The Confessions of St. Augustine
if passing, that coursing peradventure will distract me even from some
weighty thought, and draw me after it: not that I turn aside the body
of my beast, yet still incline my mind thither. And unless Thou, having
made me see my infirmity didst speedily admonish me either through the
sight itself by some contemplation to rise towards Thee, or altogether
to despise and pass it by, I dully stand fixed therein. What, when
sitting at home, a lizard catching flies, or a spider entangling them
rushing into her nets, oft-times takes my attention? Is the thing
different, because they are but small creatures? I go on from them to
praise Thee the wonderful Creator and Orderer of all, but this does not
first draw my attention. It is one thing to rise quickly, another not
to fall. And of such things is my life full; and my one hope is Thy
wonderful great mercy. For when our heart becomes the receptacle of such
things, and is overcharged with throngs of this abundant vanity, then
are our prayers also thereby often interrupted and distracted, and
whilst in Thy presence we direct the voice of our heart to Thine ears,
this so great concern is broken off by the rushing in of I know not what
idle thoughts. Shall we then account this also among things of slight
concernment, or shall aught bring us back to hope, save Thy complete
mercy, since Thou hast begun to change us?
And Thou knowest how far Thou hast already changed me, who first
healedst me of the lust of vindicating myself, that so Thou mightest
forgive all the rest of my iniquities, and heal all my infirmities,
and redeem life from corruption, and crown me with mercy and pity, and
satisfy my desire with good things: who didst curb my pride with Thy
fear, and tame my neck to Thy yoke. And now I bear it and it is light
unto me, because so hast Thou promised, and hast made it; and verily so
it was, and I knew it not, when I feared to take it.
But, O Lord, Thou alone Lord without pride, because Thou art the only
true Lord, who hast no lord; hath this third kind of temptation also
ceased from me, or can it cease through this whole life? To wish,
namely, to be feared and loved of men, for no other end, but that we
may have a joy therein which is no joy? A miserable life this and a foul
boastfulness! Hence especially it comes that men do neither purely love
nor fear Thee. And therefore dost Thou resist the proud, and givest
grace to the humble: yea, Thou thunderest down upon the ambitions of the
world, and the foundations of the mountains tremble. Because now certain
offices of human society make it necessary to be loved and feared of
men, the adversary of our true blessedness layeth hard at us, every
where spreading his snares of "well-done, well-done"; that greedily
catching at them, we may be taken unawares, and sever our joy from Thy
truth, and set it in the deceivingness of men; and be pleased at being
loved and feared, not for Thy sake, but in Thy stead: and thus having
been made like him, he may have them for his own, not in the bands of
charity, but in the bonds of punishment: who purposed to set his throne
in the north, that dark and chilled they might serve him, pervertedly
and crookedly imitating Thee. But we, O Lord, behold we are Thy little
flock; possess us as Thine, stretch Thy wings over us, and let us fly
under them. Be Thou our glory; let us be loved for Thee, and Thy word
feared in us. Who would be praised of men when Thou blamest, will not be
defended of men when Thou judgest; nor delivered when Thou condemnest.
But when--not the sinner is praised in the desires of his soul, nor he
blessed who doth ungodlily, but--a man is praised for some gift which
Thou hast given him, and he rejoices more at the praise for himself than
that he hath the gift for which he is praised, he also is praised, while
Thou dispraisest; better is he who praised than he who is praised. For
the one took pleasure in the gift of God in man; the other was better
pleased with the gift of man, than of God.
By these temptations we are assailed daily, O Lord; without ceasing are
we assailed. Our daily furnace is the tongue of men. And in this way
also Thou commandest us continence. Give what Thou enjoinest, and enjoin
what Thou wilt. Thou knowest on this matter the groans of my heart, and
the floods of mine eyes. For I cannot learn how far I am more cleansed
from this plague, and I much fear my secret sins, which Thine eyes know,
mine do not. For in other kinds of temptations I have some sort of means
of examining myself; in this, scarce any. For, in refraining my mind
from the pleasures of the flesh and idle curiosity, I see how much I
have attained to, when I do without them; foregoing, or not having them.
For then I ask myself how much more or less troublesome it is to me not
to have them? Then, riches, which are desired, that they may serve to
some one or two or all of the three concupiscences, if the soul cannot
discern whether, when it hath them, it despiseth them, they may be
cast aside, that so it may prove itself. But to be without praise,
and therein essay our powers, must we live ill, yea so abandonedly and
atrociously, that no one should know without detesting us? What greater
madness can be said or thought of? But if praise useth and ought to
accompany a good life and good works, we ought as little to forego its
company, as good life itself. Yet I know not whether I can well or ill
be without anything, unless it be absent.
What then do I confess unto Thee in this kind of temptation, O Lord?
What, but that I am delighted with praise, but with truth itself, more
than with praise? For were it proposed to me, whether I would, being
frenzied in error on all things, be praised by all men, or being
consistent and most settled in the truth be blamed by all, I see which
I should choose. Yet fain would I that the approbation of another should
not even increase my joy for any good in me. Yet I own, it doth increase
it, and not so only, but dispraise doth diminish it. And when I am
troubled at this my misery, an excuse occurs to me, which of what value
it is, Thou God knowest, for it leaves me uncertain. For since Thou hast
commanded us not continency alone, that is, from what things to refrain
our love, but righteousness also, that is, whereon to bestow it, and
hast willed us to love not Thee only, but our neighbour also; often,
when pleased with intelligent praise, I seem to myself to be pleased
with the proficiency or towardliness of my neighbour, or to be grieved
for evil in him, when I hear him dispraise either what he understands
not, or is good. For sometimes I am grieved at my own praise, either
when those things be praised in me, in which I mislike myself, or even
lesser and slight goods are more esteemed than they ought. But again how
know I whether I am therefore thus affected, because I would not have
him who praiseth me differ from me about myself; not as being influenced
by concern for him, but because those same good things which please me
in myself, please me more when they please another also? For some how I
am not praised when my judgment of myself is not praised; forasmuch
as either those things are praised, which displease me; or those more,
which please me less. Am I then doubtful of myself in this matter?
Behold, in Thee, O Truth, I see that I ought not to be moved at my own
praises, for my own sake, but for the good of my neighbour. And whether
it be so with me, I know not. For herein I know less of myself than of
Thee. I beseech now, O my God, discover to me myself also, that I may
confess unto my brethren, who are to pray for me, wherein I find myself
maimed. Let me examine myself again more diligently. If in my praise I
am moved with the good of my neighbour, why am I less moved if another
be unjustly dispraised than if it be myself? Why am I more stung by
reproach cast upon myself, than at that cast upon another, with the
same injustice, before me? Know I not this also? or is it at last that I
deceive myself, and do not the truth before Thee in my heart and tongue?
This madness put far from me, O Lord, lest mine own mouth be to me the
sinner's oil to make fat my head. I am poor and needy; yet best, while
in hidden groanings I displease myself, and seek Thy mercy, until what
is lacking in my defective state be renewed and perfected, on to that
peace which the eye of the proud knoweth not.
Yet the word which cometh out of the mouth, and deeds known to men,
bring with them a most dangerous temptation through the love of praise:
which, to establish a certain excellency of our own, solicits and
collects men's suffrages. It tempts, even when it is reproved by myself
in myself, on the very ground that it is reproved; and often glories
more vainly of the very contempt of vain-glory; and so it is no longer
contempt of vain-glory, whereof it glories; for it doth not contemn when
it glorieth.
Within also, within is another evil, arising out of a like temptation;
whereby men become vain, pleasing themselves in themselves, though they
please not, or displease or care not to please others. But pleasing
themselves, they much displease Thee, not only taking pleasure in things
not good, as if good, but in Thy good things, as though their own; or
even if as Thine, yet as though for their own merits; or even if as
though from Thy grace, yet not with brotherly rejoicing, but envying
that grace to others. In all these and the like perils and travails,
Thou seest the trembling of my heart; and I rather feel my wounds to be
cured by Thee, than not inflicted by me.
Where hast Thou not walked with me, O Truth, teaching me what to beware,
and what to desire; when I referred to Thee what I could discover
here below, and consulted Thee? With my outward senses, as I might, I
surveyed the world, and observed the life, which my body hath from me,
and these my senses. Thence entered I the recesses of my memory, those
manifold and spacious chambers, wonderfully furnished with innumerable
stores; and I considered, and stood aghast; being able to discern
nothing of these things without Thee, and finding none of them to be
Thee. Nor was I myself, who found out these things, who went over them
all, and laboured to distinguish and to value every thing according
to its dignity, taking some things upon the report of my senses,
questioning about others which I felt to be mingled with myself,
numbering and distinguishing the reporters themselves, and in the large
treasure-house of my memory revolving some things, storing up others,
drawing out others. Nor yet was I myself when I did this, i.e., that my
power whereby I did it, neither was it Thou, for Thou art the abiding
light, which I consulted concerning all these, whether they were,
what they were, and how to be valued; and I heard Thee directing and
commanding me; and this I often do, this delights me, and as far as I
may be freed from necessary duties, unto this pleasure have I recourse.
Nor in all these which I run over consulting Thee can I find any safe
place for my soul, but in Thee; whither my scattered members may
be gathered, and nothing of me depart from Thee. And sometimes Thou
admittest me to an affection, very unusual, in my inmost soul; rising to
a strange sweetness, which if it were perfected in me, I know not what
in it would not belong to the life to come. But through my miserable
encumbrances I sink down again into these lower things, and am swept
back by former custom, and am held, and greatly weep, but am greatly
held. So much doth the burden of a bad custom weigh us down. Here I can
stay, but would not; there I would, but cannot; both ways, miserable.
Thus then have I considered the sicknesses of my sins in that threefold
concupiscence, and have called Thy right hand to my help. For with a