the time, the outer ear conveyed to the
   intelligent mind, whose inner ear lay attentive to Thy eternal word.
   But it compared these words sounding in time with Thy eternal word in
   silence, and said, "It is different, very different. These words are
   far beneath me, nor are they, since they flee and pass away; but the
   Word of my Lord remaineth above me for ever." If, then, in sounding and
   fleeting words Thou didst say that heaven and earth should be made, and
   didst thus make heaven and earth, there was already a corporeal
   creature before heaven and earth by whose temporal motions that voice
   might take its course in time. But there was nothing corporeal before
   heaven and earth; or if there were, certainly Thou without a transitory
   voice hadst created that whence Thou wouldest make the passing voice,
   by which to say that the heaven and the earth should be made. For
   whatsoever that were of which such a voice was made, unless it were
   made by Thee, it could not be at all. By what word of Thine was it
   decreed that a body might be made, whereby these words might be made?
     __________________________________________________________________

   [1031] Matt. xvii. 5.
     __________________________________________________________________

   Chapter VII.--By His Co-Eternal Word He Speaks, and All Things are
   Done.

   9. Thou callest us, therefore, to understand the Word, God with Thee,
   God, [1032] which is spoken eternally, and by it are all things spoken
   eternally. For what was spoken was not finished, and another spoken
   until all were spoken; but all things at once and for ever. For
   otherwise have we time and change, and not a true eternity, nor a true
   immortality. This I know, O my God, and give thanks. I know, I confess
   to Thee, O Lord, and whosoever is not unthankful to certain truth,
   knows and blesses Thee with me. We know, O Lord, we know; since in
   proportion as anything is not what it was, and is what it was not, in
   that proportion does it die and arise. Not anything, therefore, of Thy
   Word giveth place and cometh into place again, because it is truly
   immortal and eternal. And, therefore, unto the Word co-eternal with
   Thee, Thou dost at once and for ever say all that Thou dost say; and
   whatever Thou sayest shall be made, is made; nor dost Thou make
   otherwise than by speaking; yet all things are not made both together
   and everlasting which Thou makest by speaking.
     __________________________________________________________________

   [1032] John i. 1.
     __________________________________________________________________

   Chapter VIII.--That Word Itself is the Beginning of All Things, in the
   Which We are Instructed as to Evangelical Truth.

   10. Why is this, I beseech Thee, O Lord my God? I see it, however; but
   how I shall express it, I know not, unless that everything which begins
   to be and ceases to be, then begins and ceases when in Thy eternal
   Reason it is known that it ought to begin or cease where nothing
   beginneth or ceaseth. The same is Thy Word, which is also "the
   Beginning," because also It speaketh unto us. [1033] 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 that it
   might be found in the eternal Truth, where the good and only Master
   teacheth all His disciples. There, O Lord, I hear Thy voice, the voice
   of one speaking unto me, since He speaketh unto us who teacheth us. But
   He that teacheth us not, although He speaketh, speaketh not to us.
   Moreover, who teacheth us, unless it be the immutable Truth? For even
   when we are admonished through a changeable creature, we are led to the
   Truth immutable. There we learn truly while we stand and hear Him, and
   rejoice greatly "because of the Bridegroom's voice," [1034] restoring
   us to that whence we are. And, therefore, the Beginning, because unless
   It remained, there would not, where we strayed, be whither to return.
   But when we return from error, it is by knowing that we return. But
   that we may know, He teacheth us, because He is the Beginning and
   speaketh unto us.
     __________________________________________________________________

   [1033] John viii. 25, Old Ver. Though some would read, Qui et loquitur,
   making it correspond to the Vulgate, instead of Quia et loquitur, as
   above, the latter is doubtless the correct reading, since we find the
   text similarly quoted in Ev. Joh. Tract. xxxviii. 11, where he enlarges
   on "The Beginning," comparing principium with arche. It will assist to
   the understanding of this section to refer to the early part of the
   note on p. 107, above, where the Platonic view of the Logos, as
   endiathetos and prophorikos, or in the "bosom of the Father" and "made
   flesh," is given; which terminology, as Dr. Newman tells us (Arians,
   pt. i. c. 2, sec. 4), was accepted by the Church. Augustin,
   consistently with this idea, says (on John viii. 25, as above): "For if
   the Beginning, as it is in itself, had remained so with the Father as
   not to receive the form of a servant and speak as man with men, how
   could they have believed in Him, since their weak hearts could not have
   heard the word intelligently without some voice that would appeal to
   their senses? Therefore, said He, believe me to be the Beginning; for
   that you may believe, I not only am, but also speak to you." Newman, as
   quoted above, may be referred to for the significance of arche as
   applied to the Son, and ibid. sec. 3, also, on the "Word." For the
   difference between a mere "voice" and the "Word," compare Aug. Serm.
   ccxciii. sec. 3, and Origen, In Joann. ii. 36.

   [1034] John iii. 29.
     __________________________________________________________________

   Chapter IX.--Wisdom and the Beginning.

   11. In this Beginning, O God, hast Thou made heaven and earth,--in Thy
   Word, in Thy Son, in Thy Power, in Thy Wisdom, in Thy Truth, wondrously
   speaking and wondrously making. Who shall comprehend? who shall relate
   it? What is that which shines through me, and strikes my heart without
   injury, and I both shudder and burn? I shudder inasmuch as I am unlike
   it; and I burn inasmuch as I am like it. It is Wisdom itself that
   shines through me, clearing my cloudiness, which again overwhelms me,
   fainting from it, in the darkness and amount of my punishment. For my
   strength is brought down in need, [1035] so that I cannot endure my
   blessings, until Thou, O Lord, who hast been gracious to all mine
   iniquities, heal also all mine infirmities; because Thou shalt also
   redeem my life from corruption, and crown me with Thy loving-kindness
   and mercy, and shalt satisfy my desire with good things, because my
   youth shall be renewed like the eagle's. [1036] For by hope we are
   saved; and through patience we await Thy promises. [1037] Let him that
   is able hear Thee discoursing within. I will with confidence cry out
   from Thy oracle, How wonderful are Thy works, O Lord, in Wisdom hast
   Thou made them all. [1038] And this Wisdom is the Beginning, and in
   that Beginning hast Thou made heaven and earth.
     __________________________________________________________________

   [1035] Ps. xxxi. 10.

   [1036] Ps. ciii. 3-5.

   [1037] Rom. viii. 24, 25.

   [1038] Ps. civ. 24.
     __________________________________________________________________

   Chapter X.--The Rashness of Those Who Inquire What God Did Before He
   Created Heaven and Earth.

   12. Lo, are they not full of their ancient way, who say to us, "What
   was God doing before He made heaven and earth? For if," say they, "He
   were unoccupied, and did nothing, why does He not for ever also, and
   from henceforth, cease from working, as in times past He did? For if
   any new motion has arisen in God, and a new will, to form a creature
   which He had never before formed, however can that be a true eternity
   where there ariseth a will which was not before? For the will of God is
   not a creature, but before the creature; because nothing could be
   created unless the will of the Creator were before it. The will of God,
   therefore, pertaineth to His very Substance. But if anything hath
   arisen in the Substance of God which was not before, that Substance is
   not truly called eternal. But if it was the eternal will of God that
   the creature should be, why was not the creature also from eternity?"
     __________________________________________________________________

   Chapter XI.--They Who Ask This Have Not as Yet Known the Eternity of
   God, Which is Exempt from the Relation of Time.

   13. Those who say these things do not as yet understand Thee, O Thou
   Wisdom of God, Thou light of souls; not as yet do they understand how
   these things be made which are made by and in Thee. They even endeavour
   to comprehend things eternal; but as yet their heart flieth about in
   the past and future motions of things, and is still wavering. Who shall
   hold it and fix it, that it may rest a little, and by degrees catch the
   glory of that everstanding eternity, and compare it with the times
   which never stand, and see that it is incomparable; and that a long
   time cannot become long, save from the many motions that pass by, which
   cannot at the same instant be prolonged; but that in the Eternal
   nothing passeth away, but that the whole is present; but no time is
   wholly present; and let him see that all time past is forced on by the
   future, and that all the future followeth from the past, and that all,
   both past and future, is created and issues from that which is always
   present? Who will hold the heart of man, that it may stand still, and
   see how the still-standing eternity, itself neither future nor past,
   uttereth the times future and past? Can my hand accomplish this, or the
   hand of my mouth by persuasion bring about a thing so great? [1039]
     __________________________________________________________________

   [1039] See note 12, p. 174, below.
     __________________________________________________________________

   Chapter XII.--What God Did Before the Creation of the World.

   14. Behold, I answer to him who asks, "What was God doing before He
   made heaven and earth?" I answer not, as a certain person is reported
   to have done facetiously (avoiding the pressure of the question), "He
   was preparing hell," saith he, "for those who pry into mysteries." It
   is one thing to perceive, another to laugh,--these things I answer not.
   For more willingly would I have answered, "I know not what I know not,"
   than that I should make him a laughing-stock who asketh deep things,
   and gain praise as one who answereth false things. But I say that Thou,
   our God, art the Creator of every creature; and if by the term "heaven
   and earth" every creature is understood, I boldly say, "That before God
   made heaven and earth, He made not anything. For if He did, what did He
   make unless the creature?" And would that I knew whatever I desire to
   know to my advantage, as I know that no creature was made before any
   creature was made.
     __________________________________________________________________

   Chapter XIII.--Before the Times Created by God, Times Were Not.

   15. But if the roving thought of any one should wander through the
   images of bygone time, and wonder that Thou, the God Almighty, and
   All-creating, and All-sustaining, the Architect of heaven and earth,
   didst for innumerable ages refrain from so great a work before Thou
   wouldst make it, let him awake and consider that he wonders at false
   things. For whence could innumerable ages pass by which Thou didst not
   make, since Thou art the Author and Creator of all ages? Or what times
   should those be which were not made by Thee? Or how should they pass by
   if they had not been? Since, therefore, Thou art the Creator of all
   times, if any time was before Thou madest heaven and earth, why is it
   said that Thou didst refrain from working? For that very time Thou
   madest, nor could times pass by before Thou madest times. But if before
   heaven and earth there was no time, why is it asked, What didst Thou
   then? For there was no "then" when time was not.

   16. Nor dost Thou by time precede time; else wouldest not Thou precede
   all times. But in the excellency of an ever-present eternity, Thou
   precedest all times past, and survivest all future times, because they
   are future, and when they have come they will be past; but "Thou art
   the same, and Thy years shall have no end." [1040] Thy years neither go
   nor come; but ours both go and come, that all may come. All Thy years
   stand at once since they do stand; nor were they when departing
   excluded by coming years, because they pass not away; but all these of
   ours shall be when all shall cease to be. Thy years are one day, and
   Thy day is not daily, but today; because Thy today yields not with
   tomorrow, for neither doth it follow yesterday. Thy today is eternity;
   therefore didst Thou beget the Co-eternal, to whom Thou saidst, "This
   day have I begotten Thee." [1041] Thou hast made all time; and before
   all times Thou art, nor in any time was there not time.
     __________________________________________________________________

   [1040] Ps. cii. 27.

   [1041] Ps. ii. 7, and Heb. v. 5.
     __________________________________________________________________

   Chapter XIV.--Neither Time Past Nor Future, But the Present Only,
   Really is.

   17. At no time, therefore, hadst Thou not made anything, because Thou
   hadst made time itself. And no times are co-eternal with Thee, because
   Thou remainest for ever; but should these continue, they would not be
   times. For what is time? Who can easily and briefly explain it? Who
   even in thought can comprehend it, even to the pronouncing of a word
   concerning it? But what in speaking do we refer to more familiarly and
   knowingly than time? And certainly we understand when we speak of it;
   we understand also when we hear it spoken of by another. What, then, is
   time? If no one ask of me, I know; if I wish to explain to him who
   asks, I know not. Yet I say with confidence, that I know that if
   nothing passed away, there would not be past time; and if nothing were
   coming, there would not be future time; and if nothing were, there
   would not be present time. Those two times, therefore, past and future,
   how are they, when even the past now is not; and the future is not as
   yet? But should the present be always present, and should it not pass
   into time past, time truly it could not be, but eternity. If, then,
   time present--if it be time--only comes into existence because it
   passes into time past, how do we say that even this is, whose cause of
   being is that it shall not be--namely, so that we cannot truly say that
   time is, unless because it tends not to be?
     __________________________________________________________________

   Chapter XV.--There is Only a Moment of Present Time.

   18. And yet we say that "time is long and time is short;" nor do we
   speak of this save of time past and future. A long time past, for
   example, we call a hundred years ago; in like manner a long time to
   come, a hundred years hence. But a short time past we call, say, ten
   days ago: 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. Therefore let us not say, "It is long;" but let us
   say of the past, "It hath been long," and of the future, "It will be
   long." O my Lord, my light, shall not even here Thy truth deride man?
   For that past time which was long, was it long when it was already
   past, or when it was as yet present? For then it might be long when
   there was that which could be long, but when past it no longer was;
   wherefore that could not be long which was not at all. Let us not,
   therefore, say, "Time past hath been long;" for we shall not find what
   may have been long, seeing that since it was past it is not; but let us
   say "that present time was long, because when it was present it was
   long." For it had not as yet passed away so as not to be, and therefore
   there was that which could be long. But after it passed, that ceased
   also to be long which ceased to be.

   19. Let us therefore see, O human soul, whether present time can be
   long; for to thee is it given to perceive and to measure periods of
   time. What wilt thou reply to me? Is a hundred years when present a
   long time? See, first, whether a hundred years can be present. For if
   the first year of these is current, that is present, but the other
   ninety and nine are future, and therefore they are not as yet. But if
   the second year is current, one is already past, the other present, the
   rest future. And thus, if we fix on any middle year of this hundred as
   present, those before it are past, those after it are future; wherefore
   a hundred years cannot be present. See at least whether that year
   itself which is current can be present. For if its first month be
   current, the rest are future; if the second, the first hath already
   passed, and the remainder are not yet. Therefore neither is the year
   which is current as a whole present; and if it is not present as a
   whole, then the year is not present. For twelve months make the year,
   of which each individual month which is current is itself present, but
   the rest are either past or future. Although neither is that month
   which is current present, but one day only: if the first, the rest
   being to come, if the last, the rest being past; if any of the middle,
   then between past and future.

   20. Behold, the present time, which alone we found could be called
   long, is abridged to the space scarcely of one day. But let us discuss
   even that, for there is not one day present as a whole. For it is made
   up of four-and-twenty hours of night and day, whereof the first hath
   the rest future, the last hath them past, but any one of the
   intervening hath those before it past, those after it future. And that
   one hour passeth away in fleeting particles. Whatever of it hath flown
   away is past, whatever remaineth is future. If any portion of time be
   conceived which cannot now be divided into even the minutest particles
   of moments, this only is that which may be called present; which,
   however, flies so rapidly from future to past, that it cannot be
   extended by any delay. For if it be extended, it is divided into the
   past and future; but the present hath no space. Where, therefore, is
   the time which we may call long? Is it nature? Indeed 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, then, will it be? For if even then, since as yet
   it is future, it will not be long, because what may be long is not as
   yet; but it shall be long, when from the future, which as yet is not,
   it shall already have begun to be, and will have become present, so
   that there could be that which may be long; then doth the present time
   cry out in the words above that it cannot be long.
     __________________________________________________________________

   Chapter XVI.--Time Can Only Be Perceived or Measured While It is
   Passing.

   21. And yet, O Lord, we perceive intervals of times, and we compare
   them with themselves, and we say some are longer, others shorter. We
   even measure by how much shorter or longer this time may be than that;
   and we answer, "That this is double or treble, while that is but once,
   or only as much as that." But we measure times passing when we measure
   them by perceiving them; but past times, which now are not, or future
   times, which as yet are not, who can measure them? Unless, perchance,
   any one will dare to say, that that can be measured which is not. When,
   therefore, time is passing, it can be perceived and measured; but when
   it has passed, it cannot, since it is not.
     __________________________________________________________________

   Chapter XVII.--Nevertheless There is Time Past and Future.

   2. I ask, Father, I do not affirm. O my God, rule and guide me. "Who is
   there who can say to me that there are not three times (as we learned
   when boys, and as we have taught boys), the past, present, and future,
   but only present, because these two are not? Or are they also; but when
   from future it becometh present, cometh it forth from some secret
   place, and when from the present it becometh past, doth it retire into
   anything secret? For where have they, who have foretold future things,
   seen these things, if as yet they are not? For that which is not cannot
   be seen. And they who relate things past could not relate them as true,
   did they not perceive them in their mind. Which things, if they were
   not, they could in no wise be discerned. There are therefore things
   both future and past.
     __________________________________________________________________

   Chapter XVIII.--Past and Future Times Cannot Be Thought of But as
   Present.

   23. Suffer me, O Lord, to seek further; O my Hope, let not my purpose
   be confounded. For if there are times past and future, I desire to know
   where they are. But if as yet I do not succeed, I still know, wherever
   they are, that they are not there as future or past, but as present.
   For if there also they be future, they are not as yet there; if even
   there they be past, they are no longer there. Wheresoever, therefore,
   they are, whatsoever they are, they are only so as present. Although
   past things are related as true, they are drawn out from the
   memory,--not the things themselves, which have passed, but the words
   conceived from the images of the things which they have formed in the
   mind as footprints in their passage through the senses. My childhood,
   indeed, which no longer is, is in time past, which now is not; but when
   I call to mind its image, and speak of it, I behold it in the present,
   because it is as yet in my memory. Whether there be a like cause of
   foretelling future things, that of things which as yet are not the
   images may be perceived as already existing, I confess, my God, I know
   not. This certainly I know, that we generally think before on our
   future actions, and that this premeditation is present; but that the
   action whereon we premeditate is not yet, because it is future; which
   when we shall have entered upon, and have begun to do that which we
   were premeditating, then shall that action be, because then it is not
   future, but present.

   24. In whatever manner, therefore, this secret preconception of future
   things may be, nothing can be seen, save what is. But what now is is
   not future, but present. When, therefore, they say that things future
   are seen, it is not themselves, which as yet are not (that is, which
   are future); but their causes or their signs perhaps are seen, the
   which already are. Therefore, to those already beholding them, they are
   not future, but present, from which future things conceived in the mind
   are foretold. Which conceptions again now are, and they who foretell
   those things behold these conceptions present before them. Let now so
   multitudinous a variety of things afford me some example. I behold
   daybreak; I foretell that the sun is about to rise. That which I behold
   is present; what I foretell is future,--not that the sun is future,
   which already is; but his rising, which is not yet. Yet even its rising
   I could not predict unless I had an image of it in my mind, as now I
   have while I speak. But that dawn which I see in the sky is not the
   rising of the sun, although it may go before it, nor that imagination
   in my mind; which two are seen as present, that the other which is
   future may be foretold. Future things, therefore, are not as yet; and
   if they are not as yet, they are not. And if they are not, they cannot
   be seen at all; but they can be foretold from things present which now
   are, and are seen.
     __________________________________________________________________

   Chapter XIX.--We are Ignorant in What Manner God Teaches Future Things.

   25. Thou, therefore, Ruler of Thy creatures, what is the method by
   which Thou teachest souls those things which are future? For Thou hast
   taught Thy prophets. What is that way by which Thou, to whom nothing is
   future, dost teach future things; or rather of future things dost teach
   present? For what is not, of a certainty cannot be taught. Too far is
   this way from my view; it is too mighty for me, I cannot attain unto
   it; [1042] but by Thee I shall be enabled, when Thou shalt have granted
   it, sweet light of my hidden eyes.
     __________________________________________________________________

   [1042] Ps. cxxxix. 6.
     __________________________________________________________________

   Chapter XX.--In What Manner Time May Properly Be Designated.

   26. But what now is manifest and clear is, that neither are there
   future nor past things. Nor is it fitly said, "There are three times,
   past, present and future;" but perchance it might be fitly said, "There
   are three times; a present of things past, a present of things present,
   and a present of things future." For these three do somehow exist in
   the soul, and otherwise I see them not: present of things past, memory;
   present of things present, sight; present of things future,
   expectation. If of these things we are permitted to speak, I see three
   times, and I grant there are three. It may also be said, "There are
   three times, past, present and future," as usage falsely has it. See, I
   trouble not, nor gainsay, nor reprove; provided always that which is
   said may be understood, that neither the future, nor that which is
   past, now is. For there are but few things which we speak properly,
   many things improperly; but what we may wish to say is understood.
     __________________________________________________________________

   Chapter XXI.--How Time May Be Measured.

   27. I have just now said, then, that we measure times as they pass,
   that we may be able to say that this time is twice as much as that one,
   or that this is only as much as that, and so of any other of the parts
   of time which we are able to tell by measuring. Wherefore, as I said,
   we measure times as they pass. And if any one should ask me, "Whence
   dost thou know?" I can answer, "I know, because we measure; nor can we
   measure things that are not; and things past and future are not." But
   how do we measure present time, since it hath not space? It is measured
   while it passeth; but when it shall have passed, it is not measured;
   for there will not be aught that can be measured. But whence, in what
   way, and whither doth it pass while it is being measured? Whence, but
   from the future? Which way, save through the present? Whither, but into
   the past? From that, therefore, which as yet is not, through that which
   hath no space, into that which now is not. But what do we measure,
   unless time in some space? For we say not single, and double, and
   triple, and equal, or in any other way in which we speak of time,
   unless with respect to the spaces of times. In what space, then, do we
   measure passing time? Is it in the future, whence it passeth over? But
   what yet we measure not, is not. Or is it in the present, by which it
   passeth? But no space, we do not measure. Or in the past, whither it
   passeth? But that which is not now, we measure not.
     __________________________________________________________________

   Chapter XXII.--He Prays God that He Would Explain This Most Entangled
   Enigma.

   28. My soul yearns to know this most entangled enigma. Forbear to shut
   up, O Lord my God, good Father,--through Christ I beseech
   Thee,--forbear to shut up these things, both usual and hidden, from my
   desire, that it may be hindered from penetrating them; but let them
   dawn through Thy enlightening mercy, O Lord. Of whom shall I inquire
   concerning these things? And to whom shall I with more advantage
   confess my ignorance than to Thee, to whom these my studies, so
   vehemently kindled towards Thy Scriptures, are not troublesome? Give
   that which I love; for I do love, and this hast Thou given me. Give,
   Father, who truly knowest to give good gifts unto Thy children. [1043]
   Give, since I have undertaken to know, and trouble is before me until
   Thou dost open it. [1044] Through Christ, I beseech Thee, in His name,
   Holy of Holies, let no man interrupt me. For I believed, and therefore
   do I speak. [1045] This is my hope; for this do I live, that I may
   contemplate the delights of the Lord. [1046] Behold, Thou hast made my
   days old, [1047] and they pass away, and in what manner I know not. And
   we speak as to time and time, times and times,--"How long is the time
   since he said this?" "How long the time since he did this?" and, "How
   long the time since I saw that?" and, "This syllable hath double the
   time of that single short syllable." These words we speak, and these we
   hear; and we are understood, and we understand. They are most manifest
   and most usual, and the same things again lie hid too deeply, and the
   discovery of them is new.
     __________________________________________________________________

   [1043] Matt. vii. 11.

   [1044] Ps. lxxiii. 16.

   [1045] Ps. cxvi. 10.

   [1046] Ps. xxvii. 4.

   [1047] Ps. xxxix. 5.
     __________________________________________________________________

   Chapter XXIII.--That Time is a Certain Extension.

   29. I have heard from a learned man that the motions of the sun, moon,
   and stars constituted time, and I assented not. [1048] For why should
   not rather the motions of all bodies be time? What if the lights of
   heaven should cease, and a potter's wheel run round, would there be no
   time by which we might measure those revolutions, and say either that
   it turned with equal pauses, or, if it were moved at one time more
   slowly, at another more quickly, that some revolutions were longer,
   others less so? Or while we were saying this, should we not also be
   speaking in time? Or should there in our words be some syllables long,
   others short, but because those sounded in a longer time, these in a
   shorter? God grant to men to see in a small thing ideas common to
   things great and small. Both the stars and luminaries of heaven are
   "for signs and for seasons, and for days and years." [1049] No doubt
   they are; but neither should I say that the circuit of that wooden
   wheel was a day, nor yet should he say that therefore there was no
   time.

   30. I desire to know the power and nature of time, by which we measure
   the motions of bodies, and say (for example) that this motion is twice
   as long as that. For, I ask, since "day" declares not the stay only of
   the sun upon the earth, according to which day is one thing, night
   another, but also its entire circuit from east even to east,--according
   to which we say, "So many days have passed" (the nights being included
   when we say "so many days," and their spaces not counted
   apart),--since, then, the day is finished by the motion of the sun, and
   by his circuit from east to east, I ask, whether the motion itself is
   the day, or the period in which that motion is completed, or both? For
   if the first be the day, then would there be a day although the sun
   should finish that course in so small a space of time as an hour. If
   the second, then that would not be a day if from one sunrise to another
   there were but so short a period as an hour, but the sun must go round
   four-and-twenty times to complete a day. If both, neither could that be
   called a day if the sun should run his entire round in the space of an
   hour; nor that, if, while the sun stood still, so much time should pass
   as the sun is accustomed to accomplish his whole course in from morning
   to morning. I shall not therefore now ask, what that is which is called
   day, but what time is, by which we, measuring the circuit of the sun,
   should say that it was accomplished in half the space of time it was
   wont, if it had been completed in so small a space as twelve hours; and
   comparing both times, we should call that single, this double time,
   although the sun should run his course 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 are times, because, when at the
   prayer of one the sun stood still in order that he might achieve his
   victorious battle, the sun stood still, but time went on. For in such
   space of time as was sufficient was that battle fought and ended.
   [1050] I see that time, then, is a certain extension. But do I see it,
   or do I seem to see it? Thou, O Light and Truth, wilt show me.
     __________________________________________________________________

   [1048] Compare Gillies (Analysis of Aristotle, c. 2, p. 138): "As our
   conception of space originates in that of body, and our conception of
   motion in that of space, so our conception of time originates in that
   of motion; and particularly in those regular and equable motions
   carried on in the heavens, the parts of which, from their perfect
   similarity to each other, are correct measures of the continuous and
   successive quantity called Time, with which they are conceived to
   co-exist. Time, therefore, may be defined the perceived number of
   successive movements; for, as number ascertains the greater or lesser
   quantity of things numbered, so time ascertains the greater or lesser
   quantity of motion performed." And with this accords Monboddo's
   definition of time (Ancient Metaphysics, vol. i. book 4, chap. i.), as
   "the measure of the duration of things that exist in succession by the
   motion of the heavenly bodies." See xii. sec. 40, and note, below.

   [1049] Gen. i. 14.

   [1050] Josh. x. 12-14.
     __________________________________________________________________

   Chapter XXIV.--That Time is Not a Motion of a Body Which We Measure by
   Time.

   31. Dost Thou command that I should assent, if any one should say that
   time is "the motion of a body?" Thou dost not command me. For I hear
   that no body is moved but in time. This Thou sayest; but that the very
   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 may be moving from the
   time in which it began to be moved till it left off. And if I saw not
   whence it began, and it continued to be moved, so that I see not when
   it leaves off, I cannot measure unless, perchance, from the time I
   began until I cease to see. But if I look long, I only proclaim that
   the time is long, but not how long it may be because when we say, "How
   long," we speak by comparison, as, "This is as long as that," or, "This
   is double as long as that," or any other thing of the kind. But if we
   were able to note down the distances of places whence and whither
   cometh the body which is moved, or its parts, if it moved as in a
   wheel, we can say in how much time the motion of the body or its part,
   from this place unto that, was performed. Since, then, the motion of a
   body is one thing, that by which we measure how long it is another, who
   cannot see which of these is rather to be called time? For, although a
   body be sometimes moved, sometimes stand still, we measure not its
   motion only, but also its standing still, by time; and we say, "It
   stood still as much as it moved;" or, "It stood still twice or thrice
   as long as it moved;" and if any other space which our measuring hath
   either determined or imagined, more or less, as we are accustomed to
   say. Time, therefore, is not the motion of a body.
     __________________________________________________________________

   Chapter XXV.--He Calls on God to Enlighten His Mind.

   32. And I confess unto Thee, O Lord, that I am as yet ignorant as to
   what time is, and again I confess unto Thee, O Lord, that I know that I
   speak these things in time, and that I have already long spoken of
   time, and that very "long" is not long save by the stay of time. How,
   then, know I this, when I know not what time is? Or is it, perchance,
   that I know not in what wise I may express what I know? Alas for me,
   that I do not at least know the extent of my own ignorance! Behold, O
   my God, before Thee I lie not. As I speak, so is my heart. Thou shalt
   light my candle; Thou, O Lord my God, wilt enlighten my darkness.
   [1051]
     __________________________________________________________________

   [1051] Ps. viii. 28.
     __________________________________________________________________

   Chapter XXVI.--We Measure Longer Events by Shorter in Time.

   33. Doth not my soul pour out unto Thee truly in confession that I do
   measure times? But do I thus measure, O my God, and know not what I
   measure? I measure the motion of a body by time; and the time itself do
   I not measure? But, in truth, could I measure the motion of a body, how
   long it is, and how long it is in coming from this place to that,
   unless I should measure the time in which it is moved? How, therefore,
   do I measure this very time itself? Or do we by a shorter time measure
   a longer, as by the space of a cubit the space of a crossbeam? For
   thus, 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. Thus we
   measure 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 of the
   feet by the spaces of the syllables, and the spaces of long by the
   spaces of short syllables; not measuring by pages (for in that manner
   we measure spaces, not times), but when in uttering the words they pass
   by, and we say, "It is a long stanza because it is made up of so many
   verses; long verses, because they consist of so many feet; long feet,
   because they are prolonged by so many syllables; a long syllable,
   because double a short one." But neither thus is any certain measure of
   time obtained; since it is possible that a shorter verse, if it be
   pronounced more fully, may take up more time than a longer one, if
   pronounced more hurriedly. Thus for a stanzas, thus for a foot, thus
   for a syllable. Whence it appeared to me that time is nothing else than
   protraction; but of what I know not. It is wonderful to me, if it be
   not of the mind itself. For what do I measure, I beseech Thee, O my
   God, even when I say either indefinitely, "This time is longer than
   that;" or even definitely, "This is double that?" That I measure time,
   I know. But I measure not the future, for it is not yet; nor do I
   measure the present, because it is extended by no space; nor do I
   measure the past, because it no longer is. What, therefore, do I
   measure? Is it times passing, not past? For thus had I said.
     __________________________________________________________________

   Chapter XXVII.--Times are Measured in Proportion as They Pass by.

   34. Persevere, O my mind, and give earnest heed. od is our helper; He
   made us, and not we ourselves. [1052] Give heed, where truth dawns. Lo,
   suppose the voice of a body begins to sound, and does sound, and sounds
   on, and lo! it ceases,--it is now silence, and that voice is past and
   is no longer a voice. It was future before it sounded, and could not be
   measured, because as yet it was not; and now it cannot, because it no
   longer is. Then, therefore, while it was sounding, it might, because
   there was then that which might be measured. But even then it did not
   stand still, for it was going and passing away. Could it, then, on that
   account be measured the more? For, while passing, it was being extended
   into some space of time, in which it might be measured, since the
   present hath no space. If, therefore, then it might be measured, lo!
   suppose another voice hath begun to sound, and still soundeth, in a
   continued tenor without any interruption, we can measure it while it is
   sounding; for when it shall have ceased to sound, it will be already
   past, and there will not be that which can be measured. Let us measure
   it truly, and let us say how much it is. But as yet it sounds, nor can
   it be measured, save from that instant in which it began to sound, even
   to the end in which it left off. For the interval itself we measure
   from some beginning unto some end. On which account, a voice which is
   not yet ended cannot be measured, so that it may be said how long or
   how short it may be; nor can it be said to be equal to another, or
   single or double in respect of it, or the like. But when it is ended,
   it no longer is. In what manner, therefore, may it be measured? And yet
   we measure times; still not those which as yet are not, nor those which
   no longer are, nor those which are protracted by some delay, nor those
   which have no limits. We, therefore, measure neither future times, nor
   past, nor present, nor those passing by; and yet we do measure times.

   35. Deus Creator omnium; this verse of eight syllables alternates
   between short and long syllables. The four short, then, the first,
   third, fifth and seventh, are single in respect of the four long, the
   second, fourth, sixth, and eighth. Each of these hath a double time to
   every one of those. I pronounce them, report on them, and thus it is,
   as is perceived by common sense. By common sense, then, I measure a
   long by a short syllable, and I find that it has twice as much. But
   when one sounds after another, if the former be short the latter long,
   how shall I hold the short one, and how measuring shall I apply it to
   the long, so that I may find out that this has twice as much, when
   indeed the long does not begin to sound unless the short leaves off
   sounding? That very long one I measure not as present, since I measure
   it not save when ended. But its ending is its passing away. What, then,
   is it that I can measure? Where is the short syllable by which I
   measure? Where is the long one which I measure? Both have sounded, have
   flown, have passed away, and are no longer; and still I measure, and I
   confidently answer (so far as is trusted to a practised sense), that as
   to space of time this syllable is single, that double. Nor could I do
   this, unless because they have past, and are ended. Therefore do I not
   measure themselves, which now are not, but something in my memory,
   which remains fixed.

   36. In thee, O my mind, I measure times. [1053] Do not overwhelm me
   with thy clamour. That is, do not overwhelm thyself with the multitude
   of thy impressions. In thee, I say, I measure times; the impression
   which things as they pass by make on thee, and which, when they have
   passed by, remains, that I measure as time present, not those things
   which have passed by, that the impression should be made. This I
   measure when I measure times. Either, then, these are times, or I do
   not measure times. What when we measure silence, and say that this
   silence hath lasted as long as that voice lasts? Do we not extend our
   thought to the measure of a voice, as if it sounded, so that we may be
   able to declare something concerning the intervals of silence in a
   given space of time? For when both the voice and tongue are still, we
   go over in thought poems and verses, and any discourse, or dimensions
   of motions; and declare concerning the spaces of times, how much this
   may be in respect of that, not otherwise than if uttering them we
   should pronounce them. Should any one wish to utter a lengthened sound,
   and had with forethought determined how long it should be, that man
   hath in silence verily gone through a space of time, and, committing it
   to memory, he begins to utter that speech, which sounds until it be
   extended to the end proposed; truly it hath sounded, and will sound.
   For what of it is already finished hath verily sounded, but what
   remains will sound; and thus does it pass on, until the present
   intention carry over the future into the past; the past increasing by
   the diminution of the future, until, by the consumption of the future,
   all be past.
     __________________________________________________________________

   [1052] Ps. c. 3.

   [1053] With the argument in this and the previous sections, compare Dr.
   Reid's remarks in his Intellectual Powers, iii. 5: "We may measure
   duration by the succession of thoughts in the mind, as we measure
   length by inches or feet, but the notion or idea of duration must be
   antecedent to the mensuration of it, as the notion of length is
   antecedent to its being measured....Reason, from the contemplation of
   finite extended things, leads us necessarily to the belief of an
   immensity that contains them. In like manner, memory gives us the
   conception and belief of finite intervals of duration. From the
   contemplation of these, reason leads us necessarily to the belief of an
   eternity, which comprehends all things that have a beginning and an
   end." The student will with advantage examine a monograph on this
   subject by C. Fortlage, entitled, Aurelii Augustini doctrina de tempore
   ex libro xi. Confessionum depromta, Aristotelicæ, Kantianæ, aliarumque
   theoriarium recensione aucta, et congruis hodiernæ philosophiæ ideis
   amplificata (Heidelbergæ, 1836). He says that amongst all the
   philosophers none have so nearly approached truth as Augustin.
     __________________________________________________________________

   Chapter XXVIII.--Time in the Human Mind, Which Expects, Considers, and
   Remembers.

   37. But how is that future diminished or consumed which as yet is not?
   Or how doth the past, which is no longer, increase, unless in the mind
   which enacteth this there are three things done? For it both expects,
   and considers, and remembers, that that which it expecteth, through
   that which it considereth, may pass into that which it remembereth.
   Who, therefore, denieth that future things as yet are not? But yet
   there is already in the mind the expectation of things future. And who
   denies that past things are now no longer? But, however, there is still
   in the mind the memory of things past. And who denies that time present
   wants space, because it passeth away in a moment? But yet our
   consideration endureth, through which that which may be present may
   proceed to become absent. Future time, which is not, is not therefore
   long; but a "long future" is "a long expectation of the future." Nor is
   time past, which is now no longer, long; but a long past is "a long
   memory of the past."

   38. I am about to repeat a psalm that I know. Before I begin, my
   attention is extended to the whole; but when I have begun, as much of
   it as becomes past by my saying it is extended in my memory; and the
   life of this action of mine is divided between my memory, on account of
   what I have repeated, and my expectation, on account of what I am about
   to repeat; yet my consideration is present with me, through which that
   which was future may be carried over so that it may become past. Which
   the more it is done and repeated, by so much (expectation being
   shortened) the memory is enlarged, until the whole expectation be
   exhausted, when that whole action being ended shall have passed into
   memory. And what takes place in the entire psalm, takes place also in
   each individual part of it, and in each individual syllable: this holds
   in the longer action, of which that psalm is perchance a portion; the
   same holds in the whole life of man, of which all the actions of man
   are parts; the same holds in the whole age of the sons of men, of which
   all the lives of men are parts.
     __________________________________________________________________

   Chapter XXIX.--That Human Life is a Distraction But that Through the
   Mercy of God He Was Intent on the Prize of His Heavenly Calling.

   39. But "because Thy loving-kindness is better than life," [1054]
   behold, my life is but a distraction, [1055] and Thy right hand upheld
   me [1056] in my Lord, the Son of man, the Mediator between Thee, [1057]
   The One, and us the many,--in many distractions amid many things,--that
   through Him I may apprehend in whom I have been apprehended, and may be
   recollected from my old days, following The One, forgetting the things
   that are past; and not distracted, but drawn on, [1058] not to those
   things which shall be and shall pass away, but to those things which
   are before, [1059] not distractedly, but intently, I follow on for the
   prize of my heavenly calling, [1060] where I may hear the voice of Thy
   praise, and contemplate Thy delights, [1061] neither coming nor passing
   away. But now are my years spent in mourning. [1062] And Thou, O Lord,
   art my comfort, my Father everlasting. But I have been divided amid
   times, the order of which I know not; and my thoughts, even the inmost
   bowels of my soul, are mangled with tumultuous varieties, until I flow
   together unto Thee, purged and molten in the fire of Thy love. [1063]
     __________________________________________________________________

   [1054] Ps. lxiii. 3.

   [1055] Distentio. It will be observed that there is a play on the word
   throughout the section.

   [1056] Ps. lxiii. 8.

   [1057] 1 Tim. ii. 5.

   [1058] Non distentus sed extentus. So in Serm. cclv. 6, we have: "Unum
   nos extendat, ne multa distendant, et abrumpant ab uno."

   [1059] Phil. iii. 13.

   [1060] Phil. iii. 14. Many wish to attain the prize who never earnestly
   pursue it. And it may be said here in view of the subject of this book,
   that there is no stranger delusion than that which possesses the idle
   and the worldly as to the influence of time in ameliorating their
   condition. They have "good intentions," and hope that time in the
   future may do for them what it has not in the past. But in truth, time
   merely affords an opportunity for energy and life to work. To quote
   that lucid and nervous thinker, Bishop Copleston (Remains, p. 123):
   "One of the commonest errors is to regard time as agent. But in reality
   time does nothing and is nothing. We use it as a compendious expression
   for all those causes which operate slowly and imperceptibly; but,
   unless some positive cause is in action, no change takes place in the
   lapse of one thousand years; e. g., a drop of water encased in a cavity
   of silex."

   [1061] Ps. xxvi. 7.

   [1062] Ps. xxvii. 4.

   [1063] Ps. xxxi. 10.
     __________________________________________________________________

   Chapter XXX.--Again He Refutes the Empty Question, "What Did God Before
   the Creation of the World?"

   40. And I will be immoveable, and fixed 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 hold, and say, "What did God make before
   He made heaven and earth?" Or, "How came it into His mind to make
   anything, when He never before made anything?" Grant to them, O Lord,
   to think well what they say, and to see that where there is no time,
   they cannot say "never." What, therefore, He is said "never to have
   made," what else is it but to say, that in no time was it made? Let
   them therefore see that there could be no time without a created being,
   [1064] and let them cease to speak that vanity. Let them also be
   extended unto those things which are before, [1065] and understand that
   thou, the eternal Creator of all times, art before all times, and that
   no times are co-eternal with Thee, nor any creature, even if there be
   any creature beyond all times.
     __________________________________________________________________

   [1064] He argues similarly in his De Civ. Dei, xi. 6: "That the world
   and time had but one beginning."

   [1065] Phil. iii. 13.
     __________________________________________________________________

   Chapter XXXI.--How the Knowledge of God Differs from that of Man.

   41. O Lord my God, what is that secret place of Thy mystery, and how
   far thence have the consequences of my transgressions cast me? Heal my
   eyes, that I may enjoy Thy light. Surely, if there be a mind, so
   greatly abounding in knowledge and foreknowledge, to which all things
   past and future are so known as one psalm is well known to me, that
   mind is exceedingly wonderful, and very astonishing; because whatever
   is so past, and whatever is to come of after ages, is no more concealed
   from Him than was it hidden from me when singing that psalm, what and
   how much of it had been sung from the beginning, what and how much
   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 know all things future and past. Far, far more wonderfully,
   and far more mysteriously, Thou knowest them. [1066] For it is not as
   the feelings of one singing known things, or hearing a known song,
   are--through expectation of future words, and in remembrance of those
   that are past--varied, and his senses divided, that anything happeneth
   unto Thee, unchangeably eternal, that is, the truly eternal [1067]
   Creator of minds. As, then, Thou in the Beginning knewest the heaven
   and the earth without any change of Thy knowledge, so in the Beginning
   didst Thou make heaven and earth without any distraction of Thy action.
   [1068] Let him who understandeth confess unto Thee; and let him who
   understandeth not, confess unto Thee. Oh, how exalted art Thou, and yet
   the humble in heart are Thy dwelling-place; for Thou raisest up those
   that are bowed down, [1069] and they whose exaltation Thou art fall
   not.

   ------------------------
     __________________________________________________________________

   [1066] Dean Mansel's argument, in his Bampton Lectures, as to our
   knowledge of the Infinite, is well worthy of consideration. He refers
   to Augustin's views on the subject of this book in note 13 to his third
   lecture, and in the text itself says: "The limited character of all
   existence which can be conceived as having a continuous duration, or as
   made up of successive moments, is so far manifest that it has been
   assumed almost as an axiom, by philosophical theologians, that in the
   existence of God there is no distinction between past, present, and
   future. In the changes of things,' say Augustin, there is a past and a
   future; in God there is a present, in which neither past nor future can
   be.' Eternity,' says Beethius, is the perfect possession of
   interminable life, and of all that life at once;' and Aquinas,
   accepting the definition, adds, Eternity has no succession, but exists
   all together.' But whether this assertion be literally true or not (and
   this we have no means of ascertaining), it is clear that such a mode of
   existence is altogether inconceivable by us, and that the words in
   which it is described represent not thought, but the refusal to think
   at all." See notes to xiii. 12, below.

   [1067] "With God, indeed, all things are arranged and fixed; and when
   He seemeth to act upon sudden motive, He doth nothing but what He
   foreknew that He should do from eternity" (Aug. in Ps. cvi. 35). With
   this passage may well be compared Dean Mansel's remarks (Bampton
   Lectures, lect. vi., and notes 23-25) on the doctrine, that the world
   is but a machine and is not under the continual government and
   direction of God. See also note 4, on p. 80 and note 2 on p. 136,
   above.

   [1068] See p. 166, note 2.

   [1069] Ps. cxlvi. 8.
     __________________________________________________________________
     __________________________________________________________________

   Book XII.

   ------------------------

   He continues his explanation of the first Chapter of Genesis according
   to the Septuagint, and by its assistance he argues, especially,
   concerning the double heaven, and the formless matter out of which the
   whole world may have been created; afterwards of the interpretations of
   others not disallowed, and sets forth at great length the sense of the
   Holy Scripture.

   ------------------------
     __________________________________________________________________

   Chapter I .--The Discovery of Truth is Difficult, But God Has Promised
   that He Who Seeks Shall Find.

   1. My heart, O Lord, affected by the words of Thy Holy Scripture, is
   much busied in this poverty of my life; and therefore, for the most
   part, is the want of human intelligence copious in language, because
   inquiry speaks more than discovery, and because demanding is longer
   than obtaining, and the hand that knocks is more active than the hand
   that receives. We hold the promise; who shall break it? "If God be for
   us, who can be against us?" [1070] "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 it shall be opened." [1071] These are Thine own promises; and
   who need fear to be deceived where the Truth promiseth?
     __________________________________________________________________

   [1070] Rom. viii. 31.

   [1071] Matt. vii. 7, 8.
     __________________________________________________________________

   Chapter II.--Of the Double Heaven,--The Visible, and the Heaven of
   Heavens.

   2. The weakness of my tongue confesseth unto Thy Highness, seeing that
   Thou madest heaven and earth. This heaven which I see, and this earth
   upon which I tread (from which is this earth that I carry about me),
   Thou hast made. But where is that heaven of heavens, [1072] O Lord, of
   which we hear 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? [1073]
   Where is the heaven, which we behold not, in comparison of which all
   this, which we behold, is earth? For this corporeal whole, not as a
   whole everywhere, hath thus received its beautiful figure in these
   lower parts, of which the bottom is our earth; but compared with that
   heaven of heavens, even the heaven of our earth is but earth; yea, each
   of these great bodies is not absurdly called earth, as compared with
   that, I know not what manner of heaven, which is the Lord's, not the
   sons' of men.
     __________________________________________________________________

   [1072] That is, not the atmosphere which surrounds the earth, as when
   we say, "the birds of heaven" (Jer. iv. 25), "the dew of heaven" (Gen.
   xxvii. 28); nor that "firmament of heaven" (Gen. i. 17) in which the
   stars have their courses; nor both these together; but that "third
   heaven" to which Paul was "caught up" (2 Cor. xii. 1) in his rapture,
   and where God most manifests His glory, and the angels do Him homage.

   [1073] Ps. cxv. 16, after the LXX., Vulgate, and Syriac.
     __________________________________________________________________

   Chapter III.--Of the Darkness Upon the Deep, and of the Invisible and
   Formless Earth.

   3. And truly this earth was invisible and formless, [1074] and there
   was I know not what profundity of the deep upon which there was no
   light, [1075] because it had no form. Therefore didst Thou command that
   it should be written, that darkness was upon the face of the deep; what
   else was it than the absence of light? [1076] For had there been light,
   where should it have been save by being above all, showing itself
   aloft, and enlightening? Darkness therefore was upon it, because the
   light above was absent; as silence is there present where sound is not.
   And what is it to have silence there, but not to have sound there? Hast
   not Thou, O Lord, taught this soul which confesseth unto Thee? Hast not
   Thou taught me, O Lord, that before Thou didst form and separate this
   formless matter, there was nothing, neither colour, nor figure, nor
   body, nor spirit? Yet not altogether nothing; there was a certain
   formlessness without any shape.
     __________________________________________________________________

   [1074] Gen. i. 2, as rendered by the Old Ver. from the LXX.: aoratos
   kai akataskeuastos. Kalisch in his Commentary translates thv vvhv:
   "dreariness and emptiness."

   [1075] The reader should keep in mind in reading what follows the
   Manichæan doctrine as to the kingdom of light and darkness. See notes,
   pp. 68 and 103, above.

   [1076] Compare De Civ. Dei, xi. 9, 10.
     __________________________________________________________________

   Chapter IV.--From the Formlessness of Matter, the Beautiful World Has
   Arisen.

   4. What, then, should it be called, that even in some ways it might be
   conveyed to those of duller mind, save by some conventional word? But
   what, in all parts of the world, can be found nearer to a total
   formlessness than the earth and the deep? For, from their being of the
   lowest position, they are less beautiful than are the other higher
   parts, all transparent and shining. Why, therefore, may I not consider
   the formlessness of matter--which Thou hadst created without shape,
   whereof to make this shapely world--to be fittingly intimated unto men
   by the name of earth invisible and formless?
     __________________________________________________________________

   Chapter V.--What May Have Been the Form of Matter.

   5. So that when herein thought seeketh what the sense may arrive at,
   and saith to itself, "It is no intelligible form, such as life or
   justice, because it is the matter of bodies; nor perceptible by the
   senses, because in the invisible and formless there is nothing which
   can be seen and felt;--while human thought saith these things to
   itself, it may endeavour either to know it by being ignorant, or by
   knowing it to be ignorant.
     __________________________________________________________________

   Chapter VI.--He Confesses that at One Time He Himself Thought
   Erroneously of Matter.

   6. But were I, O Lord, by my mouth and by my pen to confess unto Thee
   the whole, whatever Thou hast taught me concerning that matter, the
   name of which hearing beforehand, and not understanding (they who could
   not understand it telling me of it), I conceived [1077] it as having
   innumerable and varied forms. And therefore did I not conceive it; my
   mind revolved in disturbed order foul and horrible "forms," but yet
   "forms;" and I called it formless, not that it lacked form, but because
   it had such as, did it appear, my mind would turn from, as unwonted and
   incongruous, and at which human weakness would be disturbed. But even
   that which I did conceive was formless, not by the privation of all
   form, but in comparison of more beautiful forms; and true reason
   persuaded me that I ought altogether to remove from it all remnants of
   any form whatever, if I wished to conceive matter wholly without form;
   and I could not. For sooner could I imagine that that which should be
   deprived of all form was not at all, than conceive anything between
   form and nothing,--neither formed, nor nothing, formless, nearly
   nothing. And my mind hence ceased to question my spirit, filled (as it
   was) with the images of formed bodies, and changing and varying them
   according to its will; and I applied myself to the bodies themselves,
   and looked more deeply into their mutability, by which they cease to be
   what they had been, and begin to be what they were not; and this same
   transit from form unto form I have looked upon to be through some
   formless condition, not through a very nothing; but I desired to know,
   not to guess. And if my voice and my pen should confess the whole unto
   Thee, whatsoever knots Thou hast untied for me concerning this
   question, who of my readers would endure to take in the whole? Nor yet,
   therefore, shall my heart cease to give Thee honour, and a song of
   praise, for those things which it is not able to express. For the
   mutability of mutable things is itself capable of all those forms into
   which mutable things are changed. And this mutability, what is it? Is
   it soul? Is it body? Is it the outer appearance of soul or body? Could
   it be said, "Nothing were something," and "That which is, is not," I
   would say that this were it; and yet in some manner was it already,
   since it could receive these visible and compound shapes.
     __________________________________________________________________

   [1077] See iii. sec. 11, and p. 103, note, above.
     __________________________________________________________________

   Chapter VII.--Out of Nothing God Made Heaven and Earth.

   7. And whence and in what manner was this, unless from Thee, from whom
   are all things, in so far as they are? But by how much the farther from
   Thee, so much the more unlike unto Thee; for it is not distance of
   place. Thou, therefore, O Lord, who art not one thing in one place, and
   otherwise in another, but the Self-same, and the Self-same, and the
   Self-same, [1078] Holy, Holy, Holy, Lord God Almighty, didst in the
   beginning, [1079] which is of Thee, in Thy Wisdom, which was born of
   Thy Substance, create something, and that out of nothing. [1080] For
   Thou didst create heaven and earth, not out of Thyself, for then they
   would be equal to Thine Only-begotten, and thereby even to Thee; [1081]
   and in no wise would it be right that anything should be equal to Thee
   which was not of Thee. And aught else except Thee there was not whence
   Thou mightest create these things, O God, One Trinity, and Trine Unity;
   and, therefore, out of nothing didst Thou create heaven and earth,--a
   great thing and a small, because Thou art Almighty and Good, to make
   all things good, even the great heaven and the small earth. Thou wast,
   and there was nought else from which Thou didst create heaven and
   earth; two such things, one near unto Thee, the other near to nothing,
   [1082] --one to which Thou shouldest be superior, the other to which
   nothing should be inferior.
     __________________________________________________________________

   [1078] See ix. sec. 11, above.

   [1079] See p. 166, note, above.

   [1080] See p. 165, note 2, above.

   [1081] In the beginning of sec. 10, book xi. of his De Civ. Dei, he
   similarly argues that the world was, not like the Son, "begotten of the
   simple good," but "created." See also note 8, p. 76, above.

   [1082] "Because at the first creation, it had no form nor thing in
   it."--W. W.
     __________________________________________________________________

   Chapter VIII.--Heaven and Earth Were Made "In the Beginning;"
   Afterwards the World, During Six Days, from Shapeless Matter.

   8. But that heaven of heavens was for Thee, O Lord; but the earth,
   which Thou hast given to the sons of men, [1083] to be seen and
   touched, was not such as now we see and touch. For it was invisible and
   "without form," [1084] and there was a deep over which there was not
   light; or, darkness was over the deep, that is, more than in the deep.
   For this deep of waters, now visible, has, even in its depths, a light
   suitable to its nature, perceptible in some manner unto fishes and
   creeping things in the bottom of it. But the entire deep was almost
   nothing, since hitherto it was altogether formless; yet there was then
   that which could be formed. For Thou, O Lord, hast made the world of a
   formless matter, which matter, out of nothing, Thou hast made almost
   nothing, out of which 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 second day after the creation
   of light, Thou saidst, Let it be made, and it was made. [1085] Which
   firmament Thou calledst heaven, that is, the heaven of this earth and
   sea, which Thou madest on the third day, by giving a visible shape to
   the formless matter which Thou madest before all days. For even already
   hadst Thou made a heaven before all days, but that was the heaven of
   this heaven; because in the beginning Thou hadst made heaven and earth.
   But the earth itself which Thou hadst made was formless matter, because
   it was invisible and without form, and darkness was upon the deep. Of
   which invisible and formless earth, of which formlessness, of which
   almost nothing, Thou mightest make all these things of which this
   changeable world consists, and yet consisteth not; whose very
   changeableness appears in this, that times can be observed and numbered
   in it. Because times are made by the changes of things, while the
   shapes, whose matter is the invisible earth aforesaid, are varied and
   turned.
     __________________________________________________________________

   [1083] Ps. cxv. 16.

   [1084] Gen. i. 2.

   [1085] Gen. i. 6-8.
     __________________________________________________________________

   Chapter IX.--That the Heaven of Heavens Was an Intellectual Creature,
   But that the Earth Was Invisible and Formless Before the Days that It
   Was Made.

   9. And therefore the Spirit, the Teacher of Thy servant [1086] when He
   relates that Thou didst in the Beginning create heaven and earth, is
   silent as to times, silent as to days. For, doubtless, that heaven of
   heavens, which Thou in the Beginning didst create, is some intellectual
   creature, which, although in no wise co-eternal unto Thee, the Trinity,
   is yet a partaker of Thy eternity, and by reason of the sweetness of
   that most happy contemplation of Thyself, doth greatly restrain its own
   mutability, and without any failure, from the time in which it was
   created, in clinging unto Thee, surpasses all the rolling change of
   times. But this shapelessness--this earth invisible and without
   form--has not itself been numbered among the days. For where there is
   no shape nor order, nothing either cometh or goeth; and where this is
   not, there certainly are no days, nor any vicissitude of spaces of
   times.
     __________________________________________________________________

   [1086] Of Moses.
     __________________________________________________________________

   Chapter X.--He Begs of God that He May Live in the True Light, and May
   Be Instructed as to the Mysteries of the Sacred Books.

   10. Oh, let Truth, the light of my heart, [1087] not my own darkness,
   speak unto me! I have descended to that, and am darkened. But thence,
   even thence, did I love Thee. I went astray, and remembered Thee. I
   heard Thy voice behind me bidding me return, and scarcely did I hear it
   for the tumults of the unquiet ones. And now, behold, I return burning
   and panting after Thy fountain. Let no one prohibit me; of this will I
   drink, and so have life. Let me not be my own life; from myself have I
   badly lived,--death was I unto myself; in Thee do I revive. Do Thou
   speak unto me; do Thou discourse unto me. In Thy books have I believed,
   and their words are very deep. [1088]
     __________________________________________________________________

   [1087] See note 2, p. 76, above.

   [1088] As Gregory the Great has it, Revelation is a river broad and
   deep, "In quo et agnus ambulet, et elephas natet." And these deep
   things of God are to be learned only by patient searching. We must,
   says St. Chrysostom (De Prec. serm. ii.), dive down into the sea as
   those who would fetch up pearls from its depths. The very
   mysteriousness of Scripture is, doubtless, intended by God to stimulate
   us to search the Scriptures, and to strengthen our spiritual insight
   (Enar. in Ps. cxlvi. 6). See also, p. 48, note 5; p. 164, note 2,
   above; and the notes on pp. 370, 371, below.
     __________________________________________________________________

   Chapter XI.--What May Be Discovered to Him by God.

   11. Already hast Thou told me, O Lord, with a strong voice, in my inner
   ear, that Thou art eternal, having alone immortality. [1089] Since Thou
   art not changed by any shape or motion, nor is Thy will altered by
   times, because no will which changes is immortal. This in Thy sight is
   clear to me, and let it become more and more clear, I beseech Thee; and
   in that manifestation let me abide more soberly under Thy wings.
   Likewise hast Thou said to me, O Lord, with a strong voice, in my inner
   ear, that Thou hast made all natures and substances, which are not what
   Thou Thyself art, and yet they are; and that only is not from Thee
   which is not, and the motion of the will from Thee who art, to that
   which in a less degree is, because such motion is guilt and sin; [1090]
   and that no one's sin doth either hurt Thee, or disturb the order of
   Thy rule, [1091] either first or last. This, in Thy sight, is clear to
   me and let it become more and more clear, I beseech Thee; and in that
   manifestation let me abide more soberly under Thy wings.

   12. Likewise hast Thou said to me, with a strong voice, in my inner
   ear, that that creature, whose will Thou alone art, is not co-eternal
   unto Thee, and which, with a most persevering purity [1092] drawing its
   support from Thee, doth, in place and at no time, put forth its own
   mutability; [1093] and Thyself being ever present with it, unto whom
   with its entire affection it holds itself, having no future to expect
   nor conveying into the past what it remembereth, is varied by no
   change, nor extended into any times. [1094] O blessed one,--if any such
   there be,--in clinging unto Thy Blessedness; blest in Thee, its
   everlasting Inhabitant and its Enlightener! Nor do I find what the
   heaven of heavens, which is the Lord's, can be better called than Thine
   house, which contemplateth Thy delight without any defection of going
   forth to another; a pure mind, most peacefully one, by that stability
   of peace of holy spirits, [1095] the citizens of Thy city "in the
   heavenly places," above these heavenly places which are seen. [1096]

   13. Whence the soul, whose wandering has been made far away, may
   understand, if now she thirsts for Thee, if now her tears have become
   bread to her, while it is daily said unto her "Where is thy God?"
   [1097] if she now seeketh of Thee one thing, and desireth that she may
   dwell in Thy house all the days of her life. [1098] And what is her
   life but Thee? And what are Thy days but Thy eternity, as Thy years
   which fail not, because Thou art the same? Hence, therefore, can the
   soul, which is able, understand how far beyond all times Thou art
   eternal; when Thy house, which has not wandered from Thee, although it
   be not co-eternal with Thee, yet by continually and unfailingly
   clinging unto Thee, suffers no vicissitude of times. This in Thy sight
   is clear unto me, and may it become more and more clear unto me, I
   beseech Thee; and in this manifestation may I abide more soberly under
   Thy wings.

   14. Behold, I know not what shapelessness there is in those changes of
   these last and lowest creatures. And who shall tell me, unless it be
   some one who, through the emptiness of his own heart, wanders and is
   staggered by his own fancies? Who, unless such a one, would tell me
   that (all figure being diminished and consumed), if the formlessness
   only remain, through which the thing was changed and was turned from
   one figure into another, that that can exhibit the changes of times?
   For surely it could not be, because without the change of motions times
   are not, and there is no change where there is no figure.
     __________________________________________________________________

   [1089] 1 Tim. vi. 16.

   [1090] For Augustin's view of evil as a "privation of good," see p. 64,
   note 1, above, and with it compare vii. sec. 22, above; Con. Secundin.
   c. 12; and De Lib. Arb. ii. 53. Parker, in his Theism, Atheism, etc. p.
   119, contends that God Himself must in some way be the author of evil,
   and a similar view is maintained by Schleiermacher, Christliche Glaube,
   sec. 80.

   [1091] See ii. sec. 13, and v. sec. 2, notes 4, 9, above.

   [1092] See iv. sec. 3, and note 1, above.

   [1093] See sec. 19, below.

   [1094] See xi. sec. 38, above, and sec. 18, below.

   [1095] See xiii. sec. 50, below.

   [1096] Eph. i. 20, etc.

   [1097] Ps. xlii. 2, 3, 10.

   [1098] Ps. xxvii. 4.
     __________________________________________________________________

   Chapter XII.--From the Formless Earth God Created Another Heaven and a
   Visible and Formed Earth.

   15. Which things considered as much as Thou givest, O my God, as much
   as Thou excitest me to "knock," and as much as Thou openest unto me
   when I knock, [1099] two things I find which Thou hast made, not within
   the compass of time, since neither is co-eternal with Thee. One, which
   is so formed that, without any failing of contemplation, without any
   interval of change, although changeable, yet not changed, it may fully
   enjoy Thy eternity and unchangeableness; the other, which was so
   formless, that it had not that by which it could be changed from one
   form into another, either of motion or of repose, whereby it might be
   subject unto time. But this Thou didst not leave to be formless, since
   before all days, in the beginning Thou createdst heaven and
   earth,--these two things of which I spoke. But the earth was invisible
   and without form, and darkness was upon the deep. [1100] By which words
   its shapelessness is conveyed unto us, that by degrees those minds may
   be drawn on which cannot wholly conceive the privation of all form
   without coming to nothing,--whence another heaven might be created, and
   another earth visible and well-formed, and water beautifully ordered,
   and whatever besides is, in the formation of this world, recorded to
   have been, not without days, created; because such things are so that
   in them the vicissitudes of times may take place, on account of the
   appointed changes of motions and of forms. [1101]
     __________________________________________________________________

   [1099] Matt. vii. 7.

   [1100] Gen. i. 2.

   [1101] See end of sec. 40, below.
     __________________________________________________________________

   Chapter XIII.--Of the Intellectual Heaven and Formless Earth, Out of
   Which, on Another Day, the Firmament Was Formed.

   16. Meanwhile I conceive this, O my God, when I hear Thy Scripture
   speak, saying, In the beginning God made heaven and earth; but the
   earth was invisible and without form, and darkness was upon the deep,
   and not stating on what day Thou didst create these things. Thus,
   meanwhile, do I conceive, that it is on account of that heaven of
   heavens, that intellectual heaven, where to understand is to know all
   at once,--not "in part," not "darkly," not "through a glass," [1102]
   but as a whole, in manifestation, "face to face;" not this thing now,
   that anon, but (as has been said) to know at once without any change of
   times; and on account of the invisible and formless earth, without any
   change of times; which change is wont to have "this thing now, that
   anon," because, where there is no form there can be no distinction
   between "this" or "that;"--it is, then, on account of these two,--a
   primitively formed, and a wholly formless; the one heaven, but the
   heaven of heavens, the other earth, but the earth invisible and
   formless;--on account of these two do I meanwhile conceive that Thy
   Scripture said without mention of days, "In the beginning God created
   the heaven and the earth." For immediately it added of what earth it
   spake. And when on the second day the firmament is recorded to have
   been created, and called heaven, it suggests to us of which heaven He
   spake before without mention of days.
     __________________________________________________________________

   [1102] 1 Cor. xiii. 12.
     __________________________________________________________________

   Chapter XIV.--Of the Depth of the Sacred Scripture, and Its Enemies.

   17. Wonderful is the depth of Thy oracles, whose surface is before us,
   inviting the little ones; and yet wonderful is the depth, O my God,
   wonderful is the depth. [1103] It is awe to look into it; and awe of
   honour, and a tremor of love. The enemies thereof I hate vehemently.
   [1104] Oh, if Thou wouldest slay them with Thy two-edged sword, [1105]
   that they be not its enemies! For thus do I love, that they should be
   slain unto themselves that they may live unto Thee. But behold others
   not reprovers, but praisers of the book of Genesis,--"The Spirit of
   God," say they, "Who by His servant Moses wrote these things, willed
   not that these words should be thus understood. He willed not that it
   should be understood as Thou sayest, but as we say." Unto whom, O God
   of us all, Thyself being Judge, do I thus answer.
     __________________________________________________________________

   [1103] See p. 112, note 2, and p. 178, note 2, above. See also Trench,
   Hulsean Lectures (1845), lect. 6, "The Inexhaustibility of Scripture."

   [1104] Ps. cxxxix. 21.

   [1105] Ps. cxlix. 6. He refers to the Manichæans (see p. 71, note l).
   In his comment on this place, he interprets the "two-edged sword" to
   mean the Old and New Testament, called two-edged, he says, because it
   speaks of things temporal and eternal.
     __________________________________________________________________

   Chapter XV.--He Argues Against Adversaries Concerning the Heaven of
   Heavens.

   18. "Will you say that these things are false, which, with a strong
   voice, Truth tells me in my inner ear, concerning the very eternity of
   the Creator, that His substance is in no wise changed by time, nor that
   His will is separate from His substance? Wherefore, He willeth not one
   thing now, another anon, but once and for ever He willeth all things
   that He willeth; not again and again, nor now this, now that; nor
   willeth afterwards what He willeth not before, nor willeth not what
   before He willed. Because such a will is mutable and no mutable thing
   is eternal; but our God is eternal. [1106] Likewise He tells me, tells
   me in my inner ear, that the expectation of future things is turned to
   sight when they have come; and this same sight is turned to memory when
   they have passed. Moreover, all thought which is thus varied is
   mutable, and nothing mutable is eternal; but our God is eternal." These
   things I sum up and put together, and I find that my God, the eternal
   God, hath not made any creature by any new will, nor that His knowledge
   suffereth anything transitory.

   19. What, therefore, will ye say, ye objectors? Are these things false?
   "No," they say. "What is this? Is it false, then, that every nature
   already formed, or matter formable, is only from Him who is supremely
   good, because He is supreme? . . . . Neither do we deny this," say
   they. "What then? Do you deny this, that there is a certain sublime
   creature, clinging with so chaste a love with the true and truly
   eternal God, that although it be not co-eternal with Him, yet it
   separateth itself not from Him, nor floweth into any variety and
   vicissitude of times, but resteth in the truest contemplation of Him
   only?" Since Thou, O God, showest Thyself unto him, and sufficest him,
   who loveth Thee as much as Thou commandest, and, therefore, he
   declineth not from Thee, nor toward himself. [1107] This is the house
   of God, [1108] not earthly, nor of any celestial bulk corporeal, but a
   spiritual house and a partaker of Thy eternity, because without blemish
   for ever. For Thou hast made it fast for ever and ever; Thou hast given
   it a law, which it shall not pass. [1109] Nor yet is it co-eternal with
   Thee, O God, because not without beginning, for it was made.

   20. For although we find no time before it, for wisdom was created
   before all things, [1110] --not certainly that Wisdom manifestly
   co-eternal and equal 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 truly that wisdom which has been created, namely,
   the intellectual nature, [1111] which, in the contemplation of light,
   is light. For this, although created, is also called wisdom. But as
   great as is the difference between the Light which enlighteneth and
   that which is enlightened, [1112] so great is the difference between
   the Wisdom that createth and that which hath been created; as between
   the Righteousness which justifieth, and the righteousness which has
   been made by justification. For we also are called Thy righteousness;
   for thus saith a certain servant of Thine: "That we might be made the
   righteousness of God in Him." [1113] 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, [1114] and "eternal in the heavens" [1115] (in what heavens,
   unless in those that praise Thee, the "heaven of heavens," [1116]
   because this also is the "heaven of heavens," which is the
   Lord's)--although we find not time before it, because that which hath
   been created before all things also precedeth the creature of time, yet
   is the Eternity of the Creator Himself before it, from Whom, having
   been created, it took the beginning, although not of time,--for time as
   yet was not,--yet of its own very nature.

   21. Hence comes it so to be of Thee, our God, as to be manifestly
   another than Thou, and not the Self-same. [1117] Since, although we
   find time not only not before it, but not in it (it being proper ever
   to behold Thy face, nor is ever turned aside from it, wherefore it
   happens that it is varied by no change), yet is there in it that
   mutability itself whence it would become dark and cold, but that,
   clinging unto Thee with sublime love, it shineth and gloweth from Thee
   like a perpetual noon. O house, full of light and splendour! I have
   loved thy beauty, and the place of the habitation of the glory of my
   Lord, [1118] thy builder and owner. Let my wandering sigh after thee;
   and I speak unto Him that made thee, that He may possess me also in
   thee, seeing He hath made me likewise. "I have gone astray, like a lost
   sheep;" [1119] yet upon the shoulders of my Sheperd, [1120] thy
   builder, I hope that I may be brought back to thee.

   22. "What say ye to me, O ye objectors whom I was addressing, and who
   yet believe that Moses was the holy servant of God, and that his books
   were the oracles of the Holy Ghost? Is not this house of God, not
   indeed co-eternal with God, yet, according to its measure, eternal in
   the heavens, [1121] where in vain you seek for changes of times,
   because you will not find them? For that surpasseth all extension, and
   every revolving space of time, to which it is ever good to cleave fast
   to God." [1122] "It is," say they. "What, therefore, of those things
   which my heart cried out unto my God, when within it heard the voice of
   His praise, what then do you contend is false? Or is it because the
   matter was formless, wherein, as there was no form, there was no order?
   But where there was no order there could not be any change of times;
   and yet this almost nothing,' inasmuch as it was not altogether
   nothing, was verily from Him, from Whom is whatever is, in what state
   soever anything is." "This also," say they, "we do not deny."
     __________________________________________________________________

   [1106] See xi. sec. 41, above.

   [1107] In his De Vera Relig. c. 13, he says: "We must confess that the
   angels are in their nature mutable as God is Immutable. Yet by that
   will with which they love God more than themselves, they remain firm
   and staple in Him, and enjoy His majesty, being most willingly subject
   to Him alone."

   [1108] In his Con. Adv. Leg. et Proph. i. 2, he speaks of all who are
   holy, whether angels or men, as being God's dwelling-place.

   [1109] Ps. cxlviii. 6.

   [1110] Ecclus. i. 4.

   [1111] "Pet. Lombard. lib. sent. 2, dist. 2, affirms that by Wisdom,
   Ecclus. i. 4, the angels be understood, the whole spiritual
   intellectual nature; namely, this highest heaven, in which the angels
   were created, and it by them instantly filled."--W. W.

   [1112] On God as the Father of Lights, see p. 76, note 2. In addition
   to the references there given, compare in Ev. Joh. Tract. ii. sec. 7;
   xiv. secs. 1, 2; and xxxv. sec. 3. See also p. 373, note, below.

   [1113] 2 Cor. v. 21.

   [1114] Gal. iv. 26.

   [1115] 2 Cor. v. 1.

   [1116] Ps. cxlviii. 4.

   [1117] Against the Manichæans. See iv. sec. 26, and part 2 of note on
   p. 76, above.

   [1118] Ps. xxvi. 8.

   [1119] Ps. cxix. 176.

   [1120] Luke xv. 5.

   [1121] 2 Cor. v. l.

   [1122] Ps. lxxiii. 28.
     __________________________________________________________________

   Chapter XVI.--He Wishes to Have No Intercourse with Those Who Deny
   Divine Truth.

   23. With such as grant that all these things which Thy truth indicates
   to my mind are true, I desire to confer a little before Thee, O my God.
   For let those who deny these things bark and drown their own voices
   with their clamour as much as they please; I will endeavour to persuade
   them to be quiet, and to suffer Thy word to reach them. But should they
   be unwilling, and should they repel me, I beseech, O my God, that Thou
   "be not silent to me." [1123] Do Thou speak truly in my heart, for Thou
   only so speakest, and I will send them away blowing upon the dust from
   without, and raising it up into their own eyes; and will myself enter
   into my chamber, [1124] and sing there unto Thee songs of
   love,--groaning with groaning unutterable [1125] in my pilgrimage, and
   remembering Jerusalem, with heart raised up towards it, [1126]
   Jerusalem my country, Jerusalem my mother, and Thyself, the Ruler over
   it, the Enlightener, the Father, the Guardian, the Husband, the chaste
   and strong delight, the solid joy, and all good things ineffable, even
   all at the same time, because the one supreme and true Good. And I will
   not be turned away until Thou collect all that I am, from this
   dispersion [1127] and deformity, into the peace of that very dear
   mother, where are the first-fruits of my spirit, [1128] whence these
   things are assured to me, and Thou conform and confirm it for ever, my
   God, my Mercy. But with reference to those who say not that all these
   things which are true and false, who honour Thy Holy Scripture set
   forth by holy Moses, placing it, as with us, on the summit of an
   authority [1129] to be followed, and yet who contradict us in some
   particulars, I thus speak: Be Thou, O our God, judge between my
   confessions and their contradictions.
     __________________________________________________________________

   [1123] Ps. xxviii. 1.

   [1124] Isa. xxvi. 20.

   [1125] Rom. viii. 26.

   [1126] Baxter has a noteworthy passage on our heavenly citizenship in
   his Saints' Rest: "As Moses, before he died, went up into Mount Nebo,
   to take a survey of the land of Canaan, so the Christian ascends the
   Mount of Contemplation, and by faith surveys his rest....As Daniel in
   his captivity daily opened his window towards Jerusalem, though far out
   of sight, when he went to God in his devotions, so may the believing
   soul, in this captivity of the flesh, look towards Jerusalem which is
   above' (Gal. iv. 26). And as Paul was to the Colossians (ii. 5) so may
   the believer be with the glorified spirits, though absent in the
   flesh,' yet with them in the spirit,' joying and beholding their
   heavenly order.' And as the lark sweetly sings while she soars on high,
   but is suddenly silenced when she falls to the earth, so is the frame
   of the soul most delightful and divine while it keeps in the views of
   God by contemplation. Alas, we make there too short a stay, fall down
   again, and lay by our music!" (Fawcett's Ed. p. 327).

   [1127] See ii. sec. 1; ix. sec. 10; x. sec. 40, note; ibid. sec. 65;
   and xi. sec. 39, above.

   [1128] See ix. sec. 24, above; and xiii. sec. 13, below.

   [1129] See p. 118, note 12, above.
     __________________________________________________________________

   Chapter XVII.--He Mentions Five Explanations of the Words of Genesis I.
   I.

   24. For they say, "Although these things be true, yet Moses regarded
   not those two things, when by divine revelation he said, In the
   beginning God created the heaven and the earth.' [1130] Under the name
   of heaven he did not indicate that spiritual or intellectual creature
   which always beholds the face of God; nor under the name of earth, that
   shapeless matter." "What then?" "That man," say they, "meant as we say;
   this it is that he declared by those words." "What is that?" "By the
   name of heaven and earth," say they, "did he first wish to set forth,
   universally and briefly, all this visible world, that afterwards by the
   enumeration of the days he might distribute, as if in detail, all those
   things which it pleased the Holy Spirit thus to reveal. For such men
   were that rude and carnal people to which he spoke, that he judged it
   prudent that only those works of God as were visible should be
   entrusted to them." They agree, however, that the earth invisible and
   formless, and the darksome deep (out of which it is subsequently
   pointed out that all these visible things, which are known to all, were
   made and set in order during those "days"), may not unsuitably be
   understood of this formless matter.

   25. What, now, if another should say "That this same formlessness and
   confusion of matter was first introduced under the name of heaven and
   earth, because out of it this visible world, with all those natures
   which most manifestly appear in it, and which is wont to be called by
   the name of heaven and earth, was created and perfected"? But what if
   another should say, that "That invisible and visible nature is not
   inaptly called heaven and earth; and that consequently the universal
   creation, which God in His wisdom hath made,--that is, in the
   begining,'--was comprehended under these two words. Yet, since all
   things have been made, not of the substance of God, but out of nothing
   [1131] (because they are not that same thing that God is, and there is
   in them all a certain mutability, whether they remain, as doth the
   eternal house of God, or be changed, as are the soul and body of man),
   therefore, that the common matter of all things invisible and
   visible,--as yet shapeless, but still capable of form,--out of which
   was to be created heaven and earth (that is, the invisible and visible
   creature already formed), was spoken of by the same names by which the
   earth invisible and formless and the darkness upon the deep would be
   called; with this difference, however, that the earth invisible and
   formless is understood as corporeal matter, before it had any manner of
   form, but the darkness upon the deep as spiritual matter, before it was
   restrained at all of its unlimited fluidity, and before the
   enlightening of wisdom."

   26. Should any man wish, he may still say, "That the already perfected
   and formed natures, invisible and visible, are not signified under the
   name of heaven and earth when it is read, In the beginning God created
   the heaven and the earth;' but that the yet same formless beginning of
   things, the matter capable of being formed and made, was called by
   these names, because contained in it there were these confused things
   not as yet distinguished by their qualities and forms, the which now
   being digested in their own orders, are called heaven and earth, the
   former being the spiritual, the latter the corporeal creature."
     __________________________________________________________________

   [1130] Gen. i. 1.

   [1131] See p. 165, note 4, above.
     __________________________________________________________________

   Chapter XVIII.--What Error is Harmless in Sacred Scripture.

   27. All which things having been heard and considered, I am unwilling
   to contend about words, [1132] for that is profitable to nothing but to
   the subverting of the hearers. [1133] But the law is good to edify, if
   a man use it lawfully; [1134] for the end of it "is charity out of a
   pure heart, and of a good conscience, and of faith unfeigned." [1135]
   And well did our Master know, upon which two commandments He hung all
   the Law and the Prophets. [1136] And what doth it hinder me, O my God,
   Thou light of my eyes in secret, while ardently confessing these
   things,--since by these words many things may be understood, all of
   which are yet true,--what, I say, doth it hinder me, should I think
   otherwise of what the writer thought than some other man thinketh?
   Indeed, all of us who read endeavour to trace out and to understand
   that which he whom we read wished to convey; and as we believe him to
   speak truly, we dare not suppose that he has spoken anything which we
   either know or suppose to be false. Since, therefore, each person
   endeavours to understand in the Holy Scriptures that which 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 that he also understood a Truth, not,
   however, this Truth?
     __________________________________________________________________

   [1132] See p. 164, note 2, above.

   [1133] 2 Tim. ii. 14.

   [1134] 1 Tim. i. 8.

   [1135] Ibid. ver. 5.

   [1136] Matt. xxii. 40. For he says in his Con. Faust. xvii. 6,
   remarking on John i. 17, a text which he often quotes in this
   connection: "The law itself by being fulfilled becomes grace and truth.
   Grace is the fulfilment of love." And so in ibid. xix. 27 we read:
   "From the words, I came not to destroy the law but to fulfil it,' we
   are not to understand that Christ by His precepts filled up what was
   wanting in the law; but what the literal command failed in doing from
   the pride and disobedience of men is accomplished by grace....So, the
   apostle says, faith worketh by love.'" So, again, we read in Serm.
   cxxv.: "Quia venit dare caritatem, et caritas perficit legem; merito
   dixit non veni legem solvere sed implere." And hence in his letter to
   Jerome (Ep. clxvii. 19), he speaks of the "royal law" as being "the law
   of liberty, which is the law of love." See p. 348, note 4, above.
     __________________________________________________________________

   Ch