The Confessions of St. Augustine
these usual, yet hidden things, from my desire, that it be hindered from
piercing into them; but let them dawn through Thy enlightening mercy, O
Lord. Whom shall I enquire of concerning these things? and to whom shall
I more fruitfully confess my ignorance, than to Thee, to Whom these
my studies, so vehemently kindled toward Thy Scriptures, are not
troublesome? Give what I love; for I do love, and this hast Thou
given me. Give, Father, Who truly knowest to give good gifts unto Thy
children. Give, because I have taken upon me to know, and trouble is
before me until Thou openest it. By Christ I beseech Thee, in His Name,
Holy of holies, let no man disturb me. For I believed, and therefore do
I speak. This is my hope, for this do I live, that I may contemplate the
delights of the Lord. Behold, Thou hast made my days old, and they pass
away, and how, I know not. And we talk of time, and time, and times, and
times, "How long time is it since he said this"; "how long time since he
did this"; and "how long time since I saw that"; and "this syllable hath
double time to that single short syllable." These words we speak, and
these we hear, and are understood, and understand. Most manifest and
ordinary they are, and the self-same things again are but too deeply
hidden, and the discovery of them were new.
I heard once from a learned man, that the motions of the sun, moon,
and stars, constituted time, and I assented not. For why should not
the motions of all bodies rather be times? Or, if the lights of heaven
should cease, and a potter's wheel run round, should there be no time
by which we might measure those whirlings, and say, that either it
moved with equal pauses, or if it turned sometimes slower, otherwhiles
quicker, that some rounds were longer, other shorter? Or, while we were
saying this, should we not also be speaking in time? Or, should there
in our words be some syllables short, others long, but because those
sounded in a shorter time, these in a longer? God, grant to men to see
in a small thing notices common to things great and small. The stars and
lights of heaven, are also for signs, and for seasons, and for years,
and for days; they are; yet neither should I say, that the going round
of that wooden wheel was a day, nor yet he, that it was therefore no
time.
I desire to know the force and nature of time, by which we measure the
motions of bodies, and say (for example) this motion is twice as long as
that. For I ask, Seeing "day" denotes not the stay only of the sun upon
the earth (according to which day is one thing, night another); but also
its whole circuit from east to east again; according to which we say,
"there passed so many days," the night being included when we say, "so
many days," and the nights not reckoned apart;--seeing then a day is
completed by the motion of the sun and by his circuit from east to east
again, I ask, does the motion alone make the day, or the stay in which
that motion is completed, or both? For if the first be the day; then
should we have a day, although the sun should finish that course in so
small a space of time, as one hour comes to. If the second, then should
not that make a day, if between one sun-rise and another there were
but so short a stay, as one hour comes to; but the sun must go four and
twenty times about, to complete one day. If both, then neither could
that be called a day; if the sun should run his whole round in the
space of one hour; nor that, if, while the sun stood still, so much
time should overpass, as the sun usually makes his whole course in, from
morning to morning. I will not therefore now ask, what that is which is
called day; but, what time is, whereby we, measuring the circuit of the
sun, should say that it was finished in half the time it was wont, if
so be it was finished in so small a space as twelve hours; and comparing
both times, should call this a single time, that a double time; even
supposing the sun to run his round from east to east, sometimes in that
single, sometimes in that double time. Let no man then tell me, that the
motions of the heavenly bodies constitute times, because, when at
the prayer of one, the sun had stood still, till he could achieve his
victorious battle, the sun stood still, but time went on. For in its own
allotted space of time was that battle waged and ended. I perceive
time then to be a certain extension. But do I perceive it, or seem to
perceive it? Thou, Light and Truth, wilt show me.
Dost Thou bid me assent, if any define time to be "motion of a body?"
Thou dost not bid me. For that no body is moved, but in time, I hear;
this Thou sayest; but that the motion of a body is time, I hear not;
Thou sayest it not. For when a body is moved, I by time measure, how
long it moveth, from the time it began to move until it left off? And if
I did not see whence it began; and it continue to move so that I see not
when it ends, I cannot measure, save perchance from the time I began,
until I cease to see. And if I look long, I can only pronounce it to be
a long time, but not how long; because when we say "how long," we do
it by comparison; as, "this is as long as that," or "twice so long as
that," or the like. But when we can mark the distances of the places,
whence and whither goeth the body moved, or his parts, if it moved as in
a lathe, then can we say precisely, in how much time the motion of
that body or his part, from this place unto that, was finished. Seeing
therefore the motion of a body is one thing, that by which we measure
how long it is, another; who sees not, which of the two is rather to
be called time? For and if a body be sometimes moved, sometimes stands
still, then we measure, not his motion only, but his standing still too
by time; and we say, "it stood still, as much as it moved"; or "it stood
still twice or thrice so long as it moved"; or any other space which our
measuring hath either ascertained, or guessed; more or less, as we use
to say. Time then is not the motion of a body.
And I confess to Thee, O Lord, that I yet know not what time is, and
again I confess unto Thee, O Lord, that I know that I speak this in
time, and that having long spoken of time, that very "long" is not long,
but by the pause of time. How then know I this, seeing I know not what
time is? or is it perchance that I know not how to express what I know?
Woe is me, that do not even know, what I know not. Behold, O my God,
before Thee I lie not; but as I speak, so is my heart. Thou shalt light
my candle; Thou, O Lord my God, wilt enlighten my darkness.
Does not my soul most truly confess unto Thee, that I do measure times?
Do I then measure, O my God, and know not what I measure? I measure the
motion of a body in time; and the time itself do I not measure? Or could
I indeed measure the motion of a body how long it were, and in how long
space it could come from this place to that, without measuring the time
in which it is moved? This same time then, how do I measure? do we by a
shorter time measure a longer, as by the space of a cubit, the space
of a rood? for so indeed we seem by the space of a short syllable, to
measure the space of a long syllable, and to say that this is double
the other. Thus measure we the spaces of stanzas, by the spaces of the
verses, and the spaces of the verses, by the spaces of the feet, and the
spaces of the feet, by the spaces of the syllables, and the spaces of
long, by the space of short syllables; not measuring by pages (for then
we measure spaces, not times); but when we utter the words and they pass
by, and we say "it is a long stanza, because composed of so many verses;
long verses, because consisting of so many feet; long feet, because
prolonged by so many syllables; a long syllable because double to a
short one." But neither do we this way obtain any certain measure of
time; because it may be, that a shorter verse, pronounced more fully,
may take up more time than a longer, pronounced hurriedly. And so for a
verse, a foot, a syllable. Whence it seemed to me, that time is nothing
else than protraction; but of what, I know not; and I marvel, if it
be not of the mind itself? For what, I beseech Thee, O my God, do I
measure, when I say, either indefinitely "this is a longer time than
that," or definitely "this is double that"? That I measure time, I know;
and yet I measure not time to come, for it is not yet; nor present,
because it is not protracted by any space; nor past, because it now is
not. What then do I measure? Times passing, not past? for so I said.
Courage, my mind, and press on mightily. God is our helper, He made us,
and not we ourselves. Press on where truth begins to dawn. Suppose, now,
the voice of a body begins to sound, and does sound, and sounds on, and
list, it ceases; it is silence now, and that voice is past, and is
no more a voice. Before it sounded, it was to come, and could not be
measured, because as yet it was not, and now it cannot, because it is
no longer. Then therefore while it sounded, it might; because there then
was what might be measured. But yet even then it was not at a stay; for
it was passing on, and passing away. Could it be measured the rather,
for that? For while passing, it was being extended into some space of
time, so that it might be measured, since the present hath no space. If
therefore then it might, then, lo, suppose another voice hath begun
to sound, and still soundeth in one continued tenor without any
interruption; let us measure it while it sounds; seeing when it hath
left sounding, it will then be past, and nothing left to be measured;
let us measure it verily, and tell how much it is. But it sounds still,
nor can it be measured but from the instant it began in, unto the end
it left in. For the very space between is the thing we measure, namely,
from some beginning unto some end. Wherefore, a voice that is not yet
ended, cannot be measured, so that it may be said how long, or short it
is; nor can it be called equal to another, or double to a single, or the
like. But when ended, it no longer is. How may it then be measured? And
yet we measure times; but yet neither those which are not yet, nor those
which no longer are, nor those which are not lengthened out by some
pause, nor those which have no bounds. We measure neither times to come,
nor past, nor present, nor passing; and yet we do measure times.
"Deus Creator omnium," this verse of eight syllables alternates between
short and long syllables. The four short then, the first, third, fifth,
and seventh, are but single, in respect of the four long, the second,
fourth, sixth, and eighth. Every one of these to every one of those,
hath a double time: I pronounce them, report on them, and find it so,
as one's plain sense perceives. By plain sense then, I measure a long
syllable by a short, and I sensibly find it to have twice so much; but
when one sounds after the other, if the former be short, the latter
long, how shall I detain the short one, and how, measuring, shall I
apply it to the long, that I may find this to have twice so much; seeing
the long does not begin to sound, unless the short leaves sounding? And
that very long one do I measure as present, seeing I measure it not
till it be ended? Now his ending is his passing away. What then is it I
measure? where is the short syllable by which I measure? where the long
which I measure? Both have sounded, have flown, passed away, are no
more; and yet I measure, and confidently answer (so far as is presumed
on a practised sense) that as to space of time this syllable is but
single, that double. And yet I could not do this, unless they were
already past and ended. It is not then themselves, which now are not,
that I measure, but something in my memory, which there remains fixed.