Belijdenissen - Augustinus (boek I)
The Confessions of Saint Augustine - Book I
Chapter I
Great art Thou, O Lord, and greatly to be praised; great is Thy power, and
Thy wisdom infinite. And Thee would man praise; man, but a particle of Thy
creation; man, that bears about him his mortality, the witness of his sin,
the witness that Thou resistest the proud: yet would man praise Thee; he,
but a particle of Thy creation. Thou awakest us to delight in Thy praise;
for Thou madest us for Thyself, and our heart is restless, until it repose
in Thee. Grant me, Lord, to know and understand which is first, to call on
Thee or to praise Thee? and, again, to know Thee or to call on Thee? for who
can call on Thee, not knowing Thee? for he that knoweth Thee not, may call
on Thee as other than Thou art. Or, is it rather, that 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? and they that seek
the Lord shall praise Him: for they that seek shall find Him, and they that
find shall praise Him. I will seek Thee, Lord, by calling on Thee; and will
call on Thee, believing in Thee; for to us hast Thou been preached. My
faith, Lord, shall call on Thee, which Thou hast given me, wherewith Thou
hast inspired me, through the Incarnation of Thy Son, through the ministry
of the Preacher.
Chapter II
And how shall I call upon my God, my God and Lord, since, when I call for
Him, I shall be calling Him to myself? and what room is there within me,
whither my God can come into me? whither can God come into me, God who made
heaven and earth? is there, indeed, O Lord my God, aught in me that can
contain Thee? do then heaven and earth, which Thou hast made, and wherein
Thou hast made me, contain Thee? or, because nothing which exists could
exist without Thee, doth therefore whatever exists contain Thee? Since,
then, I too exist, why do I seek that Thou shouldest enter into me, who were
not, wert Thou not in me? Why? because I am not gone down in hell, and yet
Thou art there also. For if I go down into hell, Thou art there. I could not
be then, O my God, could not be at all, wert Thou not in me; or, rather,
unless I were in Thee, of whom are all things, by whom are all things, in
whom are all things? Even so, Lord, even so. Whither do I call Thee, since I
am in Thee? or whence canst Thou enter into me? for whither can I go beyond
heaven and earth, that thence my God should come into me, who hath said, I
fill the heaven and the earth.
Chapter III
Do the heaven and earth then contain Thee, since Thou fillest them? or dost
Thou fill them and yet overflow, since they do not contain Thee? And
whither, when the heaven and the earth are filled, pourest Thou forth the
remainder of Thyself? or hast Thou no need that aught contain Thee, who
containest all things, since what Thou fillest Thou fillest by containing
it? for the vessels which Thou fillest uphold Thee not, since, though they
were broken, Thou wert not poured out. And when Thou art poured out on us,
Thou art not cast down, but Thou upliftest us; Thou art not dissipated, but
Thou gatherest us. But Thou who fillest all things, fillest Thou them with
Thy whole self? or, since all things cannot contain Thee wholly, do they
contain part of Thee? and all at once the same part? or each its own part,
the greater more, the smaller less? And is, then one part of Thee greater,
another less? or, art Thou wholly every where, while nothing contains Thee
wholly?
Chapter IV
What art Thou then, my God? what, but the Lord God? For who is Lord but the
Lord? or who is God save our God? Most highest, most good, most potent, most
omnipotent; most merciful, yet most just; most hidden, yet most present;
most beautiful, yet most strong, stable, yet incomprehensible; unchangeable,
yet all-changing; never new, never old; all-renewing, and bringing age upon
the proud, and they know it not; ever working, ever at rest; still
gathering, yet nothing lacking; supporting, filling, and overspreading;
creating, nourishing, and maturing; seeking, yet having all things. Thou
lovest, without passion; art jealous, without anxiety; repentest, yet
grievest not; art angry, yet serene; changest Thy works, Thy purpose
unchanged; receivest again what Thou findest, yet didst never lose; never in
need, yet rejoicing in gains; never covetous, yet exacting usury. Thou
receivest over and above, that Thou mayest owe; and who hath aught that is
not Thine? Thou payest debts, owing nothing; remittest debts, losing
nothing. And what had I now said, my God, my life, my holy joy? or what
saith any man when he speaks of Thee? Yet woe to him that speaketh not,
since mute are even the most eloquent.
Chapter V
Oh! that I might repose on Thee! Oh! that Thou wouldest enter into my heart,
and inebriate it, that I may forget my ills, and embrace Thee, my sole good!
What art Thou to me? In Thy pity, teach me to utter it. Or what am I to Thee
that Thou demandest my love, and, if I give it not, art wroth with me, and
threatenest me with grievous woes? Is it then a slight woe to love Thee not?
Oh! for Thy mercies’ sake, tell me, O Lord my God, what Thou art unto me.
Say unto my soul, I am thy salvation. So speak, that I may hear. Behold,
Lord, my heart is before Thee; open Thou the ears thereof, and say unto my
soul, I am thy salvation. After this voice let me haste, and take hold on
Thee. Hide not Thy face from me. Let me die—lest I die—only let me see Thy
face.
Narrow is the mansion of my soul; enlarge Thou it, that Thou mayest enter
in. It is ruinous; repair Thou it. It has that within which must offend
Thine eyes; I confess and know it. But who shall cleanse it? or to whom
should I cry, save Thee? Lord, cleanse me from my secret faults, and spare
Thy servant from the power of the enemy. I believe, and therefore do I
speak. Lord, Thou knowest. Have I not confessed against myself my
transgressions unto Thee, and Thou, my God, hast forgiven the iniquity of my
heart? I contend not in judgment with Thee, who art the truth; I fear to
deceive myself; lest mine iniquity lie unto itself. Therefore I contend not
in judgment with Thee; for if Thou, Lord, shouldest mark iniquities, O Lord,
who shall abide it?
Chapter VI
Yet suffer me to speak unto Thy mercy, me, dust and ashes. Yet suffer me to
speak, since I speak to Thy mercy, and not to scornful man. Thou too,
perhaps, despisest me, yet wilt Thou return and have compassion upon me. For
what would I say, O Lord my God, but that I know not whence I came into this
dying life (shall I call it?) or living death. Then immediately did the
comforts of Thy compassion take me up, as I heard (for I remember it not)
from the parents of my flesh, out of whose substance Thou didst sometime
fashion me. Thus there received me the comforts of woman's milk. For neither
my mother nor my nurses stored their own breasts for me; but Thou didst
bestow the food of my infancy through them, according to Thine ordinance,
whereby Thou distributest Thy riches through the hidden springs of all
things. Thou also gavest me to desire no more than Thou gavest; and to my
nurses willingly to give me what Thou gavest them. For they, with a
heaven-taught affection, willingly gave me what they abounded with from
Thee. For this my good from them, was good for them. Nor, indeed, from them
was it, but through them; for from Thee, O God, are all good things, and
from my God is all my health. This I since learned, Thou, through these Thy
gifts, within me and without, proclaiming Thyself unto me. For then I knew
but to suck; to repose in what pleased, and cry at what offended my flesh;
nothing more.
Afterwards I began to smile; first in sleep, then waking: for so it was told
me of myself, and I believed it; for we see the like in other infants,
though of myself I remember it not. Thus, little by little, I became
conscious where I was; and to have a wish to express my wishes to those who
could content them, and I could not; for the wishes were within me, and they
without; nor could they by any sense of theirs enter within my spirit. So I
flung about at random limbs and voice, making the few signs I could, and
such as I could, like, though in truth very little like, what I wished. And
when I was not presently obeyed (my wishes being hurtful or unintelligible),
then I was indignant with my elders for not submitting to me, with those
owing me no service, for not serving me; and avenged myself on them by
tears. Such have I learnt infants to be from observing them; and that I was
myself such, they, all unconscious, have shown me better than my nurses who
knew it.
And, lo! my infancy died long since, and I live. But Thou, Lord, who for
ever livest, and in whom nothing dies: for before the foundation of the
worlds, and before all that can be called “before,” Thou art, and art God
and Lord of all which Thou hast created: in Thee abide, fixed for ever, the
first causes of all things unabiding; and of all things changeable, the
springs abide in Thee unchangeable: and in Thee live the eternal reasons of
all things unreasoning and temporal. Say, Lord, to me, Thy suppliant; say,
all-pitying, to me, Thy pitiable one; say, did my infancy succeed another
age of mine that died before it? was it that which I spent within my
mother's womb? for of that I have heard somewhat, and have myself seen women
with child? and what before that life again, O God my joy, was I any where
or any body? For this have I none to tell me, neither father nor mother, nor
experience of others, nor mine own memory. Dost Thou mock me for asking
this, and bid me praise Thee and acknowledge Thee, for that I do know?
I acknowledge Thee, Lord of heaven and earth, and praise Thee for my first
rudiments of being, and my infancy, whereof I remember nothing; for Thou
hast appointed that man should from others guess much as to himself; and
believe much on the strength of weak females. Even then I had being and
life, and (at my infancy's close) I could seek for signs whereby to make
known to others my sensations. Whence could such a being be, save from Thee,
Lord? Shall any be his own artificer? or can there elsewhere be derived any
vein, which may stream essence and life into us, save from thee, O Lord, in
whom essence and life are one? for Thou Thyself art supremely Essence and
Life. For Thou art most high, and art not changed, neither in Thee doth
to-day come to a close; yet in Thee doth it come to a close; because all
such things also are in Thee. For they had no way to pass away, unless Thou
upheldest them. And since Thy years fail not, Thy years are one to-day. How
many of ours and our fathers’ years have flowed away through Thy “to-day,”
and from it received the measure and the mould of such being as they had;
and still others shall flow away, and so receive the mould of their degree
of being. But Thou art still the same, and all things of tomorrow, and all
beyond, and all of yesterday, and all behind it, Thou hast done to-day. What
is it to me, though any comprehend not this? Let him also rejoice and say,
What thing is this? Let him rejoice even thus! and be content rather by not
discovering to discover Thee, than by discovering not to discover Thee.
Chapter VII
Hear, O God. Alas, for man's sin! So saith man, and Thou pitiest him; for
Thou madest him, but sin in him Thou madest not. Who remindeth me of the
sins of my infancy? for in Thy sight none is pure from sin, not even the
infant whose life is but a day upon the earth. Who remindeth me? doth not
each little infant, in whom I see what of myself I remember not? What then
was my sin? was it that I hung upon the breast and cried? for should I now
so do for food suitable to my age, justly should I be laughed at and
reproved. What I then did was worthy reproof; but since I could not
understand reproof, custom and reason forbade me to be reproved. For those
habits, when grown, we root out and cast away. Now no man, though he prunes,
wittingly casts away what is good. Or was it then good, even for a while, to
cry for what, if given, would hurt? bitterly to resent, that persons free,
and its own elders, yea, the very authors of its birth, served it not? that
many besides, wiser than it, obeyed not the nod of its good pleasure? to do
its best to strike and hurt, because commands were not obeyed, which had
been obeyed to its hurt? The weakness then of infant limbs, not its will, is
its innocence. Myself have seen and known even a baby envious; it could not
speak, yet it turned pale and looked bitterly on its foster-brother. Who
knows not this? Mothers and nurses tell you that they allay these things by
I know not what remedies. Is that too innocence, when the fountain of milk
is flowing in rich abundance, not to endure one to share it, though in
extremest need, and whose very life as yet depends thereon? We bear gently
with all this, not as being no or slight evils, but because they will
disappear as years increase; for, though tolerated now, the very same
tempers are utterly intolerable when found in riper years.
Thou, then, O Lord my God, who gavest life to this my infancy, furnishing
thus with senses (as we see) the frame Thou gavest, compacting its limbs,
ornamenting its proportions, and, for its general good and safety,
implanting in it all vital functions, Thou commandest me to praise Thee in
these things, to confess unto Thee, and sing unto Thy name, Thou most
Highest. For Thou art God, Almighty and Good, even hadst Thou done nought
but only this, which none could do but Thou: whose Unity is the mould of all
things; who out of Thy own fairness makest all things fair; and orderest all
things by Thy law. This age then, Lord, whereof I have no remembrance, which
I take on others’ word, and guess from other infants that I have passed,
true though the guess be, I am yet loth to count in this life of mine which
I live in this world. For no less than that which I spent in my mother's
womb, is it hid from me in the shadows of forgetfulness. But if I was shapen
in iniquity, and in sin did my mother conceive me, where, I beseech Thee, O
my God, where, Lord, or when, was I Thy servant guiltless? But, lo! that
period I pass by; and what have I now to do with that, of which I can recall
no vestige?
Chapter VIII
Passing hence from infancy, I came to boyhood, or rather it came to me,
displacing infancy. Nor did that depart,—(for whither went it?)—and yet it
was no more. For I was no longer a speechless infant, but a speaking boy.
This I remember; and have since observed how I learned to speak. It was not
that my elders taught me words (as, soon after, other learning) in any set
method; but I, longing by cries and broken accents and various motions of my
limbs to express my thoughts, that so I might have my will, and yet unable
to express all I willed, or to whom I willed, did myself, by the
understanding which Thou, my God, gavest me, practise the sounds in my
memory. When they named any thing, and as they spoke turned towards it, I
saw and remembered that they called what they would point out by the name
they uttered. And that they meant this thing and no other was plain from the
motion of their body, the natural language, as it were, of all nations,
expressed by the countenance, glances of the eye, gestures of the limbs, and
tones of the voice, indicating the affections of the mind, as it pursues,
possesses, rejects, or shuns. And thus by constantly hearing words, as they
occurred in various sentences, I collected gradually for what they stood;
and having broken in my mouth to these signs, I thereby gave utterance to my
will. Thus I exchanged with those about me these current signs of our wills,
and so launched deeper into the stormy intercourse of human life, yet
depending on parental authority and the beck of elders.
Chapter IX
O God my God, what miseries and mockeries did I now experience, when
obedience to my teachers was proposed to me, as proper in a boy, in order
that in this world I might prosper, and excel in tongue-science, which
should serve to the “praise of men,” and to deceitful riches. Next I was put
to school to get learning, in which I (poor wretch) knew not what use there
was; and yet, if idle in learning, I was beaten. For this was judged right
by our forefathers; and many, passing the same course before us, framed for
us weary paths, through which we were fain to pass; multiplying toil and
grief upon the sons of Adam. But, Lord, we found that men called upon Thee,
and we learnt from them to think of Thee (according to our powers) as of
some great One, who, though hidden from our senses, couldest hear and help
us. For so I began, as a boy, to pray to Thee, my aid and refuge; and broke
the fetters of my tongue to call on Thee, praying Thee, though small, yet
with no small earnestness, that I might not be beaten at school. And when
Thou heardest me not (not thereby giving me over to folly), my elders, yea
my very parents, who yet wished me no ill, mocked my stripes, my then great
and grievous ill.
Is there, Lord, any of soul so great, and cleaving to Thee with so intense
affection (for a sort of stupidity will in a way do it); but is there any
one who, from cleaving devoutly to Thee, is endued with so great a spirit,
that he can think as lightly of the racks and hooks and other torments
(against which, throughout all lands, men call on Thee with extreme dread),
mocking at those by whom they are feared most bitterly, as our parents
mocked the torments which we suffered in boyhood from our masters? For we
feared not our torments less; nor prayed we less to Thee to escape them. And
yet we sinned, in writing or reading or studying less than was exacted of
us. For we wanted not, O Lord, memory or capacity, whereof Thy will gave
enough for our age; but our sole delight was play; and for this we were
punished by those who yet themselves were doing the like. But elder folks’
idleness is called “business”; that of boys, being really the same, is
punished by those elders; and none commiserates either boys or men. For will
any of sound discretion approve of my being beaten as a boy, because, by
playing a ball, I made less progress in studies which I was to learn, only
that, as a man, I might play more unbeseemingly? and what else did he who
beat me? who, if worsted in some trifling discussion with his fellow-tutor,
was more embittered and jealous than I when beaten at ball by a play-fellow?
Chapter X
And yet, I sinned herein, O Lord God, the Creator and Disposer of all things
in nature, of sin the Disposer only, O Lord my God, I sinned in
transgressing the commands of my parents and those of my masters. For what
they, with whatever motive, would have me learn, I might afterwards have put
to good use. For I disobeyed, not from a better choice, but from love of
play, loving the pride of victory in my contests, and to have my ears
tickled with lying fables, that they might itch the more; the same curiosity
flashing from my eyes more and more, for the shows and games of my elders.
Yet those who give these shows are in such esteem, that almost all wish the
same for their children, and yet are very willing that they should be
beaten, if those very games detain them from the studies, whereby they would
have them attain to be the givers of them. Look with pity, Lord, on these
things, and deliver us who call upon Thee now; deliver those too who call
not on Thee yet, that they may call on Thee, and Thou mayest deliver them.
Chapter XI
As a boy, then, I had already heard of an eternal life, promised us through
the humility of the Lord our God stooping to our pride; and even from the
womb of my mother, who greatly hoped in Thee, I was sealed with the mark of
His cross and salted with His salt. Thou sawest, Lord, how while yet a boy,
being seized on a time with sudden oppression of the stomach, and like near
to death—Thou sawest, my God (for Thou wert my keeper), with what eagerness
and what faith I sought, from the pious care of my mother and Thy Church,
the mother of us all, the baptism of Thy Christ, my God and Lord. Whereupon
the mother my flesh, being much troubled (since, with a heart pure in Thy
faith, she even more lovingly travailed in birth of my salvation), would in
eager haste have provided for my consecration and cleansing by the
health-giving sacraments, confessing Thee, Lord Jesus, for the remission of
sins, unless I had suddenly recovered. And so, as if I must needs be again
polluted should I live, my cleansing was deferred, because the defilements
of sin would, after that washing, bring greater and more perilous guilt. I
then already believed: and my mother, and the whole household, except my
father: yet did not he prevail over the power of my mother's piety in me,
that as he did not yet believe, so neither should I. For it was her earnest
care that Thou my God, rather than he, shouldest be my father; and in this
Thou didst aid her to prevail over her husband, whom she, the better,
obeyed, therein also obeying Thee, who hast so commanded.
I beseech Thee, my God, I would fain know, if so Thou willest, for what
purpose my baptism was then deferred? was it for my good that the rein was
laid loose, as it were, upon me, for me to sin? or was it not laid loose? If
not, why does it still echo in our ears on all sides, “Let him alone, let
him do as he will, for he is not yet baptised?” but as to bodily health, no
one says, “Let him be worse wounded, for he is not yet healed.” How much
better then, had I been at once healed; and then, by my friends’ and my own,
my soul's recovered health had been kept safe in Thy keeping who gavest it.
Better truly. But how many and great waves of temptation seemed to hang over
me after my boyhood! These my mother foresaw; and preferred to expose to
them the clay whence I might afterwards be moulded, than the very cast, when
made.
Chapter XII
In boyhood itself, however (so much less dreaded for me than youth), I loved
not study, and hated to be forced to it. Yet I was forced; and this was well
done towards me, but I did not well; for, unless forced, I had not learnt.
But no one doth well against his will, even though what he doth, be well.
Yet neither did they well who forced me, but what was well came to me from
Thee, my God. For they were regardless how I should employ what they forced
me to learn, except to satiate the insatiate desires of a wealthy beggary,
and a shameful glory. But Thou, by whom the very hairs of our head are
numbered, didst use for my good the error of all who urged me to learn; and
my own, who would not learn, Thou didst use for my punishment—a fit penalty
for one, so small a boy and so great a sinner. So by those who did not well,
Thou didst well for me; and by my own sin Thou didst justly punish me. For
Thou hast commanded, and so it is, that every inordinate affection should be
its own punishment.
Chapter XIII
But why did I so much hate the Greek, which I studied as a boy? I do not yet
fully know. For the Latin I loved; not what my first masters, but what the
so-called grammarians taught me. For those first lessons, reading, writing
and arithmetic, I thought as great a burden and penalty as any Greek. And
yet whence was this too, but from the sin and vanity of this life, because I
was flesh, and a breath that passeth away and cometh not again? For those
first lessons were better certainly, because more certain; by them I
obtained, and still retain, the power of reading what I find written, and
myself writing what I will; whereas in the others, I was forced to learn the
wanderings of one Aeneas, forgetful of my own, and to weep for dead Dido,
because she killed herself for love; the while, with dry eyes, I endured my
miserable self dying among these things, far from Thee, O God my life.
For what more miserable than a miserable being who commiserates not himself;
weeping the death of Dido for love to Aeneas, but weeping not his own death
for want of love to Thee, O God. Thou light of my heart, Thou bread of my
inmost soul, Thou Power who givest vigour to my mind, who quickenest my
thoughts, I loved Thee not. I committed fornication against Thee, and all
around me thus fornicating there echoed “Well done! well done!” for the
friendship of this world is fornication against Thee; and “Well done! well
done!” echoes on till one is ashamed not to he thus a man. And for all this
I wept not, I who wept for Dido slain, and “seeking by the sword a stroke
and wound extreme,” myself seeking the while a worse extreme, the extremest
and lowest of Thy creatures, having forsaken Thee, earth passing into the
earth. And if forbid to read all this, I was grieved that I might not read
what grieved me. Madness like this is thought a higher and a richer
learning, than that by which I learned to read and write.
But now, my God, cry Thou aloud in my soul; and let Thy truth tell me, “Not
so, not so. Far better was that first study.” For, lo, I would readily
forget the wanderings of Aeneas and all the rest, rather than how to read
and write. But over the entrance of the Grammar School is a vail drawn!
true; yet is this not so much an emblem of aught recondite, as a cloak of
error. Let not those, whom I no longer fear, cry out against me, while I
confess to Thee, my God, whatever my soul will, and acquiesce in the
condemnation of my evil ways, that I may love Thy good ways. Let not either
buyers or sellers of grammar-learning cry out against me. For if I question
them whether it be true that Aeneas came on a time to Carthage, as the poet
tells, the less learned will reply that they know not, the more learned that
he never did. But should I ask with what letters the name “Aeneas” is
written, every one who has learnt this will answer me aright, as to the
signs which men have conventionally settled. If, again, I should ask which
might be forgotten with least detriment to the concerns of life, reading and
writing or these poetic fictions? who does not foresee what all must answer
who have not wholly forgotten themselves? I sinned, then, when as a boy I
preferred those empty to those more profitable studies, or rather loved the
one and hated the other. “One and one, two”; “two and two, four”; this was
to me a hateful singsong: “the wooden horse lined with armed men,” and “the
burning of Troy,” and “Creusa's shade and sad similitude,” were the choice
spectacle of my vanity.
Chapter XIV
Why then did I hate the Greek classics, which have the like tales? For Homer
also curiously wove the like fictions, and is most sweetlyvain, yet was he
bitter to my boyish taste. And so I suppose would Virgil be to Grecian
children, when forced to learn him as I was Homer. Difficulty, in truth, the
difficulty of a foreign tongue, dashed, as it were, with gall all the
sweetness of Grecian fable. For not one word of it did I understand, and to
make me understand I was urged vehemently with cruel threats and
punishments. Time was also (as an infant) I knew no Latin; but this I
learned without fear or suffering, by mere observation, amid the caresses of
my nursery and jests of friends, smiling and sportively encouraging me. This
I learned without any pressure of punishment to urge me on, for my heart
urged me to give birth to its conceptions, which I could only do by learning
words not of those who taught, but of those who talked with me; in whose
ears also I gave birth to the thoughts, whatever I conceived. No doubt,
then, that a free curiosity has more force in our learning these things,
than a frightful enforcement. Only this enforcement restrains the rovings of
that freedom, through Thy laws, O my God, Thy laws, from the master's cane
to the martyr's trials, being able to temper for us a wholesome bitter,
recalling us to Thyself from that deadly pleasure which lures us from Thee.
Chapter XV
Hear, Lord, my prayer; let not my soul faint under Thy discipline, nor let
me faint in confessing unto Thee all Thy mercies, whereby Thou hast drawn me
out of all my most evil ways, that Thou mightest become a delight to me
above all the allurements which I once pursued; that I may most entirely
love Thee, and clasp Thy hand with all my affections, and Thou mayest yet
rescue me from every temptation, even unto the end. For lo, O Lord, my King
and my God, for Thy service be whatever useful thing my childhood learned;
for Thy service, that I speak, write, read, reckon. For Thou didst grant me
Thy discipline, while I was learning vanities; and my sin of delighting in
those vanities Thou hast forgiven. In them, indeed, I learnt many a useful
word, but these may as well be learned in things not vain; and that is the
safe path for the steps of youth.
Chapter XVI
But woe is thee, thou torrent of human custom! Who shall stand against thee?
how long shalt thou not be dried up? how long roll the sons of Eve into that
huge and hideous ocean, which even they scarcely overpass who climb the
cross? Did not I read in thee of Jove the thunderer and the adulterer? both,
doubtless, he could not be; but so the feigned thunder might countenance and
pander to real adultery. And now which of our gowned masters lends a sober
ear to one who from their own school cries out, “These were Homer's
fictions, transferring things human to the gods; would he had brought down
things divine to us!” Yet more truly had he said, “These are indeed his
fictions; but attributing a divine nature to wicked men, that crimes might
be no longer crimes, and whoso commits them might seem to imitate not
abandoned men, but the celestial gods.”
And yet, thou hellish torrent, into thee are cast the sons of men with rich
rewards, for compassing such learning; and a great solemnity is made of it,
when this is going on in the forum, within sight of laws appointing a salary
beside the scholar's payments; and thou lashest thy rocks and roarest,
“Hence words are learnt; hence eloquence; most necessary to gain your ends,
or maintain opinions.” As if we should have never known such words as
“golden shower,” “lap,” “beguile,” “temples of the heavens,” or others in
that passage, unless Terence had brought a lewd youth upon the stage,
setting up Jupiter as his example of seduction.
“Viewing a picture, where the tale was drawn,
Of Jove's descending in a golden shower
To Danae's lap a woman to beguile.”
And then mark how he excites himself to lust as by celestial authority:
“And what God? Great Jove,
Who shakes heaven's highest temples with his thunder,
And I, poor mortal man, not do the same!
I did it, and with all my heart I did it.”
Not one whit more easily are the words learnt for all this vileness; but by
their means the vileness is committed with less shame. Not that I blame the
words, being, as it were, choice and precious vessels; but that wine of
error which is drunk to us in them by intoxicated teachers; and if we, too,
drink not, we are beaten, and have no sober judge to whom we may appeal.
Yet, O my God (in whose presence I now without hurt may remember this), all
this unhappily I learnt willingly with great delight, and for this was
pronounced a hopeful boy.
Chapter XVII
Bear with me, my God, while I say somewhat of my wit, Thy gift, and on what
dotages I wasted it. For a task was set me, troublesome enough to my soul,
upon terms of praise or shame, and fear of stripes, to speak the words of
Juno, as she raged and mourned that she could not
“This Trojan prince from Latinum turn.”
Which words I had heard that Juno never uttered; but we were forced to go
astray in the footsteps of these poetic fictions, and to say in prose much
what he expressed in verse. And his speaking was most applauded, in whom the
passions of rage and grief were most preeminent, and clothed in the most
fitting language, maintaining the dignity of the character. What is it to
me, O my true life, my God, that my declamation was applauded above so many
of my own age and class? is not all this smoke and wind? and was there
nothing else whereon to exercise my wit and tongue? Thy praises, Lord, Thy
praises might have stayed the yet tender shoot of my heart by the prop of
Thy Scriptures; so had it not trailed away amid these empty trifles, a
defiled prey for the fowls of the air. For in more ways than one do men
sacrifice to the rebellious angels.
Chapter XVIII
But what marvel that I was thus carried away to vanities, and went out from
Thy presence, O my God, when men were set before me as models, who, if in
relating some action of theirs, in itself not ill, they committed some
barbarism or solecism, being censured, were abashed; but when in rich and
adomed and well-ordered discourse they related their own disordered life,
being bepraised, they gloried? These things Thou seest, Lord, and holdest
Thy peace; long-suffering, and plenteous in mercy and truth. Wilt Thou hold
Thy peace for ever? and even now Thou drawest out of this horrible gulf the
soul that seeketh Thee, that thirsteth for Thy pleasures, whose heart saith
unto Thee, I have sought Thy face; Thy face, Lord, will I seek. For darkened
affections is removal from Thee. For it is not by our feet, or change of
place, that men leave Thee, or return unto Thee. Or did that Thy younger son
look out for horses or chariots, or ships, fly with visible wings, or
journey by the motion of his limbs, that he might in a far country waste in
riotous living all Thou gavest at his departure? a loving Father, when Thou
gavest, and more loving unto him, when he returned empty. So then in
lustful, that is, in darkened affections, is the true distance from Thy
face.
Behold, O Lord God, yea, behold patiently as Thou art wont how carefully the
sons of men observe the covenanted rules of letters and syllables received
from those who spake before them, neglecting the eternal covenant of
everlasting salvation received from Thee. Insomuch, that a teacher or
learner of the hereditary laws of pronunciation will more offend men by
speaking without the aspirate, of a “uman being,” in despite of the laws of
grammar, than if he, a “human being,” hate a “human being” in despite of
Thine. As if any enemy could be more hurtful than the hatred with which he
is incensed against him; or could wound more deeply him whom he persecutes,
than he wounds his own soul by his enmity. Assuredly no science of letters
can be so innate as the record of conscience, “that he is doing to another
what from another he would be loth to suffer.” How deep are Thy ways, O God,
Thou only great, that sittest silent on high and by an unwearied law
dispensing penal blindness to lawless desires. In quest of the fame of
eloquence, a man standing before a human judge, surrounded by a human
throng, declaiming against his enemy with fiercest hatred, will take heed
most watchfully, lest, by an error of the tongue, he murder the word “human
being”; but takes no heed, lest, through the fury of his spirit, he murder
the real human being.
This was the world at whose gate unhappy I lay in my boyhood; this the stage
where I had feared more to commit a barbarism, than having committed one, to
envy those who had not. These things I speak and confess to Thee, my God;
for which I had praise from them, whom I then thought it all virtue to
please. For I saw not the abyss of vileness, wherein I was cast away from
Thine eyes. Before them what more foul than I was already, displeasing even
such as myself? with innumerable lies deceiving my tutor, my masters, my
parents, from love of play, eagerness to see vain shows and restlessness to
imitate them! Thefts also I committed, from my parents’ cellar and table,
enslaved by greediness, or that I might have to give to boys, who sold me
their play, which all the while they liked no less than I. In this play,
too, I often sought unfair conquests, conquered myself meanwhile by vain
desire of preeminence. And what could I so ill endure, or, when I detected
it, upbraided I so fiercely, as that I was doing to others? and for which
if, detected, I was upbraided, I chose rather to quarrel than to yield. And
is this the innocence of boyhood? Not so, Lord, not so; I cry Thy mercy, my
God. For these very sins, as riper years succeed, these very sins are
transferred from tutors and masters, from nuts and balls and sparrows, to
magistrates and kings, to gold and manors and slaves, just as severer
punishments displace the cane. It was the low stature then of childhood
which Thou our King didst commend as an emblem of lowliness, when Thou
saidst, Of such is the kingdom of heaven.
Yet, Lord, to Thee, the Creator and Governor of the universe, most excellent
and most good, thanks were due to Thee our God, even hadst Thou destined for
me boyhood only. For even then I was, I lived, and felt; and had an
implanted providence over my well-being—a trace of that mysterious Unity
whence I was derived; I guarded by the inward sense the entireness of my
senses, and in these minute pursuits, and in my thoughts on things minute, I
learnt to delight in truth, I hated to be deceived, had a vigorous memory,
was gifted with speech, was soothed by friendship, avoided pain, baseness,
ignorance. In so small a creature, what was not wonderful, not admirable?
But all are gifts of my God: it was not I who gave them me; and good these
are, and these together are myself. Good, then, is He that made me, and He
is my good; and before Him will I exult for every good which of a boy I had.
For it was my sin, that not in Him, but in His creatures—myself and
others—I sought for pleasures, sublimities, truths, and so fell headlong
into sorrows, confusions, errors. Thanks be to Thee, my joy and my glory and
my confidence, my God, thanks be to Thee for Thy gifts; but do Thou preserve
them to me. For so wilt Thou preserve me, and those things shall be enlarged
and perfected which Thou hast given me, and I myself shall be with Thee,
since even to be Thou hast given me.
