The Confessions of St. Augustine
nature of truth and of the chief good to consist; but in this division
I miserably imagined there to be some unknown substance of irrational
life, and the nature of the chief evil, which should not only be a
substance, but real life also, and yet not derived from Thee, O my God,
of whom are all things. And yet that first I called a Monad, as it had
been a soul without sex; but the latter a Duad;--anger, in deeds of
violence, and in flagitiousness, lust; not knowing whereof I spake. For
I had not known or learned that neither was evil a substance, nor our
soul that chief and unchangeable good.
For as deeds of violence arise, if that emotion of the soul be
corrupted, whence vehement action springs, stirring itself insolently
and unrulily; and lusts, when that affection of the soul is ungoverned,
whereby carnal pleasures are drunk in, so do errors and false opinions
defile the conversation, if the reasonable soul itself be corrupted; as
it was then in me, who knew not that it must be enlightened by another
light, that it may be partaker of truth, seeing itself is not that
nature of truth. For Thou shalt light my candle, O Lord my God, Thou
shalt enlighten my darkness: and of Thy fulness have we all received,
for Thou art the true light that lighteth every man that cometh into the
world; for in Thee there is no variableness, neither shadow of change.
But I pressed towards Thee, and was thrust from Thee, that I might taste
of death: for thou resistest the proud. But what prouder, than for me
with a strange madness to maintain myself to be that by nature which
Thou art? For whereas I was subject to change (so much being manifest
to me, my very desire to become wise, being the wish, of worse to become
better), yet chose I rather to imagine Thee subject to change, and
myself not to be that which Thou art. Therefore I was repelled by Thee,
and Thou resistedst my vain stiffneckedness, and I imagined corporeal
forms, and, myself flesh, I accused flesh; and, a wind that passeth
away, I returned not to Thee, but I passed on and on to things which
have no being, neither in Thee, nor in me, nor in the body. Neither were
they created for me by Thy truth, but by my vanity devised out of
things corporeal. And I was wont to ask Thy faithful little ones, my
fellow-citizens (from whom, unknown to myself, I stood exiled), I was
wont, prating and foolishly, to ask them, "Why then doth the soul err
which God created?" But I would not be asked, "Why then doth God
err?" And I maintained that Thy unchangeable substance did err upon
constraint, rather than confess that my changeable substance had gone
astray voluntarily, and now, in punishment, lay in error.
I was then some six or seven and twenty years old when I wrote those
volumes; revolving within me corporeal fictions, buzzing in the ears
of my heart, which I turned, O sweet truth, to thy inward melody,
meditating on the "fair and fit," and longing to stand and hearken to
Thee, and to rejoice greatly at the Bridegroom's voice, but could not;
for by the voices of mine own errors, I was hurried abroad, and through
the weight of my own pride, I was sinking into the lowest pit. For Thou
didst not make me to hear joy and gladness, nor did the bones exult
which were not yet humbled.
And what did it profit me, that scarce twenty years old, a book of
Aristotle, which they call the ten Predicaments, falling into my hands
(on whose very name I hung, as on something great and divine, so often
as my rhetoric master of Carthage, and others, accounted learned,
mouthed it with cheeks bursting with pride), I read and understood it
unaided? And on my conferring with others, who said that they scarcely
understood it with very able tutors, not only orally explaining it, but
drawing many things in sand, they could tell me no more of it than I had
learned, reading it by myself. And the book appeared to me to speak very
clearly of substances, such as "man," and of their qualities, as the
figure of a man, of what sort it is; and stature, how many feet high;
and his relationship, whose brother he is; or where placed; or when
born; or whether he stands or sits; or be shod or armed; or does, or
suffers anything; and all the innumerable things which might be ranged
under these nine Predicaments, of which I have given some specimens, or
under that chief Predicament of Substance.
What did all this further me, seeing it even hindered me? when,
imagining whatever was, was comprehended under those ten Predicaments,
I essayed in such wise to understand, O my God, Thy wonderful and
unchangeable Unity also, as if Thou also hadst been subjected to Thine
own greatness or beauty; so that (as in bodies) they should exist in
Thee, as their subject: whereas Thou Thyself art Thy greatness and
beauty; but a body is not great or fair in that it is a body, seeing
that, though it were less great or fair, it should notwithstanding be
a body. But it was falsehood which of Thee I conceived, not truth,
fictions of my misery, not the realities of Thy blessedness. For Thou
hadst commanded, and it was done in me, that the earth should bring
forth briars and thorns to me, and that in the sweat of my brows I
should eat my bread.
And what did it profit me, that all the books I could procure of the
so-called liberal arts, I, the vile slave of vile affections, read by
myself, and understood? And I delighted in them, but knew not whence
came all, that therein was true or certain. For I had my back to the
light, and my face to the things enlightened; whence my face, with which
I discerned the things enlightened, itself was not enlightened.
Whatever was written, either on rhetoric, or logic, geometry, music,
and arithmetic, by myself without much difficulty or any instructor,
I understood, Thou knowest, O Lord my God; because both quickness of
understanding, and acuteness in discerning, is Thy gift: yet did I not
thence sacrifice to Thee. So then it served not to my use, but rather
to my perdition, since I went about to get so good a portion of my
substance into my own keeping; and I kept not my strength for Thee, but
wandered from Thee into a far country, to spend it upon harlotries. For
what profited me good abilities, not employed to good uses? For I felt
not that those arts were attained with great difficulty, even by the
studious and talented, until I attempted to explain them to such; when
he most excelled in them who followed me not altogether slowly.
But what did this further me, imagining that Thou, O Lord God, the
Truth, wert a vast and bright body, and I a fragment of that body?
Perverseness too great! But such was I. Nor do I blush, O my God, to
confess to Thee Thy mercies towards me, and to call upon Thee, who
blushed not then to profess to men my blasphemies, and to bark against
Thee. What profited me then my nimble wit in those sciences and all
those most knotty volumes, unravelled by me, without aid from human
instruction; seeing I erred so foully, and with such sacrilegious
shamefulness, in the doctrine of piety? Or what hindrance was a far
slower wit to Thy little ones, since they departed not far from Thee,
that in the nest of Thy Church they might securely be 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; protect us, and carry
us. Thou wilt carry us both when little, and even to hoar hairs wilt
Thou carry us; for our firmness, when it is Thou, then is it firmness;
but when our own, it is infirmity. Our good ever lives with Thee;
from which when we turn away, we are turned aside. Let us now, O Lord,
return, that we may not be overturned, because with Thee our good lives
without any decay, which good art Thou; nor need we fear, lest there
be no place whither to return, because we fell from it: for through our
absence, our mansion fell not--Thy eternity.
BOOK V
Accept the sacrifice of my confessions from the ministry of my tongue,
which Thou hast formed and stirred up to confess unto Thy name. Heal
Thou all my bones, and let them say, O Lord, who is like unto Thee? For
he who confesses to Thee doth not teach Thee what takes place within
him; seeing a closed heart closes not out Thy eye, nor can man's
hard-heartedness thrust back Thy hand: for Thou dissolvest it at Thy
will in pity or in vengeance, and nothing can hide itself from Thy heat.
But let my soul praise Thee, that it may love Thee; and let it confess
Thy own mercies to Thee, that it may praise Thee. Thy whole creation
ceaseth not, nor is silent in Thy praises; neither the spirit of man
with voice directed unto Thee, nor creation animate or inanimate, by the
voice of those who meditate thereon: that so our souls may from their
weariness arise towards Thee, leaning on those things which Thou hast
created, and passing on to Thyself, who madest them wonderfully; and
there is refreshment and true strength.
Let the restless, the godless, depart and flee from Thee; yet Thou seest
them, and dividest the darkness. And behold, the universe with them is
fair, though they are foul. And how have they injured Thee? or how have
they disgraced Thy government, which, from the heaven to this lowest
earth, is just and perfect? For whither fled they, when they fled from
Thy presence? or where dost not Thou find them? But they fled, that they
might not see Thee seeing them, and, blinded, might stumble against Thee
(because Thou forsakest nothing Thou hast made); that the unjust, I say,
might stumble upon Thee, and justly be hurt; withdrawing themselves from
thy gentleness, and stumbling at Thy uprightness, and falling upon their
own ruggedness. Ignorant, in truth, that Thou art every where, Whom no
place encompasseth! and Thou alone art near, even to those that remove
far from Thee. Let them then be turned, and seek Thee; because not as
they have forsaken their Creator, hast Thou forsaken Thy creation. Let
them be turned and seek Thee; and behold, Thou art there in their heart,
in the heart of those that confess to Thee, and cast themselves upon
Thee, and weep in Thy bosom, after all their rugged ways. Then dost
Thou gently wipe away their tears, and they weep the more, and joy
in weeping; even for that Thou, Lord,--not man of flesh and blood,
but--Thou, Lord, who madest them, re-makest and comfortest them. But
where was I, when I was seeking Thee? And Thou wert before me, but I had
gone away from Thee; nor did I find myself, how much less Thee!
I would lay open before my God that nine-and-twentieth year of mine
age. There had then come to Carthage a certain Bishop of the Manichees,
Faustus by name, a great snare of the Devil, and many were entangled
by him through that lure of his smooth language: which though I did
commend, yet could I separate from the truth of the things which I was
earnest to learn: nor did I so much regard the service of oratory as the
science which this Faustus, so praised among them, set before me to
feed upon. Fame had before bespoken him most knowing in all valuable
learning, and exquisitely skilled in the liberal sciences. And since I
had read and well remembered much of the philosophers, I compared some
things of theirs with those long fables of the Manichees, and found the
former the more probable; even although they could only prevail so far
as to make judgment of this lower world, the Lord of it they could by
no means find out. For Thou art great, O Lord, and hast respect unto the
humble, but the proud Thou beholdest afar off. Nor dost Thou draw near,
but to the contrite in heart, nor art found by the proud, no, not though
by curious skill they could number the stars and the sand, and measure
the starry heavens, and track the courses of the planets.
For with their understanding and wit, which Thou bestowedst on them,