Belijdenissen - Augustinus (boek VIII)
The Confessions of Saint Augustine - Book VIII
Chapter I
O my God, let me, with thanksgiving, remember, and confess unto Thee Thy
mercies on me. Let my bones be bedewed with Thy love, and let them say unto
Thee, Who is like unto Thee, O Lord? Thou hast broken my bonds in sunder, I
will offer unto Thee the sacrifice of thanksgiving. And how Thou hast broken
them, I will declare; and all who worship Thee, when they hear this, shall
say, “Blessed be the Lord, in heaven and in earth, great and wonderful is
his name. “ Thy words had stuck fast in my heart, and I was hedged round
about on all sides by Thee. Of Thy eternal life I was now certain, though I
saw it in a figure and as through a glass. Yet I had ceased to doubt that
there was an incorruptible substance, whence was all other substance; nor
did I now desire to be more certain of Thee, but more steadfast in Thee. But
for my temporal life, all was wavering, and my heart had to be purged from
the old leaven. The Way, the Saviour Himself, well pleased me, but as yet I
shrunk from going through its straitness. And Thou didst put into my mind,
and it seemed good in my eyes, to go to Simplicianus, who seemed to me a
good servant of Thine; and Thy grace shone in him. I had heard also that
from his very youth he had lived most devoted unto Thee. Now he was grown
into years; and by reason of so great age spent in such zealous following of
Thy ways, he seemed to me likely to have learned much experience; and so he
had. Out of which store I wished that he would tell me (setting before him
my anxieties) which were the fittest way for one in my case to walk in Thy
paths.
For, I saw the church full; and one went this way, and another that way. But
I was displeased that I led a secular life; yea now that my desires no
longer inflamed me, as of old, with hopes of honour and profit, a very
grievous burden it was to undergo so heavy a bondage. For, in comparison of
Thy sweetness, and the beauty of Thy house which I loved, those things
delighted me no longer. But still I was enthralled with the love of woman;
nor did the Apostle forbid me to marry, although he advised me to something
better, chiefly wishing that all men were as himself was. But I being weak,
chose the more indulgent place; and because of this alone, was tossed up and
down in all beside, faint and wasted with withering cares, because in other
matters I was constrained against my will to conform myself to a married
life, to which I was given up and enthralled. I had heard from the mouth of
the Truth, that there were some eunuchs which had made themselves eunuchs
for the kingdom of heaven's sake: but, saith He, let him who can receive it,
receive it. Surely vain are all men who are ignorant of God, and could not
out of the good things which are seen, find out Him who is good. But I was
no longer in that vanity; I had surmounted it; and by the common witness of
all Thy creatures had found Thee our Creator, and Thy Word, God with Thee,
and together with Thee one God, by whom Thou createdst all things. There is
yet another kind of ungodly, who knowing God, glorified Him not as God,
neither were thankful. Into this also had I fallen, but Thy right hand
upheld me, and took me thence, and Thou placedst me where I might recover.
For Thou hast said unto man, Behold, the fear of the Lord is wisdom, and,
Desire not to seem wise; because they who affirmed themselves to be wise,
became fools. But I had now found the goodly pearl, which, selling all that
I had, I ought to have bought, and I hesitated.
Chapter II
To Simplicianus then I went, the father of Ambrose (a Bishop now) in
receiving Thy grace, and whom Ambrose truly loved as a father. To him I
related the mazes of my wanderings. But when I mentioned that I had read
certain books of the Platonists, which Victorinus, sometime Rhetoric
Professor of Rome (who had died a Christian, as I had heard), had translated
into Latin, he testified his joy that I had not fallen upon the writings of
other philosophers, full of fallacies and deceits, after the rudiments of
this world, whereas the Platonists many ways led to the belief in God and
His Word. Then to exhort me to the humility of Christ, hidden from the wise,
and revealed to little ones, he spoke of Victorinus himself, whom while at
Rome he had most intimately known: and of him he related what I will not
conceal. For it contains great praise of Thy grace, to be confessed unto
Thee, how that aged man, most learned and skilled in the liberal sciences,
and who had read, and weighed so many works of the philosophers; the
instructor of so many noble Senators, who also, as a monument of his
excellent discharge of his office, had (which men of this world esteem a
high honour) both deserved and obtained a statue in the Roman Forum; he, to
that age a worshipper of idols, and a partaker of the sacrilegious rites, to
which almost all the nobility of Rome were given up, and had inspired the
people with the love of
Anubis, barking Deity, and all
The monster Gods of every kind, who fought
‘Gainst Neptune, Venus, and Minerva:
whom Rome once conquered, now adored, all which the aged Victorinus had with
thundering eloquence so many years defended;—he now blushed not to be the
child of Thy Christ, and the new-born babe of Thy fountain; submitting his
neck to the yoke of humility, and subduing his forehead to the reproach of
the Cross.
O Lord, Lord, Which hast bowed the heavens and come down, touched the
mountains and they did smoke, by what means didst Thou convey Thyself into
that breast? He used to read (as Simplicianus said) the holy Scripture, most
studiously sought and searched into all the Christian writings, and said to
Simplicianus (not openly, but privately and as a friend), “Understand that I
am already a Christian.” Whereto he answered, “I will not believe it, nor
will I rank you among Christians, unless I see you in the Church of
Christ.” The other, in banter, replied, “Do walls then make Christians?” And
this he often said, that he was already a Christian; and Simplicianus as
often made the same answer, and the conceit of the “walls” was by the other
as often renewed. For he feared to offend his friends, proud
daemon-worshippers, from the height of whose Babylonian dignity, as from
cedars of Libanus, which the Lord had not yet broken down, he supposed the
weight of enmity would fall upon him. But after that by reading and earnest
thought he had gathered firmness, and feared to be denied by Christ before
the holy angels, should he now be afraid to confess Him before men, and
appeared to himself guilty of a heavy offence, in being ashamed of the
Sacraments of the humility of Thy Word, and not being ashamed of the
sacrilegious rites of those proud daemons, whose pride he had imitated and
their rites adopted, he became bold-faced against vanity, and shame-faced
towards the truth, and suddenly and unexpectedly said to Simplicianus (as
himself told me), “Go we to the Church; I wish to be made a Christian.” But
he, not containing himself for joy, went with him. And having been admitted
to the first Sacrament and become a Catechumen, not long after he further
gave in his name, that he might be regenerated by baptism, Rome wondering,
the Church rejoicing. The proud saw, and were wroth; they gnashed with their
teeth, and melted away. But the Lord God was the hope of Thy servant, and he
regarded not vanities and lying madness.
To conclude, when the hour was come for making profession of his faith
(which at Rome they, who are about to approach to Thy grace, deliver, from
an elevated place, in the sight of all the faithful, in a set form of words
committed to memory), the presbyters, he said, offered Victorinus (as was
done to such as seemed likely through bashfulness to be alarmed) to make his
profession more privately: but he chose rather to profess his salvation in
the presence of the holy multitude. “For it was not salvation that he taught
in rhetoric, and yet that he had publicly professed: how much less then
ought he, when pronouncing Thy word, to dread Thy meek flock, who, when
delivering his own words, had not feared a mad multitude!” When, then, he
went up to make his profession, all, as they knew him, whispered his name
one to another with the voice of congratulation. And who there knew him not?
and there ran a low murmur through all the mouths of the rejoicing
multitude, Victorinus! Victorinus! Sudden was the burst of rapture, that
they saw him; suddenly were they hushed that they might hear him. He
pronounced the true faith with an excellent boldness, and all wished to draw
him into their very heart; yea by their love and joy they drew him thither,
such were the hands wherewith they drew him.
Chapter III
Good God! what takes place in man, that he should more rejoice at the
salvation of a soul despaired of, and freed from greater peril, than if
there had always been hope of him, or the danger had been less? For so Thou
also, merciful Father, dost more rejoice over one penitent than over
ninety-nine just persons that need no repentance. And with much joyfulness
do we hear, so often as we hear with what joy the sheep which had strayed is
brought back upon the shepherd's shoulder, and the groat is restored to Thy
treasury, the neighbours rejoicing with the woman who found it; and the joy
of the solemn service of Thy house forceth to tears, when in Thy house it is
read of Thy younger son, that he was dead, and liveth again; had been lost,
and is found. For Thou rejoicest in us, and in Thy holy angels, holy through
holy charity. For Thou art ever the same; for all things which abide not the
same nor for ever, Thou for ever knowest in the same way.
What then takes place in the soul, when it is more delighted at finding or
recovering the things it loves, than if it had ever had them? yea, and other
things witness hereunto; and all things are full of witnesses, crying out,
“So is it.” The conquering commander triumpheth; yet had he not conquered
unless he had fought; and the more peril there was in the battle, so much
the more joy is there in the triumph. The storm tosses the sailors,
threatens shipwreck; all wax pale at approaching death; sky and sea are
calmed, and they are exceeding joyed, as having been exceeding afraid. A
friend is sick, and his pulse threatens danger; all who long for his
recovery are sick in mind with him. He is restored, though as yet he walks
not with his former strength; yet there is such joy, as was not, when before
he walked sound and strong. Yea, the very pleasures of human life men
acquire by difficulties, not those only which fall upon us unlooked for, and
against our wills, but even by self-chosen, and pleasure-seeking trouble.
Eating and drinking have no pleasure, unless there precede the pinching of
hunger and thirst. Men, given to drink, eat certain salt meats, to procure a
troublesome heat, which the drink allaying, causes pleasure. It is also
ordered that the affianced bride should not at once be given, lest as a
husband he should hold cheap whom, as betrothed, he sighed not after.
This law holds in foul and accursed joy; this in permitted and lawful joy;
this in the very purest perfection of friendship; this, in him who was dead,
and lived again; had been lost and was found. Every where the greater joy is
ushered in by the greater pain. What means this, O Lord my God, whereas Thou
art everlastingly joy to Thyself, and some things around Thee evermore
rejoice in Thee? What means this, that this portion of things thus ebbs and
flows alternately displeased and reconciled? Is this their allotted measure?
Is this all Thou hast assigned to them, whereas from the highest heavens to
the lowest earth, from the beginning of the world to the end of ages, from
the angel to the worm, from the first motion to the last, Thou settest each
in its place, and realisest each in their season, every thing good after its
kind? Woe is me! how high art Thou in the highest, and how deep in the
deepest! and Thou never departest, and we scarcely return to Thee.
Chapter IV
Up, Lord, and do; stir us up, and recall us; kindle and draw us; inflame,
grow sweet unto us, let us now love, let us run. Do not many, out of a
deeper hell of blindness than Victorinus, return to Thee, approach, and are
enlightened, receiving that Light, which they who receive, receive power
from Thee to become Thy sons? But if they be less known to the nations, even
they that know them, joy less for them. For when many joy together, each
also has more exuberant joy for that they are kindled and inflamed one by
the other. Again, because those known to many, influence the more towards
salvation, and lead the way with many to follow. And therefore do they also
who preceded them much rejoice in them, because they rejoice not in them
alone. For far be it, that in Thy tabernacle the persons of the rich should
be accepted before the poor, or the noble before the ignoble; seeing rather
Thou hast chosen the weak things of the world to confound the strong; and
the base things of this world, and the things despised hast Thou chosen, and
those things which are not, that Thou mightest bring to nought things that
are. And yet even that least of Thy apostles, by whose tongue Thou soundedst
forth these words, when through his warfare, Paulus the Proconsul, his pride
conquered, was made to pass under the easy yoke of Thy Christ, and became a
provincial of the great King; he also for his former name Saul, was pleased
to be called Paul, in testimony of so great a victory. For the enemy is more
overcome in one, of whom he hath more hold; by whom he hath hold of more.
But the proud he hath more hold of, through their nobility; and by them, of
more through their authority. By how much the more welcome then the heart of
Victorinus was esteemed, which the devil had held as an impregnable
possession, the tongue of Victorinus, with which mighty and keen weapon he
had slain many; so much the more abundantly ought Thy sons to rejoice, for
that our King hath bound the strong man, and they saw his vessels taken from
him and cleansed, and made meet for Thy honour; and become serviceable for
the Lord, unto every good work.
Chapter V
But when that man of Thine, Simplicianus, related to me this of Victorinus,
I was on fire to imitate him; for for this very end had he related it. But
when he had subjoined also, how in the days of the Emperor Julian a law was
made, whereby Christians were forbidden to teach the liberal sciences or
oratory; and how he, obeying this law, chose rather to give over the wordy
school than Thy Word, by which Thou makest eloquent the tongues of the dumb;
he seemed to me not more resolute than blessed, in having thus found
opportunity to wait on Thee only. Which thing I was sighing for, bound as I
was, not with another's irons, but by my own iron will. My will the enemy
held, and thence had made a chain for me, and bound me. For of a forward
will, was a lust made; and a lust served, became custom; and custom not
resisted, became necessity. By which links, as it were, joined together
(whence I called it a chain) a hard bondage held me enthralled. But that new
will which had begun to be in me, freely to serve Thee, and to wish to enjoy
Thee, O God, the only assured pleasantness, was not yet able to overcome my
former wilfulness, strengthened by age. Thus did my two wills, one new, and
the other old, one carnal, the other spiritual, struggle within me; and by
their discord, undid my soul.
Thus, I understood, by my own experience, what I had read, how the flesh
lusteth against the spirit and the spirit against the flesh. Myself verily
either way; yet more myself, in that which I approved in myself, than in
that which in myself I disapproved. For in this last, it was now for the
more part not myself, because in much I rather endured against my will, than
acted willingly. And yet it was through me that custom had obtained this
power of warring against me, because I had come willingly, whither I willed
not. And who has any right to speak against it, if just punishment follow
the sinner? Nor had I now any longer my former plea, that I therefore as yet
hesitated to be above the world and serve Thee, for that the truth was not
altogether ascertained to me; for now it too was. But I still under service
to the earth, refused to fight under Thy banner, and feared as much to be
freed of all incumbrances, as we should fear to be encumbered with it. Thus
with the baggage of this present world was I held down pleasantly, as in
sleep: and the thoughts wherein I meditated on Thee were like the efforts of
such as would awake, who yet overcome with a heavy drowsiness, are again
drenched therein. And as no one would sleep for ever, and in all men's sober
judgment waking is better, yet a man for the most part, feeling a heavy
lethargy in all his limbs, defers to shake off sleep, and though half
displeased, yet, even after it is time to rise, with pleasure yields to it,
so was I assured that much better were it for me to give myself up to Thy
charity, than to give myself over to mine own cupidity; but though the
former course satisfied me and gained the mastery, the latter pleased me and
held me mastered. Nor had I any thing to answer Thee calling to me, Awake,
thou that sleepest, and arise from the dead, and Christ shall give thee
light. And when Thou didst on all sides show me that what Thou saidst was
true, I, convicted by the truth, had nothing at all to answer, but only
those dull and drowsy words, “Anon, anon,” “presently,” “leave me but a
little.” But “presently, presently,” had no present, and my “little while”
went on for a long while; in vain I delighted in Thy law according to the
inner man, when another law in my members rebelled against the law of my
mind, and led me captive under the law of sin which was in my members. For
the law of sin is the violence of custom, whereby the mind is drawn and
holden, even against its will; but deservedly, for that it willingly fell
into it. Who then should deliver me thus wretched from the body of this
death, but Thy grace only, through Jesus Christ our Lord?
Chapter VI
And how Thou didst deliver me out of the bonds of desire, wherewith I was
bound most straitly to carnal concupiscence, and out of the drudgery of
worldly things, I will now declare, and confess unto Thy name, O Lord, my
helper and my redeemer. Amid increasing anxiety, I was doing my wonted
business, and daily sighing unto Thee. I attended Thy Church, whenever free
from the business under the burden of which I groaned. Alypius was with me,
now after the third sitting released from his law business, and awaiting to
whom to sell his counsel, as I sold the skill of speaking, if indeed
teaching can impart it. Nebridius had now, in consideration of our
friendship, consented to teach under Verecundus, a citizen and a grammarian
of Milan, and a very intimate friend of us all; who urgently desired, and by
the right of friendship challenged from our company, such faithful aid as he
greatly needed. Nebridius then was not drawn to this by any desire of
advantage (for he might have made much more of his learning had he so
willed), but as a most kind and gentle friend, he would not be wanting to a
good office, and slight our request. But he acted herein very discreetly,
shunning to become known to personages great according to this world,
avoiding the distraction of mind thence ensuing, and desiring to have it
free and at leisure, as many hours as might be, to seek, or read, or hear
something concerning wisdom.
Upon a day then, Nebridius being absent (I recollect not why), to, there
came to see me and Alypius, one Pontitianus, our countryman so far as being
an African, in high office in the Emperor's court. What he would with us, I
know not, but we sat down to converse, and it happened that upon a table for
some game, before us, he observed a book, took, opened it, and contrary to
his expectation, found it the Apostle Paul; for he thought it some of those
books which I was wearing myself in teaching. Whereat smiling, and looking
at me, he expressed his joy and wonder that he had on a sudden found this
book, and this only before my eyes. For he was a Christian, and baptised,
and often bowed himself before Thee our God in the Church, in frequent and
continued prayers. When then I had told him that I bestowed very great pains
upon those Scriptures, a conversation arose (suggested by his account) on
Antony the Egyptian monk: whose name was in high reputation among Thy
servants, though to that hour unknown to us. Which when he discovered, he
dwelt the more upon that subject, informing and wondering at our ignorance
of one so eminent. But we stood amazed, hearing Thy wonderful works most
fully attested, in times so recent, and almost in our own, wrought in the
true Faith and Church Catholic. We all wondered; we, that they were so
great, and he, that they had not reached us.
Thence his discourse turned to the flocks in the monasteries, and their holy
ways, a sweet-smelling savour unto Thee, and the fruitful deserts of the
wilderness, whereof we knew nothing. And there was a monastery at Milan,
full of good brethren, without the city walls, under the fostering care of
Ambrose, and we knew it not. He went on with his discourse, and we listened
in intent silence. He told us then how one afternoon at Triers, when the
Emperor was taken up with the Circensian games, he and three others, his
companions, went out to walk in gardens near the city walls, and there as
they happened to walk in pairs, one went apart with him, and the other two
wandered by themselves; and these, in their wanderings, lighted upon a
certain cottage, inhabited by certain of Thy servants, poor in spirit, of
whom is the kingdom of heaven, and there they found a little book containing
the life of Antony. This one of them began to read, admire, and kindle at
it; and as he read, to meditate on taking up such a life, and giving over
his secular service to serve Thee. And these two were of those whom they
style agents for the public affairs. Then suddenly, filled with a holy love,
and a sober shame, in anger with himself cast his eyes upon his friend,
saying, “Tell me, I pray thee, what would we attain by all these labours of
ours? what aim we at? what serve we for? Can our hopes in court rise higher
than to be the Emperor's favourites? and in this, what is there not brittle,
and full of perils? and by how many perils arrive we at a greater peril? and
when arrive we thither? But a friend of God, if I wish it, I become now at
once.” So spake he. And in pain with the travail of a new life, he turned
his eyes again upon the book, and read on, and was changed inwardly, where
Thou sawest, and his mind was stripped of the world, as soon appeared. For
as he read, and rolled up and down the waves of his heart, he stormed at
himself a while, then discerned, and determined on a better course; and now
being Thine, said to his friend, “Now have I broken loose from those our
hopes, and am resolved to serve God; and this, from this hour, in this
place, I begin upon. If thou likest not to imitate me, oppose not.” The
other answered, he would cleave to him, to partake so glorious a reward, so
glorious a service. Thus both being now Thine, were building the tower at
the necessary cost, the forsaking all that they had, and following Thee.
Then Pontitianus and the other with him, that had walked in other parts of
the garden, came in search of them to the same place; and finding them,
reminded them to return, for the day was now far spent. But they relating
their resolution and purpose, and how that will was begun and settled in
them, begged them, if they would not join, not to molest them. But the
others, though nothing altered from their former selves, did yet bewail
themselves (as he affirmed), and piously congratulated them, recommending
themselves to their prayers; and so, with hearts lingering on the earth,
went away to the palace. But the other two, fixing their heart on heaven,
remained in the cottage. And both had affianced brides, who when they heard
hereof, also dedicated their virginity unto God.
Chapter VII
Such was the story of Pontitianus; but Thou, O Lord, while he was speaking,
didst turn me round towards myself, taking me from behind my back where I
had placed me, unwilling to observe myself; and setting me before my face,
that I might see how foul I was, how crooked and defiled, bespotted and
ulcerous. And I beheld and stood aghast; and whither to flee from myself I
found not. And if I sought to turn mine eye from off myself, he went on with
his relation, and Thou again didst set me over against myself, and
thrustedst me before my eyes, that I might find out mine iniquity, and hate
it. I had known it, but made as though I saw it not, winked at it, and
forgot it.
But now, the more ardently I loved those whose healthful affections I heard
of, that they had resigned themselves wholly to Thee to be cured, the more
did I abhor myself, when compared with them. For many of my years (some
twelve) had now run out with me since my nineteenth, when, upon the reading
of Cicero's Hortensius, I was stirred to an earnest love of wisdom; and
still I was deferring to reject mere earthly felicity, and give myself to
search out that, whereof not the finding only, but the very search, was to
be preferred to the treasures and kingdoms of the world, though already
found, and to the pleasures of the body, though spread around me at my will.
But I wretched, most wretched, in the very commencement of my early youth,
had begged chastity of Thee, and said, “Give me chastity and continency,
only not yet.” For I feared lest Thou shouldest hear me soon, and soon cure
me of the disease of concupiscence, which I wished to have satisfied, rather
than extinguished. And I had wandered through crooked ways in a sacrilegious
superstition, not indeed assured thereof, but as preferring it to the others
which I did not seek religiously, but opposed maliciously.
And I had thought that I therefore deferred from day to day to reject the
hopes of this world, and follow Thee only, because there did not appear
aught certain, whither to direct my course. And now was the day come wherein
I was to be laid bare to myself, and my conscience was to upbraid me. “Where
art thou now, my tongue? Thou saidst that for an uncertain truth thou
likedst not to cast off the baggage of vanity; now, it is certain, and yet
that burden still oppresseth thee, while they who neither have so worn
themselves out with seeking it, nor for often years and more have been
thinking thereon, have had their shoulders lightened, and received wings to
fly away.” Thus was I gnawed within, and exceedingly confounded with a
horrible shame, while Pontitianus was so speaking. And he having brought to
a close his tale and the business he came for, went his way; and I into
myself. What said I not against myself? with what scourges of condemnation
lashed I not my soul, that it might follow me, striving to go after Thee!
Yet it drew back; refused, but excused not itself. All arguments were spent
and confuted; there remained a mute shrinking; and she feared, as she would
death, to be restrained from the flux of that custom, whereby she was
wasting to death.
Chapter VIII
Then in this great contention of my inward dwelling, which I had strongly
raised against my soul, in the chamber of my heart, troubled in mind and
countenance, I turned upon Alypius. “What ails us?” I exclaim: “what is it?
what heardest thou? The unlearned start up and take heaven by force, and we
with our learning, and without heart, to, where we wallow in flesh and
blood! Are we ashamed to follow, because others are gone before, and not
ashamed not even to follow?” Some such words I uttered, and my fever of mind
tore me away from him, while he, gazing on me in astonishment, kept silence.
For it was not my wonted tone; and my forehead, cheeks, eyes, colour, tone
of voice, spake my mind more than the words I uttered. A little garden there
was to our lodging, which we had the use of, as of the whole house; for the
master of the house, our host, was not living there. Thither had the tumult
of my breast hurried me, where no man might hinder the hot contention
wherein I had engaged with myself, until it should end as Thou knewest, I
knew not. Only I was healthfully distracted and dying, to live; knowing what
evil thing I was, and not knowing what good thing I was shortly to become. I
retired then into the garden, and Alypius, on my steps. For his presence did
not lessen my privacy; or how could he forsake me so disturbed? We sate down
as far removed as might be from the house. I was troubled in spirit, most
vehemently indignant that I entered not into Thy will and covenant, O my
God, which all my bones cried out unto me to enter, and praised it to the
skies. And therein we enter not by ships, or chariots, or feet, no, move not
so far as I had come from the house to that place where we were sitting.
For, not to go only, but to go in thither was nothing else but to will to
go, but to will resolutely and thoroughly; not to turn and toss, this way
and that, a maimed and half-divided will, struggling, with one part sinking
as another rose.
Lastly, in the very fever of my irresoluteness, I made with my body many
such motions as men sometimes would, but cannot, if either they have not the
limbs, or these be bound with bands, weakened with infirmity, or any other
way hindered. Thus, if I tore my hair, beat my forehead, if locking my
fingers I clasped my knee; I willed, I did it. But I might have willed, and
not done it; if the power of motion in my limbs had not obeyed. So many
things then I did, when “to will” was not in itself “to be able”; and I did
not what both I longed incomparably more to do, and which soon after, when I
should will, I should be able to do; because soon after, when I should will,
I should will thoroughly. For in these things the ability was one with the
will, and to will was to do; and yet was it not done: and more easily did my
body obey the weakest willing of my soul, in moving its limbs at its nod,
than the soul obeyed itself to accomplish in the will alone this its
momentous will.
Chapter IX
Whence is this monstrousness? and to what end? Let Thy mercy gleam that I
may ask, if so be the secret penalties of men, and those darkest pangs of
the sons of Adam, may perhaps answer me. Whence is this monstrousness? and
to what end? The mind commands the body, and it obeys instantly; the mind
commands itself, and is resisted. The mind commands the hand to be moved;
and such readiness is there, that command is scarce distinct from obedience.
Yet the mind is mind, the hand is body. The mind commands the mind, its own
self, to will, and yet it doth not. Whence this monstrousness? and to what
end? It commands itself, I say, to will, and would not command, unless it
willed, and what it commands is not done. But it willeth not entirely:
therefore doth it not command 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 what it commandeth, is
not. For were the will entire, it would not even command it to be, because
it would already be. It is therefore no monstrousness partly to will, partly
to nill, but a disease of the mind, that it doth not wholly rise, by truth
upborne, borne down by custom. And therefore are there two wills, for that
one of them is not entire: and what the one lacketh, the other hath.
Chapter X
Let them perish from Thy presence, O God, as perish vain talkers and
seducers of the soul: who observing that in deliberating there were two
wills, affirm that there are two minds in us of two kinds, one good, the
other evil. Themselves are truly evil, when they hold these evil things; and
themselves shall become good when they hold the truth and assent unto the
truth, that Thy Apostle may say to them, Ye were sometimes darkness, but now
light in the Lord. But they, wishing to be light, not in the Lord, but in
themselves, imagining the nature of the soul to be that which God is, are
made more gross darkness through a dreadful arrogancy; for that they went
back farther from Thee, the true Light that enlightened every man that
cometh into the world. Take heed what you say, and blush for shame: draw
near unto Him and be enlightened, and your faces shall not be ashamed.
Myself when I was deliberating upon serving the Lord my God now, as I had
long purposed, it was I who willed, I who nilled, I, I myself. I neither
willed entirely, nor nilled entirely. Therefore was I at strife with myself,
and rent asunder by myself. And this rent befell me against my will, and yet
indicated, not the presence of another mind, but the punishment of my own.
Therefore it was no more I that wrought it, but sin that dwelt in me; the
punishment of a sin more freely committed, in that I was a son of Adam.
For if there he so many contrary natures as there be conflicting wills,
there shall now be not two only, but many. If a man deliberate whether he
should go to their conventicle or to the theatre, these Manichees cry out,
Behold, here are two natures: one good, draws this way; another bad, draws
back that way. For whence else is this hesitation between conflicting wills?
But I say that both be bad: that which draws to them, as that which draws
back to the theatre. But they believe not that will to be other than good,
which draws to them. What then if one of us should deliberate, and amid the
strife of his two wills be in a strait, whether he should go to the theatre
or to our church? would not these Manichees also be in a strait what to
answer? For either they must confess (which they fain would not) that the
will which leads to our church is good, as well as theirs, who have received
and are held by the mysteries of theirs: or they must suppose two evil
natures, and two evil souls conflicting in one man, and it 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 more deny that where one deliberates, one
soul fluctuates between contrary wills.
Let them no more say then, when they perceive two conflicting wills in one
man, that the conflict is between two contrary souls, of two contrary
substances, from two contrary principles, one good, and the other bad. For
Thou, O true God, dost disprove, check, and convict them; as when, both
wills being bad, one deliberates whether he should kill a man by poison or
by the sword; whether he should seize this or that estate of another's, when
he cannot both; whether he should purchase pleasure by luxury, or keep his
money by covetousness; whether he go to the circus or the theatre, if both
be open on one day; or thirdly, to rob another's house, if he have the
opportunity; or, fourthly, to commit adultery, if at the same time he have
the means thereof also; all these meeting together in the same juncture of
time, and all being equally desired, which cannot at one time be acted: for
they rend the mind amid four, or even (amid the vast variety of things
desired) more, conflicting wills, nor do they yet allege that there are so
many divers substances. So also in wills which are good. For I ask them, is
it good to take pleasure in reading the Apostle? or good to take pleasure in
a sober Psalm? or good to discourse on the Gospel? They will answer to each,
“it is good.” What then if all give equal pleasure, and all at once? Do not
divers wills distract the mind, while he deliberates which he should rather
choose? yet are they all good, and are at variance till one be chosen,
whither the one entire 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
this or that with an entire will; and therefore is rent asunder with
grievous perplexities, while out of truth it sets this first, but out of
habit sets not that aside.
Chapter XI
Thus soul-sick was I, and tormented, accusing myself much more severely than
my wont, rolling and turning me in my chain, till that were wholly broken,
whereby I now was but just, 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 not bursting that same slight
remaining tie, it should recover strength, and bind me the faster. For I
said with myself, “Be it done now, be it done now.” And as I spake, I all
but enacted it: I all but did it, and did it not: yet sunk not back to my
former state, but kept my stand hard by, and took breath. And I essayed
again, and wanted somewhat less of it, and somewhat less, and all but
touched, and laid hold of it; and yet came not at it, nor touched nor laid
hold of it; hesitating to die to death and to live to life: and the worse
whereto I was inured, prevailed more with me than the better whereto I was
unused: and the very moment wherein I was to become other than I was, the
nearer it approached me, the greater horror did it strike into me; yet did
it not strike me back, nor turned me away, but held me in suspense.
The very toys of toys, and vanities of vanities, my ancient mistresses,
still held me; they plucked my fleshy garment, and whispered softly, “Dost
thou cast us off? 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 was it which they suggested in that I said, “this or
that,” what did they suggest, O my God? Let Thy mercy turn it away from the
soul of Thy servant. What defilements did they suggest! what shame! And now
I much less than half heard them, and not openly showing themselves and
contradicting me, but muttering as it were behind my back, and privily
plucking me, as I was departing, but to look back on them. Yet they did
retard me, so that I hesitated to burst and shake myself free from them, and
to spring over whither I was called; a violent habit saying to me, “Thinkest
thou, thou canst live without them?”
But now it spake very faintly. For on that side whither I had set my face,
and whither I trembled to go, there appeared unto me the chaste dignity of
Continency, serene, yet not relaxedly, gay, honestly alluring me to come and
doubt not; and stretching forth to receive and embrace me, her holy hands
full of multitudes of good examples: there were so many young men and
maidens here, a multitude of youth and every age, grave widows and aged
virgins; and Continence herself in all, not barren, but a fruitful mother of
children of joys, by Thee her Husband, O Lord. And she smiled on me with a
persuasive mockery, as would she say, “Canst not thou what these youths,
what these maidens can? or can they either in themselves, and not rather in
the Lord their God? The Lord their God gave me unto them. Why standest thou
in thyself, and so standest not? cast thyself upon Him, fear not He will not
withdraw Himself that thou shouldest fall; cast thyself fearlessly upon Him,
He will receive, and will heal thee.” And I blushed exceedingly, for that I
yet heard the muttering of those toys, and hung in suspense. And she again
seemed to say, “Stop thine ears against those thy unclean members on the
earth, that they may be mortified. They tell thee of delights, but not as
doth the law of the Lord thy God.” This controversy in my heart was self
against self only. But Alypius sitting close by my side, in silence waited
the issue of my unwonted emotion.
Chapter XII
But when a deep consideration had from the secret bottom of my soul drawn
together and heaped up all my misery in the sight of my heart; there arose a
mighty storm, bringing a mighty shower of tears. Which that I might pour
forth wholly, in its natural expressions, I rose from Alypius: solitude was
suggested to me as fitter for the business of weeping; so I retired so far
that even his presence could not be a burden to me. Thus was it then with
me, and he perceived something of it; for something I suppose I had spoken,
wherein the tones of my voice appeared choked with weeping, and so had risen
up. He then remained where we were sitting, most extremely astonished. I
cast myself down I know not how, under a certain fig-tree, giving full vent
to my tears; and the floods of mine eyes gushed out an acceptable sacrifice
to Thee. And, not indeed in these words, yet to this purpose, spake I much
unto Thee: and Thou, O Lord, how long? how long, Lord, wilt Thou be angry
for ever? Remember not our former iniquities, for I felt that I was held by
them. I sent up these sorrowful words: How long, how long, “to-morrow, and
tomorrow?” Why not now? why not is there this hour an end to my uncleanness?
So was I speaking and weeping in the most bitter contrition of my heart,
when, lo! I heard from a neighbouring house a voice, as of boy or girl, I
know not, chanting, and oft repeating, “Take up and read; Take up and read.
“ Instantly, my countenance altered, I began to think most intently whether
children were wont in any kind of play to sing such words: nor could I
remember ever to have heard the like. So checking the torrent of my tears, I
arose; interpreting it to be no other than a command from God to open the
book, and read the first chapter I should find. For I had heard of Antony,
that coming in during the reading of the Gospel, he received the admonition,
as if what was being read was spoken to him: Go, sell all that thou hast,
and give to the poor, and thou shalt have treasure in heaven, and come and
follow me: and by such oracle he was forthwith converted unto Thee. Eagerly
then I returned to the place where Alypius was sitting; for there had I laid
the volume of the Apostle when I arose thence. I seized, opened, and in
silence read that section 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,
in concupiscence. No further would I read; nor needed I: for instantly at
the end of this sentence, by a light as it were of serenity infused into my
heart, all the darkness of doubt vanished away.
Then putting my finger between, or some other mark, I shut the volume, and
with a calmed countenance made it known to Alypius. And what was wrought in
him, which I knew not, he thus showed me. He asked to see what I had read: I
showed him; and he looked even further than I had read, and I knew not what
followed. This followed, him that is weak in the faith, receive; which he
applied to himself, and disclosed to me. And by this admonition was he
strengthened; and by a good resolution and purpose, and most corresponding
to his character, wherein he did always very far differ from me, for the
better, without any turbulent delay he joined me. Thence we go in to my
mother; we tell her; she rejoiceth: we relate in order how it took place;
she leaps for joy, and triumpheth, and blesseth Thee, Who are able to do
above that which we ask or think; for she perceived that Thou hadst given
her more for me, than she was wont to beg by her pitiful and most sorrowful
groanings. For thou convertedst me unto Thyself, so that I sought neither
wife, nor any hope of this world, standing in that rule of faith, where Thou
hadst showed me unto her in a vision, so many years before. And Thou didst
convert her mourning into joy, much more plentiful than she had desired, and
in a much more precious and purer way than she erst required, by having
grandchildren of my body.
