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Cornell University Library 
 
 BR65.A92 C61 1909a 
 
 Confessions of Saint Augustine / transia 
 
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 3 1924 029 217 720 
 
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Cl)e Confe00ion0 of 
 
iNTHOSE YEARS I TAUGHT RHETORIC 
 
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 The translation of the 'Ten Books of ' The Con- 
 fessions' of St. Augustine here reprinted is that 
 made by the Rev. Dr. E. B. Pusey, in 1838. At 
 that time Pusey had given his strenuous adhesion to 
 the great Oxford movement, and to the School of 
 that movement he rendered yeoman service by his 
 scheme for translating the more important writings 
 of the Fathers. It was Pusey who planned ' The 
 Oxford Library of Fathers of the Holy Catholic 
 Church, anterior to the Division of East and West,' 
 and the fast volume of this library was his own 
 translation of St. Augustine's ' Confessions.' The 
 present reprint does not include the erudite preface 
 which Pusey wrote for the original edition. That 
 preface dealt mainly with the value and necessity 
 of the study of patristic literature, a subject which 
 does not come within the scope of this series. 
 
 Temple Scott. 
 
preface 
 
 jHE great men of the race are they who 
 are chiefly capable of a great sin- 
 cerity. Other men may be entirely 
 sincere, but the entire sincerity of 
 great natures is of larger importance ; of them 
 it may be said that they are not relatively but 
 absolutely and positively more sincere than the 
 rest. And in nothing else, obviously, is a great 
 sincerity so momentous as in religion. St. 
 Augustine, St. Francis, Pascal have taken the 
 narrowest way into self-knowledge, and have 
 entered in at the straitest gate. No illusion, no 
 substitute for experience, no substitute for life, 
 no excuse against grief, no exaggeration, no self- 
 sparing, no tradition, is able to cling to the man 
 so secretly despoiled — despoiled of all except the 
 difficult truth ; but especially despoiled, St. 
 Francis of hampering material circumstance, 
 Pascal of the fictions of words, St. Augustine of 
 the detaining tenderness of secondary loves. It 
 is true that the intellectual imagination was also 
 a barrier in his way, so that he needed to put it 
 also to silence, before he was able to conceive the 
 new idea of Divinity ; but he, undeceived, dis- 
 
 vii 
 
pntact 
 
 covered the turning aside, the pausing, of love 
 to have been the thing that chiefly kept him for 
 a while from the First and Only Fair. Nay, a 
 company of other hindrances there were : for 
 example, the partial or heretical faith — the faith 
 of a sect which during his earlier years oflFered him 
 the little-realised idea of God — and much the 
 idea of the modern world, and niuch the con- 
 ception of the modern mind — against which he 
 had the candour to revolt. In bereavement, he 
 teUs us, he had tried to persuade his soul to find 
 consolation in God, but his soul had replied that 
 she could not, for the friend she had lost, being a 
 man, was better than this God. But more than 
 heresy, more than a will unsacrificed, more than 
 any other cause of delay in the ' conversion ' of 
 Augustine was the love astray that is assuredly 
 far more than the self-love involved in ambition, 
 the infirmity of noble minds. St. Augustine, 
 thinker, reasoner, dialectician, whose intellectual 
 encounters left him a Father of the Church, is 
 eminently the Saint of love. He loved love first 
 and last. Feeling love, and in search of that 
 which he should love, he found it ultimately to 
 be love, and closed in the end with his early desire. 
 On the delays of that secondary tenderness he 
 has no mercy in his self-accusations ; but it does 
 not appear that the young Augustine was a 
 random libertine ; he loved his companion and 
 
 viii 
 
his child ; his briefer bond with another was 
 undertaken less in pleasure than in despair. And 
 the chief evil, perhaps, was in the mere delay that 
 by means of sexual love beset the soul created for 
 love immediate and direct. Stripped of this, St. 
 Augustine stood alone with the end of his search, 
 alone in the great sincerity, one of the greatest 
 sincerities in the history of the human race. 
 
 Aurelius Augustinus, son of Patricius and of 
 Monnica, was born in a.d. 354 at Tagaste in 
 Numidia, was sent to school at Madaura, and 
 afterwards at Carthage, was liberally educated, 
 and remaining — in that age of the encounter of 
 paganism and Christianity — albeit a student of 
 theology, unbaptized, joined the sect of the 
 Manichaeans in search of a solution of the problem 
 of the origin and existence of evil. The solution 
 he found there was one that, attempting to 
 account for all, stopped short of the final philo- 
 sophy. Through the years of error and of law- 
 less living, Augustine was mourned for by his 
 mother, that Monnica who won the name and 
 grade of Saint by the long martyrdom of her 
 wounded maternity. She seemed to herself to 
 have brought a man into the world with the doom 
 of reprobation before him. ' The son of so many 
 tears would not perish,' said a bishop before 
 whom she stood, as she lived, a fountain of tears. 
 Nor did she die until her child had spoken with 
 
 ix 
 
I^reface 
 
 Ambrose at Milan, and after a long and difficult 
 controversy with his own will, his own wish, and 
 the bonds of the fragmentary system wherein he 
 had lingered, had been baptized in 387, and his 
 young son with him. In the Milanese church, 
 from the doors of which St. Ambrose turned 
 away an emperor of the West, stained with the 
 crime of an Asian massacre, Augustine and 
 Ambrose composed, in alternate verses, the first 
 Te Deum. From that day the North African 
 student became a Doctor of the Church CathoHc. 
 Monnica's tears, the reading of Plato and the 
 Platonists (Augustine had been in his boyhood 
 negligent of Greek, and he read these authors in 
 a translation), and what he found to be the ignor- 
 ance of his Manichaean teachers, had their various 
 influences and persuasions to one unalterable 
 event. Augustine had produced a treatise ' On 
 the Beautiful and the Apt ' in the days before his 
 conversion ; in the years that followed he wrote 
 the series of works that are nothing less than the 
 foundation of Western theology. The treatises 
 ' Contra Academicos,' ' De Immortalitate Animae,' 
 * De Ordine,' written at Milan ; ' De Moribus 
 Ecclesiae Catholicae,' ' De Libero Arbitrio,' ' De 
 Quantitate Animae,' and a treatise against the 
 Manichaeans, written in Rome, were the first 
 fruits of this imperishable work of literature. He 
 returned to Tagaste, where he sold what remained 
 
of his inheritance from his father, for the benefit 
 of the poor, and remained for some time in soli- 
 tude, composing amid his devotions the treatises 
 ' De Genesi contra Manichseos,' ' De Musica,' 
 ' De Magistro,' ' De Vera Religione.' In 391 
 he was ordained priest, and a few" years later, 
 after the composition of the tract ' De Utilitate 
 Credendi,' of two more essays against the Mani- 
 chaeans, and of a discourse upon the Creed, he 
 was consecrated Bishop of Hippo — a see he held, 
 despite persuasions to accept a more conspicuous 
 bishopric, until his death on the 28th of August 
 430. He wrote against the Donatist and Pelagian 
 heresies, but always with gentleness, and often 
 with affection, of the men whom he opposed. 
 His monumental and fully representative works 
 are the ' Confessions,' the ' Retractations,' and the 
 ' City of God.' This last and the ' Confessions ' 
 are not only great classics, but great books of 
 human experience, and have been as much loved 
 by the multitude as studied by the learned. Two 
 of his words are familiar in the household of every 
 house of life — they are part of every man's 
 memory : — 
 
 Nondum amabam, et amare amabam, quaerebam quid 
 amarem amans amare ; 
 
 and 
 
 Fecisti nos ad Te, et irrequietura est cor nostrum donee 
 requiescat in Te. 
 
 xi 
 
Contents 
 
 Cl^e ftr0t 'Boofi 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Confessions of the greatness and unsearchableness of 
 God, of God's mercies in infancy and boyhood, 
 and human wilfulness ; of his own sins of idle- 
 ness, abuse of his studies, and of God's gifts up to 
 his fifteenth year ...... i 
 
 Object of these Confessions. Further ills of idleness 
 dereloped in his sixteenth year. Evils of ill 
 society, which betrayed him into theft . . 30 
 
 His residence at Carthage from his seventeenth to his 
 nineteenth year. Source of his disorders. Love 
 of shows. Advance in studies, and love of wisdom. 
 Distaste for Scripture. Led astray to the Mani- 
 chasans. Refutation of some of their tenets. 
 Grief of his mother Monnica at his heresy, and 
 prayers for his conversion. Her vision from God, 
 and answer through a Bishop .... 46 
 
 CJ^e fomt^ OBooft 
 
 Augustine's life from nineteen to eight-and-twenty ; 
 himself a Manichaan, and seducing others to the 
 xii 
 
Cl^e fOUttt^ XOOU— continued 
 
 PAGE 
 
 same heresy ; partial obedience amidst vanity 
 and sin ; consulting astrologers, only partially 
 shaken herein ; loss of an early friend, who is 
 converted by being baptized when in a swoon ; 
 reflections on grief, on real and unreal friendship, 
 and love of fame ; writes on ' the fair and fit,' yet 
 cannot rightly, though God had given him great 
 talents, since he entertained wrong notions of 
 God ; and so even his knowledge he applied ill , 69 
 
 Cj^e jfift]^ ^oofe 
 
 St. Augustine's twenty-ninth year. Faustus, a snare 
 of Satan to many, made an instrument of deliver- 
 ance to St. Augustine, by showing the ignorance 
 of the Manichees on those things wherein they 
 professed to have divine knowledge. Augustine 
 gives up all thought of going further among the 
 Manichees : is guided to Rome and Milan, where 
 he hears St. Ambrose, leaves the Manichees, and 
 becomes again a Catechumen in the Church 
 Catholic ....... 98 
 
 Arrival of Monnica at Milan ; her obedience to St. 
 Ambrose, and his value for her ; St. Ambrose's 
 habits ; Augustine's gradual abandonment of 
 error ; finds that he has blamed the Church 
 Catholic wrongly ; desire of absolute certainty, 
 but struck with the coiitrary analogy of God's 
 natural Providence ; how shaken in his worldly 
 pursuits ; God's guidance of his friend Alypius ; 
 
 xiii 
 
ContetttjS 
 
 Cl^e ^iVt\) IBOOfi— continued 
 
 PACK 
 
 Augustine debates with himself and his friends 
 about their mode of life ; his inveterate sins, and 
 the dread of judgment . . . . .126 
 
 Augustine's thirty-first year ; gradually extricated 
 from his errors, but still with material conceptions 
 of God ; much aided by an argument of Nebridius ; 
 sees that the cause of sin lies in free-will, rejects 
 the Manichaean heresy, but cannot altogether era- 
 brace the doctrine of the Church ; recovered from 
 the belief in Astrology, but miserably perplexed 
 about the origin of evil ; is led to find in the 
 . Platonists the seeds of the doctrine of the Divinity 
 of the WORD, but not of his humiliation; hence 
 he obtains clearer notions of God's majesty, but, 
 not knowing Christ to be the Mediator, remains 
 estranged from Him ; all his doubts removed by 
 the study of Holy Scripture, especially St. Paul . 158 
 
 Augustine's thirty-second year. He consults Sim- 
 plicianus, from him hears the history of the 
 conversion of Victorinus, and longs to devote 
 himself entirely to God, but is mastered by his 
 old habits ; is still further roused by the history 
 of St. Anthony, and the conversion of two 
 courtiers ; during a severe struggle, hears a voice 
 from heaven, opens Scripture, and is converted, 
 with his friend Alypius. His mother's vision 
 fulfilled 192 
 

 Augustine determines to devote his life to God, and to 
 abandon his profession of Rhetoric, quietly how- 
 ever ; retires to the country to prepare himself to 
 receiye the grace of Baptism, and is baptized with 
 Alypius and his son Adeodatus. At Ostia, in his 
 way to Africa, his mother Monnica dies, in her 
 fifty-sixth year, the thirty-third of Augustine. 
 Her life and character ..... 
 
 Cl^e Centl^ 'Booft 
 
 225 
 
 Having in the former books spoken of himself before 
 his receiving the grace of Baptism, in this 
 Augustine confesses what he then was. But 
 first, he inquires by what faculty we can know 
 God at all ; whence he enlarges on the mysterious 
 character of the memory, wherein God, being 
 made known, dwells, but which could not dis- 
 cover Him. Then he examines his own trials 
 under the triple division of temptation, 'lust of 
 the flesh, lust of the eyes, and pride ' ; what 
 Christian continency prescribes as to each. On 
 Christ, the only Mediator, who heals and will 
 heal ail infirmities . . . . . .262 
 
 XV 
 
3Illustrationg 
 
 Ta/actpagt 
 
 m THOSE YEARS I TAUGHT RHETORIC . . FronHifiect 
 
 ILLUMINATED TITLE-PAGE 
 
 BUT WHY DID I SO MUCH HATE THE GREEK.? 
 
 I WAS EASY TO BE SEDUCED 36 
 
 TO CARTHAGE I CAME 46 
 
 SHE ON THE MORROW WAS THERE . . . .114 
 I HUNG ON HIS WORDS ATTENTIVELY . . .113 
 
 SHE COMFORTED THE VERY MARINERS . . .127 
 I DID NOT REFUSE TO CONJECTURE . . . .169 
 I CAST MYSELF DOWN UNDER A CERTAIN FIG-TREE 222 
 WE WERE INQUIRING BETWEEN OURSELVES . , 249 
 COURSING PERADVENTURE WILL DISTRACT ME , 314 
 
 XVI 
 
(ffiottfesstons of tte gteatnesg antj unsearc$a{)lene«s of 
 ®oif, of <Soti'i8 mmteg in tnfancg anti tiofitooti, 
 utiit Suman toilfulness ; of $tg otoit Bins of Mts 
 ne»s, abuse of i)iB BtvUim, anir of ®ots'8 gifts up 
 to i)ts fiftemt^ gear. 
 
 IREJT art Thou, O Lord, and greatly 
 to be f raised ; great is Thy foiver, 
 and Thy wisdom infinite} And Thee 
 would man praise ; man, but a par- 
 ticle 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 caU on Thee ? for whq 
 can call ofT 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 
 
 fPs. cxlv. 3 ; cxlvi. 5. * Jas. iv. 6 ; i Pet. v. 5. 
 
 A I 
 
Cl^e €onitmom of 
 
 shall they call on Him in whom they have not 
 believed f 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, 
 beheving 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. 
 
 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 
 witnm 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 into hell, and yet Thou art 
 there also. For if 1 go down into hell. Thou art 
 there.* I could not be, then, O my God, could not 
 
 ' Rom. X. 14. ' Ps. xxii. 26. 
 
 ' Matt. vii. 7. * Ps. cxxxix. 7. 
 
be at all, wert Thou not in me ; or, rather, unless 
 I were in Thee, of whom are all'tloines^ hVivFom 
 are all things, in whom are all things J^ Even so, 
 Lorfl, even so. wmther do 1 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 m y God should come into m e. 
 who hath said, (l7^// the heav en and, t he earihl^Ji 
 
 Do the heaven" and eartl^ne^contain 'I'hee, 
 since Thou fillest them ? or dost Thou fiU 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 Thy- 
 self ? or hast Thou no need that aught contain 
 Thee, who containest all things, since what Thou 
 fillest Tho" ^_fi|1,f«|,hy ^""^'n'P'niir it'' for the 
 vessels which Thou fiUest 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 aU things, fillest Thou 
 them with Thy whole self ? or, since all things 
 cannot contain Thee wholly, do they contain part 
 of Thee ? and aU 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 everywhere, while 
 nothing contains Thee wholly ? 
 
 * Kom, xi, 36. * Jer. xxiii. 14. • Actiii. 18. 
 
Cl^e ConfejSjSionss of 
 
 What art Thou then, my God ? what, but the 
 Lord God ? For who is Lord hut the Lord, ? or 
 who is God save our God P ^ Most highest, most 
 good, m ost potent, most omnipotent ; most mercP 
 ful, 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 froud, and they know it 
 not ; ever working, ever at rest ; still gathering, 
 yet nothing lacking ; supporting, filling, and 
 overspreading ; creating, nourishing, and matur- 
 ing ; 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 have 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. 
 
 KOh ! that I might repose on Thee ! Oh ! that 
 Thou wouldest enter into my heart, and inebriate 
 
 > Ps. xviii. 31. 2 Matt. xxv. 27, supererogatur tM, 
 
it, that I may forget my ills, and ern \^j^?rp T| 
 my sole good ! ' What art Thou to me ? In T 
 pity, teach me to utter it. Or what am I to T 
 that Thou demandest my love, and, if I giv( 
 not, art wroth with me, and threatenest me v, 
 grievous woes ? Is it then a slight woe to 1 
 Thee not ? Oh ! for Thy mercies' sake, tell : 
 
 Lord my God, what Thou art unto me. 
 unto my soul, I am thy salvation} So speak, t 
 
 1 may hear. Behold, Lord, my heart is be] 
 Thee ; open Thou the ears thereof, and say t 
 my soul, I am thy salvation. After this voice 
 me haste, and take hold on Thee. Hide not 1 
 face from me. Let me die — lest I die — only 
 me see Thy face. 
 
 Narrow is the mansion of my soul ; enla 
 Thou it, that Thou mayest enter in. Il 
 ruinous ; repair Thou it. It has that wit 
 which must offend Thine eyes ; I confess 
 know it. But who shall cleanse it ? or to wh 
 should I cry, save Thee ? Lord, cleanse me J 
 my secret faults, and, spare Thy servant from 
 ■power of the enemy.''' I believe, and therefore c 
 speak? Lord, Thou knowest. Have I not < 
 fessed against myself my transgressions unto 1 
 and Thou, my God, hast forgiven the iniquity oj 
 heart ?^ I contend not in judgment with Tl 
 who art the truth ; I fear to deceive myself ; 
 
 » Ps. XXXV. 3. * Ps. xix. 12, 13. ' Ps. cxvi. ] 
 
 « Ps. xxxii. 5. * Job ix. 3. 
 
Cl^e Confe$0ton0 oC 
 
 mine iniquity lie unto itself} Therefore I con- 
 tend not in judgment with Thee ; for if Thou, 
 Lord, shouldest mark iniquities, Lord, who shall 
 abide it?^ 
 
 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 (shaU 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 ordi- 
 nance, whereby Thou distributest Thy riches 
 through the hidden springs of aU 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, 
 
 1 Ps. XXvi. 12. — Vulg. ' Ps. CXXX. J. 
 
 ' Gen. xviii. 27. * Jer. xii, 15. 
 
 6 
 
indeed, from them was it, but through them ; / 
 for from Thee, O God, areal^gg^^jgggj^and 
 ^|o^w^Go^^^/^^g«Z^^TiusIsincelearnea^ 
 Tnou^nrou^athese 'l"hy 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 
 beKeved it ; for we see the like in other infants, 
 though of myself I remember it not. Thus, little 
 by Kttle, 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 suchj 
 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 Uvest, and in whom 
 
 7 
 
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 wjhich 
 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, aU- 
 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 some- 
 what, 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 beheve 
 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 
 
 8 
 
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 tnost\ 
 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 re- 
 ceive the mould of their degree of being. But 
 Thou art still the same^ and aU things of to- 
 morrow, and aU 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 ratheri 
 by not discovering to discover Thee, than by 
 discovering not to discover Thee. 
 
 Hear, O God. Alas, for man's sin ! So saith 
 man, and Thou pitiest him ; fnr Tlwu mirjpiL 
 him, but sin in him Thou madest not. Who^ 
 
 1 Mai. iii. 6. .,»— *— ""^ — * Ps. cii. 27. 
 * Ps. cii. 27. * Exod. xvi. 15. 
 
remindeth me of the sins of my infancy ? for in 
 Thy sight none is -pure from sin, not even the infant 
 whose life is hut a day upon the earth} Who re- 
 mindeth 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 re- 
 proof, custom and reason forbade me to be re- 
 proved. 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. My- 
 self 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 
 
 * Job. XXV. +. » John xv. 2. 
 
 10 
 
is flowing in rich abundance, not to endure one 
 to share it, though in extremest need, and whose 
 very hfe 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} Fo r 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 / was sha-pen in iniquity, and in sin did my 
 mother conceive me^ where, I beseech Thee, O my 
 
 » Ps, xcii. I. * Ps. li. 7. 
 
 II 
 
C^e Confe^jStonjS of 
 
 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 ? 
 
 Passing hence from infancy, I came to hoyhood, 
 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 speech- 
 less 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 
 memoj y. When they named any thing, and as 
 they spoke turned towards it, I saw and remem- 
 bered 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 aflFections 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 
 
 12 
 
^int 9iuguje(tme 
 
 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 laynched 
 deeper into the storss^ntercourse of human life, 
 yet depending on parental authority and the beck 
 of elders. 
 
 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 (ac- 
 cording to our powers) as of some great One, who, 
 though hidden from our senses, couldst 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 
 
 13 
 
Cl^e ConfeiSjStonjS of 
 
 to folly ^), my elders, yea, my very parents, who 
 yet wished me no ill, pocked 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 tor- 
 ments (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 
 i 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 
 at ball, I made less progress in studies which I 
 was to learn, only that, as a man, I might play 
 
 • Ps. xxi. 3. — Vulg. 
 
^aint augujstine 
 
 more unbeseemingly ? And what else did he 
 who beat me ? who, if worsted in some trifling 
 discussion with his fellow-tutor, was more em- 
 bittered and jealous than I, when beaten at ball 
 by a playfellow ? 
 
 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 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. 
 
 As a boy, then, I had already heard of an eternal 
 life, promised us through the humility of the 
 
 1 Ordinator. 
 15 
 
Cl^e Confe^isionis of 
 
 Lord^ourGodstooprng^^toourprid^ 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 of 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 L 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 
 
 • Gal. iv. 19. 
 16 
 
Over her husband, whom she, the better, obeyed, 
 therein also obeying Thee, who hast so com- 
 manded. 
 
 I beseech Thee, my God, I would fain know, if 
 so Thou wiliest, 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 stUl echo in our ears on all sides, ' Let him 
 alone, let him do as he will, for he is not yet 
 baptized ? ' 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' diligence 
 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 tempta- 
 tion seemed to hang over me after my boyhood ! 
 These my mother foresaw ; and preferred to 
 expose to them the clay whence I might after- 
 wards be moulded, than the very cast, when 
 made. 
 
 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 
 B 17 
 
t-J^z Confei50ion!2i of 
 
 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. 
 
 But why did I so much hate the Greek, which 
 I studied as a boy ? I do not yet fuUy 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 arith- 
 metic, 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 / was 
 flesh, and a breath that fasseth away and cometh not 
 again ? ^ For those first lessons were better cer- 
 tainly, 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 ^neas, forgetful of my own, and to weep 
 
 » Matt. J,. 30. / 2 Ps. Ixxviii; 39. 
 
GT y 
 
 .bATe The GReel<^ 
 
 _ "aa,!— — iTMi ■ ■.i —.M iii.. n. . ~ . u, iiiii. i. i u ii i MCM i.>— — — ' ^ ■■" -^ ^m • ~ "Cir" ' "' " 
 
 SO. 
 
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 JEneas, but weeping not 
 his own death for want of love to Thee, O God. 
 Thou Light of my heart,Thou Bread of my inmosF 
 soul. Thou Power who givest vigour to my mind, 
 who quickenest my thoughts, J 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 ! 
 weU done ! ' echoes on till one is ashamed not to 
 be thus a man. And 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 
 
 ' Jas. iv. 4. 
 19 
 
Cl^e ConfejS0tonj8 of 
 
 readily forget the wanderings of ^neas and all the 
 rest, rather than how to read and write. But 
 over the entrance of the Grammar School is a veil 
 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 wiU, 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 JEntas 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 ' ^neas ' 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, read- 
 ing 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 sing- 
 song : ' the wooden horse lined with armed men,' 
 and ' the burning of Troy,' ^ and * Creusa's shade 
 
 » y£«. 2. 
 
 20 
 
and sad similitude,' were the choice spectacle of 
 my vanity. 
 
 Why then did I hate the Greek classics, which 
 have the like tales ? For Homer also curiously 
 wove the hke fictions, and is most sweetly vain, 
 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 aU 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 punish- 
 ments. Time was also (as an infant) I knew no 
 Latin ; but this I learned without fear or suffer- 
 ing, 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 enforce- 
 ment. 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 
 
 21 
 
€]^c ConfejssUonjs oC 
 
 wholesome bitter, recalling us to Thyself from 
 that deadly pleasure which lures us from Thee. 
 
 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 deUght 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 m y child- 
 hood learned ; for Thy service, that I speak, writg , 
 read, reckon. For Thou didst grant me Thy 
 discipline, while I was learning vanities ; and my 
 sin of delighting in those vanities Thou hast for- 
 given. 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. 
 
 But woe is thee, thou torrent of human custom ! 
 Who shall stand against thee ? how long shalt 
 thou riot 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 
 
 22 
 
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 : 
 
 23 
 
Cl^e Confe?i}5tons( of 
 
 « And what God ? Great Jov«, 
 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 vile- 
 ness is committed with less shame. Not that I 
 blame the words, being, as it were, choice aind 
 precious vessels ;"buf 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. 
 
 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 Latium 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 pre-eminent, and clothed in 
 the most fitting language, maintaining the dignity 
 
 24 
 
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. 
 
 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 sole- 
 cism, being censured, were abashed j but when 
 in rich and adorned and weU-ordered discourse 
 they related their own disordered life, being be- 
 praised, 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 
 
 > Ps. Ixxxvi. 15. * Ps. xxvii. 8. ' Rom. i. 11, 
 
 25 
 
Cl^e ConfejiiEiionji of 
 
 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 Hmbs, 
 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 lust- 
 ful, that is, in darkened affections, is the true 
 distance from Thy face. 
 
 Behold, O Lord God, yea, behold patiently as 
 Thou art wont, how carefuUy the sons of men 
 observe the covenanted rules of letters and syl- 
 lables 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, 
 God, Thou only great, that sittest silent on high^ 
 
 ' Is. xxxiii. 5. 
 26 
 
^aint augu^tine 
 
 and by an unwearied law dispensing penal blind-^ 
 ness 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 greedi- 
 ness, or that I might have to give to boys, who 
 sold me their play, which aU the while they liked 
 no less than I. In this play, too, I often sought 
 unfair conquests, conquered myself meanwhile 
 by vain desire of pre-eminence. And what could 
 
 1 Ps. XXxi. 22. 
 27 
 
Cj^e €onfmiom of 
 
 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, O 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, arid felt ; and had an im- 
 planted 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 deUght 
 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 
 
 ' Matt. xix. 14. 
 28 
 
not I who gave them me ; and good these are, 
 and these together are myself. Good, then, is 
 He that made xae, 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. 
 
 29 
 
Cl^e Confe00ionis ot 
 
 ®6|wt of tfiesfe fflonfesistotts. jFutti)et iUe of iirlmejfa 
 irebflopeti in ti» siiteent^ gear, (ffibtls of ill societg, 
 bDl)tc1^ Iietraselr ^tm into ttjeft. 
 
 WILL now call to mind my past foul- 
 ness, and the carnal corruptions of 
 my soul; not because I love them, 
 but that I may love Thee, O my 
 God. For love of Thy love I do it ; reviewing 
 my most wicked ways in the very bitterness of my 
 remembrance, that Thou mayest grow sweet unto 
 me (Thou sweetness never failing, Thou blissful 
 and assured sweetness) ; and gathering me again 
 out of that my dissipation, wherein I was torn 
 piecemeal, while turned from Thee, the One 
 Good, I lost myself among a multipUcity of 
 things. For I even burnt in my youth hereto- 
 fore, to be satiated in things below ; and I dared 
 to grow wild again, with these various and 
 shadowy loves : my beauty consumed away, and 
 I stank in Thine eyes ; pleasing myself, and 
 desirous to please in the eyes of men. 
 
 And what was it that I delighted in, but tp 
 30 
 
love, and be beloved ?. but I kept not the measure 
 of love, of mind to mind, friendship's bright 
 boundary : but out of the muddy concupiscence 
 of the flesh, and the bubblings of youth, mists 
 fumed up which beclouded and overcast my 
 heart, that I could not discern the clear bright- 
 ness of love from the fog of lustfulness. Both did , 
 confusedly boil in me, and hurried my unstayed 
 youth over the precipice of unholy desires, and 
 sunk me in a gulf of flagitiousnesses. Thy wrath 
 had gathered over me, and I knew it not. I was 
 grown de af by the clanking of the chain of my 
 
 ^ortalitl\ the punishment of the pride of mv 
 soul , and I strayed further from Thee, and Thou 
 
 Tettest me alone, and I was tossed about, and 
 wasted and dissipated, and I boiled over in my 
 fornications, and Thou heldest Thy peace, O 
 Thou my tardy joy ! Thou then heldest Thy 
 peace, and I wandered further and further from 
 Thee, into more, and more fruitless seed-plots of 
 sorrows, with a proud dejectedness, and a restless 
 weariness. 
 
 Oh ! that some one had then attempered my 
 disorder, and turned to account the fleeting 
 beauties of these, the extreme points of Thy 
 creation ! had put a bound to their pleasurable- 
 ness, that so the tides of my youth might have 
 cast themselves upon the marriage shore, if they 
 could not be calmed, and kept within the object 
 of a family, as Thy law prescribes, O Lord : who 
 
 31 
 
€]^e ConfejS0ion0 of 
 
 this way formest the offspring of this our deatli 
 being able with a gentle hand to blunt the thorn 
 which were excluded from Thy paradise ? Fo 
 Thy omnipotency is not far from us, even whei 
 we be far from Thee. Else ought I more watch 
 fully to have heeded the voice from the clouds 
 Nevertheless such shall have trouble in the flesh, bu 
 I spare you} And it is good for a man not to touci 
 a woman? And, he that is unmarried thinketh o 
 the things of the Lord, how he may -please the Lord 
 but he that is married careth for the things of thi 
 world, how he may please his wife? 
 
 To these words I should have listened mori 
 attentively, and being severed ^r the kingdom o 
 heaverCs sake,'' had more happily awaited Th; 
 embraces ; but I, poor wretch, foamed Hke ; 
 troubled sea, following the rushing of my owi 
 tide, forsaking Thee, and exceeded all Thy limits 
 yet I escaped not Thy scourges. For what morta 
 can ? For Thou wert ever with me mercifullj 
 rigorous, and besprinkhng with most bitter alio] 
 all my unlawful pleasures : that I might seel 
 pleasures without alloy. But where to find such 
 I could not discover, save in Thee, O Lord, wh( 
 teachest by sorrow, and woundest us, to heal 
 and killest us, lest we die from Thee.^ Where wa 
 I, and how far was I exiled from the delights o 
 Thy house, in that sixteenth year of the age o 
 
 ' I Cor. vii. zt. • Ver. i. Si Cor. vii. J2, 33. 
 
 ♦ Matt. xix. la. « Deut. xxxii. 29. 
 
 32 
 
^atnt ^uguistine 
 
 my flesh, when the madness of lust (to which 
 human shamelessness giveth free Kcence, though 
 unlicensed by Thy laws) took the rule over me, 
 and I resigned myself wholly to it ? My friends 
 meanwhile took no care by marriage to save my 
 fall ; their only care was that I should learn to 
 speak excellently, and be a persuasive orator. 
 
 For that year were my studies intermitted : 
 ^whilst after my return from Madaura (a neigh- 
 bour city, whither I had journeyed to learn 
 grammar and rhetoric), the expenses for a further 
 journey to Carthage were being provided for me ; 
 and that, rather by the resolution than the means 
 of my father, who was but a poor freeman of 
 Thagaste. To whom tell I this ? not to Thee, 
 my God ; but before Thee to mine own kind, 
 even to such small portion of mankind as may 
 light upon these writings of mine. And to what 
 purpose ? that whosoever reads this, may think 
 out of what depths we are to cry unto Thee} For 
 what is nearer to Thine ears than a confessing 
 heart, and a Ufe of faith ? Who did not extol my 
 father, for that beyond the ability of his means, 
 he would furnish his son with all necessaries for 
 a far journey for his studies' sake ? For many 
 far abler citizens did no such thing for their 
 children. But yet this same father had no con- 
 cern how I grew towards Thee, or how chaste I 
 were ; so that I were but copious in speech, how- 
 
 1 Ps. CXXX. I. 
 
 c 33 
 
ever barren I were to Thy culture, O God, who 
 art the only true and good Lord of Thy field, my 
 heart. 
 
 But while in that my sixteenth year I lived with 
 my parents, leaving all school for a while (a season 
 of idleness being interposed through the narrow- 
 ness of my parents' fortunes), the briers of unclean 
 desires grew rank over my head, and there was 
 no hand to root them out. When that my father 
 saw me at the baths, now growing towards man- 
 hood, and endued with a restless youthfulness, he, 
 as already hence anticipating his descendants, 
 gladly told it to my mother ; rejoicing in that 
 tumult of the senses w herein the worl d forgette th 
 _^^——^,^^-^^^, becometh enamouredof 
 
 ^i^creature, iiistead of Thyself, through the 
 fumes of that invisible wine of its self-wUl, turning 
 aside and bowing down to the very basest things. 
 But in my mother's breast Thou hadst already 
 begun Thy temple, and the foundation of Thy 
 holy habitation, whereas my father was as yet 
 but a catechumen, and that but recently. She 
 then was startled with a holy fear and trembling ; 
 and though I was not as yet baptized, feared for 
 me those crooked ways in which they walk who 
 turn their back to Thee, and not their face} 
 
 Woe is me ! and dare I say that Thou heldest 
 Thy peace, O my God, while I wandered further 
 from Thee I Didst Thou then indeed hold Thy 
 
 * Jer. ii. zj, 
 
 34 
 
peace to me ? And whose but thine were these 
 words which by my mother, Thy faithful one, 
 Thou sangest in my ears ? Nothing whereof 
 sunk into my heart, so as to do it. For she wished, 
 and I remember in private with great anxiety 
 warned me, ' not to commit fornication ; but 
 especially never to defile another man's wife.' 
 These seemed to me womanish advices, which I 
 should blush to obey. But they were Thine, and 
 I knew it not : and I thought Thou wert silent 
 and that it was she who spake ; by whom Thou 
 wert not silent unto me ; and in her wast despised 
 by me, her son, the son of Thy handmaid. Thy 
 servant.^ But I knew it not ; and ran headlong 
 with such blindness, that amongst my equals I 
 was ashamed of a less shamelessness, when I heard 
 them boast of their flagitiousness, yea, and the 
 more boasting, the more they were degraded : 
 and I took pleasure, not only in the pleasure of | 
 the deed, but in the praise. What is worthy of I 
 dispraise but vice ? But I made myself worse than 
 I was, that I might not be dispraised ; and when 
 in anything I had not sinned as the abandoned 
 ones, I would say that I had done what I had 
 not done, that I might not seem contemptible in 
 proportion as I was innocent ; or of less account, 
 the more chaste. 
 
 Behold with what companions I walked the 
 streets of Babylon, and wallowed in the mire 
 
 ' Ps. cxvi. 1 6. 
 
 35 
 
Cl^e confej$)Sioni$ of 
 
 thereof, as if in a bed of spices and precious oint- 
 ments. And that I might cleave the faster to iti 
 very centre, the invisible enemy trod me down 
 and seduced me, for that I was easy to be seduced 
 Neither did the mother of my flesh (who had now 
 fled out of the centre of Babylon,^ yet went mort 
 slowly in the skirts thereof), as she advised me tc 
 chastity, so heed what she had heard of me from 
 her husband, as to restrain within the bounds o] 
 conjugal affection (if it could not be pared awaj 
 to the quick) what she felt to be pestilent a1 
 present and for the future dangerous. She 
 heeded not this, for she feared lest a wife should 
 prove a clog and hindrance to my hopes. Nol 
 those hopes of the world to come, which mj 
 mother reposed in Thee ; but the hope of learn- 
 ing, which both my parents were too desirous 1 
 should attain ; my father, because he had next tc 
 no thought of Thee, and of me but vain conceits : 
 my mother, because she accounted that thost 
 usual courses of learning would not only be nc 
 hindrance, but even some furtherance towards 
 attaining Thee. For thus I conjecture, recalling, 
 as well as I may, the disposition of my parents 
 The reins, meantime, were slackened to me, 
 beyond all temper of due severity, to spend mj 
 time in sport, yea, even unto dissoluteness ir 
 (whatsoever I affected. And in all was a mist, 
 1 intercepting from me, O my God, the brightnesi 
 
 » Jer. li. 6. 
 
 36 
 
I WAS EASY TO W SEDUCED 
 
^int ^ugu0tine 
 
 of Thy truth ; and mine iniquity burst out as from 
 very fatness} 
 
 Theft is punished by Thy law, O Lord, and the 
 law written in the hearts of men, which iniquity 
 itself effaces not. For what thief wiU abide a 
 thief ? not even a rich thief, one stealing through 
 want. Yet I lusted to thieve, and did it, com- 
 pelled by no hunger, nor poverty, but through a 
 cloyedness of well-doing, and a pamperedness of 
 iniquity. For I stole that of which I had 
 enough, and much better. Nor cared I to enjoy 
 what I stole, but joyed in the theft and sin itself. 
 A pear tree there was near our vineyard, laden 
 with fruit, tempting neither for colour nor taste. 
 To shake and rob this, some lewd young fellows of 
 us went, late one night (having according to our 
 pestilent custom prolonged our sports in the 
 streets till then), and took huge loads, not for our 
 eating, but to fling to the very hogs, having only 
 tasted them. And this, but to do what we liked 
 only, because it was misliked. Behold my heart, 
 O God, behold my heart, which Thou hadst pity 
 upon in the bottom of the bottomless pit. Now, 
 behold, let my heart tell Thee what it sought 
 there, that I should be gratuitously evil, having 
 no temptation to ill, but the ill itself. It was 
 foul, and I loved it ; I loved to perish, I loved 
 mine own fault, not that for which I was faulty, 
 but my fault itself. Foul soul, falling from Thy 
 
 1 Ps. Ixxiii. 7. 
 
 37 
 
Cl^e €onitsmnfi of 
 
 firmament to utter destruction ; not seeking 
 aught through the shame, but the shame itself ! 
 
 For there is an attractiveness in beautiful bodies, 
 in gold and silver, and all things ; and in bodily 
 touch, sympathy hath much influence, and each 
 other sense hath his proper object answerably 
 tempered. Worldly honour hath also its grace, 
 and the power of overcoming, and of mastery ; 
 whence springs also the thirst of revenge. But 
 yet, to obtain all these, we may not depart from 
 Thee, O Lord, nor decline from Thy law. The 
 life also which here we live hath its own enchant- 
 ment, through a certain proportion of its own, 
 and a correspondence with all things beautiful 
 here below. Human friendship also is endeared 
 with a sweet tie, by reason of the unity formed 
 of many souls. Upon occasion of all these, and 
 the like, is sin committed, while through an 
 immoderate inclination towards these goods of 
 the lowest order, the better and higher are for- 
 saken, — Thou, our Lord God, Thy truth, and 
 Thy law. For these lower things have their 
 delights, but not like my God, who made all 
 things ; for in Him doth the righteous delight, and 
 He is the joy of the upright in heart? 
 
 When, then, we ask why a crime was done, we 
 believe it not, unless it appear that there might 
 have been some desire of obtaining some of those 
 which we called lower goods, or a fear of losing 
 
 1 Ps. Ixiv. lo. 
 38 
 
them. For they are beautiful and comely ; 
 although, compared with those higher and beatific 
 goods, they be abject and low. A man hath 
 murdered another ; why ? he loved his wife or 
 his estate ; or would rob for his own livelihood ; 
 or feared to lose some such things by him ; or, 
 wronged, was on fire to be revenged. Would any 
 commit murder upon no cause, delighted simply 
 in murdering ? who would believe it ? for as for 
 that furious and savage man, of whom it is said 
 that he was gratuitously evil and cruel, yet is the 
 cause assigned ; ' lest ' (saith he) ' through idle- 
 ness hand or heart should grow inactive.' And 
 to what end ? that, through that practice of 
 guilt, he might, having taken the city, attain to 
 honours, empire, riches, and be freed from fear 
 of the laws, and his embarrassments from domestic 
 needs, and consciousness of villainies. So then, 
 not even Catiline himself loved his own villainies, 
 but something else, for whose sake he did them. 
 
 What then did wretched I so love in thee, thou 
 theft of mine, thou deed of darkness, in that 
 sixteenth year of my age ? Lovely thou wert 
 not, because thou wert theft. But art thou any 
 thing, that thus I speak to thee ? Fair were the 
 pears we stole, because they were Thy creation. 
 Thou fairest of all, Creator of all, Th^Lggg^God^ 
 God, the sovereign good and my true good. J air 
 wereTliose pears, but hot them dia my wretched 
 soul desire ; for I had store of better, and those 
 
 39 
 
€]^e Confej5j((onjs ot 
 
 I gathered, only that I might steal. For, when 
 gathered, I flung them away, my only feast there- 
 in being my own sin, which I was pleased to enjoy. 
 For if aught of those pears came within my mouth, 
 what sweetened it was the sin. And now, O 
 Lord my God, I enquire what in that theft de- 
 lighted me ; and behold it hath no loveliness :. 
 I mean not such loveliness as in justice and wis- 
 dom ; nor such as is in the mind and memory, 
 and senses, and animal life of man ; nor yet as 
 the stars are glorious and beautiful in their orbs ; 
 or the earth, or sea, full of embryo-life, replacing 
 by its birth that which decayeth ; nay, nor even 
 that false and shadowy beauty which belongeth 
 to deceiving vices. 
 
 For so doth pride imitate exaltedness ; whereas 
 Thou alone art God exalted over all. Ambition, 
 what seeks it, but honours and glory ? whereas 
 Thou alone art to be honoured above all, and 
 glorious for evermore. The cruelty of the great 
 would fain be feared ; but who is to be feared but 
 God alone, out of whose power what can be 
 wrested or withdrawn ? when, or where, or 
 whither, or by whom ? The tendernesses of the 
 wanton would fain be counted love : yet is 
 nothing more tender than Thy charity ; nor is 
 aught loved more healthfully than that Thy 
 truth, bright and beautiful above all. Curiosity 
 makes semblance of a desire of knowledge ; where- 
 as Thou supremely knowest aU. Yea, ignorance 
 
 40 
 
and foolishness itself is cloaked under the name of 
 simplicity and uninjuriousness ; because nothing 
 is found more single than Thee : and what less 
 injurious, since they are his own works which 
 injure the sinner ? Yea, sloth would fain be at 
 rest ; but what stable rest besides the Lord ? 
 Luxury affects to be called plenty and abundance ; 
 but Thou art the fulness and never-failing plen- 
 teousness of incorruptible pleasures. Prodigality 
 presents a shadow of liberality : but Thou art 
 the most overflowing Giver of all good. Covet- 
 ousness would possess many things : and Thou 
 possessest all things. Envy disputes for excel- 
 lency : what more excellent than Thou ? Anger 
 seeks revenge : who revenges more justly than 
 Thou ? Fear startles at things unwonted and 
 sudden, which endanger things beloved, and 
 takes forethought for their safety ; but to Thee 
 what unwonted or sudden, or who separateth 
 from Thee what Thou lovest ? ^ Or where but 
 with Thee is unshaken safety ? Grief pines away 
 for things lost, the delight of its desires ; because 
 it would have nothing taken from it, as nothing 
 can from Thee. 
 
 Thus doth the soul commit fornication, when 
 she turns from Thee, seeking without Thee what 
 she findeth not pure and untainted till she 
 returns to Thee. Thus all pervertedly imitate] 
 Thee, who remove far from Thee, and lift them-/ 
 
 ' Rom. viii. 9. 
 41 
 
Cl^e €ontmion0 of 
 
 selves up against Thee. But even by thus imi- 
 tating Thee, they imply Thee to be the Creator 
 of all nature ; whence there is no place whither 
 altogether to retire from Thee. What then did 
 I love in that theft ? and wherein did I even 
 corruptly and pervertedly imitate my Lord ? 
 Did I wish even by stealth to do contrary to Thy 
 law, because by power I could not, so that, being 
 a prisoner, I might mimic a maimed Uberty by 
 doing with impunity things unpermitted me, a 
 darkened likeness of Thy Omnipotency ? Behold, 
 Thy servant, fleeing from his Lord, and obtaining 
 a shadow.^ O rottenness, O monstrousness of life, 
 and depth of death ! could I like what I might 
 not, only because I might not ? 
 
 What shall I render unto the Lord,^ that, whilst 
 my memory recalls these things, my soul is not 
 affrighted at them ? / will love Thee, Lord, 
 and thank Thee, and confess unto Ihy name ; 
 because Thou hast forgiven me these so great and 
 heinous deeds of mine. To Thy grace I ascribe 
 it, and to Thy mercy, that Thou hast melted 
 away my sins as it were ice. To Thy grace I 
 ascribe also whatsoever I have not done of evil ; 
 for what might I not have done, who even loved 
 a sin for its own sake ? Yea, aU I confess to have 
 been forgiven me ; both what evils I committed 
 by my own wilfulness, and what by Thy guidance 
 I committed not. What man is he, who, weigh- 
 
 ' Jonah i. iv. 2 ps_ cxvi. 12. 
 
 42 
 
ing his own infirmity, dares to ascribe his purity 
 and innocency to his own strength; that so he 
 should love Thee the less, as if he had less needed 
 Thy mercy, whereby Thou remittest sins to 
 those that turn to Thee ? For whosoever, called 
 by Thee, followed Thy voice, and avoided those 
 things which he reads me recalling and confessing 
 of myself, let him not scorn me who, being sick, 
 was cured by that Physician, through whose aid 
 it was that he was not, or rather was less, sick : 
 and for this let him love Thee as much, yea and 
 more ; since by whom he sees me to have been 
 recovered from such deep consumption of sin, by 
 Him he sees himself to have been from the like 
 consumption of sin preserved. 
 
 What fruit had I then (wretched man !) in those 
 things, of the remembrance whereof I am now 
 ashamed ? ^ Especially, in that theft which I 
 loved for the theft's sake ; and it too was nothing, 
 and therefore the more miserable I, who loved it. 
 Yet alone I had not done it : such was I then, I 
 remember, alone I had never done it. I loved 
 then in it also the company of the accomplices, 
 with whom I did it ? I did not then love nothing 
 else but the theft, yea rather I did love nothing 
 else ; for that circumstance of the company was 
 also nothing. What is, in truth ? who can teach 
 me, save He that enlighteneth my heart, and 
 discovereth its dark corners ? What is it which 
 
 i Rom. vi. 21. 
 
 43 
 
Cl^e ConfejSjsionjai of 
 
 hath come into my mind to enquire, and discuss, 
 and consider ? For had I then loved the pears I 
 stole, and wished to enjoy them, I might have 
 done it alone, had the bare commission of the 
 theft sufficed to attain my pleasure ; nor needed 
 I have inflamed the itching of my desires by the 
 excitement of accomplices. But since my pleasure 
 was not in those pears, it was in the offence itself, 
 which the company of fellow-sinners occasioned. 
 
 What then was this feeling ? For of a truth it 
 was too foul : and woe was me, who had it. But 
 yet what was it ? Who can understand his errors ? ^ 
 It was the sport, which as it were tickled our 
 hearts, that we beguiled those who little thought 
 what we were doing, and much misliked it. Why 
 then was my delight of such sort that I did it not 
 alone ? Because none doth ordinarily laugh 
 alone ? ordinarily no one ; yet laughter some- 
 times masters men alone and singly when no one 
 whatever is with them, if any thing very ludicrous 
 presents itself to their senses or mind. Yet I had 
 not done this alone ; alone I had never done it. 
 Behold my God, before Thee, the vivid remem- 
 brance of my soul ; alone, I had never committed 
 that theft wherein what I stole pleased me not, 
 but that I stole ; nor had it alone liked me to do 
 it, nor had I done it. O friendship too un- 
 friendly ! thou incomprehensible inveigler of the 
 soul, thou greediness to do mischief out of mirth 
 
 1 Fs. xix. 12. 
 
 44 
 
^aint aufiusitine 
 
 and wantonness, thou thirst of others' loss, without 
 lust of my own gain or revenge : but when it is 
 said, ' Let 's go, let 's do it,' we are ashamed not 
 to be shameless. 
 
 Who can disentangle that twisted and intricate 
 knottiness ? Foul is it : I hate to think on it, to 
 look on it. But Thee I long for, O Righteousness 
 and Innocency, beautiful and comely to all pure 
 eyes, and of a satisfaction unsating. With Thee 
 is rest entire, and life imperturbable. Whoso 
 enters into Thee, enters into the joy of his Lord : ^ 
 and shall not fear, and shall do excellently in the 
 All-ExceUent. I sank away from Thee, and I 
 wandered, O my God, too much astray from Thee 
 my stay, in these days of my youth, and I became 
 to myself a barren land. 
 
 ^ Matt. XXV. 21. 
 
 45 
 
C]^e €onitmonfi of 
 
 Cf)e C|)trl) iSoofe 
 
 1^(8 tesiticttcc at fflarttage from i)is gebenteentfi to ^(8 
 ninttemi^ gear. Source of $t» iigortcrs, Hobe of 
 stotois. ^Tibance in stutites, an)) lobe of totslrom. 
 BistaBte for Scripture. fLei astrag to t^t MmU 
 ct)sans. iflefutation of some of tJ^eir tenets. <@rief 
 of i)ig motfier JHonnica at ftig Jeregg, anti pragerg 
 for i)ig ronbergion. |^ec bigion from ®olf, anli 
 angbier ttirougi^ a ^ig^op. 
 
 lO Carthage I came, where there sang 
 all around me in my ears a cauldron 
 of unholy loves. I loved not yet, 
 yet I loved to love, and out of a deep- 
 seated want, I hated myself for wanting not. I 
 sought what I might love, in love with loving, and 
 safety I hated, and a way without snares. For 
 within me was a famine of that inward food. Thy- 
 self, my God ; yet, through that famine I was 
 not hungered ; but was without all longing for 
 incorruptible sustenance, not because filled there- 
 with, but the more empty, the more I loathed it.^ 
 For this cause my soul was sickly and full of sores, 
 it miserably cast itself forth, desiring to be scraped 
 by the touch of objects of sense. Yet if these 
 
 46 
 
TO CARTHAGE I CAME 
 
 
 mM^ 
 
had not a soul, they would not be objects of love. 
 To love then, and to be beloved, was sweet to 
 me ; but more, when I obtained to enjoy the 
 person I loved. I defiled, therefore, the spring^ 
 of friendship with the filth of concupiscence, and 
 I beclouded its brightness with the hell of lust- 
 fulness ; and thus foul and unseemly, I wouldj 
 fain, through exceeding vanity, be fine and 
 courtly. I fell headlong then into the love 
 wherein I longed to be ensnared. My God, my 
 Mercy, with how much gaU didst Thou out of 
 Thy great goodness besprinkle for me that sweet- 
 ness ! For I was both beloved and secretly 
 arrived at the bond of enjoying ; and was with 
 joy fettered with sorrow-bringing bonds, that I 
 might be scourged with the iron burning rods of 
 jealousy, and suspicions, and fears, and angers, 
 and quarrels. 
 
 Stage-plays also carried me away, full of images 
 of my miseries, and of fuel to my fire. Why is it 
 that man desires to be made sad, beholding doleful 
 and tragical things, which yet himself would by 
 no means suffer ? yet he desires as a spectator to 
 feel sorrow at them, and this very sorrow is his 
 pleasure. What is this but a miserable madness ? 
 for a man is the more affected with these actions, 
 the less free he is from such affections. How- 
 soever, when he suffers in his own person, it uses 
 to be styled misery : when he compassionates 
 Others, then it is mercy. But what sort of com- 
 
 47 
 
passion is this for feigned and scenical passions ? 
 for the auditor is not called on to relieve, but only 
 to grieve : and he applauds the actor of these 
 fictions the more, the more he grieves. And if 
 the calamities of those persons (whether of old 
 times, or mere fiction) be so acted that the 
 spectator is not moved to tears, he goes away 
 disgusted and criticising ; but if he be moved to 
 passion, he stays intent, and weeps for joy. 
 
 Are griefs then too loved ? Verily all desire 
 joy. Or whereas no man likes to be miserable, 
 is he yet pleased to be merciful ? which because 
 it cannot be without passion, for this reason alone 
 are passions loved ? This also springs from that 
 vein of friendship. But whither goes that vein ? 
 whither flows it ? wherefore runs it into that 
 torrent of pitch bubbling forth those monstrous 
 tides of foul lustfulness, into which it is wilfully 
 changed and transformed, being of its own will 
 precipitated and corrupted from its heavenly 
 clearness ? Shall compassion then be put away ? 
 by no means. Be griefs then sometimes loved. 
 But beware of uncleanness, O my soul, under the 
 guardianship of my God, the God of our fathers, 
 who is to he fraised and exalted above all for ever^ 
 beware of uncleanness. For I have not now 
 ceased to pity ; but then in the theatres I re- 
 joiced with lovers when they wickedly enjoyed 
 one another, although this was imaginary only in 
 
 1 Song of the Three Children, ver. 3. 
 48 
 
the play. And when they lost one another, as if 
 very compassionate, I sorrowed with them, yet 
 had my delight in both. But now I much more 
 pity him that rejoiceth in his wickedness, than 
 him who is thought to suffer hardship, by missing 
 some pernicious pleasure, and the loss of some 
 miserable felicity. This certainly is the truer 
 mercy, but in it grief delights not. For though 
 he that grieves for the miserable, be commended 
 for his office of charity ; yet had he, who is 
 genuinely compassionate, rather there were no- 
 thing for him to grieve for. For if good will be iU 
 willed (which can never be), then may he, who 
 truly and sincerely commiserates, wish there might 
 be some miserable, that he might commiserate. 
 Some sorrow may then be allowed, none loved. 
 For thus dost Thou, O Lord God, who lovest 
 souls far more purely than we, and hast more 
 incorruptibly pity on them, yet art wounded 
 with no sorrowfulness. And who is sufficient for 
 these things ? ^ 
 
 But I, miserable, then loved to grieve, and 
 sought out what to grieve at, when in another's 
 and that feigned and personated misery, that 
 acting best pleased me, and attracted me the 
 most vehemently, which drew tears from me. 
 What marvel that an unhappy sheep, straying 
 from Thy flock, and impatient of Thy keeping, 
 I became infected with a foul disease ? And 
 
 ' i Cor. ii. 1 6. 
 
 D 49 
 
Cl^e Conte0j3!ton0 of 
 
 hence the love of griefs ; not such as should sink 
 deep into me ; for I loved not to suffer, what I 
 loved to look on ; but such as upon hearing their 
 fictions should lightly scratch the surface; upon 
 which, as on envenomed nails, followed inflamed 
 swelling, impostumes, and a putrified sore. My 
 life being such, was it life, O my God ? 
 
 And Thy faithful mercy hovered over me afar. 
 Upon how grievous iniquities consumed I myself, 
 pursuing a sacrilegious curiosity, that having 
 forsaken Thee, it might bring me to the treacher- 
 ous abyss, and the beguiling service of devils, to 
 whom I sacrificed my evil actions; and in all these 
 things Thou didst scourge me ! I dared even, 
 while Thy solemnities were celebrated within the 
 walls of Thy church, to desire, and to compass, a 
 business deserving death for its fruits, for which 
 Thou scourgedst me with grievous punishments, 
 though nothing to my fault, O Thou my ex- 
 ceeding mercy, my God, my refuge from those 
 terrible destroyers, among whom I wandered 
 with a stiff neck, withdrawing further from Thee, 
 loving mine own ways, and not Thine ; loving a 
 vagrant liberty. 
 
 Those studies also, which were accounted com- 
 mendable, had a view to excelling in the courts 
 of litigation ; the more bepraised, the craftier. 
 Such is men's blindness, glorying even in their 
 blindness. And now I was chief in the rhetoric 
 school, whereat I joyed proudly, and I swelled 
 
 50 
 
^aittt aufittjstine 
 
 with arrogancy, though (Lord, Thou knowest) 
 far quieter and altogether removed from the sub- 
 vertings of those ' Subverters ' (for this ill-omened 
 and devilish name was the very badge of gallantry) 
 among whom I lived, with a shameless shame that 
 I was not even as they. With them I lived, and 
 was sometimes delighted with their friendship, 
 whose doings I ever did abhor — i.e., their ' sub- 
 vertings,' wherewith they wantonly persecuted 
 the modesty of strangers, which they disturbed 
 by a gratuitous jeering, feeding thereon their 
 malicious mirth. Nothing can be liker the very 
 actions of devils than these. What, then, could 
 they be more truly called than ' subverters ' ? 
 themselves subverted and altogether perverted 
 first, the deceiving spirits secretly deriding and 
 seducing them, wherein themselves delight to 
 jeer at and deceive others. 
 
 Among such as these, in that unsettled age of 
 mine, learned I books of eloquence, wherein I 
 desired to be eminent, out of a damnable and vain- 
 glorious end, a joy in human vanity. In the 
 ordinary course of study, I fell upon a certain 
 book of Cicero, whose speech almost all admire, 
 not so his heart. This book of his contains an 
 exhortation to philosophy, and is called Hortensius. 
 But this book altered my affections, and turned my 
 prayers to Thyself, O Lord ; and made me have 
 other purposes and desires. Every vain hope at 
 once became worthless to me ; and I longed 
 
 51 
 
Cl^e Confe00ton2i of 
 
 with an incredibly burning desire for an immor- 
 tality of wisdom, and began now to arise, that 
 I might return to Thee. For not to sharpen my 
 tongue (which thing I seemed to be purchasing 
 with my mother's allowances, in that my nine- 
 teenth year, my father being dead two years 
 before), not to sharpen my tongue did I employ 
 that book ; nor did it infuse into me its style, but 
 its matter. 
 
 How did I burn then, my God, how did I burn 
 to re-mount from earthly things to Thee ! — nor 
 knew I what Thou wouldest do with me. For 
 with Thee is wisdom. But the love of wisdom 
 is in Greek called ' philosophy,' with which that 
 book inflamed me. Some there be that seduce 
 through philosophy, under a great, and smooth, 
 and honourable name colouring and disguising 
 their own errors : and almost all who in that and 
 former ages were such, are in that book censured 
 and set forth : there also is made plain that whole- 
 some advice of Thy Spirit, by Thy good and 
 devout servant : Beware lest any man spoil you 
 through philosophy and vain deceit, after the tradi- 
 tion of men, after the rudiments of the world, and 
 not after Christ. For in Him dwelleth all the fulness 
 of the Godhead bodily} And since at that time 
 Thou, O light of my heart, knowest) ApostoUc 
 Scripture was not known to me, I was delighted 
 with that exhortation, so far only, that I was 
 
 ' Col. ii. 8, 9. 
 
 52 
 
^aint ^ugujstine 
 
 thereby strongly roused, and kindled, and in- 
 flamed to love, and seek, and obtain, and hold, 
 and embrace not this or that sect, but wisdom 
 itself whatever it were ; and this alone checked 
 me thus enkindled, that the name of Christ was 
 not in it. For this name, according to Thy 
 mercy, O Lord, this name of my Saviour Thy Son, 
 had my tender heart, even with my mother's milk, 
 devoutly drunk in, and deeply treasured ; and 
 whatsoever was without that name, though never 
 so learned, polished, or true, took not entire hold 
 of me. 
 
 I resolved then to bend my mind to the holy 
 Scriptures, that I might see what they were. 
 But behold, I see a thing not understood by the 
 proud, nor laid open to children, lowly in access, 
 in its recesses lofty, and veiled with mysteries ; 
 and I was not such as could enter into it, or stoop 
 my neck to foUow its steps. For not as I now 
 speak, did I feel when I turned to those Scrip- 
 tures; but they seemed to me unworthy to be 
 compared to the stateliness of TuUy : for my 
 sweUing pride shrunk from their lowliness, nor 
 could my sharp wit pierce the interior thereof. 
 Yet were they such as would grow up in a little 
 one. But I disdained to be a Uttle one ; and, 
 swollen with pride, took myself to be a great one. 
 
 Therefore I fell among men proudly doting, 
 exceeding carnal and prating, in whose mouths 
 were the snares of the Devil, limed with the 
 
 53 
 
Cl^e €onimionfi of 
 
 mixture of the syllables of Thy name, and of our 
 Lord Jesus Christ, and of the Holy Ghost, the 
 Paraclete, our Comforter. These names de- 
 parted not out of their mouth, but so far forth 
 as the sound only and the noise of the tongue, for 
 the heart was void of truth. Yet they cried out 
 ' Truth, Truth,' and spake much thereof to me, 
 yet it was not in them : ^ but they spake falsehood, 
 not of Thee only (who truly art Truth), but even 
 of those elements of this world. Thy creatures. 
 And I indeed ought to have passed by even 
 philosophers who spake truth concerning them, 
 for love of Thee, my Father, supremely good, 
 Beauty of all things beautiful. O Truth, Truth, 
 how inwardly did even then the marrow of my 
 soul pant after Thee, when they often and 
 diversly, and in many and huge books, echoed 
 of Thee to me, though it was but an echo ? And 
 these were the dishes wherein to me, hungering 
 after Thee, they, instead of Thee, served up the 
 Sun and Moon, beautiful works of Thine, but 
 yet Thy works, not Thyself, no, nor Thy first 
 works. For thy spiritual works are "^before these 
 corporeal works, celestial though they be, and 
 shining. But I hungered and thirsted not even 
 after those first works of Thine, but after Thee 
 Thyself, the Truth, in whom is no variableness, 
 neither shadow of turning : ^ yet they stiU set 
 before me in those dishes, glittering fantasies, 
 
 ' I John ii. 4. * Jas. i. 17. 
 
 54 
 
than which better were it to love this very sun 
 (which is real to our sight at least) than those 
 fantasies which by our eyes deceive our mind. 
 Yet because I thought them to be Thee, I fed 
 thereon ; not eagerly, for Thou didst not in 
 them taste to me as Thou art ; for Thou wast 
 not these emptinesses, nor was I nourished by 
 them, but exhausted rather. Food in sleep shows 
 very like our food awalce ; yet are not those 
 asleep nourished by it, for they are asleep. But 
 those were not even any way Uke to Thee, as 
 Thou hast now spoken to me ; for those were 
 corporeal fantasies, false bodies, than which these 
 true bodies, celestial or terrestrial, which with 
 our fleshly sight we behold, are far more certain : 
 these things the beasts and birds discern as well 
 as we, and they are more certain than when we 
 fancy them. And again, we do with more cer- 
 tainty fancy them, than by them conjecture 
 other vaster and infinite bodies which have no 
 being. Such empty husks was I then fed on ; 
 and was not fed. But Thou, my soul's Love, in ^ 
 looking for whom I fail^ that I may become strong, ; 
 art neither those bodies which we see, though in i 
 heaven ; nor those which we see not there ; for \ 
 Thou hast created them, nor dost Thou account i 
 them among the chief est of Thy works. How I 
 far then art Thou from those fantasies of mine, 
 fantasies of bodies which altogether are not, 
 
 1 Ps. Ixix. 3. 
 
 55 
 
Cl^e Confe00ion0 of 
 
 than which the images of those bodies, which 
 are, are far more certain, and more certain still 
 the bodies themselves, which yet Thou art not ; 
 no, nor yet the soul, which is the life of the bodies. 
 So, then, better and more certain is the Hfe of the 
 bodies than the bodies. But Thou art the life 
 of souls, the life of lives, having life in Thyself ; 
 and changest not, life of my soul. 
 
 Where, then, wert Thou then to me, and how 
 far from me ? Far verily was I straying from 
 Thee, barred from the very husks of the swine, 
 whom with husks I fed. For how much better 
 are the fables of poets and grammarians, than 
 these snares ? For verses, and poems, and 
 ' Medea flying,' are more profitable truly, than 
 these men's five elements, variously disguised, 
 answering to five dens of darkness, which have no 
 being, yet slay the believer. For verses and 
 poems I can turn to true food, and ' Medea 
 flying,' though I did sing, I maintained not ; 
 though I heard it sung, I beUeved not : but 
 those things I did believe. Woe, woe, by what 
 steps was I brought down to the depths of hell ! ^ 
 toiling and turmoiling through want of Truth, 
 since I sought after Thee, my God (to Thee I 
 confess it, who hadst mercy on me, not as yet 
 confessing), not according to the understanding 
 of the mind, wherein Thou willedst that I should 
 excel the beasts, but according to the sense of 
 
 1 Prov. \x. 1 8. 
 
 56 
 
the flesh. But Thou wert more inward to me, 
 than my most inward part ; and higher than my 
 highest. I lighted upon that bold woman, simple 
 and knowing nothing, shadowed out in Solomon, 
 sitting at the door, and saying. Eat ye bread of 
 secrecies willingly, and drink ye stolen waters which 
 are sweet : ^ she seduced me, because she found 
 my soul dwelling abroad in the eye of my flesh, 
 and ruminating on such food as through it I 
 had devoured. 
 
 For other than this, that which really is I 
 knew not ; and was, as it were through sharpness 
 of wit, persuaded to assent to fooHsh deceivers, 
 when they asked me, ' Whence is evil ? ' ' Is God 
 bounded by a bodily shape, and has hairs and 
 nails ? ' ' Are they to be esteemed righteous who 
 had many wives at once, and did kill men, and 
 sacrificed living creatures ? ' ^ At which I, in 
 my ignorance, was much troubled, and departing 
 from the truth, seemed to myself to be making 
 towards it ; because as yet I knew not that evil 
 was nothing but a privation of good, until at last 
 a thing ceases altogether to be ; which how 
 should I see, the sight of whose eyes reached only 
 to bodies, and of my mind to a phantasm ? And 
 I knew not God to he a Spirit,^ not one who hath 
 parts extended in length and breadth, or whose 
 being was bulk ; for every bulk is less in a part 
 than in the whole : and if it be infinite, it must 
 
 ' Prov. ix. 13-17. * I Kings xviii. 40. ' John iv. 24. 
 
 57 
 
€1^e €ontz&fiionfi of 
 
 be less in such part as is defined by a certain space, 
 than in its infinitude ; and so is not wholly every 
 where, as Spirit, as God. And what that should 
 be in us, by which we were like to God, and might 
 in Scripture be rightly said to be after the image 
 of God,^ I was altogether ignorant. 
 
 Nor knew I that true inward righteousness 
 which judgeth not according to custom, but out 
 of the most rightful law of God Almighty, where- 
 iby the ways of places and times were disposed 
 according to those times and places ; itself mean- 
 time being the same always and every where, not 
 one thing in one place, and another in another ; 
 according to which Abraham, and Isaac, and 
 Jacob, and Moses, and David, were righteous, 
 and all those commended by the mouth of God ; 
 but were judged unrighteous by silly men, judging 
 out of man's judgment,^ and measuring by their 
 own petty habits, the moral habits of the whole 
 human race. As if, in an armory, one ignorant 
 what were adapted to each part should cover his 
 head with greaves, or seek to be shod with a 
 helttiet, and complain that they fitted not : or 
 as if on a day when business is publicly stopped 
 in the afternoon, one were angered at not being 
 allowed to keep open shop, because he had been 
 in the forenoon ; or when in one house he 
 observeth some servant take a thing in his hand, 
 which the butler is not suffered to meddle with ; 
 
 ' Gen. i. 17. 2 J Coi. iv. 3. 
 
 58 
 
^aint 9iugu0tine 
 
 or something permitted out of doors, which is 
 forbidden in the dining-room ; and should be 
 angry, that in one house, and one family, the 
 same thing is not allotted every where, and to all. 
 Even such are they who are fretted to hear some- 
 thing to have been lawful for righteous men 
 formerly, which now is not ; or that God, for 
 certain temporal respects, commanded them one 
 thing, and these another, obeying both the same 
 righteousness : whereas they see, in one man, and 
 one day, and one house, different things to be fit 
 for different members, and a thing formerly lawful, 
 after a certain time not so ; in one corner per- 
 mitted or commanded, but in another rightly 
 forbidden and punished. Is justice therefore 
 various or mutable ? No, but the times, over 
 which it presides, flow not evenly, because they 
 are times. But men, whose days are few upon the 
 earih^ for that by their senses they cannot 
 harmonise the causes of things in former ages 
 and other nations, which they had no experience 
 of, with those which they have experience of, 
 whereas in one and the same body, day, or family, 
 they easily see what is fitting for each member, 
 and season, part, and person ; to the one they 
 take exceptions, to the other they' submit. 
 
 These things I then knew not, nor observed ; 
 they struck my sight on all sides, and I saw them 
 not, I indited verses, in which I might not 
 
 ' Job xiv. 1. 
 
 59 
 
Cl^e ConfeiEijsioniEi of 
 
 place every foot every where, but differently in 
 different metres ; nor even in any one metre the 
 self-same foot in all places. Yet the art itself, 
 by which I indited, had not different principles 
 for these different cases, but comprised all in one. 
 Still I saw not how that righteousness, which 
 good and holy men obeyed, did far more excel- 
 lently and subHmely contain in one aU those 
 things which God commanded, and in no part 
 varied; although in varying times it prescribed 
 not every thing at once, but apportioned and 
 enjoined what was fit for each. And I, in my 
 blindness, censured the holy Fathers, not only 
 wherein they made use of things present as God 
 commanded and inspired them, but also wherein 
 they were foretelling things to come, as God was 
 revealing in them. 
 
 Can it at any time or place be unjust to love 
 God with all his heart, with all his soul, and with 
 all his mind ; and his neighbour as himself? ^ 
 Therefore are those foul offences which be 
 against nature, to be every where and at all times 
 detested and punished ; such as were those of 
 the men of Sodom : which should all nations 
 commit, they should all stand guilty of the same 
 crime, by the law of God, which hath not so 
 made men that they should so abuse one another. 
 For even that intercourse which should be be- 
 tween God and us is violated, when that same 
 
 1 Matt. xxii. 37-39. 
 60 
 
nature, of which He is Author, is polluted by 
 perversity of lust. But those actions which are 
 offences against the customs of men, are to be 
 avoided according to the customs severally pre- 
 vailing ; so that a thing agreed upon, and con- 
 firmed, by custom or law of any city or nation, 
 may not be violated at the lawless pleasure of any, 
 whether native or foreigner. For any part which 
 harmoniseth not with its whole, is offensive. 
 But when God commands a thing to be done, 
 against the customs or compact of any people, 
 though it were never by them done heretofore, 
 it is to be done ; and if intermitted, it is to be 
 restored ; and if never ordained, is now to be 
 ordained. For lawful if it be for a king, in the 
 state which he reigns over, to command that 
 which no one before him, nor he himself hereto- 
 fore, had commanded, and to obey him cannot 
 be against the common weal of the state (nay, it 
 were against it if he were not obeyed, for to obey 
 princes is a general compact of human society) ; 
 how much more unhesitatingly ought we to obey 
 God, in all which He commands, the Ruler of all 
 His creatures ! For as among the powers in 
 man's society, the greater authority is obeyed in 
 preference to the lesser, so must God above all. 
 
 So in acts of violence, where there is a wish to 
 hurt, whether by reproach or injury ; and these 
 either for revenge, as one enemy against another ; 
 or for some profit belongmg to another, as the 
 
 6i 
 
Cl^e Confe00iott0 of 
 
 robber to the traveller ; or to avoid some evil, 
 as towards one who is feared ; or through envy, 
 as one less fortunate to one more so, or one well 
 thriven in any thing, to him whose being on a 
 par with himself he fears, or grieves at, or for the 
 mere pleasure at another's pain, as spectators of 
 gladiators, or deriders and mockers of others. 
 These be the heads of iniquity, which spring 
 from the lust of the flesh, of the eye,^ or of rule, 
 either singly, or two combined, or all together ; 
 and so do men live ill against the three, and seven, 
 that psaltery of ten strings,^ Thy Ten command- 
 ments, O God, most high and most sweet. But 
 what foul offences can there be against Thee, 
 who canst not be defiled ? or what acts of 
 violence against Thee, who canst not be harmed ? 
 But Thou avengest what men commit against 
 themselves, seeing also that when they sin against 
 Thee, they do wickedly against their own souls, 
 and iniquity gives itself the lie,^ by corrupting 
 and perverting their nature, which Thou hast 
 created and ordained, or by an immoderate use 
 of things allowed, or in burning in things un- 
 allowed, to that use which is against nature ; * or 
 are found guilty, raging with heart and tongue 
 against Thee, kicking against the -pricks ; ^ or 
 when, bursting the pale of human society, they 
 boldly joy in self-willed combinations or divisions, 
 
 1 1 John ii. 1 6. • Ps. cxlir. 9. 3 ps_ xxvi. 12. — ^Vulg. 
 
 * Rom. i. 26. 5 Acts ix. 5. 
 
 62 
 
according as they have any object to gain or 
 subject of offence. And these things are done 
 when Thou art forsaken, O Fountain of Life, 
 who art the only and true Creator and Governor 
 of the Universe, and, by a self-willed pride, any 
 one false thing is selected therefrom and loved. 
 So then by a humble devoutness we return to 
 Thee ; and Thou cleansest us from our evil 
 habits, and art merciful to their sins who confess, 
 and hearest the groaning of the prisoner,^ and loosest 
 us from the chains which we made for ourselves, 
 if we lift not up against Thee the horns of an 
 unreal liberty, suffering the loss of all, through 
 covetousness of more, by loving more our own 
 private good than Thee, the Good of all. 
 
 Amidst these offences of foulness and violence, 
 and so many iniquities, are sins of men who are 
 on the whole making proficiency ; which by 
 those that judge rightly are, after the rule of 
 perfection, discommended, yet the persons com- 
 mended, upon hope of future fruit, as in the green 
 blade of growing corn. And there are some, 
 resembling offences of foulness or violence, 
 whfch yet are no sins ; because they offend 
 neither Thee, our Lord God, nor human society ; j 
 when, namely, things fitting for a given period 
 are obtained for the service of life, and we know 
 not whether out of a lust of having ; or when 
 things are, for the sake of correction, by consti- 
 
 1 Ps. cii. io. 
 63 
 
Cl^e Confejsijstonis of 
 
 tuted authority punished, and we know not 
 whether out of a lust of hurting. Many an 
 action then which in men's sight is disapproved, 
 is by Thy testimony approved ; and many, by 
 men praised, are (Thou being witness) condemned : 
 because the show of the action, and the mind of 
 the doer, and the unknown exigency of the period, 
 severally vary. But when Thou on a sudden 
 commandest an unwonted and unthought-of 
 thing, yea, although Thou hast sometime for- 
 bidden it, and stiU for the time hidest the reason 
 of Thy command, and it be against the ordinance 
 of some society of men, who doubts but it is to 
 be done, seeing that society of men is just which 
 serves Thee ? But blessed are they who know 
 Thy commands ! For all things were done by 
 Thy servants ; either to show forth something 
 needful for the present, or to foreshow things to 
 come. 
 
 These things I being ignorant of, scoffed at 
 those Thy holy servants and prophets. And 
 what gained I by scoffing at them, but to be 
 scoffed at by Thee, being insensibly and step by 
 step drawn on to those follies, as to beUeve that 
 a fig-tree wept when it was plucked, and the tree, 
 its mother, shed milky tears ? Which fig not- 
 withstanding (plucked by some other's, not his 
 own, guilt) had some (Manichaean) saint eaten, 
 ind mingled with his bowels, he should breathe 
 3ut of it angels, yea, there shall burst forth 
 
 64 
 
^aint augujitine 
 
 particles of divinity, at every moan or groan in 
 his prayer, which particles of the most high and 
 true God had remained bound in that fig, unless 
 they had been set at liberty by the teeth or belly 
 of some ' Elect ' saint ! And I, miserable, believed 
 that more mercy was to be shown to the fruits of 
 the earth than men, for whom they were created. 
 For if any one an-hungered, not a Manichaean, 
 should ask for any, that morsel would seem as it 
 were condemned to capital punishment, which 
 should be given him. 
 
 And Thou seniest nine hand, from ahove^ and 
 drewest my soul out of that profound darkness, 
 my mother, thy faithful one, weeping to Thee 
 for me, more than mothers weep the bodily deaths 
 of their children. For she, by that faith and 
 spirit which she had from Thee, discerned the 
 death wherein I lay, and Thou heardest her, O 
 Lord ; Thou heardest her, and despisedst not 
 her tears when, streaming down, they watered 
 the ground under her eyes in every place where 
 she prayed ; yea. Thou heardest her. For whence 
 was that dream whereby Thou comfortedst her ; 
 so that she allowed me to live with her, and to 
 eat at the same table in the house, which she 
 had begun to shrink from, abhorring and detesting 
 the blasphemies of my error ? For she saw her- 
 self standing on a certain wooden rule, and a 
 shining youth coming towards her, cheerful and 
 
 ' Ps. cxliv. 7. 
 E 65 
 
Cl^e Confe00ton0 of 
 
 smiling upon her, herself grieving, and over- 
 whelmed with grief. But he having (in order 
 to instruct, as is their wont, not to be instructed) 
 inquired of her the causes of her grief and daily- 
 tears, and she answering that she was bewailing 
 my perdition, he bade her rest contented, and 
 told her to look and observe, ' That where she 
 was, there was I also.' And when she looked, 
 she saw me standing hy her in the same rule. 
 Whence was this, but that Thine ears were to- 
 wards her heart ? O Thou Good omnipotent, 
 who so carest for every one of us, as if Thou 
 caredst for him only ; and so for all, as if they 
 were but one ! 
 
 Whence was this also, that when she had told 
 me this vision, and I would fain bend it to mean, 
 ' That she rather should not despair of being one 
 day what I was ' ; she presently, without any 
 hesitation, rephes : ' No ; for it was not told me 
 that " where he, there thou also " ; but " where 
 thou, there he also " ? ' I confess to Thee, O 
 Lord, that to the best of my remembrance 
 (and I have oft spoken of this). Thy answer, 
 through my waking mother, — that she was not 
 perplexed by the plausibility of my false inter- 
 pretation, and so quickly saw what was to be seen, 
 and which I certainly had not perceived before 
 she spake, — even then moved me more than the 
 dream itself, by which a joy to the holy woman, 
 to be fulfilled so long after, was, for the consola- 
 
 66 
 
tion of her present anguish, so long before fore- 
 signified. For almost nine years passed, in which 
 I wallowed in the mire of that deep pit, and the 
 darkness of falsehood, often assaying to rise, but 
 dashed down the more grievously. AU which 
 time that chaste, godly, and sober widow (such 
 as Thou lovest), now more cheered with hope, 
 yet no whit relaxing in her weeping and mourning, 
 ceased not at aU hours of her devotions to bewail 
 my case unto Thee. And her frayers entered into 
 Thy -presence ; ^ and yet Thou sufferest me to be 
 yet involved and reinvolved in that darkness. 
 
 Thou gavest - her meantime another, answer, 
 which I call to mind ; for much I pass by, hasting 
 to those things which more press me to confess 
 unto Thee, and much I do not remember. Thou 
 gavest her then another answer, by a Priest of 
 Thine, a certain Bishop brought up in Thy 
 Church, and well studied in Thy books. Whom 
 when this woman had entreated to vouchsafe to 
 converse with me, refute my errors, unteach me 
 ill things, and teach me good things (for this he 
 was wont to do, when he found persons fitted to 
 receive it), he refused, wisely, as I afterwards 
 perceived. For he answered, that I was yet 
 unteachable, being puffed up with the novelty 
 of that heresy, and had already perplexed divers 
 unskilful persons with captious questions, as she 
 had told him : ' but let him alone a while ' 
 
 1 Ps. Ixxxviii. 1. 
 67 
 
Cl^e €onttfi^iom of 
 
 (saith he), ' only pray God for him, he will of 
 himself by reading find what that error is, and 
 how great its impiety.' At the same time he told 
 her, how himself, when a Httle one, had by his 
 seduced mother been consigned over to the 
 Manichees, and had not only read, but frequently 
 copied out almost all, their books, and had (with- 
 out any argument or proof from any one) seen 
 how much that sect was to be avoided ; and had 
 avoided it. Which when he had said, and she 
 would not ' be satisfied, but urged him more, 
 with entreaties and many tears, that he would see 
 me and discourse with me ; he, a little displeased 
 at her importunity, saith, ' Go thy ways, and 
 God bless thee, for it is not possible that the son 
 of these tears should perish.' Which answer she 
 took (as she often mentioned in her conversations 
 with me) as if it had sounded from heaven. 
 
 68 
 
^aint ^usujsitme 
 
 augtistme'0 life from nineteen to eigi&t=ant»=ttoettts ; 
 timself a iWanic^Kan, anti setrucins otters to tfte 
 same tfwsB ; partial obeljience amitrst banitg anlf 
 sin, consulting astrologers, onlg partialis sl^aiten 
 terein; loss of an earlg frientr, toi^o is conbertetr 
 fig fieing fiaptijelr to^en in a stooon ; reflections on 
 grief, on real antr unreal frienbsftip, anti lobe of 
 fame ; torites on ' ti&e fair antj fit,' get cannot rigi)tlfi, 
 t^ougf) (@otr f^ati giben ^im great talents, since tft 
 entertainetj torong notions of ©ob ; anb so eben $10 
 fenobjlebge te applieb ill. 
 
 lOR this space of nine years, then (from 
 my nineteenth year to my eight-and- 
 twentieth), we lived seduced and 
 seducing, deceived and deceiving, 
 in divers lusts ; openly, by sciences which they 
 call Uberal ; secretly, with a false-named religion ; 
 here proud, there superstitious, every where vain ! 
 Here, hunting after the emptiness of popular-^ 
 praise, down even to theatrical applauses, and 
 poetic prizes, and strifes for grassy garlands, and 
 the follies of shows, and the intemperance of 
 desires. There, desiring to be cleansed from 
 
 69 
 
Clje Confe!30(on0 of 
 
 these defilements, by carrying food to those who 
 were called ' elect ' and ' holy,' out of which, in 
 the workhouse of their stomachs, they should 
 forge for us Angels and Gods by whom we might 
 be cleansed. These things did I follow, and 
 practise with my friends, deceived by me and 
 with me. Let the arrogant mock me, and such 
 as have not been, to their soul's health, stricken 
 and cast down by Thee, O my God ; but I would 
 still confess to Thee mine own shame in Thy 
 praise. Suffer me, I beseech Thee, and give me 
 ; grace to go over in my present remembrance the 
 ^wanderings of my forepassed time, and to offer 
 unto Thee the sacrifice of thanksgiving} For what 
 am I to myself without Thee, but a guide to mine 
 own downfall ? or what am I even at the best, 
 but an infant sucking the milk Thou givest, and 
 feeding upon Thee, the food that perisheth notP^ 
 But what sort of man is any man, seeing he is but 
 a man ? Let now the strong and the mighty laugh 
 at us, but let us -poor and need'f confess unto Thee. 
 In those years I taught rhetoric, and, overcome 
 by cupidity, made sale of a loquacity to overcome 
 by. Yet I preferred (Lord, Thou knowest) honest 
 scholars (as they are accounted), and these I, with- 
 out artifice, taught artifices, not to be practised 
 against the life of the guiltless, though sometimes 
 for the life of the guilty. And Thou, O God, 
 from afar perceivedst me stumbling in that 
 
 1 Ps. xlix. 14. 2 John vi. 27. 5 Ps. Ixxiii. 21. 
 
 70 
 
^aint ^uguiEftine 
 
 slippery course, and amid much smoke sending out 
 some sparks of faithfulness, which I showed in 
 that my guidance of such as loved vanity, and 
 sought after leasing,^ myself their companion. In 
 those years I had one, — not in that which is 
 called lawful marriage, but whom I had found out 
 in a wayward passion, void of understanding ; 
 yet but one, remaining faithful even to her ; 
 in whom I in my own case experienced what 
 difference there is betwixt the self-restraint of 
 the marriage-covenant, for the sake of issue, and. 
 the bargain of a lustful love, where children are 
 born against their parents' wiU, although, once 
 born, they constrain love. 
 
 I remember also, that when I hkd settled to 
 enter the hsts for a theatrical prize, some wizard 
 asked me what I would give him to win ; but I, 
 detesting and abhorring such foul mysteries, 
 answered, ' Though the garland were of im- 
 perishable gold, I would not suffer a fly to be 
 knied to gain me it.' For he was to kiU some 
 living creatures in his sacrifices, and by those 
 honours to invite the devils to favour me. But 
 this iU also I rejected, not out of a pure love for 
 Thee, O God of my heart ; for I knew not how 
 to love Thee, who knew not how to conceive 
 aught beyond a material brightness. And doth 
 not a soul, sighing after such fictions, commit 
 fornication against Thee, trus't in things unreal, 
 
 1 Isa. xlii. 5 ; Matt. xii. 20 j Ps. iv. 2. 
 71 
 
Cl^e Confe00ionji of 
 
 and feed on the wind ? ^ Still, I would not forsooth 
 have sacrifices offered to devils for me, to whom I 
 was sacrificing myself by that superstition. For 
 what else is it to feed on the wind, but to feed them, 
 that is, by going astray to become their pleasure 
 and derision ? 
 
 Those impostors, then, whom they style Mathe- 
 maticians, I consulted without scruple ; because 
 they seemed to use no sacrifice, nor to pray to any 
 spirit for their divinations : which art, however, 
 Christian and true piety consistently rejects and 
 condemns. For, it is a good thing to confess unto 
 Thee, and to say. Have mercy upon me, heal my 
 soul, for I have sinned against Thee ; * and not to 
 abuse Thy mercy for a licence to sin, but to re- 
 member the Lord's words. Behold, thou art made 
 whole; sin no more, lest a worse thing come unto 
 thee? All which wholesome advice they labour 
 to destroy, saying, ' The cause of thy sin is in- 
 evitably determined in heaven ' ; and ' This did 
 Venus, or Saturn, or Mars ' : that man, forsooth, 
 flesh and blood, and proud corruption, might be 
 blameless ; while the Creator and Ordainer of 
 heaven and the stars is to bear the blame. And 
 who is He but our God ? the very sweetness and 
 well-spring of righteousness, who render est to every 
 man according to his works : and a broken and 
 contrite heart wilt Thou not despised 
 
 • Hos. xii. I. 2 Ps_ xli. 4. 
 
 ' John V. 14. * Rom. ii. 6 j Matt. xvi. 27 j Ps. li. 17. 
 
 72 
 
There was in those days a wise man, very skilful 
 in physic, and renowned therein, who had with 
 his own proconsular hand put the Agonistic gar- 
 land upon my distempered head, but not as a 
 physician : for this disease Thou only curest, 
 who resistest the proud, and givest grace to the 
 humble} But didst Thou fail me even by that 
 old man, or forbear to heal my soul ? For having 
 become more acquainted with him, and hanging 
 assiduously and fixedly on his speech (for though 
 in simple terms, it was vivid, lively, and earnest), 
 when he had gathered by my discourse that I 
 was given to the books of nativity-casters, he 
 kindly and fatherly advised me to cast them away, 
 and not fruitlessly bestow a care and diligence, 
 necessary for useful things, upon these vanities ; 
 saying, that he had in his earliest years studied 
 that art, so as to make it the profession whereby 
 he should Hve, and that, understanding Hippo- 
 crates, he could soon have understood such a 
 study as this ; and yet he had given it over, and 
 taken to physic, for no other reason but that he 
 found it utterly false ; and he, a grave man, would 
 not get his living by deluding people. ' But 
 thou,' saith he, ' hast rhetoric to maintain thyself 
 by, so that thou foUowest this of free choice, not 
 of necessity : the more then oughtest thou to 
 give me credit herein, who laboured to acquire 
 it so perfectly as to get my living by it alone.' 
 
 1 I Pet. V. 5 ; James iv. 6. 
 
 73 
 
Cl^e Confegi0ion0 of 
 
 Of whom when I had demanded, how then could 
 many true things be foretold by it, he answered 
 me (as he could) ' that the force of chance, 
 diffused throughout the whole order of things, 
 brought this about. For if when a man by hap- 
 hazard opens the pages of some poet, who sang 
 and thought of something wholly different, a 
 verse oftentimes fell out, wondrously agreeable 
 to the present business : it were not to be won- 
 dered at, if out of the soul of man, unconscious 
 what takes place in it, by some higher instinct 
 an answer should be given, by hap, not by art, 
 corresponding to the business and actions of the 
 demander,' 
 
 And thus much, either from or through him, 
 Thou conveyedst to me, and tracedst in my 
 memory, what I might hereafter examine for 
 myself. But at that time neither he, nor my 
 dearest Nebridius, a youth singularly good and 
 of a holy fear, who derided the whole body of 
 divination, could persuade me to cast it aside, 
 the authority of the authors swaying me yet more ; 
 and as yet I had found no certain proof (such as 
 I sought) whereby it might without all doubt 
 appear, that what had been truly foretold by 
 those consulted was the result of haphazard, not 
 of the art of the star-gazers. 
 
 In those years when I first began to teach 
 rhetoric in my native town, I had made one my 
 friend, but too dear to me, from a community 
 
 74 
 
^aint augu0tine 
 
 of pursuits, of mine own age, and, as myself, in 
 the first opening flower of youth. He had grown 
 up as a child with me, and we had been both 
 school-feUows and play-fellows. But he was 
 not yet my friend as afterwards, nor even then, 
 as true friendship is ; for true it cannot be, 
 unless in such as Thou cementest together, 
 cleaving unto Thee, by that love which is shed 
 abroad in our hearts by the Holy Ghost, which is 
 given unto us} Yet was it but too sweet, ripened 
 by the warmth of kindred studies : for, from the 
 true faith (which he as a youth had not soundly 
 and throughly imbibed), I had warped him also 
 to those superstitious and pernicious fables, for 
 which my mother bewailed me. With me he 
 now erred in mind, nor could my soul be without 
 him. But behold Thou wert close on the steps 
 of Thy fugitives, at once God of vengeance ^ and 
 Fountain of mercies, turning us to Thyself by 
 wonderful means ; Thou tookest that man out 
 of this life, when he had scarce fiUed up one whole 
 year of my friendship, sweet to me above all 
 sweetness of that my life. 
 
 Who can recount all 'Thy -praises^ which he hath 
 felt in his own self ? What didst Thou then, my 
 God, and how unsearchable is the abyss of Thy 
 judgments ? * For long, sore sick of a fever, he 
 lay senseless in a death-sweat ; and his recovery 
 
 * Rom. V. 5. ^ Ps. xciv. i. 
 
 3 Ps. cvi. 2. * Ps. xxxvi. 6. 
 
 75 
 
being despaired of, he was baptized, unknowing ; 
 myself meanwhile little regarding, and presuming 
 that his soul would retain rather what it had 
 received of me, not what was wrought on his 
 unconscious body. But it proved far otherwise : 
 for he was refreshed, and restored. Forthwith, 
 as soon as I could speak with him (and I could, 
 so soon as he was able, for I never left him, and 
 we hung but too much upon each other), I 
 essayed to jest with him, as though he would 
 jest with me at that baptism which he had 
 received, when utterly absent in mind and feel- 
 ing, but had now understood that he had received. 
 But he so shrunk from me, as from an enemy; 
 and with a wonderful and sudden freedom bade 
 me, as I would continue his friend, forbear such 
 language to him. I, all astonished and amazed, 
 suppressed all my emotions till he should grow 
 well, and his health were strong enough for me 
 to deal with him as I would. But he was taken 
 away from my frenzy, that with Thee he might 
 be preserved for my comfort ; a few days after, 
 in my absence, he was attacked again by the fever, 
 and so departed. 
 
 At this grief my heart was utterly darkened ; 
 and whatever I beheld was death. My native 
 country was a torment to me, and my father's 
 house a strange unhappiness ; and whatever I 
 had shared with him, wanting him, became a 
 distracting torture. Mine eyes sought him every 
 
 76 
 
where, but he was not granted them ; and I 
 hated all places, for that they had not him ; nor 
 could they now tell me, ' he is coming,' as when 
 he was alive and absent. I became a great riddle 
 to myself, and I asked my soul, why she was so 
 sad, and why she disquieted me sorely : ^ but she 
 knew not what to answer me. And if I said, 
 Trust in God, she very rightly obeyed me not ; 
 because that most dear friend, whom she had 
 lost, was, being man, both truer and better than 
 that phantasm she was bid to trust in. Only 
 tears were sweet to me, for they succeeded my 
 friend, in the dearest of my affections. 
 
 And now. Lord, these things are passed by, 
 and time hath assuaged my wound. May I learn 
 from Thee, who art Truth, and approach the ear 
 of my heart unto Thy mouth, that Thou mayest 
 tell me why weeping is sweet to the miserable ? 
 Hast Thou, although present every where, cast 
 away our misery far from Thee ? And Thou 
 abidest in Thyself, but we are tossed about in 
 divers trials. And yet, unless we mourned in 
 Thine ears, we should have no hope left. Whence 
 then is sweet fruit gathered from the bitterness 
 of Ufe, from groaning, tears, sighs, and com- 
 plaints ? Doth this sweeten it, that we hope 
 Thou hearest ? This is true of prayer, for there- 
 in is a longing to approach unto Thee. But is 
 it also in grief for a thing lost, and the sorrow 
 
 1 Ps. xlii. 5. 
 
 77 
 
Cl^e €ontmiom of 
 
 wherewith I was then overwhelmed ? For I 
 neither hoped he should return to life, nor did 
 I desire this with my tears ; but I wept only and 
 grieved. For I was miserable, and had lost my 
 joy. Or is weeping indeed a bitter thing, and 
 for very loathing of the things which we before 
 enjoyed, does it then, when we shrink from them, 
 please us ? 
 
 But what speak I of these things ? for now is 
 no time to question, but to confess unto Thee. 
 Wretched I was ; and wretched is every soul 
 bound by the friendship of perishable things ; 
 he is torn asunder when he loses them, and then 
 he feels the wretchedness which he had ere yet 
 he lost them. So was it then with me ; I wept 
 most bitterly, and found my repose in bitterness. 
 Thus was I wretched, and that wretched hfe I 
 held dearer than my friend. For though I would 
 willingly have changed it, yet was I more un- 
 willing to part with it than with him ; yea, I 
 know not whether I would have parted with it 
 even for him, as is related (if not feigned) of 
 Pylades and Orestes, that they would gladly have 
 died for each other or together, not to Uve to- 
 gether being to them worse than death. But in 
 me there had arisen some unexplained feeling, 
 too contrary to this, for at once I loathed exceed- 
 ingly to live, and feared to die. I suppose, the 
 more I loved him, the more did I hate, and fear 
 (as a most cruel enemy) death, which had be- 
 
 78 
 
^atnt augujJtine 
 
 reaved me of him : and I imagined it would 
 speedily make an end of all men, since it had 
 power over him. Thus was it with me, I remem- 
 ber. Behold my heart, O my God, behold and 
 see into me ; for well I remember it, O my Hope, 
 who cleansest me from the impurity of such affec- 
 tions, directing mine eyes towards Thee, and 
 f lucking my feet out of the snare} For I wondered 
 that others, subject to death, did live, since he 
 whom I loved, as if he should never die, was 
 dead ; and I wondered yet more that myself, 
 who was to him a second self, could live, he being 
 dead. Well said one of his friend, ' Thou half of 
 my soul ' ; for I felt that my soul and his sou] 
 were ' one soul in two bodies ' : and therefore 
 was my Ufe a horror to me, because I would not 
 live halved. And therefore perchance I feared 
 to die, lest he whom I had much loved should 
 die wholly. 
 
 O madness, which knowest not how to love 
 men, like men ! O foolish man that I then was, 
 enduring impatiently the lot of man ! I fretted 
 then, sighed, wept, was distracted ; had neither 
 rest nor counsel. For I bore about a shattered 
 and bleeding soul, impatient of being borne by 
 me ; yet where to repose it, I found not. Not in 
 calm groves, not in games and music, nor in 
 fragrant spots, nor in curious banquetings, nor 
 in the pleasures of the bed and the couch ; nor 
 
 1 Ps. XXV. I 5. 
 
 79 
 
Cl^e Confej2i?!ion0 of 
 
 (finally) in books or poesy, found it repose. All 
 things looked ghastly, yea, the very light ; what- 
 soever was not what he was, was revolting and 
 hateful, except groaning and tears. For in those 
 alone found I a little refreshment. But when 
 my soul was withdrawn from them, a huge load of 
 misery weighed me down. To Thee, O Lord, it 
 ought to have been raised, for Thee to hghten ; 
 I knew it ; but neither could nor would ; the 
 more, since, when I thought of Thee, Thou wert 
 not to me any solid or substantial thing. For 
 Thou wert not Thyself, but a mere phantom, 
 and my error was my God. If I offered to dis- 
 charge my load thereon, that it might rest, it 
 glided through the void, and came rushing down 
 again on me ; and I had remained to myself a 
 hapless spot, where I could neither be, nor be 
 from thence. For whither should my heart 
 flee from my heart ? Whither should I flee from 
 myself ? Whither not foUow myself ? And yet 
 I fled out of my country ; for so should mine 
 eyes less look for him, where they were not wont 
 to see him. And thus, from Thagaste I came to 
 Carthage. 
 
 Times lose no time ; nor do they roll idly by ; 
 through our senses they work strange operations 
 on the mind. Behold, they went and came day 
 by day, and by coming and going, introduced into 
 my mind other imaginations and other remem- 
 brances ; and httle by Httle patched me up again 
 
 80 
 
^aint atufiussttne 
 
 with my old kind of delights, unto which that 
 my sorrow gave way. And yet there succeeded, 
 not indeed other griefs, yet the causes of other 
 griefs. For whence had that former grief so 
 easily reached my very inmost soul, but that I 
 had poured out my soul upon the dust, in loving 
 one that must die, as if he would never die ? For 
 what restored and refreshed me chiefly was the 
 solaces of other friends, with whom I did love, 
 what instead of Thee I loved ; and this was a 
 great fable, and protracted lie, by whose adulter- 
 ous stimulus, our soul, which lay itching in our 
 ears, was being defiled. But that fable would 
 not die to me, so oft as any of my friends died. 
 There were other things which in them did more 
 take my mind ; to talk and jest together, to do 
 kind offices by turns ; to read together honeyed 
 books ; to play the fool or be earnest together ; 
 to dissent at times without discontent, as a man 
 might with his own self ; and even with the sel- 
 domness of these dissentings, to season our more 
 frequent consentings ; sometimes to teach, and 
 sometimes learn ; long for the absent with im- 
 patience ; and welcome the coming with joy. 
 These and the like expressions, proceeding out of 
 the hearts of those that loved and were loved 
 again, by the countenance, the tongue, the eyes, 
 and a thousand pleasing gestures, were so much 
 fuel to melt our souls together, and out of many 
 make but one. 
 
 F 8i 
 
€]^e confejsjstonsi of 
 
 This is it that is loved in friends ; and so loved, 
 that a man's conscience condemns itself, if he 
 love not him that loves him again, or love not 
 again him that loves him, looking for nothing 
 from his person but indications of his love. 
 Hence that mourning, if one die, and darkenings 
 of sorrows, that steeping of the heart in tears, 
 all svs^eetness turned to bitterness ; and upon the 
 loss of life of the dying, the death of the Uving. 
 Blessed whoso loveth Thee, and his friend in 
 Thee, and his enemy for Thee. For he alone 
 loses none dear to him, to whom all are dear in 
 Him who cannot be lost. And who is this but 
 our God, the God that made heaven and earth, and 
 filleth them^ because by filling them He created 
 them ? Thee none loseth, but who leaveth. 
 And who leaveth Thee, whither goeth or whither 
 fleeth he, but from Thee well-pleased, to Thee 
 displeased ? For where doth he not find Thy 
 law in his own punishment f And Thy law is 
 truth^ and truth Thou. 
 
 Turn uSy God of Hosts, show us Thy coun- 
 tenance, and we shall be zvhole.^ For whither- 
 soever the soul of man turns itself, unless towards 
 Thee, it is riveted upon sorrows, yea, though it is 
 riveted on things beautiful. And yet they, out 
 of Thee, and out of the soul, were not, unle8s 
 they were from Thee. They rise, and set ; and 
 
 •> Gen. ii. 4 ; Jer. xxiii. 24. * Ps. cxix. 142 ; John xiv. 6. 
 
 ' Ps. Ixxx. 19. 
 
 82 
 
by rising, they begin as it were to be ; they grow, 
 that they may be perfected ; and perfected, they 
 wax old and wither ; and all grow not old, but 
 all wither. So then when they rise and tend to 
 be, the more quickly they grow that they may be, 
 so much the more they haste not to be. This is 
 the law of them. Thus much hast Thou allotted 
 them, because they are portions of things, which 
 exist not all at once, but by passing away and 
 succeeding, they together complete that universe, 
 whereof they are portions. And even thus is our 
 speech completed by signs giving forth a sound : > 
 but this again is not perfected unless one word i 
 pass away when it hath sounded its part, that | 
 another may succeed. Out of all these things let i 
 my soul praise Thee, O God, Creator of all ; yet 
 let not my soul be riveted unto these things with 
 the glue of love, through the senses of the body. 
 For they go whither they were to go, that they 
 might not be ; and they rend her with pestilent 
 longings, because she longs to be, yet loves to 
 repose in what she loves. But in these things is 
 no place of repose ; they abide not, they flee ; 
 and who can follow them with the senses of the 
 flesh ? yea, who can grasp them, when they are 
 hard by ? For the sense of the flesh is slow, 
 because it is the sense of the flesh ; and thereby 
 is it bounded. It sufficeth for that it was made 
 for ; but it sufficeth not to stay things running 
 their course from their appointed starting-place 
 
 83 
 
Cl^e Confej5ision0 of 
 
 to the end appointed. For in Thy Word, by 
 which they are created, they hear their decree, 
 ' hence and hitherto.' 
 
 Be not foolish, O my soul, nor become deaf in 
 the ear of thine heart with the tumult of thy 
 folly. Hearken thou too. The Word itself 
 calleth thee to return : and there is the place of 
 rest imperturbable, where love is not forsaken, if 
 itself forsaketh not. Behold, these things pass 
 away, that others may replace them, and so this 
 lower universe be completed by all his parts. But 
 do I depart any whither ? saith the Word of God. 
 There fix thy dwelling, trust there whatsoever 
 thou hast thence, O my soul, at least now thou 
 art tired out with vanities. Intrust Truth, what- 
 soever thou hast from the Truth, and thou shalt 
 lose nothing ; and thy decay shall bloom again, 
 and all thy diseases be healed^ and thy mortal 
 parts be reformed and renewed, and bound 
 around thee : nor shall they lay thee whither 
 themselves descend ; but they shall stand fast 
 with thee, and abide for ever before God, who 
 abideth and standeth fast /or ever? 
 
 Why then be perverted and follow thy flesh ? 
 Be it converted and follow thee. Whatever by 
 her thou hast sense of, is in part ; and the whole, 
 whereof these are parts, thou knowest not ; and 
 yet they delight thee. But had the sense of thy 
 flesh a capacity for comprehending the whole, 
 
 > Ps. ciii. 3. 2 I Pet. i. 23. 
 
 84 
 
and not itself also, for thy punishment, been justly- 
 restricted to a part of the whole, thou wouldest, 
 that whatsoever existeth at this present, should 
 pass away, that so the whole might better please 
 thee. For what we speak also, by the same sense 
 of the flesh thou hearest ; yet wouldest not thou 
 have the syllables stay, but fly away, that others 
 may come, and thou hear the whole. And so 
 ever, when any one thing is made up of many, 
 all of which do not exist together, all collectively 
 would please more than they do severally, could 
 all be perceived collectively. But far better than 
 these is He who made all ; and He is our God, 
 nor doth He pass away, for neither doth aught 
 succeed Him. 
 
 If bodies please thee, praise God on occasion 
 of them, and turn back thy love upon their 
 Maker ; lest in these things which please thee, 
 thou displease. If souls please thee, be they loved 
 in God : for they too are mutable, but in Him 
 are they firmly stablished ; else would they pass, 
 and pass away. In Him then be they beloved ; 
 and carry unto Him along with thee what souls 
 thou canst, and say to them, ' Him let us love, 
 Him let us love : He made these, nor is He far, 
 off. For He did not make them, and so depart,; 
 but they are of Him, and in Him. See there He 
 is, where truth is loved. He is within the very 
 heart, yet hath the heart strayed from Him. Go 
 back into your heart, ye transgressors, and cleave 
 
 85 
 
Cl^e Confessions} ot 
 
 fast to Him that made you. Stand with Him, 
 and ye shall stand fast. Rest in Him,- and ye shall 
 be at rest. Whither go ye in rough ways ? 
 Whither go ye ? The good that you love is from 
 Him ; but it is good and pleasant through refer- 
 ence to Him, and justly shall it be embittered, 
 because unjustly is any thing loved which is 
 from Him, if He be forsaken for it. To what 
 end then would ye still and still walk these diffi- 
 cult and toilsome ways ? There is no rest, where 
 ye seek it. Seek what ye seek ; but it is not there 
 where ye seek. Ye seek a blessed life in the land 
 of death ; it is not there. For how should there 
 be a blessed life \diere life itself is not ? 
 
 ' But our true Life came down hither, and bore 
 our death, and slew Him, out of the abundance 
 of His own life : and He thundered, calling aloud 
 to us to return hence to Him into that secret 
 place, whence He came forth to us, first into the 
 Virgin's womb, wherein He espoused the human 
 creation, our mortal flesh, that it might not be 
 for ever mortal, and thence like a bridegroom 
 coming out of his chamber, rejoicing as a giant to 
 run his course} For he lingered not, but ran, 
 calling aloud by words, deeds, death, Ufe, descent, 
 ascension : crying aloud to us to return unto 
 Him. And He departed from our eyes, that we 
 might return into our heart, and there find Him. 
 For He departed, and lo. He is here. He would 
 
 ' Ps. xix. 5. 
 
 86 
 
not be long with us, yet left us not ; for He 
 departed thither, whence He never parted, because 
 the world was made by Him.} And in this world 
 He was, and into this world He came to save sinners,^ 
 unto whom my soul confesseth, and He healeth it, 
 for it hath sinned against Him? ye sons of men, 
 how long so slow of heart ? * Even now, after the \ 
 descent of Life to you, will ye not ascend and i 
 live ? But whither ascend ye, when ye are on 
 high, and set your mouth against the heavens ? ^ 
 J^^?£554_^^ y^J5L^y ^scendj^an^ ascend to God. 
 For ye have fallen, by ascending against Him.' 
 Tell them this, that they may weep in the valley 
 of tears^ and so carry them up with thee unto 
 God; because out of His Spirit thou speakest 
 thus unto them, if thou speakest, burning with the 
 fire of charity. 
 
 These things I then knew not, and I loved these 
 lower beauties, and I was sinking to the very 
 depths, and to my friend* I said, ' Do we love 
 anything but the beautiful ? What then is the 
 beautiful ? and what is beauty ? What is it 
 that attracts and wins us to the things we love ? 
 for unless there were in them a grace and beauty, 
 they could by no means draw us unto them.' 
 And I marked and perceived that in bodies them- 
 selves, there was a beauty, from their forming a 
 sort of whole, and again, another from apt and 
 
 » John i. 10. 2 I Tim. 115. » Ps. xli. 4. 
 
 * Ps. iy. 3. — Vulg. * Ps. Ixxiii. 9. • Ps. Ixxxiv. 6, 
 
 87 
 
Cl^e Confej50ionj2i of 
 
 mutual correspondence, as of a part of the body 
 with its whole, or a shoe with a foot, and the like. 
 And this consideration sprang up in my mind, 
 out of my inmost heart, and I wrote ' on the fair 
 and fit,' I think, two or three books. Thou 
 knowest, O Lord, for it is gone from me ; for I 
 have them not, but they are strayed from me, 
 I know not how. 
 
 But what moved me, O Lord my God, to 
 dedicate these books unto Hierius, an orator of 
 Rome, whom I knew not by face, but loved for 
 the fame of his learning which was eminent in 
 him, and some words of his I had heard, which 
 pleased me ? But more did he please me, for 
 that he pleased others, who highly extolled him, 
 amazed that out of a Syrian, first instructed in 
 Greek eloquence, should afterwards be formed a 
 wonderful Latin orator, and one most learned 
 in things pertaining unto philosophy. One is 
 commended, and, unseen, he is loved : doth this 
 love enter the heart of the hearer from the mouth 
 of the commender ? Not so. But by one who 
 loveth is another kindled. For hence he is loved 
 who is commended, when the commender is 
 believed to extol him with an unfeigned heart ; 
 that is, when one that loves him, praises him. 
 
 For so did I then love men, upon the judgment 
 of men, not Thine, O my God, in whom no man 
 is deceived. But yet why not for qualities, like 
 those of a famous charioteer, or fighter with beasts 
 
 88 
 
in the theatre, known far and wide by a vulgar 
 popularity, but far otherwise, and earnestly, and 
 so as I would be myself, commended ? For I 
 would not be commended or loved, as actors are 
 (though I myself did commend and love them), 
 but had rather be unknown, than so known : 
 and even hated, than so loved. Where now are 
 the impulses to such various and divers kinds of 
 loves laid up in one soul ? Why, since we are ' 
 equally men, do I love in another what, if I did 
 not hate, I should not spurn and cast from myself ? 
 For it holds not, that as a good horse is loved by 
 him who would not, though he might, be that 
 horse, therefore the same may be said of an actor, 
 who shares our nature. Do I then love in a man, 
 what I hate to be, who am a man ? Man himself 
 is a great deep, whose very hairs Thou numberest, 
 
 Lord, and they fall not to the ground without 
 Thee} And yet are the hairs of his head easier 
 to be numbered than are his feelings, and the 
 beatings of his heart. 
 
 But that orator was of that sort whom I loved, 
 as wishing to be myself such ; and I erred through | 
 a swelling pride, and was tossed about with every 
 wind,^ but yet was steered by Thee, though very 
 secretly. And whence do I know, and whence do 
 
 1 confidently confess unto Thee, that I had loved 
 him more for the love of his commenders, than 
 for the very things for which he was commended ? 
 
 1 Matt. X. 29, 30. 2 Eph. iv. 14. 
 
 89 
 
Cl^e €onf miotic of 
 
 Because, had he been unpraised, and these self- 
 same men had dispraised him, and with dispraise 
 and contempt told the very same things of him, 
 I had never been so kindled and excited to love 
 him. And yet the things had not been other, 
 nor he himself other ; but only the feehngs of the 
 relators. See where the impotent soul Ues along,, 
 that is not yet stayed up by the soHdity of truth ! 
 Just as the gales of tongues blow from the breast 
 of the opinionative, so is it carried this way and 
 that, driven forward and backward, and the light 
 is overclouded to it, and the truth unseen. And 
 lo, it is before us. And it was to me a great 
 matter, that my discourse and labours should be 
 known to that man : which should he approve, 
 I were the more kindled ; but if he disapproved, 
 my empty heart, void of Thy soHdity, had been 
 wounded. And yet the ' fair and fit,' whereon 
 I wrote to him, I dwelt on with pleasure, and 
 surveyed it, and admired it, though none joined 
 therein. 
 
 But I saw not yet, whereon this weighty matter 
 turned in Thy wisdom, O Thou Omnipotent, who 
 only doest wonders ; ^ and my mind ranged through 
 corporeal forms ; and ' fair,' I defined and dis- 
 tinguished what is so in itself, and ' fit,' whose 
 beauty is in correspondence to some other thing : 
 and this I supported by corporeal examples. 
 And I turned to the nature of the mind, but the 
 
 • Ps. cvi. 4. 
 90 
 
false notion which I had of spiritual things, let 
 me not see the truth. Yet the force of truth did 
 of itself flash into mine eyes, and I turned away 
 my panting soul from incorporeal substance to 
 Kneaments, and colours, and bulky magnitudes. 
 And not being able to see these in the mind, I 
 thought I could not see my mind. And whereas 
 in virtue I loved peace, and in viciousness I 
 abhorred discord ; in the first I observed a unity, 
 but in the other, a sort of division. And in that 
 unity I conceived the rational soul, and the nature 
 of truth and of the chief good to consist ; but in { 
 this division I miserably imagined there to be 
 some unknown substance of irrational life, and 
 the nature of the chief evil, which should not 
 only be a substance, but real life also, and yet 
 not derived from Thee, O my God, of whom are 
 all things. And yet that first I called a Monad, 
 as it had been a soul without sex ; but the latter 
 a Duad ; — anger, in deeds of violence, and in 
 flagitiousness, lust ; not knowing whereof I spake. 
 For I had not known or learned that neither was ; 
 evil a substance, nor our soul that chief and ■; 
 unchangeable good. 
 
 For as deeds of violence arise, if that emotion 
 of the soul be corrupted, whence vehement action 
 springs, stirring itself insolently and unrulily ; and 
 lusts, when that affection of the soul is ungoverned, 
 whereby carnal pleasures are drunk in; so do er ror s 
 and false opinions defile the^ conversation, if the 
 ' 9^ 
 
Cl^e Confejsjsionjs of 
 
 reasonable soul itself be corrupted ; as it was 
 then in me, who knew not that it must be en- 
 lightened by another light, that it may be par- 
 taker of truth, seeing itself is not that nature of 
 truth. For Thou shalt light my candle, O Lord 
 my God, Thou shalt enlighten my darkness : ^ and 
 of Thy fulness have we all received, for Thou art 
 the true light that lighteth every man that cometh 
 into the world ; ^ for in Thee there is no variableness, 
 neither shadow of change? 
 
 But I pressed towards Thee, and was thrust 
 from Thee, that I might taste of death : for thou 
 resistest the fraud} But what prouder, than for 
 me with a strange madness to maintain myself 
 to be that by nature which Thou art ? For 
 whereas I was subject to change (so much being 
 manifest to me, my very desire to become wise 
 being the wish of worse to become better), yet 
 chQse I rather to imagine Thee subject to change, 
 than myself not to be that which Thou art. 
 Therefore I was repelled by Thee, and Thou 
 resistedst my vain stiff-neckedness, and I imagined 
 corporeal forms, and, myself flesh, I accused 
 flesh ; and, a wind that passeth away, I returned 
 not * to Thee, but I passed on and on to things 
 which have no being, neither in Thee, nor in me, 
 nor in the body. Neither were they created 
 for me by Thy truth, but by my vanity devised 
 
 I Ps. xviii. 28. ^ John i. 16, 9. ' James i. 17. 
 
 * I Pet. V. 5 ; James iv. 6. ' Ps. Ixxviii. 39. 
 
 92 
 
^aint aufiujstine 
 
 out of things corporeal. And I was wont to ask 
 Thy faithful little ones, my fellow-citizens (from 
 whom, unknown to myself, I stood exiled), — I was 
 wont, prating and foolishly, to ask them, ' Why 
 then doth the soul err which God created ? ' 
 But I would not be asked, ' Why then doth God 
 err ? ' And I maintained that Thy unchangeable 
 substance did err upon constraint, rather than 
 confess that my changeable substance had gone 
 astray voluntarily, and now, in punishment, lay 
 in error. 
 
 I was then some six- or seven-and- twenty years 
 old when I wrote those volumes ; revolving with- 
 in me corporeal fictions, buzzing in the ears of 
 my heart, which I turned, O sweet truth, to thy 
 inward melody, meditating on the ' fair and fit,' 
 and longing to stand and hearken to Thee, and 
 to rejoice greatly at the Bridegroom's voiced but 
 could not ; for by the voices of mine own errors 
 I was hurried abroad, and through the weight 
 of my own pride I was sinking into the lowest 
 pit. For Thou didst not make me to hear joy and. 
 gladness, nor did the bones exult which were not 
 yet humbled.^ 
 
 And what did it profit me that, scarce twenty 
 years old, a book of Aristotle, which they call the 
 ten Predicaments, falling into my hands (on whose 
 very name I hung, as on something great and 
 divine, so often as my rhetoric master of Carthage, 
 
 > John iii. 29. * Ps. li. 8. 
 
 92 
 
Cl^e ConfejSjSionsJ of 
 
 and others accounted learned, mouthed it with 
 cheeks bursting with pride), I read and understood 
 it unaided ? And on my conferring with others, 
 who said that they scarcely understood it with 
 very able tutors, not only orally explaining it, 
 but drawing many things in sand, they could tell 
 me no more of it than I had karned, reading it 
 by myself. And the book appeared to me to 
 speak very clearly of substances, such as * man,' 
 and of their qualities, as the figure of a man, of 
 what sort it is ; and stature, how many feet high ; 
 and his relationship, whose brother he is ; or 
 where placed ; or when born ; or whether he 
 stands or sits ; or be shod or armed ; or does or 
 suffers anything ; and all the innumerable things 
 which might be ranged under these nine Predica- 
 ments, of which I have given some specimens, or 
 under that chief Predicament of Substance. 
 
 What did all this further me, seeing it even 
 hindered me ? when, imagining whatever was, 
 was comprehended under those ten Predica- 
 ments, I essayed in such wise to understand, O 
 my God, Thy wonderful and unchangeable Unity 
 also, as if Thou also hadst been subjected to Thine 
 own greatness or beauty ; so that (as in bodies) 
 they should exist in Thee, as their subject : where- 
 as Thou Thyself art Thy greatness and beauty ; 
 but a body is not great or fair in that it is a body, 
 seeing that, though it were less great or fair, it 
 should notwithstanding be a body. But it was 
 
 94 
 
falsehood which of Thee I conceived, not truth, 
 fictions of my misery, not the reaUties of Thy 
 Blessedness. For Thou hadst commanded, and 
 it was done in me, that the earth should bring forth 
 briers and thorns to me, and that in the sweat of 
 my brows I should eat my bread. 
 
 And what did it profit me, that all the books I 
 could procure of the so-called liberal arts, I, the 
 vile slave of vile affections, read by myself, and 
 understood ? And I delighted in them, but 
 knew not whence came all that therein was true 
 or certain. For I had my back to the light, and | 
 my face to the things enlightened ; whence my- 
 face, with which I discerned the things en- 
 lightened, itself was not enlightened. Whatever 
 was written, either on rhetoric, or logic, geometry, 
 music, and arithmetic, by myself without much 
 difficulty or any instructor, I understood, Thou 
 knowest, O Lord my God ; because both quick- 
 ness of understanding, and acuteness in discerning 
 are Thy gift : yet did I not thence sacrifice to 
 Thee. So then it served not to my use, but rather 
 to my perdition, since I went about to get so 
 good a 'portion of my substance into my own keeping; 
 and I kept not my strength for Thee, but wandered / 
 from Thee into a far country, to spend it upon 
 harlotries} For what profited me good abilities, 
 not employed to good uses ? For I felt not that 
 those arts were attained with great difficulty, 
 
 ' Luke XV. ; Ps. Iviii. lo. — Vulg. 
 
 95 
 
Cl^e Confej2i0(onj( of 
 
 even by the studious snd talented, until I at- 
 tempted to explain them, to such ; when he 
 most excelled in them who followed me not alto- 
 gether slowly. 
 
 But what did this further me, imagining that 
 Thou, O Lord God, the Truth, wert a vast and 
 bright body, and I a fragment of that body ? 
 Perverseness too great ! But such was I. Nor 
 do I blush, O my God, to confess to Thee Thy 
 mercies towards me^ and to call upon Thee, who 
 blushed not then to profess to men my blas- 
 phemies, and to bark against Thee. What 
 profited me then my nimble wit in those sciences 
 and all those most knotty volumes, unravelled by 
 me, without aid from human instruction ; seeing 
 I erred so fouUy, and with such sacrilegious 
 shamefulness, in the doctrine of piety ? Or what 
 hindrance was a far slower wit to Thy little ones, 
 since they departed not far from Thee, that in 
 the nest of Thy Church they might securely be 
 fledged, and nourish the wings of charity by the 
 food of a sound faith. O Lord our God, under 
 the shadow of Thy wings let us hope ; protect us, 
 and carry us. Thou wilt carry us both when 
 little, and even to hoar hairs wilt Thou carry us ; ^ 
 for our firmness, when it is Thou, then is it 
 firmness ; but when our own, it is infirmity. 
 Our good ever lives with Thee ; froni which 
 when we turn away, we are turned aside. Let us 
 
 * Isa. xlvi. 4, 
 96 
 
^aint auguistine 
 
 now, O Lord, return, that we may not be over- 
 turned, because with Thee our good lives without 
 any decay, which good art Thou ; nor need we 
 fear, lest there be no place whither to j;eturn, 
 because we-£ellironi.it j for through our absence, 
 our mansion feU not — Thy eternity. 
 
 97 
 
%\)t ConfesijSionsi o( 
 
 St. aiuBU«ttne'0 ttoentgsnintfi gear. jFaujftus, a »naie 
 of Satan to maitg, malie an insttument of if liber; 
 ance to St. augugtine, ig »t)Otoing tfie iflnoranw 
 of tte iEantcfiees on tf)0{(e tfimss toj^min t^eg 
 ptofesseli to Ibabe titbine fenobiUlise. Augustine 
 flibes up all tf)onflt)t of Boing futt^ec among tjie 
 Mmicitetfi : is guitirt to iflome anij iBltlan, totm 
 te tears St. ^mtrose, leabes tfie iSlanie^ees, 
 anil iecomes again a tatecSuwen in tj&c ffi^ureJ) 
 aiattolic. 
 
 ICCEPT the sacrifice of my confessions 
 from the ministry of my tongue, 
 which Thou hast formed and stirred 
 up to confess unto Thy name. Heal 
 Thou all my bones, and let them say, Lord, who is 
 like unto Thee ? ^ For he who confesses to Thee 
 doth not teach Thee what takes place within him ; 
 seeing a closed heart closes not out Thy eye, nor 
 can man's hard-heartedness thrust back Thy 
 hand : for Thou dissolvest it at Thy will in pity 
 or in vengeance, and nothing can hide itself from 
 Thy heat? But let my soul praise Thee, that it 
 
 * P». XXXV. 10. 2 Ps. xix. 6, 
 
 98 
 
^aint austtj^itine 
 
 may love Thee ; and let it confess Thy own 
 mercies to Thee, that it may praise Thee, Thy 
 whole creation ceaseth not, nor is silent in Thy 
 praises ; neither the spirit of man with voice 
 directed unto Thee, nor creation animate or 
 inanimate, by the voice of those who meditate 
 thereon : that so our souls may from their weari- 
 ness arise towards Thee, leaning on those things 
 which Thou hast created, and passing on to Thy- 
 self who madest them wonderfully ; and there is 
 refreshment and true strength. 
 
 Let the restless, the godless, depart and flee 
 from Thee ; yet Thou seest them, and dividest 
 the darkness. And behold, the universe with them 
 is fair, though they are foul. And how have they 
 injured Thee ? or how hav6 they disgraced Thy 
 (government, which, from the heaven to this 
 lowest earth, is just and perfect ? For whither 
 fled they, when they fled from Thy presence ? ^ 
 or where dost not Thou find them ? But they 
 fled, that they might not see Thee seeing them, 
 and, blinded, might stumble against Thee ^ 
 (because Thou forsakest nothing Thou hast made *) ; 
 that the unjust, I say, might stumble upon Thee, 
 and justly be hurt ; withdrawing themselves 
 from Thy gentleness, and stumbling at Thy up- 
 rightness, and falling upon their own ruggedness. 
 Ignorant, in truth, that Thou art every where. 
 Whom no place encompasseth ! and Thou alone 
 
 • Ps. cxxxix. 7, ^ Gen. xyi. 14. ^ Wisd. xi. 25, old vers, 
 
 99 
 
€]^e Confe0j2(ionjai of 
 
 art near, even to those that remove far from Thei} 
 Let them then be turned, and seek Thee ; 
 because not as they have forsaken their Creator, 
 hast Thou forsaken Thy creation. Let them he 
 turned and seek Thee ; and behold, Thou art 
 there in their heart, in the heart of those that 
 confess to Thee, and cast themselves upon Thee, 
 and weep in Thy bosom, after all their rugged 
 ways. Then dost Thou gently wipe away their 
 tears, and they weep the more, and joy in weep- 
 ing ; even for that Thou, Lord, — not man of 
 flesh and blood, but Thou, Lord, who madest 
 them, — ^re-makest and comfortest them. But 
 where was I, when I was seeking Thee ? And 
 Thou wert before me, but I had gone away from 
 Thee ; nor did I find myself, how much less 
 Thee! 
 
 I would lay open before my God that nine-and- 
 twentieth year of mine age. There had then 
 come to Carthage a certain Bishop of the 
 Manichees, Faustus by name, a great snare of the 
 Devil, and many were entangled by him through 
 that lure of his smooth language : which though 
 I did commend, yet could I separate from the 
 truth of the things which I was earnest to learn : 
 nor did I so much regard the service of oratory 
 as the science which this Faustus, so praised among 
 them, set before me to feed upon. Fame had 
 before bespoken him most knowing in all valuable 
 
 1 Ps. Ixxiii. 27. 
 IPQ 
 
learning, and exquisitely skilled in the liberal 
 sciences. And since I had read and well remem- 
 bered much of the philosophers, I compared some 
 things of theirs with those long fables of the 
 Manichees, and found the former the more 
 probable ; even although they could only prevail 
 so far as to make judgment of this lower world, the 
 Lord of it they could by no means find out} For 
 Thou art great, O Lord, and hast respect unto the 
 humble, but the proud Thou beholdest afar off? Nor 
 dost thou draw near, but to the contrite in heart^ 
 nor art found by the proud, no, not though by 
 curious skill they could number the stars and the 
 sand, and measure the starry heavens, and track 
 the courses of the planets. 
 
 For with their understanding and wit, which 
 Thou bestowedst on them, they search out these 
 things ; and much have they found out ; and 
 foretold, many years before, eclipses of those 
 luminaries, the sun and moon, — what day and 
 hour, and how many digits, — nor did their 
 calculation fail ; and it came to pass as they 
 foretold ; and they wrote down the rules they 
 had found out, and these are read at this day, 
 and out of them do others foretell in what year, 
 and month of the year, and what day of the 
 month, and what hour of the day, and what part 
 of its light, moon or sun is to be eclipsed, and so 
 it shall be, as it is foreshowed. At these things 
 
 ' Wistl. xiii. 9. ' Ps. cxxxviii. 6. ' Ps. xxxiv. .i8. 
 
 lOI 
 
men, that know not this art, marvel and are 
 astonished, and they that know it, exult, and are 
 puffed up ; and by an ungodly pride departing 
 I from Thee, and failing of Thy light, they foresee 
 j a failure of the sun's light, which shall be, so long 
 I before, but see not their own, which is. For they 
 search not religiously whence they have the wit, 
 wherewith they search out this. And finding that 
 Thou madest them, they give not themselves up 
 to Thee, to preserve what Thou madest, nor 
 sacrifice to Thee what they have made themselves ; 
 nor slay their own soaring imaginations, as fowls 
 ! of the air, nor their own diving curiosities (where- 
 with, like the fshes of the sea^ they wander over 
 ( the unknown paths of the abyss), nor their own 
 1 luxuriousness, as beasts of the field., that Thou, 
 \Lord, a consuming fire^ mayest burn up those 
 dead cares of theirs, and re-create themselves 
 immortally. 
 
 But they knew not the way. Thy Word,' by 
 Whom Thou madest these things which they 
 number, and themselves who number, and the. 
 sense whereby they perceive what they number, 
 and the understanding, out of which they num- 
 ber ; or that of Thy wisdom there is no number.^ 
 But the Only Begotten is Himself made unto us 
 wisdom, and righteousness, and sanctification^ and 
 was numbered among us, and faid tribute unto 
 
 1 Ps. viii. 7, 8. * Deut. iv. 24. ' John i. 3. 
 
 * Ps. cxlvii. 5. » I CoFv i. 30. 
 
 102 
 
^aint augujstine 
 
 Ccssar} They knew not this Way whereby to 
 descend to Him from themselves, and by Him 
 ascend unto Him. They knew not this Way, and 
 deemed themselves exalted amongst the stars and 
 shining ; and behold, theyy^// upon the earth, and 
 their foolish heart was darkened.^ They discourse 
 many things truly concerning the creature ; but 
 Truth, Artificer of the creature, they seek not 
 piously, and therefore find him not ; or if they 
 find Him, knowing Him to he God, they glorify Him 
 not as God, neither are thankful, hut become vain in 
 their imaginations, and -profess themselves to he 
 wise^ attributing to themselves what is Thine ; 
 and thereby, with most perverse blindness, study 
 to impute to Thee what is their own, forging lies 
 of Thee who art the Truth, and changing the glory"] 
 of the uncorruptible God into an image made like 
 corruptible man, and to birds, and four-footed beasts, 
 and creeping things, changing Thy truth into a lie, 
 and worshipping and serving the creature more than [ 
 the Creator} 
 
 Yet many truths concerning the creature re- 
 tained I from these men, and saw the reason thereof 
 from calculations, the succession of times, and the 
 visible testimonies of the stars ; and compared 
 them with the saying of Manichaeus, which in his 
 frenzy he had written most largely on these sub- 
 jects ; but discovered not any account of the 
 
 • Matt. xvii. 27. * Isa. xiv. 13 ; Rev. xii. 4 ; Rom. i. 21. 
 
 ' Rom. i. 21. * Rom. i. 23. 
 
 103 
 
Cl^e Confe^aijsionjs of 
 
 solstices, or equinoxes, or the eclipses of the 
 greater lights, nor whatever of this sort I had 
 learned in the books of secular philosophy. But 
 I was commanded to believe ; and yet it corre- 
 sponded not with what had been established by 
 calculations and my own sight, but was quite 
 contrary. 
 
 Doth then, O Lord God of truth, whoso 
 knoweth these things, therefore please Thee ? 
 Surely, unhappy is he who knoweth aU these, and 
 knoweth not Thee ; but happy whoso knoweth 
 Thee, though he know not these. And whoso 
 knoweth both Thee and them is not the happier 
 for them, but for Thee only, if, knowing Thee, he 
 glorifies Thee as God, and is thankful, and becomes 
 not vain in his imaginations} For as he is better 
 off who knows how to possess a tree, and return 
 thanks to Thee for the use thereof, although he 
 know not how many cubits high it is, or how 
 wide it spreads, than he that can measure it, and 
 count all its boughs, and neither owns it, nor 
 knows or loves its Creator : so a believer, whose 
 ail this world of wealth is, and who having nothing, 
 yet fossesseth all things,^ by cleaving unto Thee, 
 whom all things serve, though he know not even 
 the circles of the Great Bear, yet is it folly to 
 doubt but he is in a better state than one who 
 can measure the heavens, and number the stars, 
 and poise the elements, yet neglecteth Thee who 
 
 ' Rom. i. 11, ' 2 Cor, vi. lo. 
 
 104 
 
^aint augttjStine 
 
 hast made all things in number, weight, and 
 
 measure} 
 
 But yet who bade that Manichaeus write on 
 these things also, skill in which was no element of 
 piety ? For Thou hast said to man, Behold, 
 "piety and wisdom ; * of which he might be ignorant, 
 though he had perfect knowledge of these things ; 
 but these things, since, knowing not, he most 
 impudently dared to teach, he plainly could have 
 no knowledge of piety. For it is vanity to make 
 profession of these worldly things even when 
 known ; but confession to Thee is piety. Where- 
 fore this wanderer to this end spake much of these 
 things, that, convicted by those who had truly 
 learned them, it might be manifest what under- 
 standing he had in the other abstruser things. 
 For he would not have himself meanly thought of, 
 but went about to persuade men, * That the Holy 
 Ghost, the Comforter and Enricher of Thy faith- 
 ful ones, was with plenary authority personally 
 within him.' When, then, he was found out to 
 have taught falsely of the heaven and stars, and 
 of the motions of the sun and moon (although 
 these things pertain not to the doctrine of religion), 
 yet his sacrilegious presumption would become 
 evident enough, seeing he delivered things which 
 not only he knew not, but which were falsified, 
 with so mad a vanity of pride, that he sought to 
 ascribe them to himself, as to a divine person. 
 
 1 Wisd. xi. 20. 2 Job xxviii. 2«.— LXX, 
 
 105 
 
€^e Confe00tonjS of 
 
 For when I hear any Christian brother ignorant 
 of these things, and mistaken on them, I can 
 patiently behold such a man holding his opinion ; 
 nor do I see that any ignorance as to the position 
 or character of the corporeal creation can injure 
 him, so long as he doth not believe any thing 
 unworthy of Thee, O Lord, the Creator of all. 
 But it doth injure him, if he imagine it to pertain 
 to the form of the doctrine of piety, and will yet 
 affirm that too stiffly whereof he is ignorant. 
 And yet is even such an infirmity, in the infancy 
 of faith, borne by our mother Charity, till the 
 new-born may grow up unto a perfect man, so as 
 not to he carried about with every wind, of doctrine} 
 But in him who in such wise presumed to be the 
 teacher, source, guide, chief of aU whom he could 
 so persuade, that whoso followed him thought 
 that he followed, not a mere man, but Thy Holy 
 Spirit ; who would not judge that so great mad- 
 ness, when once convicted of having taught any 
 thing false, were to be detested and utterly re- 
 jected ? But I had not as yet clearly ascertained 
 whether the vicissitudes of longer and shorter days 
 and nights, and of day and night itself, with the 
 eclipses of the greater lights, and whatever else 
 of the kind I had read of in other books, might be 
 explained consistently with his sayings ; so that, 
 if they by any means might, it should still remain 
 a question to me whether it were so or no ; but 
 
 ■ Eph. iv. 13, 14. 
 106 
 
^aint augujstine 
 
 I might, on account of his reputed sanctity, rest 
 my credence upon his authority. 
 
 And for almost all those nine years, wherein 
 with unsettled mind I had been their disciple, 
 I had longed but too intensely for the coming of 
 this Faustus. For the rest of the sect, whom by 
 chance I had lighted upon, when unable to solve 
 my objections about these things, still held out 
 to me the coming of this Faustus, by conference 
 with whom these and greater difHculties, if I 
 had them, were to be most readily and abundantly 
 cleared. When, then, he came, I found him a man 
 of pleasing discourse, and who could speak fluently 
 and in better terms, yet still but the self-same 
 things which they were wont to say. But what 
 availed the utmost neatness of the cup-bearer to 
 my thirst for a more precious draught ? Mine 
 ears were already cloyed with the like, nor did 
 they seem to me therefore better, because better 
 said ; nor therefore true, because eloquent ; nor 
 the soul therefore wise, because the face was 
 comely, and the language graceful. But they 
 who held him out to me were no good judges 
 of things ; and therefore to them he appeared 
 understanding and wise, because in words pleasing. 
 I felt, however, that another sort of people were 
 suspicious even of truth, and refused to assent to 
 it, if delivered in a smooth and copious discourse. 
 But Thou, O my God, hadst already taught me 
 by wonderful and secret ways, and therefore I 
 
 107 
 
Cl^e Confc0jston0 of 
 
 believe that Thou taughtest me, because it is 
 truth, nor is there besides Thee any teacher of 
 truth, where or whencesoever it may shine upon 
 us. Of Thyself therefore had I now learned, 
 that neither ought any thing to seem to be spoken 
 truly, because eloquently ; nor therefore falsely, 
 because the utterance of the lips is inharmonious ; 
 nor, again, therefore true, because rudely de- 
 livered ; nor therefore false, because the language 
 is rich ; but that wisdom and folly are as whole- 
 some and unwholesome food ; and adorned Or 
 unadorned phrases as courtly or country vessels ; 
 either kind of meats may be served up in either 
 kind of dishes. 
 
 That greediness, then, wherewith I had of so 
 long time expected that man, was delighted verily 
 with his action and feeling when disputing, and 
 his choice and readiness of words to clothe his 
 ideas. I was then delighted, and, with many 
 others and more than they, did I praise and extol 
 him. It troubled me, however, that in the 
 assembly of his auditors I was not allowed to put 
 in arid communicate those questions which 
 troubled me, in familiar converse with him. 
 Which when I might, and with my friends began 
 to engage his ears at such times as it was not un- 
 becoming for him to discuss with me, and had 
 brought forward such things as moved me ; I 
 found him first utterly ignorant of liberal sciences, 
 save grammar, and that but in an ordinary way. 
 
 io8 
 
But because he had read some of Tully's Orations, 
 a very few books of Seneca, some things of the 
 poets, and such few volumes of his own sect as 
 were written in Latin and neatly, and was daily 
 practised in speaking, he acquired a certain elo- 
 quence, which proved the more pleasing and 
 seductive because under the guidance of a good 
 wit, and with a kind of natural gracefulness. Is 
 it not thus, as I recall it, O Lord my God, Thou 
 Judge of my conscience ? before Thee is my 
 heart, and my remembrance. Who didst at that 
 time direct me by the hidden mystery of Thy 
 providence, and didst set those shameful errors of 
 mine before my face, that I might see and hate 
 them.^ 
 
 For after it was clear that he was ignorant of 
 those arts in which I thought he excelled, I began 
 to despair of his opening and solving the diffi- 
 culties which perplexed me (of which indeed, how- 
 ever ignorant, he might have held the truths of 
 piety, had he not been a Manichee). For their 
 books are fraught with prolix fables, of the heaven, 
 and stars, sun, and moon, and I now no longer 
 thought him able satisfactorily to decide what I 
 much desired, whether, on comparison of these 
 things with the calculations I had elsewhere read, 
 the account given in the books of Manichaeus 
 were preferable, or at least as good. Which 
 when I proposed to be considered and discussed, 
 
 » Ps. 1. 21. 
 
 109 
 
C^e ConfeiSieitoniet of 
 
 he, so far modestly, shrunk from the burthen. 
 For he knew that he knew not these things, and 
 was not ashamed to confess it. For he was not 
 one of those talking persons, many of whom I 
 had endured, who undertook to teach me these 
 things, and said nothing. But this man had a 
 heart, though not right towards Thee, yet neither 
 altogether treacherous to himself. For he was 
 not altogether ignorant of his own ignorance, 
 nor would he rashly be entangled in a dispute, 
 whence he could neither retreat nor extricate 
 himself fairly. Even for this I liked him the 
 better. For fairer is the modesty of a candid 
 mind, than the knowledge of those things which 
 I desired ; and such I found him, in aU the more 
 difficult and subtile questions. 
 
 My zeal for the writings of Manichaeus being 
 thus blunted, and despairing yet more of their 
 other teachers, seeing that in divers things which 
 perplexed me, he, so renowned among them, had 
 so turned out ; I began to engage with him in the 
 study of that literature, on which he also was 
 much set (and which as rhetoric-reader I was at 
 that time teaching young students at Carthage), 
 and to read with him, either what himself desired 
 to hear, or such as I judged fit for his genius. 
 But all my efforts whereby I had purposed to 
 advance in that sect, upon knowledge of that 
 man, came utterly to an end ; not that I detached 
 myself from them altogether, but as one finding 
 
 no 
 
^aint austtjStine 
 
 nothing better, I had settled to be content mean- 
 while with what I had in whatever way fallen 
 upon, unless by chance something more eligible 
 should dawn upon me. Thus that Faustus, to 
 so many a snare of death, had now, neither willing 
 nor witting it, begun to loosen that wherein I 
 was taken. For Thy hands, O my God, in the 
 secret purpose of Thy providence, did not for- 
 sake my soul ; and out of my mother's heart's 
 blood, through her tears night and day poured 
 out, was a sacrifice offered for me unto Thee ; 
 and Thou didst deal with me by wondrous 
 ways.^ Thou didst it, O my God : for the 
 steps of a man are ordered by the Lord, and He 
 shall dispose His way? Or how shall we obtain 
 salvation, but from Thy hand, re-making what it 
 made ? 
 
 Thou didst deal with me, that I should be 
 persuaded to go to Rome, and to teach there 
 rather, what I was teaching at Carthage. And 
 how I was persuaded to this, I will not neglect 
 to confess to Thee : because herein also the 
 deepest recesses of Thy wisdom, and Thy most 
 present mercy to us, must be considered and con- 
 fessed. I did not wish therefore to go to Rome, 
 because higher gains and higher dignities were 
 warranted me by my friends who persuaded me 
 to this (though even these things had at that 
 time an influence over my mind), but my chief 
 
 * Joel ii. 26. ' Ps. xxxvii. 23. 
 
 \\\ 
 
and almost only reason was, that I heard that 
 young men studied there more peacefully, and 
 were kept quiet under a restraint of more regular 
 discipUne ; so that they did not, at their pleasures, 
 petulantly rush into the school of one whose pupils 
 they were not, nor were even admitted without 
 his permission. Whereas at Carthage there reigns 
 among the scholars a most disgraceful and unruly 
 licence. They burst in audaciously, and with 
 gestures almost frantic disturb all order which 
 any one hath established for the good of his 
 scholars. Divers outrages they commit, with a 
 wonderful stolidity, punishable by law, did not 
 custom uphold them ; that custom evincing them 
 to be the more miserable, in that they now do as 
 lawful what by Thy eternal law shall never be 
 lawful ; and they think they do it unpunished, 
 whereas they are punished with the very blindness 
 whereby they do it, and suifer incomparably 
 worse than what they do. The manners, then, 
 which, when a student, I would not make my 
 own, I was fain as a teacher to endure in others : 
 and so I was well pleased to go where all that knew 
 it assured me that the like was not done. 
 
 But Thou, my refuge and my fortion in the land 
 of the living^ that I might change my earthly 
 dwelling for the salvation of my soul, at Carthage 
 didst goad me, that I might thereby be torn from 
 it ; and at Rome didst proffer me allurements 
 
 * Ps. cxlii. 5. 
 112 
 
^aint augujaitine 
 
 whereby I might be drawn thither, by men in 
 love with a dying life, the one doing frantic, the 
 other promising vain, things ; and, to correct 
 my steps, didst secretly use their and my own 
 perverseness. For both they who disturbed my 
 quiet, were blinded with a disgraceful frenzy, and 
 they who invited me elsewhere, savoured of earth. 
 And I, who here detested real misery, was there 
 seeking unreal happiness. 
 
 But why I went hence, and went thither. Thou 
 knewest, O God, yet showedst it neither to me 
 nor to my mother, who grievously bewailed my 
 journey, and followed me as far as the sea. But 
 I deceived her, holding me by force, that either 
 she might keep me back or go with me, and I 
 feigned that I had a friend whom I could not 
 leave, till he had a fair wind to sail. And I lied 
 to my mother, and such a mother, and escaped : 
 for this also hast Thou mercifully forgiven me, 
 preserving me, thus full of execrable defilements, 
 from the waters of the sea, for the water of Thy 
 Grace ; whereby when I was cleansed, the streams 
 of my mother's eyes should be dried, with which 
 for me she daily watered the ground under her 
 face. 
 
 And yet refusing to return without me, I 
 scarcely persuaded her to stay that night in a 
 place hard by our ship, where was an oratory in 
 memory of the blessed Cyprian. That night I 
 privily departed, but she was not behind in weep- 
 H iij 
 
€l^e Con{e00ion0 of 
 
 ing and praying. And what, O Lord, was she 
 with so many tears asking of Thee, but that Thou 
 wouldest not suffer me to sail f But Thou, in the 
 depth of Thy counsels and hearing the main 
 point of her desire, regardedst not what she then 
 asked, that Thou mightest make me what she 
 ever asked. The wind blew and swelled our sails, 
 and withdrew the shore from our sight ; and she 
 on the morrow was there, frantic with sorrow, 
 and with complaints and groans filled thine ears, 
 who didst then disregard them ; whilst through 
 my desires Thou wert hurrying me to end all 
 desire, and the earthly part of her affection to me 
 was chastened by the allotted scourge of sorrows. 
 For she loved my being with her, as mothers do, 
 but much more than many; and she knew not 
 how great joy Thou wert about to work for her 
 out of my absence. She knew not ; therefore 
 did she weep and wail, and by this agony there 
 appeared in her the inheritance of Eve, with 
 sorrow seeking what in sorrow she had brought 
 forth. And yet, after accusing my treachery 
 and hard-heartedness, she betook herself again to 
 intercede to Thee for me, went to her wonted 
 place, and I to Rome. 
 
 And lo, there was I received by the scourge 
 of bodily sickness, and I was going down to hell, 
 carrying all the sins which I had committed both 
 against Thee, and myself, and others, many and 
 grievous, over and above that bond of original 
 
 114 
 
tea 
 
 l-i \^ OS TH6 mORi^Oiil 
 CIC CaiTttSORROC 
 
 BOOKV M—L . 
 
sin, whereby we all die in Adam.} For Thou 
 hadst not forgiven me any of these things in 
 Christ, nor had He abolished by His cross the 
 enmity which by my sins I had incurred with 
 Thee. For how should He, by the crucifixion 
 of a phantasm, which I beUeved Him to be ? So 
 true, then, was the death of my soul, as that of 
 His flesh seemed to me false, and how true the 
 death of His body, so false was the life of my soul, 
 which did not believe it. And now, the iever 
 heightening, I was parting and departing for 
 ever. For had I then parted hence, whither had 
 I departed, but into fire and torments, such as 
 my misdeeds deserved in the truth of Thy appoint- 
 ment ? And this she knew not, yet in absence 
 prayed for me. But Thou, everywhere present, 
 heardest her where she was, and, where I was, 
 hadst compassion upon me ; that I should recover 
 the health of my body, though frenzied as yet in 
 my sacrilegious heart. For I did not in all that 
 danger desire Thy baptism ; and I was better as 
 a boy, when I begged it of my mother's piety, as 
 I have before recited and confessed. But I 
 had grown up to my own shame, and I madly 
 scoffed at the prescripts of Thy medicine, who 
 wouldest not suffer me, being such, to die a double 
 death. With which wound had my mother's 
 heart been pierced, it could never be healed. 
 For I cannot express the affection she bare to me, 
 
 • I Cor. XV. 22. 
 
 115 
 
Cl^e Confe0?Jtottjs of 
 
 and with how much more vehement anguish she 
 was now in labour of me in the spirit, than at her 
 childbearing in the flesh/ 
 
 I see not, then, how she should have been healed, 
 had such a death of mine stricken through the 
 bowels of her love. And where would have been 
 those her so strong and unceasing prayers, un- 
 intermitting to Thee alone ? But wouldest 
 Thou, God of mercies, despise the contrite and 
 humbled heart ^ of that chaste and sober widow, 
 so frequent in almsdeeds, so full of duty and 
 service to Thy saints ; no day intermitting the 
 oblation at Thine altar ; twice a day, morning 
 and evening, without any intermission, coming 
 to Thy church, not for idle tattlings and old 
 wives' fables,^ but that she might hear Thee in 
 Thy discourses, and Thou her in her prayers. 
 Couldest Thou despise and reject from Thy aid 
 the tears of such an one, wherewith she begged of 
 Thee, not gold or silver, nor any mutable or pass- 
 ing good, but the salvation of her son's soul ? — 
 Thou, by whose gift she was such ? Never, Lord. 
 Yea, Thou wert at hand, and wert hearing and 
 doing, in that order wherein Thou hadst deter- 
 mined before that it should be done. Far be it 
 that Thou shonldest deceive her in Thy visions 
 and answers, some whereof I have, some I have 
 not mentioned, which she laid up in her faithful 
 heart, and, ever praying, urged upon Thee, as 
 
 ' Gal. iv. 19. ' Ps. li. 17. » i Tim. v. 10. 
 
 116 
 
Thine own handwriting. For Thou, because 
 Thy mercy endureth for ever, vouchsafest to those 
 to whom Thou forgivest all their debts, to become 
 also a debtor by Thy promises. 
 
 Thou recoveredst me then of that sickness, and 
 healedst the son of Thy handmaid, for the time in 
 body, that he might live, for Thee to bestow upon 
 him a better and more abiding health. And even 
 then, at Rome, I joined myself to those deceiving 
 and deceived ' holy ones ' ; not with their 
 disciples only (of which number was he, in whose 
 house I had fallen sick and recovered) ; but also 
 with those whom they call ' The Elect.' For I 
 stiU thought ' that it was not we that sin, but that 
 I know not what other nature sinned in us ' ; 
 and it delighted my pride, to be free from blame ; 
 and when I had done any evil, not to confess I had 
 done any, that Thou mightest heal my soul because 
 it had sinned against Thee : ^ but I loved to excuse 
 it, and to accuse I know not what other thing, 
 which was with me, but which I was not. But 
 in truth it was whoUy I, and mine impiety had 
 divided me against myself : and that sin was the 
 more incurable, whereby I did not judge myself 
 a sinner ; and execrable iniquity it was, that I 
 had rather have Thee, — Thee, O God Almighty, 
 — to be overcome in me to my destruction, than 
 myself of Thee to salvation. Not as yet then 
 hadst Thou set a watch before my mouth, and a 
 
 1 Ps. xli. 4. 
 
 117 
 
Cl^e Cortfe00ionjS of 
 
 door of safe kee-ping around my lips, that my heart 
 might not turn aside to wicked speeches, to make 
 excuses of sins, with men that work iniquity : and, 
 therefore, was I still united with their Elect} 
 
 But now despairing to make proficiency in that 
 false doctrine, even those things (with which, if I 
 should find no better, I had resolved to rest con- 
 tented) I now held more laxly and carelessly. For 
 there half arose a thought in me that those 
 philosophers, whom they call Academics, were 
 wiser than the rest, for that they held men ought 
 to doubt everything, and laid down that no truth 
 can be comprehended by man : for so, not then 
 understanding even their meaning, I also was 
 clearly convinced that they thought as they are 
 commonly reported. Yet did I freely and openly 
 discourage that host of mine from that over- 
 confidence which I perceived him to have in 
 those fables which the books of Manichseus are 
 full of. Yet I lived in more familiar friendship 
 with them than with others who were not of 
 this heresy. Nor did I maintain it with my 
 ancient eagerness. Still, my intimacy with that 
 sect (Rome secretly harbouring many of them) 
 made me slower to seek any other way : especially 
 since I despaired of finding the truth, from which 
 they had turned me aside, in Thy Church, O Lord 
 of heaven and earth. Creator of all things visible 
 and invisible : and it seemed to me very unseemly 
 
 ' Ps. cxii. 3, 4 Vulg. 
 
 ii8 
 
^aint augujstine 
 
 to believe Thee to have the shape of human flesh, 
 and to be bounded by the bodily lineaments of 
 our members. And because, when I wished to 
 think on my God, I knew not what to think of, 
 but a mass of bodies (for what was not such did 
 not seem to me to be any thing), this was the 
 greatest and almost only cause of my inevitable 
 error. 
 
 For hence I believed Evil also to be some such 
 kind of substance, and to have its own foul and 
 hideous bulk ; whether gross, which they called 
 earth, or thin and subtile (like the body of the 
 air), which they imagine to be some malignant 
 mind, creeping through that earth. And because 
 a piety, such as it was, constrained me to believe 
 that the good God never created any evil nature, 
 I conceived two masses, contrary to one another, 
 both unbounded, but the evil narrower, the good 
 more expansive. And from this pestilent begin- 
 ning, the other sacrilegious conceits followed on 
 me. For when my mind endeavoured to recur 
 to the Catholic faith, I was driven back, since 
 that was not the Catholic faith which I thought 
 to be so. And I seemed to myself more rever- 
 ential, if I beheved of Thee, my God (to whom 
 Thy mercies confess out of my mouth), as un- 
 bounded, at least on other sides, although on that 
 one where the mass of evil was opposed to Thee, 
 I was constrained to confess Thee bounded ; than 
 if on all sides I should imagine Thee to be bounded 
 
 119 
 
C^e ConfemonjJ of 
 
 by the form of a human body. And it seemed to 
 me better to believe Thee to have created no 
 evil (which to me ignorant seemed not some only, 
 but a bodily substance, because I could not con- 
 ceive of mind unless as a subtile body, and that 
 diffused in definite spaces), than to beUeve the 
 nature of evil, such as I conceived it, could come 
 from Thee. Yea, and our Saviour Himself, Thy 
 Only Begotten, I believed to have been reached 
 forth (as it were) for our salvation, out of the mass 
 of Thy most lucid substance, so as to believe 
 nothing of Him, but what I could imagine in my 
 vanity. His Nature, then, being such, I thought 
 could not be born of the Virgin Mary, without 
 being mingled with the flesh : and how that 
 which I had so figured to myself could be mingled, 
 and not defiled, I saw not. I feared therefore 
 to believe Him born in the flesh, lest I should be 
 forced to believe Him defiled by the flesh. Now 
 will Thy spiritual ones mildly and lovingly smile 
 upon me, if they shall read these my confessions. 
 Yet such was I. 
 
 Furthermore, what the Manichees had criticised 
 in Thy Scriptures, I thought could not be de- 
 fended ; yet at times verily I had a wish to confer 
 upon these several points with some one very 
 well skilled in those books, and to make trial 
 what he thought thereon ; for the words of one 
 Helpidius, as he spoke and disputed face to face 
 against the said Manichees, had begun to stir me 
 
 1 20 
 
^atnt aufiUjStine 
 
 even at Carthage : in that he had produced things 
 out of the Scriptures, not easily withstood, the 
 Manichees' answer whereto seemed to me weak. 
 And this answer they Hked not to give publicly, 
 but only to us in private. It was, that the 
 Scriptures of the New Testament had been cor- 
 rupted by I know not whom, who wished to 
 engraff the law of the Jews upon the Christian 
 faith : yet themselves produced not any un- 
 corrupted copies. But I, conceiving of things 
 corporeal only, was mainly held down, vehemently 
 oppressed and in a manner suffocated by those 
 ' masses ' ; panting under which after the breath 
 of Thy truth, I could not breathe it pure and 
 untainted. 
 
 I began then diligently to practise that for 
 which I came to Rome, to teach rhetoric ; and 
 first, to gather some to my house, to whom, and 
 through whom, I had begun to be known ; when 
 lo, I found other offences committed in Rome, 
 to which I was not exposed in Africa. True, 
 those ' subvertings ' by profligate young men 
 were not here practised, as was told me : but on 
 a sudden, said they, to avoid paying their master's 
 stipend, a number of youths plot together, and 
 remove to another ; — breakers of faith, who for 
 love of money hold justice cheap. These also 
 my heart hated, though not with a •perfect hatred : ^ 
 for perchance I hated them more because I was 
 
 ' Ps. cxxxix. 22. 
 
 121 
 
Cl^e Confejs^ionjs of 
 
 to suffer by them, than because they did things 
 utterly unlawful. Of a truth such are base 
 persons, and they go a-whoring from Thee, 
 loving these fleeting mockeries of things temporal, 
 and filthy lucre, which fouls the hand that 
 grasps it ; hugging the fleeting world, and 
 despising Thee, who abidest, and recallest, and 
 forgivest the adulteress soul of man, when she 
 returns to Thee. And now I hate such depraved 
 and crooked persons, though I love therii if 
 corrigible, so as to prefer to money the learning 
 which they acquire, and to learning, Thee, OGod, 
 the truth and fulness of assured good, and most 
 pure peace'. But then I rather for my own sake 
 misliked them evil, than liked and wished them 
 good for Thine. 
 
 When, therefore, they of Milan had sent to Rome 
 to the prefect of the city, to furnish them with a 
 rhetoric reader for their city, and send him at the 
 public expense, I made application (through 
 those very persons, intoxicated with the Mani- 
 chaean vanities, to be freed wherefrom I was to 
 go, neither of us, however, knowing it) that 
 Symmachus, then prefect of the city, would try 
 me by setting me some subject, and so send me. 
 To Milan I came, to Ambrose the Bishop, 
 known to the whole world as among the best of 
 men. Thy devout servant ; whose eloquent dis- 
 course did then plentifully dispense unto Thy 
 people the flour of Thy wheat, the gladness of 
 
 122 
 
rr?! 
 
 
 r)UKJG GM [)1S C(tli)RI)5 ..VilOW i !\'i-iv. 
 
 .^mi of iln-: KDMiiiH I iUX:} A cakv; 
 
Thy oil, and the sober inebriation of Thy wine.^ 
 To him was I unknowing led by Thee, that by 
 him I might knowingly be led to Thee. That 
 man of God received me as a father, and showed 
 me an Episcopal kindness on my coming. Thence- 
 forth I began to love him, at first indeed not as a 
 teacher of the truth (which I utterly despaired of 
 in Thy Church), but as a person kind towards 
 myself. And I listened diligently to him preach- 
 ing to the people, not with that intent I ought, 
 but, as it were, trying his eloquence, whether it 
 answered the fame thereof, or flowed fuller or 
 lower than was reported ; and I hung on his 
 words attentively ; but of the matter I was as a 
 careless and scornful looker-on ; and I was 
 dehghted with the sweetness of his discourse, 
 more recondite, yet in manner less winning and 
 harmonious, than that of Faustus. Of the 
 matter, however, there was no comparison ; for 
 the one was wandering amid Manichaean delu- 
 sions, the other teaching salvation most soundly. 
 But salvation is far from sinners,^ such as I then 
 stood before him ; and yet was I drawing nearer 
 by little and little, and unconsciously. 
 
 For though I took no pains to learn what he 
 spake, but only to hear how he spake (for that 
 empty care alone was left me, despairing of a 
 way, open for man, to Thee), yet, together with 
 the words which I would choose, came also into 
 
 > Ps. iv. 7; civ. IS. ' Ps. cxix. 155. 
 
 123 
 
Cl^e Confe00ton0 of 
 
 my mind the things which I would refuse ; for I 
 could not separate them. And while I opened 
 my heart to admit ' how eloquently he spake,' 
 there also entered ' how truly he spake ' ; but 
 this by degrees. For, first, these things also had 
 now begun to appear to me capable of defence ; 
 and the Catholic faith, for which I had thought 
 nothing could be said against the Manichees' 
 objections, I now thought might be maintained 
 without shamelessness ; especially after I had 
 heard one or two places of the Old Testament 
 resolved, and ofttimes ' in a figure^ ^ which when 
 I understood literally, I was slain spiritually. 
 Very many places, then, of those books having been 
 explained, I now blame my despair, in beheving 
 that no answer could be given to such as hated 
 and scoffed at the Law and the Prophets. Yet 
 did I not therefore then see that the CathoHc way 
 was to be held, because it also could find learned 
 maintainers, who could at large and with some 
 show of reason answer objections ; nor that what 
 I held was therefore to be condemned, because 
 both sides could be maintained. For the Catholic 
 cause seemed to me in such sort not vanquished, 
 as still not as yet to be victorious. 
 
 Hereupon I earnestly bent my mind, to see 
 if in any way I could by any certain proof convict 
 the Manichees of falsehood. Could I once have 
 conceived a spiritual substance, aU their strong- 
 
 ' I Cor. xiii. 12 ; 2 Cor. iii. 6. 
 124 
 
holds had been beaten down, and cast utterly out 
 of my mind ; but I could not. Notwithstand- 
 ing, concerning the frame of this world, and the 
 whole of nature, which the senses of the flesh can 
 reach to, as I more and more considered and com- 
 pared things, I judged the tenets of most of the 
 philosophers to have been much more probable. 
 So, then, after the manner of the Academics (as 
 they are supposed), doubting of every thing, and 
 wavering between all, I settled so far, that the 
 Manichees were to be abandoned ; judging that, 
 even while doubting, I might not continue in that 
 sect, to which I already preferred some of the 
 philosophers ; to which philosophers notwith- 
 standing, for that they were without the saving 
 Name of Christ, I utterly refused to commit the 
 cure of my sick soul. I determined therefore so 
 long to be a catechumen in the Catholic Church, 
 to which I had been commended by my parents, 
 tUl something certain should dawn upon me, 
 whither I might steer my course. 
 
 I2f 
 
Cl^e confe00ionjs o( 
 
 Z\)t ^tytl) iSoofe 
 
 Hrcibal of IWonnira at ISltlan; i)w oieirieme to 
 St. ambtosc, anil itis balue for ^er ; St. amirose's 
 ftabitji ; auflustine's gratiual aJantiontnent of mor ; 
 fintjs ttat tf f)a» lilamrt tfie aii)uwj (ttati^olic 
 toronglg ; tsmtt of absolute lettaintg, Mt struck 
 toiti) tlje conttarg analogg of (Soli's natural ^robi= 
 titnct ; tob) sfjatten in fits tuorllils pursuits ; (Soli's 
 fluitiance of t)is frienli aigptus ; Slupstine tieSates 
 toiti) iiimself anli Jts frienlis about t^eir molie of 
 life ; f)is inbeterate sins, anli ireali of luiBment. 
 
 THOU, my hope from my you h^ where 
 wert Thou to me, and whither wert 
 Thou gone ? Hadst not Thou 
 created me, and separated me from 
 the beasts of the field, and fowls of the air ? Thou 
 hadst made me wiser, yet did I walk in darkness, 
 and in slippery places, and sought Thee abroad 
 out of myself, and found not the God of my 
 heart ; and had come into the depths of the sea, 
 and distrusted and despaired of ever finding truth. 
 My mother had now come to me, resolute through 
 piety, following me over sea and land, in all perils 
 
 ' Ps. Ixxi. 5. 
 126 
 
}w PQiiLs ofcrie sex sne co(dfor7b> 
 
 • BOOK VI 'vafi 
 
confiding in Thee. For in perils of the sea, she 
 comforted the very mariners (by whom passengers 
 unacquainted with the deep use rather to be 
 comforted when troubled), assuring them of a 
 safe arrival, because Thou hadst by a vision 
 assured her thereof. She found me in grievous 
 peril, through despair of ever finding truth. But 
 when I had discovered to her that I was now no 
 longer a Manichee, though not yet a Catholic 
 Christian, she was not overjoyed, as at something 
 unexpected ; although she was now assured con- 
 cerning that part of my misery, for which she 
 bewailed me as one dead, though to be re- 
 awakened by Thee, carrying me forth upon the 
 bier of her thoughts, that Thou mightest say to 
 the son of the widow, Toung man, I say unto thee, 
 Arise ; and he should revive, and begin to speak, 
 and thou shouldest deliver him to his mother} Her 
 heart, then, was shaken with no tumultuous 
 exultation, when she heard that what she daily 
 with tears desired of Thee was already in so great 
 part realised ; in that, though I had not yet 
 attained the truth, I was rescued from falsehood ; 
 but, as being assured that Thou, who hadst 
 promised the whole, wouldest one day give the 
 rest, most calmly, and with a heart full of con- 
 fidence, she replied to me, ' She believed in 
 Christ, that before she departed this life, she 
 should see me a Catholic believer.' Thus much 
 
 > Luke vii. 14, 15. 
 127 
 
Cl^e Confe^jSionjs of 
 
 to me. But to Thee, Fountain of mercies, poured 
 she forth more copious prayers and tears, that 
 Thou wouldest hasten Thy help, and enlighten 
 my darkness ; and she hastened the more eagerly 
 to the Church, and hung upon the Hps of Ambrose, 
 praying for the fountain of that water, which 
 springeth up unto life everlasting} But that man 
 she loved as an angel of God, because she knew 
 that by him I had been brought for the present 
 to that doubtful state of faith I now was in, 
 through which she anticipated most confidently 
 that I should pass from sickness unto health, after 
 the access, as it were, of a sharper fit, which 
 physicians call ' the crisis.' 
 
 When, then, my mother had once, as she was 
 wont in Afric, brought to the Churches built in 
 memory of the Saints, certain cakes, and bread 
 and wine, and was forbidden by the door-keeper ; 
 so soon as she knew that the Bishop had forbidden 
 this, she so piously and obediently embraced his 
 wishes, that I myself wondered how readily she 
 censured her own practice, rather than discuss 
 his prohibition. For wine-bibbing did not lay 
 siege to her spirit, nor did love of wine provoke 
 her to hatred of the truth, as it doth too many 
 (both men and women), who revolt at a lesson of 
 sobriety, as men well-drunk at a draught mingled 
 with water. But she, when she had brought her 
 basket, with the accustomed festival-food, to be 
 
 ' John iv. 14. 
 128 
 
^mt augujattinc 
 
 but tasted by herself, and then given away, never 
 joined therewith more than one small cup of wine, 
 diluted according to her own abstemious habits, 
 which for courtesy she would taste. And if there 
 were many churches of the departed saints that 
 were to be honoured in that manner, she still 
 carried round that same one cup, to be used 
 every where ; and this, though not only made 
 very watery, but unpleasantly heated with carry- 
 ing about, she would distribute to those about 
 her by small sips ; for she sought there devotion, 
 not pleasure. So soon, then, as she found this 
 custom to be forbidden by that famous preacher 
 and most pious prelate, even to those that would 
 use it soberly, lest so an occasion of excess might 
 be given to the drunken ; and for that these, as 
 it were, anniversary funeral solemnities did much 
 resemble the superstition of the Gentiles, — she 
 most willingly forbare it : and for a basket filled 
 with fruits of the earth, she had learned to bring 
 to the churches of the martyrs a breast fiUed with 
 more purified petitions, and to give what she 
 could to the poor ; that so the communication 
 of the Lord's Body might be there rightly cele- 
 brated, where, after the example of His Passion, 
 the martyrs had been sacrificed and crowned. 
 But yet it seems to me, O Lord my God, and thus 
 thinks my heart of it in Thy sight, that perhaps 
 she would not so readily have yielded to the 
 cutting off of this custom, had it been forbidden 
 I 129 
 
by another, whom she loved not as Ambrose, 
 whom, for my salvation, she loved most entirely ; 
 and he her again, for her most religious conversa- 
 tion, whereby, in good works, so fervent in sfirit, 
 she was constant at church ; so that, when he 
 saw me, he often burst forth into her praises ; 
 congratulating me, that I had such a mother ; 
 not knowing what a son she had in me, who 
 doubted of all these things, and imagined the 
 way to life could not be found out. 
 
 Nor did I yet groan in my prayers, that Thou 
 wouldest help me ; but my spirit was wholly 
 intent on learning, and restless to dispute. And 
 Ambrose himself, as the world counts happy, I 
 esteemed a happy man, whom personages so great 
 held in such honour ; only his celibacy seemed 
 to me a painful course. But what hope he bore 
 within him, what struggles he had against the 
 temptations which beset his very excellencies, or 
 what comfort in adversities, and what sweet joys 
 Thy Bread had for the hidden mouth of his spirit 
 when chewing the cud thereof, I neither could 
 conjecture, nor had experienced. Nor did he 
 know the tides of my feelings, or the abyss of my 
 danger. For I could not ask of him what I 
 would as I would, being shut out both from his 
 ear and speech by multitudes of busy people, 
 whose weaknesses he served. With whom when 
 he was not taken up (which was but a little time) 
 he was either refreshing his body with the susten- 
 
 130 
 
ance absolutely necessary, or his mind with read- 
 ing. But when he was reading, his eye glided 
 over the pages, and his heart searched out the 
 sense, but his voice and tongue were at rest. Oft- 
 times when we had come (for no man was for- 
 bidden to enter, nor was it his wont that any who 
 came should be announced to him), we saw him 
 thus reading to himself, and never otherwise ; 
 and having long sat silent (for who durst intrude 
 on one so intent?) we were fain to depart, con- 
 jecturing that in the small interval which he 
 obtained, free from the din of others' business, 
 for the recruiting of his mind, he was loth to be 
 taken off ; and perchance he dreaded lest if the 
 author he read should deliver any thing obscurely, 
 some attentive or perplexed hearer should desire 
 him to expound it, or to discuss some of the harder 
 questions ; so that his time being thus spent, he 
 could not turn over so many volumes as he 
 desired ; although the preserving of his voice 
 (which a very little speaking would weaken) might 
 be the truer reason for his reading to himself. 
 But with what intent soever he did it, certainly 
 in such a man it was good. 
 
 I, however, certainly had no opportunity of in- 
 quiring what I wished of that so holy oracle of 
 Thine, his breast, unless the thing might be 
 answered briefly. But those tides in me, to be 
 poured out to him, required his full leisure, and 
 never found it. I heard him indeed every Lord's 
 
 131 
 
Cl^e Cortfejijsionjs of 
 
 day, rightly ex-pounding the Word of truth ^ among 
 the people ; and I was more and more convinced 
 that all the knots of those crafty calumnies, which 
 those our deceivers had knit against the Divine 
 Books, coifld be unravelled. But when I under- 
 stood, withal, that ' man, created by Thee after 
 Thine own image,'' was not so understood by Thy 
 spiritual sons, whom of the Catholic Mother Thou 
 hast born again through grace, as though they 
 believed and conceived of Thee as bounded by 
 human shape (although what a spiritual substance 
 should be I had not even a faint or shadowy 
 notion) ; yet, with joy I blushed at having so 
 many years barked not against the Catholic faith, 
 but against the fictions of carnal imaginations. 
 For so rash and impious had I been, that what I 
 ought by enquiring to have learned, I had pro- 
 nounced on, condemning. For Thou, Most 
 High, and most near ; most secret, and most 
 present ; Who hast not hmbs some larger, some 
 smaller, but art wholly everywhere and nowhere 
 in space, art not of such corporeal shape, — ^yet 
 hast Thou made man after Thine own image ; 
 and behold, from head to foot is he contained in 
 space. 
 
 Ignorant, then, how this Thy image should sub- 
 sist, I should have knocked and proposed the 
 doubt, how it was to be believed, not insultingly 
 opposed it, as if believed. Doubt, then, what to 
 
 • 2 Tim. ii. 15. 
 132 
 
hold for certain, the more sharply gnawed my 
 heart, the more ashamed I was that, so long 
 deluded and deceived by the promise of certainties, 
 I had with childish error and vehemence prated 
 of so many uncertainties. For that they were 
 falsehoods became clear to me later. However, I 
 was certain that they were uncertain, and that 
 I had formerly accounted them certain, when 
 with a blind contentiousness I accused Thy 
 Catholic Church, whom I now discovered, not 
 indeed as yet to teach truly, but at least not 
 to teach that for which I had grievously cen- 
 sured her. So I was confounded, and con- 
 verted : and I joyed, O my God, that the 
 One Only Church, the body of Thine Only Son 
 (wherein the name of Christ had been put upon 
 me as an infant), had no taste for infantine con- 
 ceits ; nor in her sound doctrine maintained any 
 tenet which should confine Thee, the Creator 
 of all, in space, however great and large, yet 
 bounded every where by the limits of a human 
 form. 
 
 I joyed also that the old Scriptures of the law 
 and the Prophets were laid before me, not now 
 to be perused with that eye to which before they 
 seemed absurd, when I reviled Thy holy ones for 
 so thinking, whereas indeed they thought not so : 
 and with joy I heard Ambrose, in his sermons to 
 the people, oftentimes most diligently recommend 
 this text for a rule. The letter kUleth, but the Spirit 
 
 133 
 
Cl^e €on(tmon^ of 
 
 giveth life ; ^ whilst he drew aside the mystic veil, 
 laying open spiritually what, according to the 
 letter, seemed to teach something unsound; 
 teaching herein nothing that offended me, 
 though he taught what I knew not as yet whether 
 it were true. For I kept my heart from assenting 
 to any thing, fearing to fall headlong ; but by 
 hanging in suspense I was the worse killed. For 
 I wished to be as assured of the things I saw not, 
 as I was that seven and three are ten. For I was 
 not so mad as to think that even this could not 
 be comprehended ; but I desired to have other 
 things as clear as this, whether things corporeal, 
 which were not present to my senses, or spiritual, 
 whereof I knew not how to conceive, except cor- 
 poreally. And by believing might I have been 
 cured, that so the eyesight of my soul, being 
 cleared, might in some way be directed to Thy 
 truth, which abideth always, and in no part 
 faileth. But as it happens that one who has tried 
 a bad physician, fears to trust himself with a good 
 one, so was it with the health of my soul, which 
 could not be healed but by believing, and, lest 
 it should believe falsehoods, refused to be cured ; 
 resisting Thy hands, who hast prepared the 
 medicines of faith, and hast applied them to the 
 diseases of the whole world, and given unto them 
 so great authority. 
 
 Being led, however, from this to prefer the 
 
 ' z Cor. iii. 6. 
 
Catholic doctrine, I felt that her proceeding was 
 more unassuming and honest, in that she required 
 to be believed things not demonstrated (whether 
 it was that they could in themselves be demon- 
 strated, but not to certain persons, or could not at 
 all be), whereas among the Manichees our credu- 
 Uty was mocked by a promise of certain knowledge, 
 and then so many most fabulous and absurd things 
 were imposed to be believed, because they could 
 not be demonstrated. Then Thou, O Lord, 
 little by little, with most tender and most merciful 
 hand, touching and composing my heart, didst 
 persuade me — considering what innumerable 
 things I believed, which I saw not, nor was present 
 while they were done, as so many things in secular 
 history, so many reports of places and of cities, 
 which I had not seen, so many of friends, so 
 many of physicians, so many continually of other 
 men, which unless we should believe, we should 
 do nothing at all in this life ; lastly, with how 
 unshaken an assurance I believed of what parents 
 I was born, which I could not know, had I not 
 beheved upon hearsay — considering all this, Thou 
 didst persuade me, that not they who beUeved 
 Thy Books (which Thou hast established in so 
 great authority among almost aU nations), but 
 they who believed them not, were to be blamed ; 
 and that they were not to be heard, who should 
 say to me, ' How knowest thou those Scriptures 
 to have been imparted unto mankind by the Spirit 
 
 ^35 
 
Cl^e Confc0ja!ion0 of 
 
 of the one true and most true God ? ' For this 
 very thing was of all most to be believed, since 
 no contentiousness of blasphemous questionings, 
 of all that multitude which I had read in the 
 self-contradicting philosophers, could wring 
 this beHef from me, 'That Thou art' what- 
 soever Thou wert (what I knew not), and 
 ' That the government of human things belongs 
 to Thee.' 
 
 This I believed, sometimes more strongly, more 
 weakly other-whiles ; yet I ever believed both 
 that Thou wert, and hadst a care of us ; though 
 I was ignorant, both what was to be thought of 
 Thy substance, and what way led or led back to 
 Thee. Since, then, we were too weak by abstract 
 reasonings to find out truth : and for this very 
 cause needed the authority of Holy Writ ; I had 
 now begun to believe that Thou wouldest never 
 have given such excellency of authority to that 
 Writ in aU lands, hadst Thou not willed thereby 
 to be believed in, thereby sought. For now what 
 things, sounding strangely in the Scripture, were 
 wont to offend me, having heard divers of them 
 expounded satisfactorily, I referred to the depth 
 of the mysteries ; and its authority appeared to 
 me the more venerable, and more worthy of 
 religious credence, in that, while it lay open to 
 all to read, it reserved the majesty of its mysteries 
 within its profounder meaning, stooping to all in 
 the great plainness of its words and lowliness of 
 
 136 
 
its style, yet calling forth the intensest application 
 of such as are not light of heart ; that so it might 
 receive all in its open bosom, and through narrow 
 passages waft over towards Thee some few, yet 
 many more than if it Stood not aloft on such a 
 height of authority, nor drew multitudes within 
 its bosom by its holy lowliness. These things I 
 thought on, and Thou wert with me ; I sighed, 
 and Thou heardest me ; I wavered, and Thou 
 didst guide me ; I wandered through the broad 
 way of the world, and Thou didst not forsake me. 
 I panted after honours, gains, marriage ; and 
 Thou deridedst me. In these desires I under- 
 went most bitter crosses. Thou being the more 
 gracious, the less Thou sufferedst aught to grow 
 sweet to me which was not Thou. Behold my 
 heart, O Lord, who wouldest I should remember 
 aU this, and confess to Thee. Let my soul cleave 
 unto Thee, now that Thou hast freed it from that 
 fast-holding bird-lime of death. How wretched 
 was it ! And Thou didst irritate the feeling of its 
 wound, that, forsaking all else, it might be con- 
 verted unto Thee, who art above all, and without 
 whom aU things would be nothing ; be converted, 
 and be healed. How miserable was I then, and 
 how didst Thou deal with me, to make me feel 
 my misery on that day, when I was preparing to 
 recite a panegyric of the Emperor, wherein I was 
 to utter many a lie, and lying, was to be applauded 
 by those who knew I lied, and my heart was 
 
 137 
 
Cl^e Confe033tons5 of 
 
 panting with these anxieties, and boiling with the 
 feverishness of consuming thoughts. For, passing 
 through one of the streets of Milan, I observed a 
 poor beggar, then, I suppose, with a full belly, 
 joking and joyous : and I sighed, and spoke to 
 the friends around me, of the many sorrows of 
 our frenzies ; for that by aU such efforts of ours, 
 as those wherein I then toiled, dragging along, 
 under the goading of desire, the burthen of my 
 own wretchedness, and, by dragging, augmenting 
 it, we yet looked to arrive only at that very 
 joyousness whither that beggar-man had arrived 
 before us, who should never perchance attain it. 
 For what he had obtained by means of a few 
 begged pence, the same was I plotting for by 
 many a toilsome turning and winding ; the joy of 
 a temporary felicity. For he verily had not the 
 true joy ; but yet I with those my ambitious 
 designs was seeking one much less true. And 
 certainly he was joyous, I anxious ; he void of 
 care, I full of fears. But should any ask me, had 
 I rather be merry or fearful ? I would answer, 
 merry. Again, if he asked, had I rather be such 
 as he was, or what I then was ? I should choose 
 to be myself, though worn with cares and fears ; 
 but out of wrong judgment ; for, was it the truth ? 
 For I ought not to prefer myself to him, because 
 more learned than he, seeing I had no joy therein, 
 but sought to please men by it ; and that not to 
 instruct, but simply to please. Wherefore also 
 
 138 
 
^aint 9iugu0tine 
 
 Thou didst break my bones with the staff of Thy 
 correction. 
 
 Away with those, then, from my soul who say to 
 her, ' It makes a difference whence a man's joy is. 
 That beggar-man joyed in drunkenness ; Thou 
 desiredst to joy in glory.' What glory, Lord ? 
 That which is not in Thee. For even as his was 
 no true joy, so was that no true glory : and it 
 overthrew my soul more. He that very night 
 should digest his drunkenness ; but I had slept 
 and risen again with mine, and was to sleep again 
 and again to rise with it, how many days. Thou, 
 God, knowest. But ' it doth make a difference 
 whence a man's joy is.' I know it, and the joy of 
 a faithful hope lieth incomparably beyond such 
 vanity. Yea, and so was he then beyond me : 
 for he verily was the happier ; not only for that 
 he was thoroughly drenched in mirth, I dis- 
 embowelled with cares : but he, by fair wishes, 
 had gotten wine ; I, by lying, was seeking for 
 empty, swelling praise. Much to this purpose 
 said I then to my friends : and I often marked in 
 them how it fared with me ; and I found it went 
 iU with me, and grieved, and doubled that very 
 ill ; and if any prosperity smiled on me, I was loth 
 to catch at it, for almost before I could grasp it, 
 it flew away. 
 
 These things we, who were living as friends 
 together, bemoaned together, but chiefly and 
 most familiarly did I speak thereof with Alypius 
 
 139 
 
Cl^e ConfejSjstotTjs of 
 
 and Nebridius, of whom Alypius was born in the 
 same town with me, of persons of chief rank 
 there, but younger than I. For he had studied 
 under me, both when I first lectured in our town, 
 and afterwards at Carthage, and he loved me 
 much, because I seemed to him kind and learned ; 
 and I him, for his great towardliness to virtue, 
 which was eminent enough in one of no greater 
 years. Yet the whirlpool of Carthaginian habits 
 (amongst whom those idle spectacles are hotly 
 followed) had drawn him into the madness of the 
 circus. But while he was miserably tossed there- 
 in, and I, professing rhetoric there, had a public 
 school, as yet he used not my teaching, by reason 
 of some unkindness risen betwixt his father and 
 me. I had found then how deadly he doted 
 upon the circus, and was deeply grieved that he 
 seemed likely, nay, or had thrown away so great 
 promise : yet had I no means of advising or with 
 a sort of constraint reclaiming him, either by the 
 kindness of a friend, or the authority of a master. 
 For I supposed that he thought of me as did his 
 father ; but he was not such ; laying aside, then, 
 his father's mind in that matter, he began to greet 
 me, come sometimes into my lecture-room, hear 
 a little, and begone. 
 
 I however had forgotten to deal with him, that 
 he should not, through a blind and headlong 
 desire of vain pastimes, undo so good a wit. But 
 Thou, O Lord, who guidest the course of all 
 
 140 
 
^atnt 3lug«j8tine 
 
 Thou hast created, hadst not forgotten him, who 
 was one day to be among Thy children, priest 
 and dispenser of Thy Sacrament ; and that his 
 amendment might plainly be attributed to Thy- 
 self, Thou effectedst it through me, but unknow- 
 ingly. For as one day I sat in my accustomed 
 place, with my scholars before me, he entered, 
 greeted me, sat down, and applied his mind to 
 what I then handled. I had hy chance a passage 
 in hand, which while I was explaining, a likeness 
 from the Circensian races occurred to me, as 
 hkely to make what I would convey pleasanter 
 and plainer, seasoned with biting mockery of 
 those whom that madness had enthralled ; God, 
 Thou knowest that I then thought not of curing 
 Alypius of that infection. But he took it wholly 
 to himself, and thought that I said it simply for 
 his sake. And whence another would have taken 
 occasion of offence with me, that right-minded 
 youth took as a ground of being offended at him- 
 self, and loving me more fervently. For Thou 
 hadst said it long ago, and put it into Thy book, 
 Rebuke a wise man and he will love thee} But I 
 had not rebuked him, but Thou, who employest 
 all, knowing or not knowing, in that order which 
 Thyself knowest (and that order is just), didst of 
 my heart and tongue make burning coals, by 
 which to set on fire the hopeful mind, thus 
 languishing, and so cure it. Let him be silent 
 
 1 Prov. ix. 8. 
 141 
 
in Thy praises, who considers not Thy mercies, 
 which I confess unto Thee out of my inmost soul. . 
 For he upon that speech burst out of that pit so 
 deep, wherein he was wilfully plunged, and was 
 blinded with its wretched pastimes ; and he shook 
 his mind with a strong self-command ; where- 
 upon all the filths of the Circensian pastimes flew 
 off from him, nor came he again thither. Upon 
 this, he prevailed with his unwilling father that 
 he might be my scholar. He gave way, and gave 
 in. And Alypius beginning to be my hearer again, 
 was involved in the same superstition with me, 
 loving in the Manichees that show of continency 
 which he supposed true and unfeigned. Whereas 
 it was a senseless and seducing continency, en- 
 snaring precious souls, unable as yet to reach the 
 depth of virtue, yet readily beguiled with the 
 surface of what was but a shadowy and counterfeit 
 virtue. 
 
 He, not forsaking that secular course which his 
 parents had charmed him to pursue, had gone 
 before me to Rome, to study law, and there he 
 was carried away incredibly with an incredible 
 eagerness after the shows of gladiators. For being 
 utterly averse to and detesting such spectacles, 
 he was one day by chance met by divers of his 
 acquaintance and fellow-students coming from 
 dinner, and they with a familiar violence haled 
 him, vehemently refusing and resisting, into the 
 Amphitheatre, during these cruel and deadly 
 
 142 
 
^atnt auguiEittne 
 
 shows, he thus protesting : ' Though you hale my 
 body to that place, and there set me, can you force 
 me also to turn my mind or my eyes to those 
 shows? I shall then be absent while present, 
 and so shall overcome both you and them.' They 
 hearing this, led him on nevertheless, desirous 
 perchance to try that very thing, whether he 
 could do as he said. When they were come 
 thither, and had taken their places as they could, 
 the whole place kindled with that savage pastime. 
 But he, closing the passages of his eyes, forbade 
 his mind to range abroad after such evils. And 
 would he had stopped his ears also ! For in the 
 fight, when one fell, a mighty cry of the whole 
 people striking him strongly, overcome by curio- 
 sity, and as if prepared to despise and be superior 
 to it whatsoever it were, even when seen, he 
 opened his eyes, and was stricken with a deeper 
 wound in his soul than the other, whom he 
 desired to behold, was in his body ; and he fell 
 more miserably than he upon whose fall that 
 mighty noise was raised, which entered through 
 his ears, and unlocked his eyes, to make way for 
 the striking and beating down of a soul, bold 
 rather than resolute, and the weaker, in that it 
 had presumed on itself, which ought to have 
 reUed on Thee. For so soon as he saw that blood, 
 he therewith drunk down savageness ; nor turned 
 away, but fixed his eye, drinking in frenzy un- 
 awares, and was delighted with that guilty fight, 
 
 H3 
 
Cl^e €onfejsj5ton0 of 
 
 and intoxicated with the bloody pastime. Nor 
 was he now the man he came, but one of the 
 throng he came unto, yea, a true associate of 
 theirs that brought him thither. Why say more ? 
 He beheld, shouted, kindled, carried thence with 
 him the madness which should goad him to return 
 not only with them who first drew him thither, 
 but also before them — yea, and to draw in others. 
 Yet thence didst Thou with a most strong and 
 most merciful hand pluck him, and taughtest him 
 to have confidence not in himself, but in Thee. 
 But this was after. 
 
 But this was already being laid up in his memory 
 to be a medicine hereafter. So was that also, 
 that when he was yet studying under me at 
 Carthage, and was thinking over at midday in the 
 market-place what he was to say by heart (as 
 scholars use to practise), Thou sufferedst him to 
 be apprehended by the officers of the market- 
 place for a thief. For no other cause, I deem, 
 didst Thou, our God, suffer it, but that he who 
 was hereafter to prove so great a man should 
 already begin to learn that in judging of causes, 
 man was not readily to be condemned by man out 
 of a rash credulity. For as he was walking up and 
 down by himself before the judgment-seat, with 
 his note-book and pen, lo, a young man, a lawyer, 
 the real thief, privily bringing a hatchet, got in, 
 unperceived by Alypius, as far as the leaden 
 gratings which fence in the silversmiths' shops, 
 
 144 
 
and began to cut away the lead. But the noise 
 of the hatchet being heard, the silversmiths 
 beneath began to make, a stir, and sent to appre- 
 hend whomever they should find. But he, hearing 
 their voices, ran away, leaving his hatchet, fearing 
 to be taken with it. Alypius now, who had not 
 seen him enter, was aware of his going, and saw 
 with what speed he made away. And being 
 desirous to know the matter, entered the place ; 
 where finding the hatchet, he was standing, 
 wondering and considering it, when behold 
 those that had been sent, find him alone with the 
 hatchet in his hand, the noise whereof had startled 
 and brought them thither. They seize him, hale 
 him away, and gathering the dwellers in the 
 market-place together, boast of having taken a 
 notorious thief, and so he was being led away 
 to be taken before the judge. 
 
 But thus far was Alypius to be instructed. For 
 forthwith, O Lord, Thou succouredst his inno- 
 cency, whereof Thou alone wert witness. For 
 as he was being led either to prison or to punish- 
 ment, a certain architect met them, who had the 
 chief charge of the public buildings. Glad they 
 were to meet him especially by whom they were 
 wont to be suspected of stealing the goods lost 
 out of the market-place, as though to show him 
 at last by whom these thefts were committed. 
 He, however, had divers times seen Alypius at a 
 certain senator's house, to whom he often went 
 K 145 
 
Cl^e Con{e0j2(ion0 of 
 
 to pay his respects ; and recognising him immedi- 
 ately, took him aside by the hand, and, inquiring 
 the occasion of so great a calamity, heard the whole 
 matter, and bade all present, amid much uproar 
 and threats, to go with him. So they came to 
 the house of the young man who had done the 
 deed. There, before the door, was a boy so 
 young as to be likely, not apprehending any harm 
 to his master, to disclose the whole. For he had 
 attended his master to the market-place. Whom 
 so soon as Alypius remembered, he told the 
 architect : and he showing the hatchet to the 
 boy, asked him ' Whose that was ? ' ' Ours,' 
 quoth he presently : and being further questioned 
 he discovered every thing. Thus the crime being 
 transferred to that house, and the multitude 
 ashamed, which had begun to insult over Alypius, 
 he who was to be a dispenser of Thy Word, and 
 an examiner of many causes in Thy Church, went 
 away better experienced and instructed. 
 
 Him then I had found at Rome, and he clave 
 to me by a most strong tie, and went with me to 
 Milan, both that he might not leave me, and that 
 he might practise something of the law he had 
 studied, more to please his parents than himself. 
 There he had thrice sat as assessor, with an un- 
 corruptness much wondered at by others, he 
 wondering at others rather, who could prefer 
 gold to honesty. His character was tried, besides, 
 not only with the bait of covetousness, but with 
 
 146 
 
^aint 9iug;u0tine 
 
 the goad of fear. At Rome he was assessor to 
 the count of the Italian Treasury. There was at 
 that time a very powerful senator, to whose favours 
 many stood indebted, whom many much feared. 
 He would needs, by his usual power, have a thing 
 allowed him which by the laws was unallowed. 
 Alypius resisted it : a bribe was promised ; with 
 aU his heart he scorned it : threats were held out ; 
 he trampled upon them : all wondering at so 
 unwonted a spirit, which neither desired the 
 friendship nor feared the enmity of one so great 
 and so mightily renowned for innumerable means 
 of doing good or evil. And the very judge, 
 whose councillor Alypius was, although also un- 
 willing it should be, yet did not openly refuse, 
 but put the matter off upon Alypius, alleging 
 that he would not allow him to do it : for in 
 truth, had the judge done it, Alypius would have 
 decided otherwise. With this one thing in the 
 way of learning was he well-nigh seduced, that 
 he might have books copied for him at Praetorian 
 prices, but consulting justice, he altered his 
 deliberation for the better ; esteeming equity 
 whereby he was hindered more gainful than the 
 power whereby he were allowed. These are 
 sUght things, but he that is faithful in little is 
 faithful also in much} Nor can that any how be 
 void which proceeded out of the mouth of Thy 
 Truth : If ye have not been faithful in the un- 
 
 1 Luke xvi. lo. 
 
Cl^e Confe0j5tonj{ of 
 
 righteous Mammon, who will commit to your trust 
 true riches ? And if ye have not been faithful in 
 that which is another marCs, who shall give you that 
 which is your own ? ^ He being such, did at that 
 time cleave to me, and with me wavered in pur- 
 pose what course of life was to be taken. 
 
 Nebridius also, who having left his native 
 country near Carthage, yea and Carthage itself, 
 where he had much lived, leaving his excellent 
 family-estate and house, and a mother behind, 
 who was not to follow him, had come to Milan, 
 for no other reason but that with me he might 
 live in a most ardent search after truth and wis- 
 dom. Like me he sighed, like me he wavered, 
 an ardent searcher after true life, and a most 
 acute examiner of the most difficult questions. 
 Thus were there the mouths of three indigent 
 persons, sighing out their wants one to another, 
 and waiting upon Thee that Thou mightest give 
 them their meat in due season} And in all the 
 bitterness which by Thy mercy followed our 
 worldly affairs, as we looked towards the end, 
 why we should suffer all this, darkness met us ; 
 and we turned away groaning, and saying. How 
 long shall these things he ? This too we often 
 said ; and so saying forsook them not, for as yet 
 there dawned nothing certain which, these for- 
 saken, we might embrace. 
 
 And I, viewing and reviewing things, most 
 
 1 Luke xvi. ii, 12. ' Ps. cxlv. 15. 
 
 148 
 
^atnt Augustine 
 
 wondered at the length of time from that my 
 nineteenth year, wherein I had begun to kindle 
 with the desire of wisdom, settling, when I had 
 found her, to abandon aU the empty hopes and 
 lying frenzies of vain desires. And lo, I was now 
 in my thirtieth year, sticking in the same mire, 
 greedy of enjoying things present, which passed 
 away and wasted my soul ; while I said to myself, 
 ' To-morrow I shall find it ; it will appear mani- 
 festly, and I shall grasp it ; lo, Faustus the Mani- 
 chee will come, and clear every thing ! O you 
 great men, ye Academicians, it is true, then, that 
 no certainty can be attained for the ordering of 
 life ! Nay, let us search the more diligently, and 
 despair not. Lo, things in the ecclesiastical books 
 are not absurd to us now, which sometimes seemed 
 absurd, and may be otherwise taken, and in a good 
 sense. I wiU take my stand where, as a child, 
 my parents placed me, until the clear truth be 
 found out. But where shall it be sought, or 
 when ? Ambrose has no leisure ; we have no 
 leisure to read. Where shall we find even the 
 books ? whence or when procure them ? from 
 whom borrow them ? Let set times be appointed, 
 and certain hours be ordered for the health of our 
 soul. Great hope has dawned ; the Catholic 
 Faith teaches not what we thought, and vainly 
 accused it of ; her instructed members hold it 
 profane to believe God to be bounded by the figure 
 of a human body : and do we doubt to ' knock,' 
 
 149 
 
Cl^e confesijStonj{ of 
 
 that the rest ' may be opened ' ? The forenoons 
 our scholars take up ; what do we during the rest ? 
 Why not this ? But when pay we court to our 
 great friends, whose favour we need ? when com- 
 pose what we may sell to scholars ? when refresh 
 ourselves, unbending our minds from this intense- 
 ness of care ? ' 
 
 ' Perish every thing, dismiss we these empty 
 vanities, and betake ourselves to the one search 
 for truth ! Life is vain, death uncertain ; if it 
 steals upon us on a sudden, in what state shall we 
 depart hence ? and where shall we learn what 
 here we have neglected ? and shall we not rather 
 suffer the punishment of this negligence ? What, 
 if death itself cut off and end all care and feeling ? 
 Then must this be ascertained. But God forbid 
 this ! It is no vain and empty thing, that the 
 excellent dignity of the authority of the Christian 
 Faith hath overspread the whole world. Never 
 would such and so great things be by God wrought 
 for us, if with the death of the body the life of 
 the soul came to an end. Wherefore delay, then, 
 to abandon worldly hopes, and give ourselves 
 wholly to seek after God and the blessed life ? 
 But wait ! Even those things are pleasant ; 
 they have some and no smaU sweetness. We 
 must not lightly abandon them, for it were a 
 shame to return again to them. See, it is no 
 great matter now to obtain some station, and 
 then what should we more wish for ? We have 
 
 150 
 
^aint augujstme 
 
 store of powerful friends ; if nothing else offer, 
 and we be in much haste, at least a presidentship 
 may be given us : and a wife with some money, 
 that she increase not our charges : and this shall 
 be the bound of desire. Many great men, and 
 most worthy of imitation, have given themselves 
 to the study of wisdom in the state of marriage.' 
 
 While I went over these things, and these winds 
 shifted and drove my heart this way and that, 
 time passed on, but I delayed to turn to the 
 Lord ; and from day to day deferred to live in 
 Thee, and deferred not daily to die in myself. 
 Loving a happy life, I feared it in its own abode, 
 and sought it by fleeing from it. I thought I 
 should be too miserable, unless folded in female 
 arms ; and of the medicine of Thy mercy to cure 
 that infirmity I thought not, not having tried it. 
 As for continency, I supposed it to be in our own 
 power (though in myself I did not find that 
 power), being so foolish as not to know what is 
 written. None can be continent unless Thou give it ; ^ 
 and that Thou wouldest give it, if with inward 
 groanings I did knock at Thine ears, and with a 
 settled faith did cast my care on Thee. 
 
 Alypius indeed kept me from marrying ; alleging 
 that so could we by no means with undistracted 
 leisure live together in the love of wisdom, as we 
 had long desired. For himself was even then 
 most pure in this point, so that it was wonderful ; 
 
 1 Wisd. vili. 2.— rVulg. 
 
Cl^e Confe00ton0 of 
 
 and that the more, since in the outset of his 
 youth he had entered into that course, but had 
 not stuck fast therein ; rather had he felt remorse 
 and revolting at it, living thenceforth until now 
 most continently. But I opposed him with the 
 examples of those who as married men had 
 cherished wisdom, and served God acceptably, 
 and retained their friends, and loved them faith- 
 fully. Of whose greatness of spirit I was far 
 short ; and bound with the disease of the flesh, 
 and its deadly sweetness, drew along my chain, 
 dreading to be loosed, and as if my wound had 
 been fretted, put back his good persuasions, as it 
 were the hand of one that would unchain me. 
 Moreover, by me did the serpent speak unto 
 Alypius himself, by my tongue weaving and laying 
 in his path pleasurable snares, wherein his virtuous 
 and free feet might be entangled. 
 
 For when he wondered that I, whom he es- 
 teemed not slightly, should stick so fast in the 
 birdlime of that pleasure, as to protest (so oft as 
 we discussed it) that I could never lead a single 
 life ; and urged in my defence, when I saw him 
 wonder, that there was great difference between 
 his momentary and scarce-remembered knowledge 
 of that life, which so he might easily despise, and 
 my continued acquaintance, whereto, if but the 
 honourable name of marriage were added, he 
 ought not to wonder why I could not contemn 
 that course. He began also to desire to be married ; 
 
 152 
 
not as overcome with desire of such pleasure, but 
 out of curiosity. For he would fain know, he 
 said, what that should be, without which my life, 
 to him so pleasing, would to me seem not life but 
 a punishment. For his mind, free from that 
 chain, was amazed at my thraldom ; and through 
 that amazement was going on to a desire of trying 
 it, thence to the trial itself, and thence perhaps 
 to sink into that bondage whereat he wondered, 
 seeing he was willing to make a covenant with 
 death ; ^ and he that loves danger, shall fall into 
 it} For whatever honour there be in the office 
 of weU-ordering a married Ufe, and a family, 
 moved us but slightly. But me for the most 
 part the habit of satisfying an insatiable appetite 
 tormented, while it held me captive ; him, an 
 admiring wonder was leading captive. So were 
 we, until Thou, O Most High, not forsaking our 
 dust, commiserating us miserable, didst come to 
 our help, by wondrous and secret ways. 
 
 Continual effort was made to have me married. 
 I wooed, I was promised, chiefly through my 
 mother's pains, that so, once married, the health- 
 giving baptism might cleanse me, towards which 
 she rejoiced that I was being daily fitted, and 
 observed that her prayers, and Thy promises, 
 were being fulfilled in my faith. At which time 
 verily, both at my request and her own longing, 
 with strong cries of heart she daily begged of 
 
 1 Isa. xxviii. 15. * Ecclus. iii. 27. 
 
Cl^e Conf elision?; of 
 
 Thee, that Thou wouldest by a vision discover 
 unto her something concerning my future mar- 
 riage ; Thou never wouldest. She saw indeed 
 certain vain and fantastic things, such as the 
 energy of the human spirit, busied thereon, 
 brought together ; and these she told me of, 
 not with that confidence she was wont, when 
 Thou showedst her any thing, but slighting them. 
 For she could, she said, through a certain feeling, 
 which in words she could not express, discern 
 betwixt Thy revelations, and the dreams of her 
 own soul. Yet the matter was pressed on, and a 
 maiden asked in marriage, two years under the fit 
 age ; and, as pleasing, was waited for. 
 
 And many of us friends, conferring about and 
 detesting the turbulent turmoils of human life, 
 had debated and now almost resolved on living 
 apart from business and the bustle of men ; and 
 this was to be thus obtained : we were to bring 
 whatever we might severally procure, and make 
 one household of all ; so that through the truth 
 of our friendship nothing should belong especially 
 to any ; but the whole, thus derived from all, 
 should as a whole belong to each, and all to all. 
 We thought there might be some ten persons in 
 this society ; some of whom were very rich, 
 especially Romanianus our townsman, from child- 
 hood a very familiar friend of mine, whom the 
 grievous perplexities of his affairs had brought 
 up to court ; who was the most earnest for this 
 
project ; and therein was his voice of great 
 weight, because his ample estate far exceeded any 
 of the rest. We had settled also that two annual 
 officers, as it were, should provide all things neces- 
 sary, the rest being undisturbed. But when we 
 began to consider whether the wives, which some 
 of us already had, others hoped to have, would 
 allow this, all that plan, which was being so well 
 moulded, fell to pieces in our hands, was utterly 
 dashed and cast aside. Thence we betook us to 
 sighs, and groans, and our steps to foUow the 
 broad and beaten ways of the world ; ^ for many 
 thoughts were in our heart, but Thy counsel 
 standeth for ever? Out of which counsel Thou 
 didst deride ours, and preparedst Thine own ; 
 purposing to give us meat in due season, and to 
 open Thy hand, and to fill our souls with blessing? 
 
 Meanwhile my sins were being multiplied, and 
 my concubine being to];n from my side as a hin- 
 drance to my marriage, my heart, which clave 
 unto her, was torn and wounded and bleeding. 
 And she returned to Afric, vowing unto Thee 
 never to know any other man, leaving me with 
 my son by her. But unhappy I, who could not 
 imitate a very woman, impatient of delay, inas- 
 much as not till after two years was I to obtain 
 her I sought, not being so much a lover of mar- 
 riage as a slave to lust, procured another, though 
 no wife, that so by the servitude of an enduring 
 
 ' Matt. vii. 13. 2 ps. xxxiii. 11. ^ Ps. cxlv. 15, 16. 
 
C^e Confe00ion0 of 
 
 custom, the disease of ray soul might be kept up 
 and carried on in its vigour, or even augmented, 
 into the dominion of marriage. Nor was that 
 my wound cured, which had been made by the 
 cutting away of the former, but after inflamma- 
 tion and most acute pain it mortified, and my 
 pains became less acute, but more desperate. 
 
 To Thee be praise, glory to Thee, Fountain of 
 mercies. I was becoming more miserable, and 
 Thou nearer. Thy right hand was continually 
 ready to pluck me out of the mire, and to wash 
 me throughly, and I knew it not ; nor did any 
 thing call me back from a yet deeper gulf of carnal 
 pleasures, but the fear of death, and of Thy judg- 
 ment to come ; which, amid all my changes, never 
 departed from my breast. And in my disputes 
 with my friends Alypius and Nebridius of the 
 nature of good and evil, I held that Epicurus had 
 in my mind won the palm, had I not beHeved 
 that after death there remained a life for the soul, 
 and places of requital according to men's deserts, 
 which Epicurus would not believe. And I asked, 
 ' Were we immortal, and to live in perpetual 
 bodily pleasure, without fear of losing it, why 
 should we not be happy, or what else should we 
 seek ? ' not knowing that great misery was in- 
 volved in this very thing, that, being thus sunk 
 and blinded, I could not discern that light of 
 excellence and beauty, to be embraced for its own 
 sake, which the eye of flesh cannot see, but which 
 
 156 
 
is seen by the inner man. Nor did I, unhappy, 
 consider from what source it sprung, that even on 
 these things, foul as they were, I with pleasure 
 discoursed with my friends, nor could I, even 
 according to the notions I then had of happiness, 
 be happy without friends, amid what abundance 
 soever of carnal pleasures. And yet these friends 
 I loved for themselves only, and I felt that I was 
 beloved of them again for myself only. 
 
 O crooked paths ! Woe to the audacious soul, 
 which hoped, by forsaking Thee, to gain some 
 better thing ! Turned it hath, and turned again, 
 upon back, sides, and belly, yet all was painful ; 
 and Thou alone rest. And behold, Thou art at 
 hand, and deliverest us from our wretched 
 wanderings, and placest us in Thy way, and dost 
 comfort us, and say, ' Run ; I will carry you ; 
 yea, I will bring you through ; there also will I 
 carry you.' 
 
 157 
 
Cl^e Confeja!jSion0 of 
 
 auguBtine'g tiiittg^first geat ; gratruaUg extricateti from 
 t)t8 ettorg, ittt sitill totti) material coticeptionB of 
 <@oti ; muct artrt fig an argument of iaebrttrius ; 
 gees ttat tte eause of »m lies in frce=toill, rejectB 
 ti)e illantci)8Ean twesg, Imt eannot altogetJier 
 embrace ti^e tjoctrine of ti)e fflfiuret ; reeobereli from 
 tte ieltef in astrologg, fitit miaeraJlB perpleiet 
 atout tf)e origin of ebil; is leb to finir in tiie 
 ^latonists tte scetrs of tfie doctrine of tt)e Bibinitg 
 of tf)e WS.<BUm, hut not of f^is i&umiliation ; 
 t)ence i)e obtains clearer notions of Ooti's majestg, 
 Jut, not fenotoing (iljirist to lie ti)e iWeiiator, remains 
 estranged from f^im; all fiis iouits remobei fig 
 ti)e stutig of ?^olB Scripture, especiallg St. ^aul. 
 
 IECEASED was now that my evil and 
 abominable youth, and I was passing 
 into early manhood ; the more de- 
 filed by vain things as I grew in 
 years, who could not imagine any substance, but 
 such as is wont to be seen with these eyes. I 
 thought not of Thee, O God, under the figure of 
 a human body ; since I began to hear aught of 
 wisdom, I always avoided this ; and rejoiced to 
 have found the same in the faith of our spiritual 
 
 158 
 
^aint augujstinc 
 
 mother, Thy Catholic Church. But what else 
 to conceive Thee I knew not. And I, a man, and 
 such a man, sought to conceive of Thee the 
 sovereign, only, true God ; and I did in my 
 inmost soul believe that Thou wert incorruptible, 
 and uninjurable, and unchangeable ; because, 
 though not knowing whence or how, yet I saw 
 plainly, and was sure, that that which may be 
 corrupted must be inferior to that which cannot ; 
 what could not be injured I preferred unhesi- 
 tatingly to what could receive injury ; the un- 
 changeable to things subject to change. My 
 heart passionately cried out against all my phan- 
 toms, and with this one blow I sought to beat 
 away from the eye of my mind all that unclean 
 troop which buzzed around it. And lo, being 
 scarce put oflE, in the twinkling of an eye they 
 gathered again thick about me, flew against my 
 face, and beclouded it ; so that, though not under 
 the form of the human body, yet was I constrained 
 to conceiv^o^The^ (that incorruptible, unin- 
 jurable, and unchangeable, which I preferred 
 before the corruptible, and injurayg^jjd change- 
 able) ^bemgJnspace^w]j|gyj£]3LillfUfifidJu^^ 
 world or|ditiusea|intinitelv withoiiL-LL, Because 
 conceivea, deprived of this space, 
 seemed to me nothing, yea, altogether nothing, 
 not even a void, as if a body were taken out of its 
 place, and the place should remain empty of any 
 body at all, of earth and water, air and heaven ; 
 
 159 
 
Cl^e Coitfe00(onj$ of 
 
 yet would it remain a void place, as it were a 
 spacious nothing. 
 
 I then being thus gross-hearted, nor clear even 
 to myself, whatsoever was not extended over 
 certain spaces, nor diffused, nor condensed, nor 
 swelled out, or did not or could not receive some 
 of these dimensions, I thought to be altogether 
 nothing. For over such forms as my eyes are 
 wont to range, did my heart then range : nor yet 
 did I see that this same notion of the mind, 
 whereby I formed those very images, was not of 
 this sort, and yet it could not have formed them, 
 had not itself been some great thing. So also 
 did I endeavour to conceive of Thee, Life of my 
 life, as vast, through infinite spaces on every side 
 penetrating the whole mass of the universe, and 
 beyond it, every way, through immeasurable 
 boundless spaces ; so that the earth should have 
 Thee, the heaven have Thee, all things have Thee, 
 and they be bounded in Thee, and Thou bounded 
 nowhere. For that as the body of this air which 
 is above the earth, hindereth not the light of the 
 sun from passing through it, penetrating it, not 
 by bursting or by cutting, but by filling it wholly : 
 so I thought the body not of heaven, air, and sea 
 only, but of the earth too, pervious to Thee, so 
 that in all its parts, the greatest as the smallest, it 
 should admit Thy presence, by a secret inspira- 
 tion, within and without, directing all things 
 which Thou hast created. So I guessed, only as 
 
 i6o 
 
unable to conceive aught else, for it was false. 
 For thus should a greater part of the earth con- 
 tain a greater portion of Thee, and a less, a lesser : 
 and all things should in such sort be full of Thee, 
 that the body of an elephant should contain more 
 of Thee than that of a sparrow, by how much 
 larger it is, and takes up more room ; and thus 
 shouldest Thou make the several portions of Thy- 
 self present unto the several portions of the 
 world, in fragments large to the large, petty to 
 the petty. But such art not Thou. But not 
 as yet hadst Thou enlightened my darkness. 
 
 It was enough for me. Lord, to oppose to those 
 deceived deceivers, and dumb praters, since Thy 
 word sounded not out of them ; — that was enough 
 which long ago, while we were yet at Carthage, 
 Nebridius used to propound, at which aU we that 
 heard it were staggered : ' That said nation of 
 darkness, which the Manichees are wont to set as 
 an opposing mass over against Thee, what could 
 it have done unto Thee, hadst Thou refused to 
 fight with it ? For, if they answered, " It would 
 have done Thee some hurt," then shouldest Thou 
 be subject to injury and corruption : but if " It 
 could do Thee no hurt," then was no reason 
 brought for Thy fighting with it ; and fighting 
 in such wise, as that a certain portion or member 
 of Thee, or oflFspring of Thy very Substance, 
 should be mingled with opposed powers, and 
 natures not created by Thee, and be by them so 
 
 L l6l 
 
C^e Confe00ion0 of 
 
 far corrupted and changed to the worse, as to 
 be turned from happiness into misery, and need 
 assistance, whereby it might be extricated and 
 purified ; and that this oflEspring of Thy Sub- 
 stance was the soul, which being enthralled, 
 defiled, corrupted. Thy Word, free, pure, and 
 whole, might relieve ; that Word itself being 
 still corruptible, because it was of one and the 
 same Substance. So, then, should they affirm 
 Thee, whatsoever Thou art, that is, Thy Sub- 
 stance whereby Thou art, to be incorruptible, 
 then were all these sayings false and execrable ; 
 but if corruptible, the very statement showed it 
 to be false and revolting.' This argument, then, 
 of Nebridius sufficed against those who deserved 
 wholly to be vomited out of the overcharged 
 stomach ; for they had no escape, without hor- 
 rible blasphemy of heart and tongue, thus thinking 
 and speaking of Thee. 
 
 But I also as yet, although I held and was 
 firmly persuaded that Thou our Lord the true 
 G^^ who madest not only our souls, but our 
 odies, and not only our souls and bodies, but all 
 beings, and all things, wert undefilable and un- 
 alterable, and in no degree mutable ; yet under- 
 stood I not, clearly and without difficulty, the 
 cause of evil. And yet, whatever it were, I per- 
 ceived it wal in such wise to be sought out, as 
 should not constrain me to believe the immutable 
 God to be mutable, lest I should become that 
 
 162 
 
evil I was seeking out. I sought it out, then, thus 
 far free from anxiety, certain of the untruth of 
 what these held, from whom I shrunk with my 
 whole heart : for I saw that, through inquiring 
 the origin of evil, they were filled with evil, in 
 that they preferred to think that Thy substance did 
 suffer ill rather than that their own did commit it. 
 And I strained to perceive what I now heard, 
 that free-will was the cause of our doing ill, and 
 Thy just judgment of our suffering ill. But I 
 was not able clearly to discern it. So, then, en- 
 deavouring to draw my soul's vision out of that 
 deep pit, I was again plunged therein, and en- 
 deavouring often, I was plunged back as often. 
 But this raised me a little into Thy light, that I 
 knew as well that I had a wiU, as that I lived : 
 when then I did will or nill any thing, I was most 
 sure that no other than myself did will and nill : 
 and I all but saw that there was the cause of my 
 sin. But what I did against my will, I saw that 
 I suffered rather than did, and I judged not to 
 be my fault, but my punishment ; whereby how- 
 ever, holding Thee to be just, I speedily confessed 
 myself to be not unjustly punished. But again 
 I said, Who made me ? Did not my God, who 
 is not only good, but goodness itself ? Whence 
 then came I to will evil and nill good, so that I 
 am thus justly punished ? who set this in me, and 
 ingrafted into me this plant of bitterness, seeing 
 I was wholly formed by my most sweet God ? If 
 
 163 
 
C^e Confe0j5ioniEi of 
 
 the devil were the author, whence is that same 
 devil ? And if he also by his own perverse will, 
 of a good angel became a devil, whence, again, 
 came in him that evil will whereby he became a 
 devil, seeing the whole nature of angels was 
 made by that most good Creator ? By these 
 thoughts I was again sunk down and choked ; 
 yet not brought down to that hell of error 
 (where no man confesseth unto Thee),^ to think 
 rather that Thou dost suffer ill, than that man 
 doth it. 
 
 For I was in such wise striving to find out the 
 rest, as one who had already found that the in- 
 
 f corruptible must needs be better than the cor- 
 ruptible : and Thee therefore, whatsoever Thou 
 
 ^ wert, I confessed to be incorruptible. For never 
 soul was, nor shall be, able to conceive any thing 
 which may be better than Thou, who art the 
 sovereign and the best good. But since most 
 truly and certainly the incorruptible is prefer- 
 able to the corruptible (as I did now prefer it), 
 then, wert Thou not incorruptible, I could in 
 thought have arrived at something better than 
 my God. Where, then, I saw the incorruptible 
 to be preferable to the corruptible, there ought I 
 to seek for Thee, and there observe ' wherein evil 
 itself was ' ; that is, whence corruption comes, 
 by which Thy substance can by no means be im- 
 paired. For corruption does no ways impair our 
 
 > Ps. vi. 5. 
 
 164 
 
God ; by no will, by no necessity, by no unlooked- 
 for chance : because He is God, and what He wills 
 is good, and Himself is that good ; but to be 
 corrupted is not good. Nor art Thou against 
 Thy will constrained to any thing, since Thy will 
 is not greater than Thy power. But greater 
 should it be, were Thyself greater than Thyself. 
 For the will and power of God is God Himself. 
 And what can be unlooked-for by Thee, who 
 knowest all things ? Nor is there any nature in 
 things, but Thou knowest it. And what should 
 we more say, ' why that substance which God is 
 should not be corruptible,' seeing if it were so 
 it should not be God ? 
 
 And I sought ' whence is evil,' and sought in an 
 evil way ; and saw not the evil in my very search. 
 I set now before the sight of my spirit the whole 
 creation, whatsoever we can see therein (as sea, 
 earth, air, stars, trees, mortal creatures) ; yea, and 
 whatever in it we do not see, as the firmament of 
 heaven, all angels moreover, and all the spiritual 
 inhabitants thereof. But these very beings, as 
 though they were bodies, did my fancy dispose- 
 in place, and I made one great mass of Thy 
 creation, distinguished as to the kinds of bodies ; 
 some, real bodies, some, what myself had feigned 
 for spirits. And this mass I made huge, not as it 
 was (which I could not know), but as I thought 
 convenient, yet every way finite. But Thee, O 
 Lord, I imagined on every part environing and 
 
 I6S 
 
Cl^e Confej30ion0 of 
 
 penetrating it, though every way infinite : as if 
 there were a sea every where and on every side, 
 through unmeasured space, one only boundless 
 sea, and it contained within it some sponge, huge, 
 but bounded ; that sponge must needs, in all its 
 parts, be filled from that unmeasurable sea : so 
 conceived I Thy creation, itself finite, full of 
 Thee, the Infinite ; and I said. Behold God, and 
 behold what God hath created ; and God is good, 
 yea, most mightily and incomparably better than 
 all these : but yet He, the Good, created them 
 good ; and see how He environeth and fulfils 
 them. Where is evil then, and whence, and how 
 crept it in hither ? What is its root, and what its 
 seed ? Or hath it no being ? Why then fear 
 we and avoid what is not ? Or if we fear it idly, 
 then is that very fear evil, whereby the soul is thus 
 idly goaded and racked. Yea, and so much a 
 greater evil, as we have nothing to fear, and yet 
 do fear. Therefore either is that evil which we 
 fear, or else evil is, that we fear. Whence is it 
 then ? seeing God, the Good, hath created all 
 these things good. He indeed, the greater and 
 chiefest Good, hath created these lesser goods ; 
 still, both Creator and created, all are good. 
 Whence is evil ? Or, was there some evil matter 
 of which He made, and formed, and ordered it, 
 yet left something in it which He did not convert 
 into good ? Why so, then ? Had He no might to 
 turn and change the whole, so that no evil should 
 
 i66 
 
remain in it, seeing He is All-mighty ? Lastly, 
 why would He make any thing at all of it, and not 
 rather by the same All-mightiness cause it not to 
 be at aU ? Or, could it then be against His will ? 
 Or if it were from eternity, why suffered He it so 
 to be for infinite spaces of times past, and was 
 pleased so long after to make something out of 
 it ? Or, if He were suddenly pleased now to effect 
 somewhat, this rather should the AU-mighty have 
 effected, that this evil matter should not be, and 
 He alone be, the whole, true, sovereign, and 
 infinite Good. Or, if it was not good that He 
 who was good should not also frame and create 
 something that were good, then, that evil matter 
 being taken away and brought to nothing. He 
 might form good matter, whereof to create all 
 things. For He should not be All-mighty, if He 
 might not create something good without the 
 aid of that matter which Himself had not created. 
 These thoughts I revolved in my miserable heart, 
 overcharged with most gnawing cares, lest I 
 should die ere I had found the truth ; yet was 
 the faith of Thy Christ, our Lord and Saviour, 
 professed in the Church Catholic, firmly fixed in 
 my heart, in many points, indeed, as yet un- 
 formed, and fluctuating from the rule of doctrine ; 
 yet did not my mind utterly leave it, but rather 
 daily took in more and more of it. 
 
 By this time also had I rejected the lying 
 divinations and impious dotages of the astrologers. 
 
 167 
 
Let Thine own mercies, out of my very inmost 
 soul, coniess unto Thee for this also, O my God.^ 
 For Thou, Thou altogether (for who else calls 
 us back from the death of all errors, save the Life 
 which cannot die, and the Wisdom which, needing 
 no Hght, enhghtens the minds that need it, where- 
 by the universe is directed, down to the whirling 
 leaves of trees ?), — Thou madest provision for my 
 obstinacy wherewith I struggled against Vindi- 
 cianus,^ an acute old man, and Nebridius, a young 
 man of admirable talents ; the first vehemently 
 affirming, and the latter often (though with some 
 doubtfulness) saying, ' That there was no such 
 art whereby to foresee things to come, but that 
 men's conjectures were a sort of lottery, and that 
 out of many things which they said should come 
 to pass, some actually did, unawares to them who 
 spake it, who stumbled upon it, through their 
 oft speaking.' Thou providedst then a friend for 
 me, no negligent consulter of the astrologers ; 
 nor yet well skilled in those arts, but (as I said) 
 a curious consulter with them, and yet knowing 
 something, which he said he had heard of his 
 father, which how far it went to overthrow the 
 estimation of that art, he knew not. This man 
 then, Firminus by name, having had a liberal 
 education, and well taught in Rhetoric, consulted 
 me, as one very dear to him, what, according to 
 his so-called constellations, I thought on certain 
 
 1 Ps. cvi. g. — Vulg. 2 See Book IV. p. 73. 
 
 168 
 
1 DID NOT REFUSE TO CON= 
 -lECri/RE 
 
 SOOr. VH 
 
 J 
 
affairs of his, wherein his worldly hopes had risen ; 
 and I, who had herein now begun to incline 
 towards Nebridius's opinion, did not altogether 
 refuse to conjecture, and tell him what came into 
 my unresolved mind ; but added, that I was now 
 almost persuaded that these were but empty and 
 ridiculous foUies. Thereupon he told me that 
 his father had been very curious in such books, 
 and had a friend as earnest in them as himself, 
 who with joint study and conference fanned the 
 flame of their affections to these toys, so that they 
 would observe the moments whereat the very 
 dumb animals, which bred about their houses, 
 gave birth, and then observed the relative position 
 of the heavens, thereby to make fresh experiments 
 in this so-called art. He said then that he had 
 heard of his father, that what time his mother 
 was about to give birth to him, Firminus, a 
 woman-servant of that friend of his father's was 
 also with child, which could not escape her 
 master, who took care with most exact diligence 
 to know the births of his very puppies. And so it 
 was that (the one for his wife, and the other for 
 his servant, with the most careful observation, 
 reckoning days, hours, nay, the lesser divisions of 
 the hours) both were delivered at the same instant; 
 so that both were constrained to allow the same 
 constellations, even to the minutest points, the 
 one for his son, the other for his new-born slave. 
 For so soon as the women began to be in labour, 
 
 169 
 
Cl^e ConfejsjiionjS of 
 
 they each gave notice to the other what was 
 fallen out in their houses, and had messengers 
 ready to send to one another so soon as they had 
 notice of the actual birth, of which they had 
 easily provided, each in his own province, to give 
 instant intelligence. Thus then the messengers 
 of the respective parties met, he averred, at such 
 an equal distance from either house, that neither 
 of them could make out any difference in the 
 position of the stars, or any other minutest 
 points ; and Firminus, born in a high estate in 
 his parents' house, ran his course through the 
 gilded paths of life, was increased in riches, raised 
 to honours ; whereas that slave continued to 
 serve his masters, without any relaxation of his 
 yoke, as Firminus, who knew him, told me. 
 
 Upon hearing and believing these things, told 
 by one of such credibility, all that my resistance 
 gave way ; and first I endeavoured to reclaim 
 Firminus himself from that curiosity, by telling 
 him that upon inspecting his constellations I 
 ought, if I were to predict truly, to have seen in 
 them parents eminent among their neighbours, 
 a noble family in its own city, high birth, good 
 education, liberal learning. But if that servant 
 had consulted me upon the same constellations, 
 since they were his also, I ought again (to tell 
 him too truly) to see in them a lineage the most 
 abject, a slavish condition, and every thing else 
 utterly at variance with the former. Whence 
 
 170 
 
then, if I spake the truth, I should, from the 
 same constellations, speak diversely, or if I spake 
 the same, speak falsely : thence it followed most 
 certainly that whatever, upon consideration of 
 the constellations, was spoken truly, was spoken 
 not out of art, but chance ; and whatever spoken 
 falsely, was not out of ignorance in the art, but 
 the failure of the chance. 
 
 An opening thus made, ruminating with myself 
 on the like things, that no one of those dotards 
 (who lived by such a trade, and whom I longed to 
 attack, and with derision to confute) might urge 
 against me that Firminus had informed me 
 falsely, or his father him ; I bent my thoughts 
 on those that are born twins, who for the most 
 part come out of the womb so near one to other, 
 that the small interval (how much force soever 
 in the nature of things folk may pretend it to 
 have) cannot be noted by human observation, or 
 be at all expressed in those figures which the 
 astrologer is to inspect, that he may pronounce 
 truly. Yet they cannot be true : for looking 
 into the same figures, he must have predicted the 
 same of Esau and Jacob, whereas the same hap- 
 pened not to them. Therefore he must speak 
 falsely; or if truly, then, looking into the same 
 figures, he must not give the same answer. Not 
 by art, then, but by chance, would he speak truly. 
 For Thou, O Lord, most righteous Ruler of the 
 Universe, while consulters and consulted know it 
 
 171 
 
Cl^e Confejijiionj; of 
 
 not, dost by Thy hidden inspiration effect that 
 the consulter should hear what, according to the 
 hidden deservings of souls, he ought to hear, out 
 of the unsearchable depth of Thy just judgment, 
 to Whom let no man say, What is this ? why 
 that ? Let him not so say, for he is man. 
 
 Now then, O my Helper, hadst thou loosed me 
 from those fetters : and I sought ' whence is evil,' 
 and found no way. But Thou sufferedst me not 
 by any fluctuations of thought to be carried away 
 from the Faith whereby I beUeved Thee both to 
 be and Thy substance to be unchangeable, and 
 that Thou hast a care of and wouldest judge meUj 
 and that in Christ, Thy Son, our Lord, and the 
 holy Scriptures, which the authority of Thy 
 Catholic Church pressed upon me. Thou hadst 
 set the way of man's salvation, to that life which 
 is to be after this death. These things being safe 
 and immovably settled in my mind, I sought 
 anxiously ' whence was evil ? ' What were the 
 pangs of my teeming heart, what groans, O my 
 God ! yet even there were Thine ears open, and 
 I knew it not : and when in silence I vehemently 
 sought, those silent contritions of my soul were 
 strong cries unto Thy mercy. Thou knewest 
 what I suffered, and no man. For, what was 
 that which was thence through my tongue dis- 
 tilled into the ears of my most familiar friends ? 
 Did the whole tumult of my soul, for which 
 neither time nor utterance sufficed, reach them ? 
 
 172 
 
Yet went up the whole to Thy hearing, all which 
 I roared out from the groanings of my heart ; and 
 my desire was before Thee, and the light of mine 
 eyes was not with me : ^ for that was within, I 
 without : nor was that confined to place, but I 
 was intent on things contained in place, but 
 there found I no resting-place, nor did they so 
 receive me, that I could say, ' It is enough,' ' It 
 is well ' : nor did they yet suffer me to turn back, 
 where it might be well enough with me. For to 
 these things was I superior, but inferior to Thee ; 
 and Thou art my true joy when subjected to 
 Thee, and Thou hadst subjected to me what Thou 
 createdst below me. And this was the true 
 temperament, and middle region ot my safety, 
 to remain in Thy image and, by serving Thee, 
 rule the body. But when I rose proudly against 
 Thee, and ran against the Lord with my neck, with 
 the thick bosses of my buckler,^ even these inferior 
 things were set above me, and pressed me down, 
 and nowhere was there respite or space of breath- 
 ing. They met my sight on all sides by heaps 
 and troops, and in thought the images thereof 
 presented themselves unsought, as I would return 
 to Thee, as if they would say unto me, ' Whither 
 goest thou, unworthy and defiled ? ' And these 
 things had grown out of my wound ; for Thou 
 * humbledst the proud like one that is wounded,' * 
 
 1 Ps. xxxvii. 9-11.— Vulg. * Job. xv. j6. 
 
 * Ps. Ixxxviii. II. — Vulg. 
 
Cl^e ConfejsjsiottjS of 
 
 and through my own swelling was I separated 
 from Thee ; yea, my pride-swollen face closed up 
 mine eyes. 
 
 But Thou, Lord, abidest for ever, yet not for 
 ever art Thou angry with us, because Thou 
 pitiest our dust and ashes ; and it was pleasing in 
 Thy sight to reform my deformities ; and by 
 inward goads didst Thou rouse me, that I should 
 be ill at ease, until Thou wert manifested to my 
 inward sight. Thus, by the secret hand of Thy 
 medicining was my swelling abated, and the 
 troubled and bedimmed eyesight of my mind, 
 by the smarting anointings of healthful sorrows, 
 was from day to day healed. 
 
 And Thou, willing first to show me how Thou 
 resistest the 'proud, but givest grace unto the humble^ 
 and by how great an act of Thy mercy Thou hadst 
 traced out to men the way of humility, in that 
 Thy Word was made flesh, and dwelt among 
 men, — Thou procuredst for me, by means of one 
 puffed up with most unnatural pride, certain 
 books of the Platonists, translated from Greek 
 info Latin. And therein I read, not indeed in 
 the very words, but to the very same purpose, 
 enforced by many and divers reasons, that In the 
 beginning was the Word, and the Word was with 
 God, and the Word mas God ; the same was in the 
 beginning with God : all things were made by Him, 
 and without Him was nothing made ; that which 
 
 ■ James iv. 6 j i Pet. v. 5. 
 
 '74 
 
was made by Him is life, and the life was the light 
 of men, and the light shineth in the darkness, and 
 the darkness comprehended it not} And that the 
 soul of man, though it bears witness to the light, 
 yet itself is not that light ; but the Word of God, 
 being God, is that true light that lighteth every 
 man that cometh into the world} And that He 
 was in the world, and the world was made by 
 Him, and the world knew Him not} But that 
 He came unto His own, and His own received 
 Him not ; * but as many as received Him, to 
 them gave He power to become the sons of God, as 
 many as believed in His name ; * this I read not 
 there. 
 
 Again I read there, that God the Word was born 
 not of flesh nor of blood, nor of the will of man, nor 
 of the will of the flesh, but of God} But that the 
 Word was made flesh, and dwelt among us^ I read 
 not there. For I traced in those books that it 
 was many and divers ways said, that the Son was 
 in the form of the Father, and thought it not robbery 
 to he equal with God, for that naturally He was the 
 same Substance. But that He emptied Himself, 
 taking the form of a servant, being made in the 
 likeness of men, and found in fashion as a man, 
 humbled Himself, and became obedient unto death, 
 and that the death of the cross : wherefore God 
 exalted Him from the dead, and gave Him a name 
 
 » John i. 1-5. 2 lb, 5. 3 lb, ,0. « /A. II. 
 
 ^ IK 12. » lb. 13. ' lb. 14. 
 
 ^7S 
 
Cl^e Confe00ionj{ of 
 
 above every name, that at the name of Jesus every 
 knee should bozo, of things in heaven, and things in 
 earth, and things under the earth ; and that every 
 tongue should confess that the Lord Jesus Christ is 
 in the glory of God the Father ; ^ those books have 
 not. For that before all times and above aU 
 times Thy Only-Begotten Son remaineth un- 
 changeably co-eternal with Thee, and that of His 
 fulness souls receive,^ that they may be blessed ; 
 and that by participation of wisdom abiding in 
 them, they are renewed, so as to be wise, is there. 
 But that in due time He died for the ungodly ; * 
 and that Thou sparedst not Thine Only Son, but 
 deliver edst Him for us all,* is not there. For Thou 
 hiddest these things from the wise, and revealedst 
 them to babes ; that they that labour and are heavy 
 laden might come unto Him, and He refresh them, 
 because He is meek and lowly in heart ; ^ and the 
 meek He directeth in judgment, and the gentle He 
 teacheth His ways^ beholding our lowliness and 
 trouble, and forgiving all our sins? But such as are 
 lifted up in the lofty walk of some would-be 
 sublimer learning, hear not Him saying, Learn of 
 Me, for I am meek and lowly in heart, and ye shall 
 find rest to your souls.^ Although they knew God, 
 yet they glorify Him not as God, nor are thankful, 
 but wax vain in their thoughts ; and their foolish 
 
 ' Phil. ii. 6-II. ' John i. i6. 3 Rom. v. 6. 
 
 * lb. viii. 32. * Matt. xi. 25, 28, 29. • Ps. xxv. 9. 
 
 ' lb. 18. * Matt. xi. 29. 
 
 176 
 
heart is darkened ; professing that they were wise, 
 they became fools} 
 
 And therefore did I read there also, that they 
 had changed the^ glory of Thy incorruptible nature 
 into idols and divers shapes, into the likeness of the 
 image of corruptible man, and birds, and beasts, and 
 creeping' things ; * namely, into that Egyptian 
 food for which Esau lost his birthright,^ for that 
 Thy first-born people worshipped the head of a 
 four-footed beast instead of Thee ; * turning in 
 heart back towards Egypt ; and bowing Thy 
 image, their own soul, before the image of a calf 
 that eateth hay? These things found I here, but 
 I fed not on them. For it pleased Thee, O Lord, 
 to take away the reproach of diminution from 
 Jacob, that the elder should serve the younger : * 
 and Thou caUedst the Gentiles into Thine in- 
 heritance. And I had come to Thee from among 
 the GentUes ; and I set my mind upon the gold 
 which Thou wUledst Thy people to take from 
 Egypt, seeing Thine it was, wheresoever it were.^ 
 And to the Athenians Thou saidst by Thy 
 Apostle, that in Thee we live, move, and have our 
 being, as one of their own poets had said} And verily 
 these books came from thence. But I set not my 
 mind on the idols of Egypt, whom they served with 
 Thy gold^ who changed the truth of God into a lie, 
 
 ' Rom. i. 21, 22. * /*. 23. 3 Gen. xxv. 33, 34. 
 
 « Ex. xxxii. 1-6, * Ps. cvi. 20. ' Rom. ix. 13. 
 
 ' Ex. iii. 22 ; xi. 2. ' Actsxvii. 28. ' Hos. ii. 8. 
 
 M 177 
 
and worshipped and served the creature more than 
 the Creator} 
 
 And being thence admonished to return to 
 myself, I entered even into my inward self, Thou 
 being my Guide : and able I was, for Thou wert 
 become my Helper. And I entered and beheld 
 with the eye of my soul (such as it was), above the 
 same eye of my soul, above my mind, the Light 
 Unchangeable. Not this ordinary light, which 
 all flesh may look upon, nor as it were a greater 
 of the same kind, as though the brightness of 
 this should be manifold brighter, and with its 
 greatness take up all space. Not such was this 
 light, but other, yea, far other from aU these. 
 Nor was it above my soul, as oil is above water, 
 nor yet as heaven above earth : but above to my 
 soul, because It made me ; and I below It, because 
 I was made by It. He that knows the Truth, 
 knows what that Light is ; and he that knows It, 
 knows eternity. Love knoweth it. O Truth 
 who art Eternity ! and Love who art Truth ! 
 and Eternity who art Love ! Thou art my God, 
 to Thee do I sigh night and day. Thee when I 
 first knew. Thou liftedst me up, that I might see 
 there was what I might see, and that I was not 
 yet such as to see. And Thou didst beat back 
 the weakness of my sight, streaming forth Thy 
 beams of light upon me most strongly, and I 
 trembled with love and awe : and I perceived 
 
 ' Rom. i. 25. 
 178 
 
myself to be far off from Thee, in the region of 
 unlikeness, as if I heard this Thy voice fro m on 
 high : ' I am the food of grown men ; grow, ariS^ 
 thou shalt feed upon Me ; nor shalt thou convert 
 Me, like the food of thy flesh, into thee, but thou 
 shalt be converted into Me.' And I learned, tH^" 
 Thou for iniquity chasteneth man, and Thou madest 
 my soul to consume away like a spider} And I said, 
 ' Is Truth therefore nothing because it is not dif- 
 fused through space finite or infinite ? ' And Thou 
 criedst to me from afar : ' Yea verily, / ^M that I 
 AM.^ ^ And I heard, as the heart heareth, nor had 
 I room to doubt, and I should sooner doubt that I 
 live than that Truth is not, which is clearly seen, 
 being understood by those things which are made? 
 
 And I beheld the other things below Thee, and 
 I perceived that they neither altogether are, nor 
 altogether are not ; for they are, since they are 
 from Thee, but are not, because they are not 
 what Thou art. For that truly is, which remains 
 unchangeably. It is good then for me to hold fast 
 unto God ; * for if I remain not in Him, I cannot 
 in myself ; but He remaining in Himself, reneweth 
 all things!" And Thou art the Lord my God, since 
 Thou standest not in need of my goodness! 
 
 And it was manifested unto me, that those 
 things be good, which yet are corrupted ; which 
 neither were they sovereignly good, nor, unless 
 
 • P». xxxix. n. ' Exod. iii. 14. ' Rom. i. 10. 
 
 ♦ Ps. Ixxiii. 28. • Wisd. vii. 27. • Ps. xvi. 1. 
 
 179 
 
Cl^e Confe0jston0 of 
 
 they were good, could be corrupted : for if 
 sovereignly good, they were incorruptible ; if not 
 good at aU, there were nothing in them to be 
 corrupted. For corruption injures, but unless 
 it diminished goodness, it could not injure. 
 Either then corruption injures not, which cannot 
 be ; or which is most certain, all which is cor- 
 rupted is deprived of good. But if they be 
 deprived of all good, they shall cease to be. For 
 if they shall be, and can now no longer be cor- 
 rupted, they shall be better than before, because 
 they shall abide incorruptibly. And what more 
 monstrous than to affirm things to become better 
 by losing all their good ? Therefore, if they shall 
 be deprived of all good, they shall no longer be. 
 So long therefore as they are, they are good : 
 therefore whatsoever is, is good. That evil then 
 which I sought whence it is, is not any substance : 
 for were it a substance, it should be good. For 
 either it should be an incorruptible substance, 
 and so a chief good : or a corruptible substance ; 
 which unless it were good, could not be corrupted. 
 I perceived therefore, and it was manifested to 
 me, that Thou madest all things good, nor is 
 there any substance at all which Thou madest 
 not ; and for that Thou madest not all things 
 equal, therefore are all things ; because each is 
 good, and altogether very good, because our God 
 made all things very good} 
 
 • Gen. i. 31 i Ecclus. xxxix. 21. 
 180 
 
^aint ^iugttjattlne 
 
 And to Thee is nothing whatsoever evil : yea, 
 not only to Thee, but also to Thy creation as a 
 whole, because there is nothing without, which 
 may break in, and corrupt that order which Thou 
 hast appointed it. But in the parts thereof some 
 things, because unharmonising with other some, 
 are accounted evil : whereas those very things 
 harmonise with others, and are good ; and in 
 themselves are good. And all these things which 
 harmonise not together, do yet with the inferior 
 part, which we call Earth, having its own cloudy 
 and windy sky harmonising with it. Far be it 
 then that I should say, ' These things should not 
 be ' : for should I see nought but these, I should 
 indeed long for the better ; but still must even 
 for these alone praise Thee ; for that Thou art 
 to be -praised, do show /toot the earth, dragons, and 
 all deeps, fire, hail, snow, ice, and stormy wind, 
 which fulfil Thy word ; mountains, and all hills, 
 fruitful trees, and all cedars ; beasts, and all cattle, 
 creeping things, and flying fowls ; kings of the earth, 
 and all people, princes, and all judges of the earth ; 
 young men and maidens, old men and, young, praise 
 Thy Name. But when, from heaven, these praise 
 Thee, praise Thee, our God, in the heights, all Thy 
 angels, all Thy hosts, sun and moon, all the stars 
 of light, the Heaven of heavens, and the waters that 
 be above the heavens, praise Thy Name ; ^ I did not 
 now long for things better, because I conceived 
 
 1 Ps. cxlviii. 1-12. 
 
 i8i 
 
Cl^e ConfejS0ton0 of 
 
 of all : and with a sounder judgment I appre- 
 hended that the things above were better than, 
 these below, but all together better than those 
 above by themselves. 
 
 There is no soundness in them, whom aught of 
 Thy creation displeaseth : as neither in me, when 
 much which Thou hast made, displeased me. 
 And because my soul durst not be displeased at 
 my God, it would fain not account that Thine, 
 which displeased it. Hence it had gone into the 
 opinion of two substances, and had no rest, but 
 talked idly. And returning thence, it had made 
 to itself a god, through infinite measures of all 
 space ; and thought it to be Thee, and placed it 
 in its heart ; and had again become the temple 
 of its own idol, to Thee abominable. But after 
 Thou hadst soothed my head, unknown to me, 
 and closed mine eyes that they should not behold 
 vanity^ I ceased somewhat of my former self, and 
 my frenzy was lulled to sleep ; and I awoke in 
 Thee, and saw Thee infinite, but in another way, 
 and this sight was not derived from the flesh. 
 
 And I looked back on other things ; and I saw 
 that they owed their being to Thee ; and were 
 all bounded in Thee : but in a different way ; 
 not as being in space ; but because Thou con- 
 tainest all things in Thine hand in Thy Truth ; 
 and all things are true so far as they be ; nor is 
 there any falsehood, unless when that is thought 
 
 ' Ps. cxix. 37. 
 182 
 
to be, which is not. And I saw that all things did 
 harmonise, not with their places only, but with 
 their seasons; and that Thou, who only art 
 Eternal, didst not begin to work after innumer- 
 able spaces of times spent ; for that all spaces of 
 times, both which have passed, and which shall 
 pass, neither go nor come, but through Thee, 
 working, and abiding. 
 
 And I perceived and found it nothing strange, 
 that bread which is pleasant to a healthy palate 
 is loathsome to one distempered : and to sore 
 eyes light is offensive, which to the sound is 
 delightful. And Thy righteousness displeaseth 
 the wicked ; much more the viper and reptiles, 
 which Thou hast created good, fitting in with the 
 inferior portions of Thy Creation, with which 
 the very wicked also fit in ; and that the more, 
 by how much they be unlike Thee ; but with the 
 superior creatures, by how much they become 
 more like to Thee. And I inquired what iniquity 
 was, and found it to be no substance , but the 
 perversion of the will, turned aside from Thee. 
 (J (jod, the Supreme^ towards these lower things, 
 and casting out its bowels, and puffed up out- 
 wardly. ""^ 
 
 And I wondered that I now loved Thee, and no 
 phantasm for Thee. And yet did I not press on 
 to enjoy my God ; but was borne up to Thee by 
 Thy beauty, and soon borne down from Thee 
 by mine own weight, sinking with sorrow into 
 
 183 
 
Clje Confe00ion0 of 
 
 these inferior things. This weight was carnal 
 custom. Yet dwelt there with me a remem- 
 brance of Thee ; nor did I any way doubt that 
 there was One to whom I might cleave, but that 
 I was not yet such as to cleave to Thee : for that 
 the body which is corrupted presseth down the soul, 
 and the earthly tabernacle toeigheth down the mind 
 that museth upon many things} And most certain 
 I was, that Thy invisible works from the creation of 
 the world are clearly seen, being understood by the 
 things that are made, even Thy eternal power and 
 Godhead} For examining whence it was that I 
 admired the beauty of bodies celestial or terres- 
 trial ; and what aided me in judging soundly on 
 things mutable, and pronouncing, * This ought 
 to be thus, this not ' ; examining, I say, whence 
 it was that I so judged, seeing I did so judge, I 
 had found the unchangeable and true Eternity 
 of Truth above my changeable mind. And thus 
 by degrees I passed from bodies to the soul, which 
 through the bodily senses perceives ; and thence 
 to its inward faculty, to which the bodily senses 
 represent things external, whitherto reach the 
 faculties of beasts ; and thence again to the 
 reasoning faculty, to which what is received 
 from the senses of the body is referred to be 
 judged. Which finding itself also to be in me a 
 thing variable, raised itself up to its own under- 
 standing, and drew away my thoughts from the 
 
 • W!sd. ix. 15. 2 Rom. i. 20. 
 
 184 
 
power of habit, withdrawing itself from those 
 troops of contradictory phantasms ; that so it 
 might find what that light was whereby it was 
 bedewed, when, without all doubting, it cried 
 out, ' That the unchangeable was to be preferred 
 to the changeable ' ; whence also it knew That 
 Unchangeable, which unless it had in some way 
 known, it had had no sure ground to prefer it to 
 the changeable. And thus with the flash of one 
 trembling glance it arrived at THAT WHIGH 
 IS. And then I saw Thy invisible things under- 
 stood by the things which are made} But I could 
 not fix my gaze thereon ; and my infirmity being 
 struck back, I was thrown again on my wonted 
 habits, carrying along with me only a loving 
 memory thereof, and a longing for what I had, 
 as it were, perceived the odour of, but was not 
 yet able to feed on. 
 
 Then I sought a way of obtaining strength 
 sufficient to enjoy Thee ; and found it not, until 
 I embraced that Mediator betwixt God and men, 
 the Man Christ Jesus^ who is over all, God blessed 
 for evermore^ calling unto me, and saying, I am 
 the Way, the Truth, and the Life,* ^.ndi mingling that 
 food which I was unable to receive, with our 
 flesh. For the Word was made fesh} that Thy 
 wisdom, whereby^^fBtrTreatedst all things, 
 might provide milk for our infant state. For I 
 
 1 Rom. i. 20. ^ I Tim. ii. 5. ^ Rom. ix. 5. 
 
 4 John xiv. 6. * John i. 14. 
 
 185 
 
Cl^e Confer jiion0 of 
 
 did not hold to my Lord Jesus Christ, I, humbled, 
 to the Humble ; nor knew I yet whereto His 
 infirmity would guide us. For Thy Word, the 
 Eternal Truth, far above the higher parts of Thy ' 
 Creation, raises up the subdued unto Itself : 
 but in this lower world built for Itself a lowly 
 habitation of our clay, whereby to abase from 
 themselves such as would be subdued, and bring 
 them over to Himself ; allaying their swelling, 
 and fomenting their love ; to the end they might 
 go on no further in self-confidence, but rather 
 consent to become weak, seeing before their feet 
 the Divinity weak by taking our coats of skin ; ^ and 
 wearied, might cast themselves down upon It, 
 and It rising, might lift them up. 
 
 But I thought otherwise ; conceiving only of 
 my Lord Christ as of a man of excellent wisdom, 
 whom no one could be equalled unto ; especially, 
 for that being wonderfully born of a Virgin, He 
 seemed, in conformity therewith, through the 
 Divine care for us, to have attained that great 
 eminence of authority, for an ensample of de- 
 spising things temporal for the obtaining of im- 
 mortality. But what mystery there lay in The 
 Word was made flesh, I could not even imagine. 
 Only I had learnt out of what is delivered to us 
 in writing of Him that He did eat, and drink, 
 sleep, walk, rejoiced in spirit, was sorrowful, dis- 
 coursed ; that flesh did not cleave by itself unto 
 
 • Gen. iii. 21. 
 186 
 
Thy Word, but with the human soul and mind. 
 All know this who know the unchangeableness of 
 Thy Word, which I now knew, as far as I could, 
 nor did I at all doubt thereof. For, now to move 
 the Umbs of the body by will, now not, now to be 
 moved by some affection, now not, now to deliver 
 wise sayings through human signs, now to keep 
 silence, belong to soul and mind subject to varia- 
 tion. And should these things be falsely written 
 of Him, all the rest also would risk the charge, 
 nor would there remain in those books any saving 
 faith for mankind. Since then they were written 
 truly, I acknowledged a perfect man to be in 
 Christ ; not the body of a man only, nor, with 
 the body, a sensitive soul without a rational, but 
 very man ; whom, not only as being a form of 
 Truth, but for a certain great excellence of human 
 nature and a more perfect participation of wis- 
 dom, I judged to be preferred before others. 
 But Alypius imagined the Catholics to believe 
 God to be so clothed with flesh, that besides God 
 and flesh there was no soul at aU in Christ, and 
 did not think that a human mind was ascribed to. 
 Him. And because he was well persuaded that 
 the actions recorded of Him could only be per- 
 formed by a vital and a rational creature, he 
 moved the more slowly towards the Christian 
 Faith. But understanding afterwards that this 
 was the error of the ApoUinarian heretics, he 
 joyed in and was conformed to the Catholic 
 
 187 
 
Cl^e ConfejaDSiottjs of 
 
 Faith. But somewhat later, I confess, did I learn 
 how in that saying, ne Word, was made flesh, the 
 Catholic truth is distinguished from the falsehood 
 of Photinus. For the rejection of heretics makes 
 the tenets of Thy Church and sound doctrine to 
 stand out more clearly. For there must also be 
 heresies, that the approved may be made manifest 
 among the weak} 
 
 But having then read those books of the Platon- 
 ists, and thence been taught to search for in- 
 corporeal truth, I saw Thy invisible things, under- 
 stood by those things which are made ; ^ and though 
 cast back, I perceived what that was which' 
 through the darkness of my mind I was hindered 
 from contemplating, being assured ' that Thou 
 wert, and wert infinite, and yet not diffused in 
 space, finite or infinite ; and that Thou truly art 
 who art the same ever, in no part nor motion 
 varying ; and that all other things are from Thee, 
 on this most sure ground alone, that they are.' 
 Of these things I was assured, yet too unsure to 
 enjoy Thee. I prated as one well skilled ; but 
 had I not sought Thy way in Christ our Saviour, 
 I had proved to be not skilled, but killed. For 
 now I had begun to wish to seem wise, being filled 
 with mine own punishment, yet I did not mourn, 
 but rather scorn, pufFed up with knowledge.^ 
 For where was that charity building upon the 
 foundation of humility, which is Christ Jesus ? * or 
 
 '1C0r.xi.19. ^Rom.i.20. 3 I Cor. viii. I. ^ i Cor.iii. 11, 
 
 188 
 
when should these books teach me it ? Upon 
 these, I believe, Thou therefore wiUedst that I 
 should fall, before I studied Thy Scriptures, that 
 it might be imprinted on my memory how I was 
 affected by them ; and that afterwards when my 
 spirits were tamed through Thy books, and my 
 wounds touched by Thy healing fingers, I might 
 discern and distinguish between presumption and 
 confession ; between those who saw whither 
 they were to go, yet saw not the way, and the 
 way that leadeth not to behold only but to dwell 
 in the beatific country. For had I first been 
 formed in Thy Holy Scriptures, and hadst Thou, 
 in the familiar use of them, grown sweet unto me, 
 and had I then fallen upon those other volumes, 
 they might perhaps have withdrawn me from the 
 solid ground of piety, or, had I continued in that 
 healthful frame which I had thence imbibed, 
 I might have thought that it might have been 
 obtained by the study of those books alone. 
 
 Most eagerly then did I seize that venerable 
 writing of Thy Spirit ; and chiefly the Apostle 
 Paul. Whereupon those difficulties vanished 
 away, wherein he once seemed to me to contra- 
 dict himself, and the text of his discourse not to 
 agree with the testimonies of the Law and the 
 Prophets. And the face of that pure word 
 appeared to me one and the same ; and I learned 
 to rejoice with trembling} So I began ; and 
 
 > Ps.ii. II. 
 
 189 
 
whatsoever truth I had read in those other books, 
 I found here amid the praise of Thy Grace ; that, 
 whoso sees, may not so glory as if he had not 
 received^ not only what he sees, but also that he 
 sees {for what hath he, which he hath not received ?), 
 and that he may be not only admonished to behold 
 Thee, Who art ever the same, but also healed, to 
 hold Thee ; and that he who cannot see afar off, 
 may yet walk on the wayj whereby he may arrive, 
 and behold, and hold Thee. For, though a man 
 he delighted with the law of God after the inner 
 man,^ what shall he do with that other law in his 
 members which warreth against the law of his mind, 
 and bringeth him into captivity to the law of sin 
 which is in his members ? ' For ^hou art right- 
 eous, O Lord, but we have sinned and committed 
 iniquity, and have done wickedly,*' and Thy hand 
 is grown heavy upon us, and we are justly delivered 
 over unto that ancient sinner, the king of death ; 
 because he persuaded our wiU to be like his will, 
 whereby he abode not in Thy truth. What shall 
 wretched man do ? who shall deliver him from the 
 body of this death, but only Thy Grace, through 
 Jesus Christ our Lord,^ whom Thou hast begotten 
 co-eternal, and formedst in the beginning of Thy 
 ways,^ in whom the frince of this world found 
 nothing worthy of death, ^ yet killed he Him ; and 
 
 • I Cor. iv. 7. ^ Rom. vii. 22. ' Rom. vii. 23. 
 
 • Song of the Three Children, 4 et seq. ' Rom. vii. 24. 
 
 • Prov. viii. 22. ^ John xiv. 30. 
 
 190 
 
^int au0U0tine 
 
 the handwriting, which was contrary to us, was 
 Hotted out ? ^ This those writings contain not. 
 Those pages present not the image of this piety, 
 the tears of confession, Thy sacrifice, a troubled 
 spirit, a broken and a contrite heart^ the salvation 
 of the people, the Bridal City,^ the earnest of the 
 Holy Ghost,* the Cup of our Redemption.^ No man 
 sings there. Shall not my soul be submitted unto 
 God ? for of Him cometh my salvation. For He is 
 my God and my salvation, my guardian, I shall no 
 more be moved^ No one there hears Him call, 
 Come unto Me, all ye that labour? They scorn to 
 learn of Him, because He is meek and lowly in heart ; 
 for these things hast Thou hid from the wise and 
 prudent, and hast revealed them unto babes? For it 
 is one thing, from the mountain's shaggy top to see 
 the land of peace, and to find no way thither ; * 
 and in vain to essay through ways unpassable, 
 opposed and beset by fugitives and deserters, under 
 their captain the lion and the dragon : and another 
 to keep on the way that leads thither, guarded 
 by the host of the heavenly General ; where they 
 spoil not who have deserted the heavenly army ; 
 for they avoid it, as very torment. These things 
 did wonderfully sink into my bowels, when I read 
 that least of Thy Apostles,^'' and had meditated 
 upon Thy works, and trembled exceedingly. 
 
 'Col. ii. 14. 2ps. li. 17. SRev. xxi. 2. *2Cor. v. 5. 
 
 « Ps. cxvi. 13. * Ps. Ixii. 1, 2. T Matt. xi. 28. « Ver. 29. 
 
 » Deut. xxxii. +9. ** 1 Cor. xv. 9. 
 
 191 
 
Ci^e Confe0jsiott0 ot 
 
 auflusttnt's tf)irt8=8wonti geat. f^e consultg SimplU 
 ctanitsi, from f)tm t^ats t!)f tliBtorg of ti)e cottb«:= 
 atott of IvTictotintts, anti longs to iebote Jimself 
 entirelB fo <@oti, liut is masteuif fig l^tB clir iiaiilB ; 
 is still furtJ)er rouseli iig t^e tistotg of St. Sntong, 
 aria t^e conbecsion of ttoo courtiets ; iuring a sebere 
 sttnqqlt, tears a boice from fteaben, opens Scripture, 
 anti is conbertelf, b}itt ibis frienti ^Igpius. |^is 
 moti^er's bision fulfillcir. 
 
 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, 
 Lord P ^ Thou hast broken my bonds in sunder, I 
 mil 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 
 
 ' Ps. XXXV. 10. ^ Ps. cxvi. 1 6, 17. ^ job. i. to. 
 
 192 
 
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 inc'oVrui3tible " suE'- 
 S tance, whence was all o ther ,s.ubgtan££. Trior cGd 
 1 now desirejto'bejmore certain of Thee, but 
 iriore steadfast in Thep. Kut 'ff^'r rnv tprnpnra!" 
 life, all was wavering, and my heart had to he 
 ■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 fuU ; 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 com- 
 
 1 I Cor. xiii. iz. * i Cor. v. 7. ^ John xiv. 6, 
 
 N 193 
 
Clje Confejfjsionji of 
 
 parison 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 en- 
 thralled. I had heard from the mouth of the 
 Truth, that there were some eunuchs which had 
 made themselves eunuchs for the kingdom ofheaverCs 
 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 aU 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, glori- 
 fied Him not as God, neither were thankfuU Into 
 this also had I fallen, but Thy right hand upheld 
 me^ and took me thence, and Thou placedst me 
 
 1 Ps. xxvi. %. ' I Cor. vii. 8. ' Matt. xix. 12. 
 
 ♦ Wiid. xiii. I. ' Rom. i. 21. ' Pt. xviii. 35. 
 
 194 
 
^aint augttjfttne 
 
 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 hesi- 
 tated. 
 
 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 
 behef 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 inti- 
 mately 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 
 
 ' Job xxviii. 28. * Prov. iii. 7. ' Rom. i. 21. 
 
 « Matt. xiii. 46. « Col. ii. 8. • Matt. xi. 25. 
 
C]^e Confejisiionji of 
 
 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 Thy- 
 self into that breast ? He used to read (as 
 Simplicianus said) the holy Scripture, most 
 studiously sought and searched into all the Chris- 
 tian writings, and said to Simplicianus (not 
 openly, but privately and as a friend), ' Under- 
 stand that I am already a Christian.' Whereto 
 he answered, ' I will not believe it, nor wiU I 
 
 * Ps. cxliv. 5. 
 196 
 
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 him- 
 self 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 
 
 » Ps. xxix. 5. ' Luke ix. 26. 
 
 197 
 
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 hofe 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, * Victor- 
 inus ! Victorinus ! ' Sudden was the burst of 
 rapture, that they saw him ; suddenly were they 
 hushed that they might hear him. He pro- 
 
 ' P». cxii. lo. ' Ps. xxxL 6 j xl. 4. 
 
 198 
 
nounced 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. 
 
 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, merci- 
 ful 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 hack upon the shepherd^ s shoulder, 
 and the groat is restored to 'Thy treasury, the neigh- 
 hours 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 
 
 > Luke XV. 7. " Ver. 5-9. 
 
 199 
 
€l)e Cottfejijslonjsl of 
 
 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 ; aU 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 pre- 
 cede 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 
 
 200 
 
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 aU 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. 
 
 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 heU 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 
 
 ' Cant. i. 4. ^ John i. 12, 
 
 201 
 
€]^e Confejs^ionis of 
 
 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 
 worlds 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 
 soundest forth these words, when through his 
 warfare, Paulus the Proconsul, his pride con- 
 quered, 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 
 
 ' I Cor. i. 27, 28. ' I Cor. xv, 9. 
 
 202 
 
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? 
 
 But when that man of Thine, Simphcianus, 
 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 froward 
 will, was a lust made ; and a lust served, became 
 custom ; and custom not resisted, became neces- 
 sity. By which links, as it were, joined together 
 (whence I called it a chain) a hard bondage held 
 me enthralled. By 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 
 
 » Matt. xii. 29. ' Luke xi. 22, 25. 
 
 * 2 Tim. ii. 21. * Wisd. x. 21. 
 
 203 
 
Cl^e ConfejSsliOttjS of 
 
 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 my- 
 self 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 encumbrances, 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 heav}' 
 
 ' Gal. V. 17. ' Rom. vii. iS. 
 
 204 
 
^aint augujstine 
 
 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 
 steepest, 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 
 wiUingly fell into it. Who then should deliver me 
 
 1 Eph. V. 14. ' Rom. vii. 22. 
 
 205 
 
Cl^e ConfeiS0ton0 of 
 
 thus wretched from the body of this death, but 'Thy 
 grace only, through Jesus Christ our Lord ? ^ 
 
 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, Lord, my heifer 
 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 friend- 
 ship, 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 
 
 I Ver. 24, 25. ' Pt. xix. 14. 
 
 206 
 
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), lo, 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 
 had thought it some of those books which I was 
 wearing myself in teaching. Whereat smiling, 
 and looking at me, he expressed his joy and won- 
 der that he had on a sudden found this book, and 
 this only before my eyes. For he was a Christian, 
 and baptized, 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 ser- 
 vants, 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 
 
 207 
 
Cl^e ConfejSjJtottjs of 
 
 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, 
 uU 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 upoi^ 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 con- 
 taining 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 Hfe, 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, 
 
 » Matt. V. 3. 
 208 
 
filled with a holy love and a sober shame, in 
 anger with himself he 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 
 
 ' Luke xiv. i6-35. 
 
 o 209 
 
€]^e Confei50iott0 of 
 
 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 them- 
 selves (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. 
 
 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 my- 
 self 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 / might fini 
 out mine iniquity, and hate it} I had known it, 
 
 ■ Ps. xxxvi. i. 
 
 210 
 
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 com- 
 pared with them. For many of my years (some 
 twelve) had now run out with me since my nine- 
 teenth, 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 con- 
 cupiscence, which I wished to have satisfied, 
 rather than extinguished. And I had wandered 
 through crooked ways in a sacrilegious super- 
 stition, not indeed assured thereof, but as pre- 
 ferring it to the others which I did not seek 
 religiously, but opposed maliciously. 
 
 I had thought, that I therefore deferred from 
 day to day to reject the hopes of this world, and 
 
 211 
 
Cl^e Cottfe?iji(on0 of 
 
 follow Thee only, because there did not appear 
 aught certain, whither to direct my course. And 
 now was the day calm 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 ten years and more 
 have been thinking thereon, have had their 
 shoulders lightened, and received wings to fly 
 away.' Thus was I gnawed within, and exceed- 
 ingly 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. 
 
 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 
 
 • Isa. xxTi. 20 J Matt. vi. 6. 
 212 
 
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 forced and We with our learning, 
 and without heart, lo, 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 health- 
 fully 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 indig- 
 nant that I entered not into Thy will and cove- 
 
 * Matt. xi. 12. 
 213 
 
Cl)e Confejsjstonjs of 
 
 nant, 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 fore- 
 head, 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 wiU thoroughly. 
 For in these things the ability was one with the 
 will, and to wiU 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 ac- 
 
 214 
 
compHsh in the will alone this its momentous 
 will. 
 
 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 wiU, 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 
 wiUeth : and, so far forth is the thing com- 
 manded, 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 wiU 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 up-borne, borne 
 
 215 
 
€^e ConfesJistonis of 
 
 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. 
 
 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, Te were sometimes 
 darkness, hut now light in the Lord? But they, 
 wishing to be light, not in the Lord, but in them- 
 selves, imagining the nature of the soul to be 
 that which God is, are made more gross dark- 
 ness through a dreadful arrogancy ; for that 
 they went hack farther from Thee, the true Light 
 that enlighteneth every man that cometh into the 
 world} Take heed what you say, and blush for 
 shame : draw near unto Him and he enlightened, 
 and your faces shall not he 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 
 
 1 Ps. Ixviii. 2. 2 Tit. i. lo. s gph, y. g. 
 
 * John i. 9. 6 Ps. xxxiv. 5. 
 
 216 
 
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 be 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 beheve 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 con- 
 flicting 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 
 
 ' Rom. vii. 17. 
 217 
 
Cl^e confeuistonjs of 
 
 more deny that where one deliberates, one soul 
 fluctuates between contrary wills. 
 
 Let them no more say, then, when they per- 
 ceive two conflicting wills in one man, that the 
 conflict is between two contrary souls, of two 
 contrary substances, from two contrary prin- 
 ciples, one good, and the other bad. For Thou, 
 O true God, dost disprove, check, and convict 
 them ; as when, both wills being bad, one deliber- 
 ates 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 aU 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 
 
 218 
 
all at once ? Do not divers wills distract the 
 mind, while he dehberates 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. 
 
 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 within 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 some- 
 what 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 
 
 219 
 
€lje ConfeiEi!2(ion0 of 
 
 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 fleshly 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 sug- 
 gested 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 defile- 
 ments did they suggest ! what shame ! And now 
 I much less than half heard them, 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 
 
 220 
 
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 ; arid Contin- 
 ence herself in all, not barren, but di 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 wiU heal thee.' And I blushed ex- 
 ceedingly, 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, hut not as 
 doth the law of the Lord thy God.'' ^ This contro- 
 versy in my heart was self against self only. But 
 Alypius, sitting close by my side, in silence waited 
 the issue of my unwonted emotion. 
 But when a deep consideration had from the 
 
 « Ps. cxix. 85. Old Ver. 
 
 221 
 
t:l^e €on(miom of 
 
 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 arose 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 ex- 
 tremely astonished. I cast myself down, I know 
 not how, under a certain fig-tree, giving fuU 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 
 to-morrow ? ' 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, 
 
 ' Ps. vi. 4. * Ps. Ixxix. 5, 8. 
 
 222 
 
~TtxL5C (DyscLT 5oaiu 
 
 iB!BHyif»l 
 
* 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 admoni- 
 tion, 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 fleshy 
 in concupiscence. No further would I read ; nor 
 needed I : for instantly, at the end of this sen- 
 tence, by a light as it were of serenity infused into 
 my heart, aU 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 
 
 • Matt. xix. 21. ' Rom. xiii. 13, 14. 
 
 223 
 
€l^e CotrfejijJionjsi of 
 
 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 farther 
 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 dis- 
 closed to me. And by this admonition was he 
 strengthened ; and by a good resolution and 
 purpose, and most corresponding to his char- 
 acter, 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 triumph- 
 eth, and blessed Thee, Who art 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 Thy- 
 self, so that I sought neither wife nor any hope 
 of this world, standing in that rule of faith where 
 Thou hadst sliowed 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. 
 
 1 Rom. xiv. I. * Eph. iii. ao. ' Ps. xxx. 1 1. 
 
 224 
 
^int auguistint 
 
 aufiujsttne irtennineB to tithoU fti» lift to ©oir, ani to 
 ataniion Jig profwaion of Itiietoric, qtiietls joto= 
 eber ; wtires to tfte countrs to prepare i^imself to 
 weibe ti)e grace of iSaptism, anli is iaptijeli toit|& 
 aiBptus, ani tt» son Elieoliatug. at ©gtia, in 
 $iB toas to africa, Jig motiifr ^onnica tiieg, in 
 Jer «ftB=giitt) gear, tje tSirtB=tt)irt of Sluflugtinf. 
 ?^er life anti cjatactet. 
 
 LORD, I am Thy servant ; I am Thy 
 servant, and the son of Thy handmaid ; 
 Thou hast broken my bonds in sunder. 
 I will offer to Thee the sacrifice of 
 -praise} Let my heart and my tongue praise 
 Thee ; yea, let all my bones say, O Lord, who is 
 like unto Thee ? Let them say, and answer Thou 
 me, and say unto my soul, I am thy salvation} 
 Who am I, and what am I ? What evil have not 
 been either my deeds, or if not my deeds, my 
 words, or if not my words, my will ? But Thou, 
 O Lord, art good and merciful, and Thy right 
 hand had respect unto the depth of my death, 
 and from the bottom of my heart emptied that 
 
 1 Ps. cxvi. i6, 17. ' Ps. XXXV. 10. 
 
 P 225 
 
Cl^e Confe0!Sion0 of 
 
 abyss of corruption. And this Thy whole gift 
 was, to nill what I willed, and to will what Thou 
 willedst. But where through all those years, and 
 out of what low and deep recess, was my free-will 
 called forth in a moment, whereby to submit my 
 neck to Thy easy yoke^ and my shoulders unto 
 Thy light burden, O Christ Jesus, my Helper and 
 my Redeemer ? ^ How sweet did it at once 
 become to me, to want the sweetnesses of those 
 toys ! and what I feared to be parted from, was 
 now a joy to part with. For Thou didst cast 
 them forth from me. Thou true and highest 
 sweetness. Thou castedst them forth, and for 
 them enteredst in Thyself, sweeter than all 
 pleasure, though not to flesh and blood ; brighter 
 than all light, but more hidden than all depths, 
 higher than all honour, but not to the high in their 
 own conceits. Now was my soul free from the 
 biting cares of canvassing and getting, and 
 weltering in filth, and scratching off the itch of 
 lust. And my infant tongue spake freely to Thee, 
 my brightness, and my riches, and my health, the 
 Lord my God. 
 
 And I resolved in Thy sight, not tumultuously 
 to tear, but gently to withdraw, the service of 
 my tongue from the marts of lip-labour : that 
 the young, no students in Thy law, nor in Thy 
 peace, but in lying dotages and law-skirmishes, 
 should no longer buy at my mouth arms for their 
 
 • Matt. xi. JO. * Ps. xix. 4. 
 
 226 
 
madness. And very seasonably, it now wanted 
 but very few days unto the vacation of the 
 vintage, and I resolved to endure them, then in 
 a regular way to take my leave, and having been 
 purchased by Thee, no more to return for sale. 
 Our purpose, then, was known to Thee ; but to 
 men, other than our own friends, was it not 
 known. For we had agreed among ourselves 
 not to let it out abroad to any : although to us, 
 now ascending from the valley of tears, and singing 
 that song of degrees. Thou hast given sharf arrows, 
 and destroying coals against the subtile tongue, 
 which, as though advising for us, would thwart, 
 and would out of love devour us, as it doth its 
 meat. 
 
 Thou hadst pierced our hearts with Thy 
 charity, and we carried Thy words as it were 
 fixed in our entrails : and the examples of Thy 
 servants, whom for black Thou hadst made bright, 
 and for dead, aUve, being piled together in the 
 receptacle of our thoughts, kindled and burned 
 up that our heavy torpor, that we should not 
 sink down to the abyss ; and they fired up so 
 vehemently, that all the blasts of subtle tongues 
 from gainsayers might only inflame us the more 
 fiercely, not extinguish us. Nevertheless, because 
 for Thy Name's sake, which Thou hast hallowed 
 throughout the earth, this our vow and purpose 
 might also find some to commend it, it seemed 
 like ostentation not to wait for the vacation now 
 
 227 
 
Cl^e ConfejSjStonjS of 
 
 so near, but to quit beforehand a public profession, 
 which was before the eyes of all ; so that all 
 looking on this act of mine, and observing how 
 near was the time of vintage which I wished to 
 anticipate, would talk much of me, as if I had 
 desired to appear some great one. And what 
 end had it served me, that people should repute 
 and dispute upon my purpose, and that our good 
 should be evil spoken of? ^ 
 
 Moreover, it had at first troubled me that in 
 this very summer my lungs began to give way, 
 amid too great literary labour, and to breathe 
 deeply with difficulty, and by the pain in my 
 chest to show that they were injured, and to 
 refuse any full or lengthened speaking ; this had 
 troubled me, for it almost constrained me of 
 necessity to lay down that burden of teaching, or, 
 if I could be cured and recover, at least to inter- 
 mit it. But when the full wish for leisure, that I 
 might see how that Thou art the Lord,^ arose and 
 was fixed in me, my God, Thou knowest, I began 
 even to rejoice that I had this secondary, and 
 that no feigned, excuse, which might something 
 moderate the offence taken by those who, for their 
 sons' sake, wished me never to have the freedom 
 of Thy sons. Full then of such joy, I endured 
 till that interval of time were run ; it may have 
 been some twenty days, yet they were endured 
 manfuUy ; endured, for the covetousness which 
 
 * Rom. xiv. 16. * Ps. xlvi. 10. 
 
 228 
 
aforetime bore a part of this heavy business had 
 left me, and I remained alone, and had been over- 
 whelmed, had not patience taken its place. Per- 
 chance, some of Thy servants, my brethren, may 
 say that I sinned in this, that with a heart fully 
 set on Thy service, I suffered myself to sit even 
 one hour in the chair of lies. Nor would I be 
 contentious. But hast not Thou, O most merci- 
 ful Lord, pardoned and remitted this sin also, 
 with my other most horrible and deadly sins, in 
 the holy water ? 
 
 Verecundus was worn down with care about 
 this our blessedness, for that being held back by 
 bonds, whereby he was most straitly bound, he 
 saw that he should be severed from us. For him- 
 self was not yet a Christian, his wife one of the 
 faithful ; and yet hereby, more rigidly than by 
 any other chain, was he let and hindered from the 
 journey which we had now essayed. For he would 
 not, he said, be a Christian on any other terms 
 than on those he could not. However, he offered 
 us courteously to remain at his country-house so 
 long as we should stay there. Thou, O Lord, 
 shalt reward him in the resurrection of the just^ 
 seeing Thou hast already given him the lot of the 
 righteous.^ For although, in our absence, being 
 now at Rome, he was seized with bodily sickness, 
 and therein being made a Christian, and one of 
 the faithful, he departed this life ; yet hadst Thou 
 
 ' Luke xiv. 14. ' Ps. cxxv. j. 
 
 229 
 
Cl^e €ontmion& of 
 
 m^rcy not on him only, but on us also : ^ lest, re- 
 membering the exceeding kindness of our friend 
 towards us, yet unable to number him among 
 Thy flock, we should be agonised with intoler- 
 able sorrow. Thanks unto Thee, our God, we 
 are Thine : Thy suggestions and consolations tell 
 us. Faithful in promises, Thou now requitest 
 Verecundus for his country-house of Cassiacum, 
 where from the fever of the world we reposed 
 in Thee, with the eternal freshness of Thy 
 Paradise : for that Thou hast forgiven him 
 his sins upon earth, in that rich mountain, 
 that mountain which yieldeth milk. Thine own 
 mountain. 
 
 He then had at that time sorrow, but Nebridius 
 joy. For although he also, not being yet a Chris- 
 tian, had fallen into the pit of that most per- 
 nicious error, believing the flesh of Thy Son to 
 be a phantom : yet emerging thence, he believed 
 as we did ; not as yet endued with any Sacra- 
 ments of Thy Church, but a most ardent searcher 
 out of truth. Whom, not long after our con- 
 version and regeneration by Thy Baptism, being 
 also a faithful member of the Church Catholic, 
 and serving Thee in perfect chastity and contin- 
 ence, amongst his people in Africa, his whole 
 house having through him first been made Chris- 
 tian, didst Thou release from the flesh ; and now 
 he lives in Abraham's bosom. Whatever that be 
 
 I Phil. ii. 27. 
 
 230 
 
which is signified by that bosom, there lives my 
 Nebridius, my sweet friend, and Thy child, O 
 Lord, adopted of a freed man : there he liveth. 
 For what other place is there for such a soul ? 
 There he liveth, whereof he asked much of me, 
 a poor inexperienced man. Now lays he not his 
 ear to my mouth, but his spiritual mouth unto 
 Thy fountain, and drinketh as much as he can 
 receive, wisdom in proportion to his thirst, end- 
 lessly happy. Nor do I think that he is so 
 inebriated therewith, as to forget me ; seeing 
 Thou, Lord, Whom he drinketh, art mindful of 
 us. So were we then ; comforting Verecundus, 
 who sorrowed, as far as friendship permitted, that 
 our conversion was of such sort ; and exhorting 
 him to become faithful, according to his measure, 
 namely, of a married estate ; and awaiting 
 Nebridius to follow us, which, being so near, he 
 was all but doing : and so, lo ! those days rolled 
 by at length ; for long and many they seemed, 
 for the love I bare to the easeful liberty, that I 
 might sing to Thee from my inmost marrow. My 
 heart hath said unto Thee, I have sought Thy face : 
 Thy face. Lord, will I seek} 
 
 Now was the day come wherein I was in deed 
 to be freed of my Rhetoric Professorship, whereof 
 in thought I was already freed. And it was done. 
 Thou didst rescue my tongue, whence Thou 
 hadst before rescued my heaft. And I blessed 
 
 ■ Ps. xxvii. 8. 
 231 
 
Cl^e €onfe00ioti:0 of 
 
 Thee, rejoicing ; retiring with all mine to the 
 villa. What I there did in writing, which was 
 now enlisted in Thy service, though still, in this 
 breathing-time as it were, panting from the 
 school of pride, my books may witness, as well 
 what I debated with others, as what with myself 
 alone, before Thee : what with Nebridius, who 
 was absent, my Epistles bear witness. And when 
 shall I have time to rehearse all Thy great benefits 
 towards us at that time, especially when hasting 
 on to yet greater mercies ? For my remembrance 
 recalls me, and pleasant is it to me, O Lord, to 
 confess to Thee, by what inward goads Thou 
 tamedst me ; and how Thou hast evened me, 
 lowering the mountains and hills of my high imagina- 
 tions, straightening my crookedness, and smoothing 
 my rough ways ; and how Thou also subduedst the 
 brother of my heart, Alypius, unto the Name of 
 Thy Only Bego ten, our Lord and Saviour Jesus 
 Christ, which he would not at first vouchsafe to 
 have inserted in our writings. For rather would 
 he have them savour of the lofty cedars of the 
 Schools, which the Lord hath now broken down} 
 than of the wholesome herbs of the Church, the 
 antidote against serpents. 
 
 Oh, in what accents spake I unto Thee, my 
 God, when I read the Psalms of David, those 
 faithful songs and sounds of devotion, which 
 allow of no swelling spirit, as yet a catechumen, 
 
 • Ps. xxix. 5. 
 232 
 
and a novice in Thy real love, resting in that villa, 
 with Alypius a catechumen, my mother cleaving 
 to us, in female garb, with masculine faith, with 
 the tranquillity of age, motherly love, Christian 
 piety ! Oh, what accents did I utter unto Thee 
 in those Psalms, and how was I by them kindled 
 towards Thee, and on fire to rehearse them, if 
 possible, through the whole world, against the 
 pride of mankind ! And yet they are sung 
 through the whole world, lior can any hide himself 
 from Thy heat} With what vehement and bitter 
 sorrow was I angered at the Manichees ! and 
 again I pitied them, for that they knew not those 
 Sacraments, those medicines, and were mad 
 against the antidote which might have recovered 
 them of their madness. How I would they 
 had then been somewhere near me, and, without 
 my knowing that they were there, could have 
 beheld my countenance, and heard my words, 
 when I read the fourth Psalm in that time of my 
 rest, and how that Psalm wrought upon me, When 
 I called, the God of my righteousness heard me ; in 
 tribulation Thou enlargedst me. Have mercy upon 
 me, O Lord, and hear my prayer.^ Would that 
 what I uttered on these words they could hear, 
 without my knowing whether they heard, lest 
 they should think I spake it for their sakes ! 
 Because, in truth, neither should I speak the same 
 things, nor in the same way, if I perceived that 
 
 I Ps. xix. 6. 2 Ps. iv. I. Old Vers. 
 
they heard and saw me ; nor if I spake them 
 would they so receive them, as when I spake by 
 and for myself before Thee, out of the natural 
 feelings of my soul. 
 
 I trembled for fear, and again kindled with 
 hope, and with rejoicing in Thy mercy, Father ; 
 and all issued forth both by mine eyes and voice, 
 when Thy good Spirit turning unto us, said, ye 
 sons of men, how long slow of heart ? why do ye love 
 vanity, and seek after leasing ? ^ For I had loved 
 vanity, and sought after leasing} And Thou, 
 Lord, hadst already magnified Thy Holy One, 
 raising Him from the dead, and setting Him at Thy 
 right hand^ whence from on high He should send 
 His promise, the Comforter, the Spirit of truth* 
 And He had already sent Him, but I knew it 
 not ; He had sent Him, because He was now 
 magnified, rising again from the dead, and ascend- 
 ing into heaven.® For till then the Spirit was 
 not yet given, because Jesus was not yet glorified? 
 And the prophet cries out, How long, slow of 
 heart ? why do ye love vanity, and seek after 
 leasing ? Know this, that the Lord hath magnified 
 His Holy One. He cries out, How long? He 
 cries out, Know this : and I so long, not knowing, 
 loved vanity, and sought after leasing : and there- 
 fore I heard and trembled, because it was spoken 
 
 1 Ps. iv. 2. Old Vers. » Ver. 3. ' Eph. i. 20. 
 
 * Luke xxiv. 49 ; John xiv. 16, 17. * Acts ii. 1-4. 
 
 • John vii. 39. 
 
 *34 
 
unto such as I remembered myself to have been, 
 For in those phantoms which I had held for 
 truths, was there vanity and leasing ; and I spake 
 aloud many things earnestly and forcibly, in 
 the bitterness of my remembrance. Which 
 would they had heard, who yet love vanity 
 and seek after leasing ! They would per- 
 chance have been troubled, and have vomited 
 it up ; and Thou wouldest hear them when they 
 cried unto Thee ; for by a true death in the flesh 
 did He die for us, who now intercedeth unto 
 Thee for us} 
 
 I further read, Be angry, and sin not} And 
 how was I moved, O my God, who had now 
 learned to be angry at myself for things past, 
 that I might not sin in time to come ! Yea, to 
 be justly angry ; for that it was not another 
 nature of a people of darkness which sinned for 
 me, as they say who are not angry at themselves, 
 and treasure up wrath against the day of wrath, 
 and of the revelation of Thy just judgment? Nor 
 were my good things now without, nor sought 
 with the eyes of flesh in that earthly sun ; for 
 they that would have joy from without soon be- 
 come vain, and waste themselves on the things 
 seen and temporal, and in their famished thoughts 
 do lick their very shadows. Oh that they were 
 wearied out with their famine, and said. Who will 
 show us good things?*^ And we would say, and 
 
 ' Rom. viii. 34. ' Eph. iv. 26. ' Rom. ii. 5. * Pt. iv. 6. 
 
€^e Confe?i!3iottjS of 
 
 they hear, The light of "Thy countenance is sealed 
 u-pon us} For we are not that light which en- 
 lighteneth every man,^ but we are enlightened by 
 Thee ; that having been sometimes darkness, we 
 may he light in nee} Oh that they could see 
 the eternal Internal^ which having tasted, I was 
 grieved that I could not show It them, so long 
 as they brought me their heart in their eyes, 
 roving abroad from Thee, while they said, Who 
 will show us good things F * For there, where I 
 was angry within myself in my chamber, where I 
 was inwardly pricked, where I had sacrificed, 
 slaying my old man and commencing the pur- 
 pose of a new life, -putting my trust in ^ee,^ 
 — there hadst Thou begun to grow sweet unto 
 me, and hadst put gladness in my heart.^ And 
 I cried out, as I read this outwardly, finding 
 it inwardly. Nor would I be multiplied 
 with worldly goods ; wasting away time, and 
 wasted by time ; whereas I had in Thy 
 eternal Simple Essence other corn, and wine, 
 and oil. 
 
 And with a loud cry of my heart I cried out in 
 the next verse, O in peace, O for The Self-same ! O 
 what said he ? — / will lay me down and sleeps for 
 who shall hinder us, when cometh to pass that saying 
 which is written, Death is swallowed up in victory ? * 
 
 • Ps. iv. 6. > John i. 9. » Eph. v. 8. 
 
 * Pb. iv. 6. 6 Ver. 5. ' Ver. 7. 
 
 » Ps. iv. 8. 8 I Cor. XV. 54. 
 
 236 
 
And Thou surpassingly art the Self-same, Who 
 art not changed ; and in Thee is rest which 
 forgetteth all toil, for there is none other with 
 Thee, nor are we to seek those many other 
 things, which are not what Thou art : but 
 Thou, Lord, alone hast made me dwell in ho-pe. 
 I read, and kindled ; nor found I what to do 
 to those deaf and dead, of whom myself 
 had been, a pestilent person, a bitter 
 and a bUnd bawler against those writings 
 which are honeyed with the honey of heaven, 
 and Ughtsome with Thine own light : and I 
 was consumed with zeal at the enemies of this 
 Scripture. 
 
 When shall I recall all which passed in those 
 holy-days ? Yet neither have I forgotten, nor 
 wiU I pass over, the severity of Thy scourge, and 
 the wonderful swiftness of Thy mercy. Thou 
 didst then torment me with pain in my teeth ; 
 which when it had come to such height that I 
 could not speak, it came into my heart to desire 
 all my friends present to pray for me to Thee, 
 the God of all manner of health. And this I 
 wrote on wax, and gave it them to read. Pre- 
 sently, so soon as with humble devotion we had 
 bowed our knees, that pain went away. But 
 what pain ? or how went it away ? I was 
 affrighted, O my Lord, my God ; for from 
 infancy I had never experienced the like. And 
 the power of Thy Nod was deeply conveyed to 
 
Cl^e €onUMonfi of 
 
 me, and rejoicing in faith, I praised Thy^ Name. 
 And that faith suffered me not to be at ease about 
 my past sins, which were not yet forgiven me by 
 Thy baptism. 
 
 The vintage-vacation ended, I gave notice to 
 the Milanese to provide their scholars with 
 another master to sell words to them ; for that 
 I had both made choice to serve Thee, and 
 through my difficulty of breathing and pain in 
 my chest was not equal to the Professorship. 
 And by letters I signified to Thy prelate, the 
 holy man Ambrose, my former errors and present 
 desires, begging his advice what of Thy Scriptures 
 I had best read, to become readier and fitter for 
 receiving so great grace. He recommended 
 Isaiah the Prophet : I believe, because he above 
 the rest is a more clear fore-shower of the Gospel 
 and of the calling of the Gentiles. But I, not 
 understanding the first lesson in him, and imagin- 
 ing the whole to be like it, laid it by, to be resumed 
 hereafter, being more practised in the words of 
 our Lord. 
 
 Thence, when the time was come wherein I 
 was to give in my name, we left the country and 
 returned to Milan. It pleased Alypius also to be 
 with me born again in Thee, being already clothed 
 with the humiUty befitting Thy Sacraments ; 
 and a most vaHant tamer of the body, so as, with 
 unwonted venture, to wear the frozen ground of 
 Italy with his bare feet. We joined with us the 
 
 238 
 
boy Adeodatus, born after the flesh, of my sin. 
 Excellently hadst Thou made him. He was not 
 quite fifteen, and in wit surpassed many grave 
 and learned men. I confess unto Thee Thy 
 gifts, O Lord my God, Creator of all, and abund- 
 antly able to reform our deformities : for I had 
 no part in that boy, but the sin. For that we 
 brought him up in Thy discipline, it was Thou, 
 none else, had inspired us with it. I confess unto 
 Thee Thy gifts. There is a book of ours entitled 
 'The Master ; it is a dialogue between him and 
 me. Thou knowest, that all there ascribed to the 
 person conversing with me were his ideas, in his 
 sixteenth year. Much besides, and yet more 
 admirable, I found in him. That talent struck 
 awe into me. And who but Thou could be the 
 work-master of such wonders ? Soon didst Thou 
 take his life from the earth : and I now remember 
 him without anxiety, fearing nothing for his 
 childhood or youth, or his whole self. Him we 
 joined with us, our contemporary in grace, to be 
 brought up in Thy discipline ; and we were 
 baptized, and anxiety for our past life vanished 
 from us. Nor was I sated in those days with the 
 wondrous sweetness of considering the depth of 
 Thy counsels concerning the salvation of man- 
 kind. How did I weep, in Thy hymns and 
 canticles, touched to the quick by the voices of 
 Thy sweet-attuned Church ! The voices flowed 
 into mine ears, and the Truth distilled into my 
 
 239 
 
Cl^e Confe00ton0 til 
 
 heart, whence the affections of my devotion over- 
 flowed, and tears ran down, and happy was I 
 therein. 
 
 Not long had the Church of Milan begun to 
 use this kind of consolation and exhortation, the 
 brethren zealously joining with harmony of voice 
 and hearts. For it was a year, or not much more, 
 that Justina, mother to the Emperor Valentinian, 
 a child, persecuted Thy servant Ambrose, in 
 favour of her heresy, to which she was seduced by 
 the Arians. The devout people kept watch in 
 the church, ready to die with their Bishop, Thy 
 servant. There my mother. Thy handmaid, 
 bearing a chief part of those anxieties and watch- 
 ings, lived for prayer. We, yet unwarmed by the 
 heat of Thy Spirit, still were stirred up by the 
 sight of the amazed and disquieted city. Then 
 it was first instituted that, after the manner of 
 the Eastern Churches, hymns and psalms should 
 be sung, lest the people should wax faint through 
 the tediousness of sorrow : and from that day to 
 this the custom is retained, divers (yea, almost 
 all) Thy congregations, throughout other parts 
 of the world, following herein. 
 
 Then didst Thou by a vision discover to Thy 
 fore-named Bishop where the bodies of Gervasius 
 and Protasius the martyrs lay hid (whom Thou 
 hadst in Thy secret treasury stored uncorrupted 
 so many years), whence Thou mightest seasonably 
 produce them to repress the fury of a woman, but 
 
 240 
 
^amt auguiaitine 
 
 an Empress. For when they were discovered 
 and dug up, and with due honour translated to 
 the Ambrosian BasiHca, not only they who were 
 vexed with unclean spirits (the devils confessing 
 themselves) were cured, but a certain man who 
 had for many years been blind, a citizen, and well 
 known to the city, asking and hearing the reason 
 of the people's confused joy, sprang forth, desiring 
 his guide to lead him thither. Led thither, he 
 begged to be allowed to touch with his handker- 
 chief the bier of Thy saints, whose death is precious 
 in Thy sight} Which when he had done, and put 
 to his eyes, they were forthwith opened. Thence 
 did the fame spread, thence Thy praises glowed, 
 shone ; thence the mind of that enemy, though 
 not turned to the soundness of believing, was yet 
 turned back from her fury of persecuting. Thanks 
 to Thee, O my God. Whence and whither hast 
 Thou thus led my remembrance, that I should 
 confess these things also unto Thee ? — which 
 great though they be, I had passed by in forget- 
 fulness. And yet then, when the odour of Thy 
 ointments was so fragrant, did we not run after 
 Thee? Therefore did I more weep among the 
 singing of Thy hymns, formerly sighing after 
 Thee, and at length breathing in Thee, as far as 
 the breath may enter into this our house of grass. 
 Thou that makest men to dwell of one mind in 
 one house, ^ didst join with us Euodius also, a young 
 
 ' Ps. cxvi. 15. Cant. i. 2, 3. ' Ps. Ixviii. 6. 
 
 Q 241 
 
Ci^e Confej2ij5iott0 of 
 
 man of our own city; who, being an officer of 
 Court, was before us converted to Thee and 
 baptized : and quitting his secular warfare, girded 
 himself to Thine. We were together, about to 
 dwell together in our devout purpose. We 
 sought where we might serve Thee most usefully, 
 and were together returning to Africa : whither- 
 ward, being as far as Ostia, my mother departed 
 this life. Much I omit, as hastening much. 
 Receive my confessions and thanksgivings, O my 
 God, for innumerable things whereof I am silent. 
 But I will not omit whatsoever my soul would 
 bring forth concerning that Thy handmaid, who 
 brought me forth, both in the flesh, that I might 
 be born to this temporal Hght, and in heart, that 
 I might be born to Light eternal. Not her gifts, 
 but Thine in her, would I speak of ; for neither 
 did she make nor educate herself. Thou createdst 
 her ; nor did her father and mother know what a 
 one should come from them. And the sceptre 
 of Thy Christ, the discipline of Thine only Son, 
 in a Christian house, a good member of Thy 
 Church, educated her in Thy fear. Yet for her 
 good discipline was she wont to commend, not so 
 much her mother's diligence, as that of a certain 
 decrepit maid-servant, who had carried her father 
 when a child, as little ones use to be carried at 
 the backs of elder girls. For which reason, and 
 for her great age, and excellent conversation, was 
 she, in that Christian family, well respected by 
 
 242 
 
its heads. Whence also the charge of her master's 
 daughters was intrusted to her, to which she gave 
 diUgent heed, restraining them earnestly, when 
 necessary, with a holy severity, and teaching them 
 with a grave discretion. For, except at those 
 hours wherein they were most temperately fed at 
 their parents' table, she would not suffer them, 
 though parched with thirst, to drink even water ; 
 preventing an evil custom, and adding this whole- 
 some advice : ' Ye drink water now, because you 
 have not wine in your power ; but when you 
 come to be married, and be made mistresses of 
 cellars and cupboards, you will scorn water, but 
 the custom of drinking will abide.' By this 
 method of instruction, and the authority she had, 
 she refrained the greediness of childhood, and 
 moulded their very thirst to such an excellent 
 moderation that what they should not, that they 
 would not. 
 
 And yet (as Thy handmaid told me her son) 
 there had crept upon her a love of wine. For 
 when (as the manner was) she, as though a sober 
 maiden, was bidden by her parents to draw wine 
 out of the hogshead, holding the vessel under the 
 opening, before she poured the wine into the 
 flagon, she sipped a little with the tip of her lips ; 
 for more her instinctive feelings refused. For 
 this she did, not out of any desire of drink, but out 
 of the exuberance of youth, whereby it boils over 
 in mirthful freaks, which in youthful spirits are 
 
 243 
 
C^e Confe$0ionjai of 
 
 wont to be kept under by the gravity of their 
 elders. And thus by adding to that Httle, daily 
 littles (/or whoso despiseth little things shall fall 
 by little and little ^), she had fallen into such a 
 habit as greedily to drink off her little cup brim- 
 full almost of wine. Where was then that discreet 
 old woman, and that her earnest countermand- 
 ing ? Would aught avail against a secret disease, 
 if Thy healing hand, O Lord, watched not over 
 us ? Father, mother, and governors absent. 
 Thou present, Who createdst, who callest, who 
 also by those set over us workest something 
 towards the salvation of our souls, what didst 
 Thou then, O my God ? how didst Thou cure 
 her ? how heal her ? Didst Thou not out of 
 another soul bring forth a hard and a sharp taunt, 
 like a lancet out of Thy secret store, and with one 
 touch remove all that foul stuff ? For a maid- 
 servant with whom she used to go to the cellar, 
 falling to words (as it happens) with her little 
 mistress, when alone with her, taunted her with 
 this fault, with most bitter insult calling her 
 winebibber. With which taunt she, stung to the 
 quick, saw the foulness of h^r fault, and instantly 
 condemned and forsook it. As flattering friends 
 pervert, so reproachful enemies mostly correct. 
 Yet not what by them Thou doest, but what 
 themselves purposed, dost Thou repay them. 
 For she in her anger sought to vex her young 
 
 ' Ecclus. xix. I. 
 244 
 
mistress, not to amend her ; and did it in private, 
 either for that the time and place of the quarrel 
 so found them, or lest herself also should have 
 anger for discovering it thus late. But Thou, 
 Lord, Governor of all in heaven and earth, who 
 turnest to Thy purposes the deepest currents, 
 and the ruled turbulence of the tide of times, 
 didst by the very unhealthiness of one soul heal 
 another ; lest any, when he observes this, should 
 ascribe it to his own power, even when another, 
 whom he wished to be reformed, is reformed 
 through words of his. 
 
 Brought up thus modestly and soberly, and 
 made subject rather by Thee to her parents, 
 than by her parents to Thee, so soon as she was 
 of marriageable age, being bestowed upon a 
 husband, she served him as her lord ; and did hier 
 diligence to win him unto Thee, preaching Thee 
 unto him by her conversation ; hy which Thou 
 ornamentedst her, making her reverently amiable 
 and admirable unto her husband. And she so 
 endured the wronging of her bed as never to have 
 any quarrel with her husband thereon. For she 
 looked for Thy mercy upon him, that, believing 
 in Thee, he might be made chaste. But besides 
 this, he was fervid, as in his affections, so in 
 anger : but she had learnt not to resist an 
 angry husband, not in deed only^ but not even 
 in word. Only when he was smoothed and 
 tranquil, and in a temper to receive it, she 
 
 245 
 
Cl^e ConfeiEij2iion0 of 
 
 would give an account of her actions, if 
 haply he had over-hastily taken offence. In a 
 word, while many matrons, who had milder 
 husbands, yet bore even in their faces marks of 
 shame, would in familiar talk blame their hus- 
 bands' lives, she would blame their tongues, giving 
 them, as in jest, earnest advice : ' That from the 
 time they heard the marriage writings read to 
 them, they should account them as indentures, 
 whereby they were made servants ; and so, 
 remembering their condition, ought not to set 
 themselves up against their lords.' And when 
 they, knowing what a choleric husband she endured, 
 marvelled that it had never been heard, nor by 
 any token perceived, that Patricius had beaten 
 his wife, or that there had been any domestic 
 difference between them, even for one day, and 
 confidentially asked the reason, she taught them 
 her practice above mentioned. Those wives who 
 observed it found the good, and returned thanks ; 
 those who observed it not, found no relief, and 
 suffered. 
 
 Her mother-in-law also, at first by whisperings 
 of evil servants incensed against her, she so over- 
 came by observance and persevering endurance 
 and meekness, that she of her own accord dis- 
 covered to her son the meddhng tongues whereby 
 the domestic peace betwixt her and her daughter- 
 in-law had been disturbed, asking him to correct 
 them. Then, when in compliance with his 
 
 246 
 
^aint augujs(tine 
 
 mother, and for the well ordering of the family, 
 and the harmony of its members, he had with 
 stripes corrected those discovered, at her will 
 who had discovered them, she promised the like 
 reward to any who, to please her, should speak ill 
 of her daughter-in-law to her : and, none now 
 venturing, they lived together with a remarkable 
 sweetness of mutual kindness. 
 
 This great gift also Thou bestowedst, O my 
 God, my mercy, upon that good handmaid of 
 Thine, in whose womb Thou createdst me, that 
 between any disagreeing and discordant parties 
 where she was able, she showed herself such a 
 peacemaker, that hearing on both sides most 
 bitter things, such as swelling and indigested 
 choler uses to break out into, when the crudities 
 of enmities are breathed out in sour discourses 
 to a present friend against an absent enemy, she 
 never would disclose aught of the one unto the 
 other, but what might tend to their reconcile- 
 ment. A small good this might appear to me, 
 did I not to my grief know numberless persons 
 who, through some horrible and wide-spreading 
 contagion of sin, not only disclose to persons 
 mutually angered things said in anger, but add 
 withal things never spoken, whereas to humane 
 humanity it ought to seem a light thing not 
 to foment or increase iU will by ill words, unless 
 one study withal by good words to quench it. 
 Such was she. Thyself, her most inward 
 
 247 
 
Cl^e €onfe!8!8ion0 of 
 
 Instructor, teaching her in the school of the 
 heart. 
 
 Finally, her own husband, towards the very end 
 of his earthly life, did she gain unto Thee ; nor 
 had she to complain of that in him as a beUever, 
 which before he was a believer she had borne 
 from him. She was also the servant of Thy ser- 
 vants ; whosoever of them knew her, did in her 
 much praise and honour and love Thee ; for that 
 through the witness of the fruits of a holy con- 
 versation they perceived Thy presence in her 
 heart. For she had been the wife of one man, had 
 requited her -parents, had governed her house piously, 
 was well re-ported of for good works, had brought up 
 children^ so often travailing in birth of them^ as 
 she saw them swerving from Thee. Lastly, of 
 all of us Thy servants, O Lord (whom on occasion 
 of Thy own gift Thou suflFerest to speak), us, who 
 before her sleeping in Thee lived united together, 
 having received the grace of Thy baptism, did 
 she so take care of, as though she had been mother 
 of us all ; so served us, as though she had been 
 child to us aU. 
 
 The day now approaching whereon she was to 
 depart this hfe (which day Thou well knewest, we 
 knew not), it came to pass, Thyself, as I believe, 
 by Thy secret ways so ordering it, that she and I 
 stood alone, leaning in a certain window, which 
 looked into the garden of the house where we now 
 
 ' I Tim. V. 4, 9, lo. 2 Gal. iv. 19. 
 
 248 
 
C He t : ceRN.\ii Live ( )f chc^ 
 
 
^aint 9iugU!Eitine 
 
 lay, at Ostia ; where, removed from the din of 
 men, we were recruiting from the fatigues of a 
 long journey, for the voyage. We were dis- 
 coursing then together, alone, very sweetly ; and 
 forgetting those things which are behind, and reach- 
 ing forth unto those things which ars before^ we 
 were inquiring between ourselves in the presence 
 of the Truth, which Thou art, of what sort the 
 eternal life of the saints was to be, which eye hath 
 not seen, nor ear heard, nor hath it entered into the 
 heart of man} But yet we gasped with the mouth 
 of our heart after those heavenly streams of Thy 
 fountain, the fountain of life, which is with 'Thee ; ^ 
 that being bedewed thence according to our 
 capacity, we might in some sort meditate upon so 
 high a mystery. 
 
 And when our discourse was brought to that 
 point, that the very highest delight of the earthly 
 senses, in the very purest material light, was, in 
 respect of the sweetness of that life, not only 
 not worthy of comparison, but not even of men- 
 tion ; we raising up ourselves with a more glowing 
 affection towards the ' Self-same,' did by degrees 
 pass through all things bodily, even the very 
 heaven whence sun and moon and stars shine upon 
 the earth ; yea, we were soaring higher yet, by 
 inward musing, and discourse, and admiring of 
 Thy works ; and we came to our own minds, and 
 went beyond them, that we might arrive at that 
 
 * Phil. iii. 13. ^1 Cor. ii. 9. ^ Ps. xxxvi. y. 
 
 249 
 
€]^e Confe^^ion? of 
 
 region of never-failing plenty, where 'Thou feedest 
 Israel ^ for ever virith the food of truth, and where 
 life is the Wisdom by whom all these things are 
 made, and what have been, and what shall be, 
 and she is not made, but is, as she hath been, and 
 so shall she be ever ; yea rather, to ' have been,' 
 and ' hereafter to be,' are not in her, but only 
 ' to be,' seeing she is eternal. For to ' have been,' 
 and to ' be hereafter,' are not eternal. And 
 while we were discoursing and panting after her, 
 we slightly touched on her with the whole effort 
 of our heart ; and we sighed, and there we leave 
 bound the first fruits of the Sprit ; ^ and returned 
 to vocal expressions of our mouth, where the word 
 spoken has beginning and end. And what is like 
 unto Thy Word, our Lord, who endureth in Him- 
 self v/ithout becoming old, and maketh all things 
 new P * 
 
 We were saying, then : If to any the tumult of 
 the flesh were hushed, hushed the images of earth, 
 and waters, and air, hushed also the poles of 
 heaven, yea, the very soul be hushed to herself, 
 and by not thinking on self surmount self, hushed 
 all dreams and imaginary revelations, every tongue 
 and every sign, and whatsoever exists only in 
 transition, since if any could hear, all these say, 
 We made not ourselves, but He made us that abideth 
 for ever, if then, having uttered this, they too 
 should be hushed, having roused only our ears 
 
 • Ps. Ixxx. I. 2 Rom. viii. 23. ^ Wisd. vii. 27. 
 
 250 
 
to Him who made them, and He alone speak, not 
 by them, but by Himself, that we may hear His 
 Word, not through any tongue of flesh, nor 
 Angel's voice, nor sound of thunder, nor in the 
 dark riddle of a similitude, but might hear Whom 
 in these things we love, might hear His Very Self 
 without these (as we two now strained ourselves, 
 and in swift thought touched on that Eternal 
 Wisdom which abideth over all) ; — could this be 
 continued on, and other visions of kind far unlike 
 be withdrawn, and this one ravish, and absorb, 
 and wrap up its beholder amid these inward 
 joys, so that life might be for ever like that 
 one moment of understanding which now we 
 sighed after ; were not this. Enter into thy 
 Master's joy ? ^ And when shall that be ? When 
 we shall all rise again, though we shall not all he 
 changed,} 
 
 Such things was I speaking, and even if not in 
 this very manner, and these same words, yet. 
 Lord, Thou knowest that in that day when we 
 were speaking of these things, and this world with 
 all its delights became, as we spake, contemptible 
 to us, my mother said, ' Son, for mine own part, 
 I have no further delight in any thing in this 
 Ufe. What I do here any longer, and to what 
 end I am here, I know not, now that my hopes 
 in this world are accomplished. One thing there 
 was for which I desired to linger for a while in 
 
 1 Matt. xxr. ai. * i Cor. xv. 51. — Vulg., etc. 
 
 251 
 
Cl^e €ontt^^iom of 
 
 this life, that I might see thee a Catholic Christian 
 before I died. My God hath done this for me 
 more abundantly, that I should now see thee 
 withal despising earthly happiness, become His 
 servant : what do I here ? ' 
 
 What answer I made her unto these things, I 
 remember not. For scarce five days after, or not 
 much more, she fell sick of a fever ; and in that 
 sickness one day she fell into a swoon, and was for 
 a while withdrawn from these visible things. We 
 hastened round her ; but she was soon brought 
 back to her senses ; and looking on me and my 
 brother standing by her, said to us inquiringly, 
 ' Where was I ? ' And then looking fixedly on 
 us, with grief amazed : ' Here,' saith she, ' shall 
 you bury your mother.' I held my peace and 
 refrained weeping ; but my brother spake some- 
 thing, wishing for her, as the happier lot, that she 
 . might die, not in a strange place, but in her own 
 land. Whereat, she with anxious look, checking 
 him with her eyes, for that he still savoured such 
 things, and then looking upon me : ' Behold,' 
 saith she, ' what he saith ' : and soon after to us 
 both, ' Lay,' she saith, ' this body any where ; 
 let not the care for that any way disquiet you : 
 this only I request, that you would remember me 
 at the Lord's altar, wherever you be.' And 
 having delivered this sentiment in what words 
 she could, she held her peace, being exercised by 
 her growing sickness. 
 
 252 
 
^aint augujstiite 
 
 But I, considering Thy gifts, Thou unseen God, 
 which Thou instillest into the hearts of Thy 
 faithful ones, whence wondrous fruits do spring, 
 did rejoice and give thanks to Thee, recalling 
 what I before knew, how careful and anxious she 
 had ever been as to her place of burial, which she 
 had provided and prepared for herself by the 
 body of her husband. For because they had lived 
 in great harmony together, she also wished (so 
 little can the human mind embrace things divine) 
 to have this addition to that happiness, and to 
 have it remembered among men, that after her 
 pilgrimage beyond the seas, what was earthly of 
 this united pair had been permitted to be united 
 beneath the same earth. But when this empti- 
 ness had through the fulness of Thy goodness 
 begun to cease in her heart, I knew not, and 
 rejoiced admiring what she had so disclosed to 
 me; though indeed in that our discourse also 
 in the window when she said, * What do I here 
 any longer ? ' there appeared no desire of dying 
 in her own country. I heard afterwards, also, 
 that when we were now at Ostia, she with a 
 mother's confidence, when I was absent, one day 
 discoursed with certain of my friends about the 
 contempt of this life, and the blessing of death : 
 and when they were amazed at such courage 
 which Thou hadst given to a woman, and asked, 
 ' Whether she were not afraid to leave her body 
 so far from her own city ? ' she replied, ' Nothing 
 
 253 
 
Cl^e Cottfe00iott0 of 
 
 is far to God ; nor was it to be feared lest at the 
 eud of the world He should not recognise whence 
 He were to raise me up.' On the ninth day then 
 of her sickness, and the fifty-sixth year of her age, 
 and the three-and-thirtieth of mine, was that 
 religious and holy soul freed from the body. 
 
 I closed her eyes ; and there flowed withal a 
 mighty sorrow into my heart, which was over- 
 flowing into tears ; mine eyes at the same time, 
 by the violent command of my mind, drank up 
 their fountain wholly dry ; and woe was me in 
 such a strife ! But when she breathed her last, 
 the boy Adeodatus burst out into a loud lament ; 
 then, checked by us aU, held his peace. In like 
 manner also a childish feeling in me, which was, 
 through my heart's youthful voice, finding its 
 vent in weeping, was checked and silenced. For 
 we thought it not fitting to solemnise that funeral 
 with tearful lament, and groanings ; for thereby 
 do they for the most part express grief for the 
 departed, as though unhappy, or altogether dead ; 
 whereas she was neither unhappy in her death, 
 nor altogether dead. Of this we were assured 
 on good grounds, the testimony of her good con- 
 versation and her faith unfeigned. 
 
 What then was it which did grievously pain me 
 within, but a fresh wound wrought through the 
 sudden wrench of that most sweet and dear 
 custom of living together ? I joyed indeed in 
 her testimony, when, in that her last sickness, 
 
 254 
 
mingling her endearments with my acts of duty, 
 she called me ' dutiful,' and mentioned, with 
 great affection of love, that she never had heard 
 any harsh or reproachful sound uttered by my 
 mouth against her. But yet, O my God, Who 
 madest us, what comparison is there betwixt that 
 honour that I paid to her, and her slavery for me ? 
 Being then forsaken of so great comfort in her, 
 my soul was wounded, and that life rent asunder 
 as it were, which, of hers and mine together, had 
 been made but one. 
 
 The boy then being stilled from weeping, 
 Euodius took up the Psalter, and began to sing, 
 our whole house answering him, the psalm, / zoill 
 sing of mercy and judgment to Thee, Lord} But 
 hearing what we were doing, many brethren and 
 reUgious women came together ; and whilst they 
 (whose office it was) made ready for the burial, as 
 the manner is, I (in a part of the house, where I 
 might properly), together with those who thought 
 not fit to leave me, discoursed upon something 
 fitting the time ; and by this balm of truth 
 assuaged that torment, known to Thee, they un- 
 knowing and Ustening intently, and conceiving me 
 to be without all sense of sorrow. But in Thy 
 ears, where none of them heard, I blamed the 
 weakness of my feelings, and refrained my flood 
 of grief, which gave way a little unto me ; but 
 again came, as with a tide, yet not so as to burst 
 
 > Ps. ci. 
 
C^e €on0e03Sion0 of 
 
 out into tears, nor to a change of countenance ; 
 still, I knew what I was keeping down in my heart. 
 And being very much displeased that these 
 human things had such power over me, which in 
 the due order and appointment of our natural 
 condition must needs come to pass, with a new 
 grief I grieved for my grief, and was thus worn 
 by a double sorrow. 
 
 And behold, the corpse was carried to the 
 burial ; we went and returned without tears. 
 For neither in those prayers which we poured 
 forth unto Thee, when the Sacrifice of our 
 ransom was offered for her, when now the corpse 
 was by the grave's side, as the manner there is, 
 previous to its being laid therein, did I weep even 
 during those prayers ; yet was I the whole day 
 in secret heavily sad, and with troubled mind 
 prayed Thee, as I could, to heal my sorrow, yet 
 Thou didst not ; impressing, I believe, upon my 
 memory, by this one instance, how strong is the 
 bond of all habit, even upon a soul which now 
 feeds upon no deceiving Word. It seemed also 
 good to me to go and bathe, having heard that 
 the bath had its name (balneum) from the Greek 
 ^aXavelov, for that it drives sadness from the mind. 
 And this also I confess unto Thy mercy. Father of 
 the fatherless,^ that I bathed, and was the same as 
 before I bathed. For the bitterness of sorrow 
 could not exsude out of my heart. Then I slept, 
 
 1 Ps. Ixviii. 5. 
 256 
 
and woke up again, and found my grief not a 
 little softened ; and as I was alone in my bed, I 
 remembered those true verses of Thy Ambrose. 
 For Thou art the 
 
 « Maker of all, the Lord, 
 
 And Ruler of the height. 
 Who, robing day in light, hast poured 
 
 Soft slumbers o'er the night. 
 That to our limbs the power 
 
 Of toil may be renewed, 
 And hearts be raised that sink and cower. 
 
 And sorrows be subdued.' 
 
 And then by little and little I recovered my 
 former thoughts of Thy handmaid, her holy con- 
 versation towards Thee, her holy tenderness and 
 observance towards us, whereof I was suddenly 
 deprived : and I was minded to . weep in Thy 
 s'ght, for her and for myself, in her behalf and in 
 my own. And I gave way to the tears which I 
 before restrained, to overflow as much as they 
 desired ; reposing my heart upon them ; and it 
 found rest in them, for it was in Thy ears, not in 
 those of man, who would have scornfully inter- 
 preted my weeping. And now. Lord, in writing 
 I confess it unto Thee. Read it who will, and 
 interpret it how he will : and if he finds sin 
 therein, that I wept my mother for a small 
 portion of an hour (the mother who for the time 
 was dead to mine eyes, who had for many years 
 wept for me that I might live in Thine eyes), let 
 R 257 
 
him not deride me ; but rather, if he be one of 
 large charity, let him weep himself for my sins 
 unto Thee, the Father of all the brethren of Thy 
 Christ. 
 
 But now, with a heart cured of that wound, 
 wherein it might seem blameworthy for an earthly 
 feeling, I pour out unto Thee, our God, in behalf 
 of that Thy handmaid, a- far different kind of 
 tears, flowing from a spirit shaken by the thoughts 
 of the dangers of every soul that dieth in Adam.} 
 And although she, having been quickened in 
 Christ, even before her release from the flesh, 
 had lived to the praise of Thy name for her faith 
 and conversation ; yet dare I not say that from 
 what time Thou regeneratedst her by baptism, 
 no word issued from her mouth against Thy 
 commandment.* Thy Son, the Truth, hath 
 said, Whosoever shall say unto his brother, Thou fool, 
 shall he in danger of hell fire? And woe be even 
 unto the commendable life of men, if, laying 
 aside mercy. Thou shouldest examine it. But 
 because Thou art not extreme in inquiring after 
 sins, we confidently hope to find some place with 
 Thee. But whosoever reckons up his real merits 
 to Thee, what reckons he up to Thee but Thine 
 own gifts ? O that men would know themselves 
 to be men ; and that he that glorieth would glory in 
 the Lord} 
 
 ' I Cor. XV. 22. ' Matt. xii. 36. 
 
 ' Matt. V. 22. * I Cor. x. 17. 
 
 258 
 
I therefore, O my Praise and my Life, God of 
 my heart, laying aside for a while her good deeds, 
 for which I give thanks to Thee with joy, do now 
 beseech Thee for the sins of my mother. Hearken 
 unto me, I entreat Thee, by the Medicine of our 
 wounds. Who hung upon the tree, and now sitting 
 at Thy right hand maketh intercession to Thee for 
 us} I know that she dealt mercifully, and from 
 her heart forgave her debtors their debts ; do Thou 
 also forgive her debts,^ whatever she may have 
 contracted in so many years, since the water of 
 salvation. Forgive her. Lord, forgive, I beseech 
 Thee ; enter not into judgment with heri^ Let Thy 
 mercy be exalted above Thy justice,^ since Thy 
 words are true, and Thou hast fromised mercy unto 
 the merciful ; ® which Thou gavest them to be, 
 who wilt have mercy on whom Thou wilt have mercy ; 
 and wilt have compassion on whom Thou hast had 
 compassion.^ 
 
 And I believe Thou hast already done what 
 I ask ; but accept, O Lord, the free-will offerings of 
 my mouth.'' For she, the day of her dissolution 
 now at hand, took no thought to have her body 
 sumptuously wound up, or embalmed with spices ; 
 nor desired she a choice monument, or to be buried 
 in her own land. These things she enjoined us 
 not; but desired only to have her name com- 
 
 1 Rom. viii. 34. ^ Matt, xviii. 35 ; vi. 12. 
 
 ' Ps. cxliii. s. * James ii. 13. * Matt. v. 7. 
 
 • Rom. ix. 15. . ' Ps. cxix. 108. 
 
 259 
 
C^e Confessions? of 
 
 memorated at Thy Altar, which she had served 
 without intermission of one day : whence she 
 knew that holy Sacrifice to be dispensed, by 
 which the handwriting that was against us is 
 blotted out ; ^ through which the enemy was 
 triumphed over who, summing up our offences, 
 and seeking what to lay to our charge, found 
 nothing in Him^ in Whom we conquer. Who 
 shall restore to Him the innocent blood ? who 
 repay Him the price wherewith He bought us, 
 and so take us from Him ? Unto the Sacrament 
 of which our Ransom, Thy handmaid bound her 
 soul by the bond of faith. Let none sever her 
 from Thy protection : let neither the lion nor the 
 dragon ' interpose himself by force or fraud. For 
 she will not answer that she owes nothing, lest 
 she be convicted and seized by the crafty accuser : 
 but she will answer that her sins are forgiven her 
 by Him, to Whom none can repay that price 
 which He, Who owed nothing, paid for us. 
 
 May she rest then in peace with the husband, 
 before and after whom she had never any ; whom 
 she obeyed, with •patience bringing forth fruit * unto 
 Thee, that she might win him also unto Thee. 
 And inspire, O Lord my God, inspire Thy ser- 
 vants my brethren. Thy sons my masters, whom 
 with voice, and heart, and pen I serve, that so 
 many as shall read these Confessions, may at Thy 
 
 • Col. ii. 14. * John xiv. 30. 
 
 • Ps. xci. 13. * Luke viii. 15. 
 
 260 
 
^aint augujsttne 
 
 Altar remember Monnica Thy handmaid, with 
 Patricius, her sometime husband, by whose 
 bodies Thou broughtest me into this life — ^how, 
 I know not. May they with devout aflFection 
 remember my parents in this transitory light, my 
 brethren under Thee our Father in our CathoUc 
 Mother, and my fellow-citizens in that eternal 
 Jerusalem which Thy pilgrim people sigheth after 
 from their Exodus even unto their return thither : 
 that so, my mother's last request of me may 
 through my confessions, more than through my 
 prayers, be, through the prayers of many, more 
 abundantly fulfilled to her. 
 
 261 
 
Cl^e Confe00ton0 of 
 
 Cfje Centl) iSooli 
 
 Jl^abmg in t^e fotmcc fiooltB spolien of 5<w«flf fiefote fn» 
 tecetbtng t^^ srace of ISapttsm, in tfiis lugustine 
 confesses iutat f)e tfien h)as. iSut first, fit mqmt» 
 fiS tofiat faculty toe can iknoto <@oti at all ; \Df)tnn 
 fie enlarges on tfie mysterious ei^aratter of ti)t 
 mentors, tofierein ^ott, teing matre itnoton, tftoells, 
 tut tofiicS court not tiiscober 3^im. tSTfien te ei= 
 amines f)is oton trials untier tfie triple liibision of 
 temptation, ' lust of t^e flestj, lust of t^e eges, anb 
 pribe ' ; tufiat (iCfiristian continencs prescribes as to 
 eac$. ®n dt^mt, tfie ®nlfi ^ebiator, bifio teals 
 anif b)ill fieal all infirmities. 
 
 JET me know Thee, O Lord, who 
 knowest me : let me know Thee, as I 
 am kiiown} Power of my soul, enter 
 into it, and fit it for Thee, that Thou 
 mayest have and hold it without spot or wrinkle.^ 
 This is my hope, therefore do I speak ; ' and in 
 this hope do I rejoice, when I rejoice healthfully. 
 Other things of this life are the less to be sorrowed 
 for, the more they are sorrowed for ; and the 
 more to be sorrowed for, the less men sorrow for 
 
 ' I Cor. xiii. ii. ' Eph. v. 27. ' Ps. cxvi. 10. 
 
 262 
 
them. For behold. Thou lovest the truth^ and he 
 that doeth it, cometh to the light.^ This would I 
 do in my heart before Thee in confession : and 
 in my writing, before many witnesses. 
 
 And from Thee, O Lord, unto whose eyes ^ the 
 abyss of man's conscience is naked, what could 
 be hidden in me, though I would not confess it ? 
 For I should hide Thee from me, not me from 
 Thee. But now, for that my groaning is witness, 
 that I am displeased with myself, Thou shinest 
 out, and art pleasing, and beloved, and longed 
 for ; that I may be ashamed of myself, and 
 renounce myself, and choose Thee, and neither 
 please Thee nor myself, but in Thee. To Thee 
 therefore, O Lord, am I open, whatever I am ; 
 and with what fruit I confess unto Thee, I have 
 said. Nor do I it with words and sounds of the 
 flesh, but with the words of my soul, and the cry 
 of the thought which Thy ear knoweth. For 
 when I am evil, then to confess to Thee is nothing 
 else than to be displeased with myself ; but when 
 holy, nothing else than not to ascribe it to myself : 
 because Thou, O Lord, hlessest the godly,*' but first 
 Thou justifiest him when ungodly.^ My confession 
 then, O my God, in Thy sight, is made silently, 
 and not silently. For in sound, it is silent ; in 
 affection, it cries aloud. For neither do I utter 
 any thing right unto men, which Thou hast not 
 
 * Ps. li. 6. 2 John iii. 20. ' Heb. iv. i j. 
 
 * Ps. V. 12. * Rom. iv. 5. 
 
 263 
 
Cl^e Confemottjs of 
 
 before heard from me ; nor dost Thou hear any- 
 such thing from me, which Thou hast not first 
 said unto me. 
 
 What then have I to do with men, that they 
 should hear my confessions — as if they could heal 
 all my infirmities ^ — a race, curious to know the 
 lives of others, slothful to amend their own ? 
 Why seek they to hear from me what I am ; who 
 will not hear from Thee what themselves are ? 
 And how know they, when from myself they hear 
 of myself, whether I say true ? — seeing no man 
 knows what is in man, hut the spirit of man which is 
 in him} But if they hear from Thee of them- 
 selves, they cannot say, ' The Lord lieth.' For 
 what is it to hear from Thee of themselves, but to 
 know themselves ? and who knoweth and saith, 
 ' It is false,' unless himself lieth ? But because 
 charity helieveth all things ^ (that is, among those 
 whom knitting unto itself it maketh one), I also, 
 O Lord, wiU in such wise confess unto Thee, that 
 men may hear, to whom I cannot demonstrate 
 whether I confess truly ; yet they believe me, 
 whose ears charity openeth unto me. 
 
 But do Thou, my inmost Physician, make plain 
 unto me what object I may gain by doing it. For 
 the confessions of my past sins, which Thou hast 
 forgiven and covered* that Thou mightest bless 
 me in Thee, changing my soul by Faith and Thy 
 
 • Ps. ciii. 3. ' I Cor. ii. 11. 
 
 ' Ibid., xiii. 7. • Ps. xxxli. j. 
 
 264 
 
^aint augttjstine 
 
 Sacrament, when read and heard, stir up the 
 heart, that it sleep not in despair and say ' I 
 cannot,' but awake in the love of Thy mercy and 
 the sweetness of Thy grace, whereby whoso is 
 weak, is strong, when by it he became conscious 
 of his own weakness. And the good delight to 
 hear of the past evils of such as are now freed from 
 them, not because they are evils, but because 
 they have been and are not. With what object 
 then, O Lord my God, to Whom my conscience 
 daily confesseth, trusting more in the hope of Thy 
 mercy than in her own innocency, — with what 
 object, I pray, do I by this book confess to men 
 also in Thy presence what I now am, not what I 
 have been ? For that other object I have seen 
 and spoken of. But what I now am, at the very 
 time of making these confessions, divers desire to 
 know, who have or have not known me, who have 
 heard from me or of me ; but their ear is not at 
 my heart, where I am, whatever I am. They 
 wish then to hear me confess what I am within ; 
 whither neither their eye, nor ear, nor understand- 
 ing can reach ; they wish it, as ready to believe — 
 but will they know ? For charity, whereby they 
 are good, teUeth them that in my confessions I 
 lie not ; and she in them believeth me. 
 
 But for what fruit would they hear this ? Do 
 they desire to joy with me, when they hear how 
 near, by Thy gift, I approach unto Thee ? and 
 to pray for me, when they shall hear how much 
 
 265 
 
I am held back by my own weight ? To such will 
 I discover myself. For it is no mean fruit, O 
 Lord my God, that by many thanks should bs given 
 to Thee on our behalf^ and Thou be by many 
 entreated for us. Let the brotherly mind love 
 in me what Thou teachest is to be loved, and 
 lament in me what Thou teachest is to be 
 lamented. Let a brotherly, not a stranger, 
 mind, not that of the strange children, whose mouth 
 talketh of vanity, and their right hand is a right 
 hand of iniquity,^ but that brotherly mind which 
 when it approveth, rejoiceth for me, and when 
 it disapproveth me, is sorry for me ; because 
 whether it approveth or disapproveth, it loveth 
 me. To such will I discover myself : they will 
 breathe freely at my good deeds, sigh for my ill. 
 My good deeds are Thine appointments, and Thy 
 gifts ; my evil ones are my offences, and Thy 
 judgments. Let them breathe freely at the one, 
 sigh at the other ; and let hymns and weeping. 
 go up into Thy sight, out of the hearts of my 
 brethren, Thy censers.^ And do Thou, O Lord, 
 be pleased with the incense of Thy holy temple, 
 have mercy upon me according to Thy great mercy, 
 for Thine own name^s sake ; * and no ways for- 
 saking what Thou hast begun, perfect my im- 
 perfections. 
 
 This is the fruit of my confessions of what I 
 
 ' I Cor. ii. II. a Ps. cxliv. ii. 
 
 * Rev. viii. 3. • Ps. Ii. i. 
 
 266 
 
^aint augu0t(ne 
 
 am, not of what I have been, to confess this, not 
 before Thee only, in a secret exultation with 
 trembling^ and a secret sorrow with hope ; but 
 in the ears also of the believing sons of men, 
 sharers of my joy, and partners in my mortality, 
 my fellow-citizens, and fellow-pilgrims, who are 
 gone before, or are to follow on, companions of 
 my way. These are Thy servants, my brethren, 
 whom Thou wiliest to be Thy sons ; my masters, 
 whom Thou commandest me to serve, if I would 
 live with Thee, of Thee. But this Thy Word 
 were little did it only command by speaking, and 
 not go before in performing. This then I do in 
 deed and word, this I do under Thy wings ; in 
 over great peril, were not my soul subdued unto 
 Thee under Thy wings, and my infirmity known 
 unto Thee. I am a little one, but my Father ever 
 liveth, and my Guardian is sufficient for me. For 
 He is the same who begat me, and defends me : 
 and Thou Thyself art all my good ; Thou, 
 Almighty, Who art with me, yea, before I am 
 with Thee. To such then whom Thou com- 
 mandest me to serve wiU I discover, not what I 
 have been, but what I now am and what I yet 
 am. But neither do I judge myself} Thus there- 
 fore I would be heard. 
 
 For Thou, Lord, dost judge me : ' because, 
 although no man knoweth the things of a man, but 
 the spirit of a man which is in him, yet is there 
 
 » Ps. li. II. 2 I Cor. iv. 3. ' Ibid. 
 
 267 
 
Cl^e CottfejSjSion^ of 
 
 something of man, which neither the spirit of man 
 that is in him, itself knoweth} But Thou, Lord, 
 knowest all of him, Who hast made him. Yet I, 
 though in Thy sight I despise myself, and account 
 myself dust and ashes ; yet know I something of 
 Thee, which I know not of myself. And truly, 
 now we see through a glass darkly, not face to face * 
 as yet. So long therefore as / he absent from Thee^ 
 I am more present with myself than with Thee : 
 and yet know I Thee that Thou art in no ways 
 passible ; but I, what temptations I can resist, 
 what I cannot, I know not. And there is hope, 
 because 'Thou art faithful. Who wilt not suffer us to 
 be tempted above that we are able ; but wilt with 
 the temptation also make a way to escape, that we 
 may be able to bear it} I will confess then what 
 I know of myself, I will confess also what I know 
 not of myself : and that because what I do know 
 of myself, I know by Thy shining upon me ; and 
 what I know not of myself, so long know I not it, 
 until my darkness be made as the noon-day ° in Thy 
 countenance. 
 
 Not with doubting, but with assured con- 
 sciousness, do I love Thee, Lord. Thou hast 
 stricken my heart with Thy word, and I loved 
 Thee. Yea, also, heaven, and earth, and all that 
 therein is, behold, on every side they bid me love 
 Thee ; nor cease to say so unto all, that they may 
 
 * Cor. ii. II. * Ibid., xiii. la. ' i Cor. v. 6. 
 
 * I Cor. X. J. ' Isa. Iviii. lo. 
 
 268 
 
he without excuse. But more deeply wilt Thou 
 have mercy on whom Thou wilt have mercy, and wilt 
 have compassion on whom Thou hast had compassion:^ 
 else in deaf ears do the heaven and the earth speak 
 Thy praises. But what do I love, when I love 
 Thee ? not beauty of bodies, nor the fair harmony 
 of time, nor the brightness of the light, so glad- 
 some to our eyes, nor sweet melodies of varied 
 songs, nor the fragrant smell of flowers, and oint- 
 ments, and spices, not manna and honey, not 
 hmbs acceptable to embracements of flesh. None 
 of these I love, when I love my God ; and yet I 
 love a kind of light, and melody, and fragrance, 
 and meat, and embracement when I love my God, 
 — the light, melody, fragrance, meat, embrace- 
 ment of my inner man : where there shineth 
 unto my soul what space cannot contain, and 
 there soundeth what time beareth not away, 
 and there smelleth what breathing disperseth not, 
 and there tasteth what eating diminisheth not, 
 and there clingeth what satiety divorceth not. 
 This is it which I love when I love my God. 
 
 And what is this ? I asked the earth, and it 
 answered me, ' I am not He ' ; and whatsoever 
 are in it confessed the same. I asked the sea and 
 the deeps, and the living creeping things, and 
 they answered, ' We are not Thy God, seek above 
 us.' I asked the moving air ; and the whole air 
 with his inhabitants answered, ' Anaximenes was 
 
 ' Rom. i. zo ; ix. 15. 
 269 
 
Cl^e €ontmion& of 
 
 deceived, I am not God.' I asked the heavens, 
 sun, moon, stars; 'Nor' (say they) 'are we the God 
 whom thou seekest.' And I replied unto all the 
 things which encompass the door of my flesh : 
 ' Ye have told me of my God, that ye are not 
 He ; tell me something of Him.' And they cried 
 out with a loud voice, * He made us.' My ques- 
 tioning them, was my thoughts on them : and 
 their form of beauty gave the answer. And I 
 turned myself unto myself, and said to myself, 
 ' Who art Thou ? ' And I answered, ' A man.' 
 And behold, in me there present themselves to me 
 soul and body, one without, the other within. 
 By which of these ought I to seek my God ? I 
 had sought Him in the body from earth to heaven, 
 so far as I could send messengers, the beams of 
 mine eyes. But the better is the inner, for to it, 
 as presiding and judging, aU the bodily messengers 
 reported the answers of heaven and earth, and all 
 things therein, who said, ' We are not God, but 
 He made us.' These things did my inner man 
 know by the ministry of the outer : I, the inner, 
 knew them ; I, the mindj- through the senses of 
 my body. I asked the whole frame of the world 
 about my God ; and it answered me, ' I am not 
 He, but He made me.' 
 
 Is not this corporeal figure apparent to all 
 whose senses are perfect ^ why then speaks it 
 not the same to all ? Animals small and great 
 see it, but they cannot ask it : because no reason 
 
 270 
 
^aint augujEftine 
 
 is set over their senses to judge on what they 
 report. But men can ask, so that the invisible 
 things of God are clearly seen, being understood by 
 the things that are made ; ^ but by love of them, 
 they are made subject unto them : and subjects 
 cannot judge. Nor yet do the creatures answer 
 such as ask, unless they can judge : nor yet do 
 they change their voice {i.e. their appearance) ; if 
 one man only sees, another seeing asks, so as to 
 appear one way to this man, another way to that ; 
 but appearing the same way to both, it is dumb 
 to this, speaks to that ; yea rather it speaks to all ; 
 but they only understand, who compare its voice 
 received from without, with the truth within. 
 For truth saith unto me, ' Neither heaven, nor 
 earth, nor any other body is thy God.' This, 
 their very nature saith to him that seeth them : 
 ' They are a mass ; a mass is less in a part thereof 
 than in the whole.' Now to thee I speak, O my 
 soul, thou art my better part : for thou quickenest 
 the mass of my body, giving it life, which no body 
 can give to a body : but thy God is even unto 
 thee the Life of thy life. 
 
 What then do I love, when I love my God ? 
 who is He above the head of my soul ? By my 
 very soul will I ascend to Him. I will pass 
 beyond that power whereby I am united to my 
 body, and fill its whole frame with life. Nor can 
 I by that power find my God ; for so horse and 
 
 ' Rom. i. 20. 
 271 
 
€l^e €ontmion^ of 
 
 mule, that have no understanding^ might find Him ; 
 seeing it is the same power whereby even their 
 bodies live. But another power there is, not that 
 only whereby I animate, but that too whereby 
 I imbue with sense my flesh, which the Lord 
 hath framed for me : commanding the eye not 
 to hear, and the ear not to see ; but the eye, that 
 through it I should see, and the ear, that through 
 it I should hear : and to the other senses severally, 
 what are to each their own peculiar seats and 
 offices ; which, being divers, I the one mind 
 do through them enact. I will pass beyond this 
 power of mine also ; for this also have the horse 
 and mule, for they also perceive through the 
 body. 
 
 I will pass then beyond this power of my nature 
 also, rising by degrees unto Him who made me. 
 And I come to the fields and spacious palaces of 
 my memory, where are the treasures of innumer- 
 able images, brought into it from things of all 
 sorts perceived by the senses. There is stored 
 up whatsoever besides we think, either by en- 
 larging or diminishing, or any other way varying 
 those things which the sense hath come to ; and 
 whatever else hath been committed and laid up, 
 which forgetfulness hath not yet swallowed up 
 and buried. When I enter there, I require what 
 I will to be brought forth, and something instantly 
 comes ; others must be longer sought after, 
 
 ' Ps. xxxii. 9. 
 272 
 
which are fetched, as it were, out of some inner 
 receptacle ; others rush out in troops, and while 
 one thing is desired and required, they start forth, 
 as who should say, ' Is it perchance I ? ' These I 
 drive away with the hand of my heart from the 
 face of my remembrance ; until what I wish for 
 be unveiled, and appear in sight, out of its secret 
 place. Other things come up readily, in un- 
 broken order, as they are called for ; those in 
 front making way for the following ; and as they 
 make way, they are hidden from sight, ready to 
 come when I will. All which takes place when I 
 repeat a thing by heart. 
 
 There are all things preserved distinctly and 
 under general heads, each having entered by its 
 own avenue : as light, and aU colours and forms 
 of bodies by the eyes ; by the ears all sorts of 
 sounds ; all smells by the avenue of the nostrils ; 
 all tastes by the mouth ; and by the sensation of 
 the whole body, what is hard or soft ; hot or 
 cold ; smooth or rugged ; heavy or light ; either 
 outwardly or inwardly to the body. All these 
 doth that great harbour of the memory receive 
 in her numberless secret and inexpressible wind- 
 ings, to be forthcoming and brought out at need ; 
 each entering in by his own gate, and there laid 
 up. Nor yet do the things themselves enter in ; 
 only the images of the things perceived are there 
 in readiness, for thought to recall. Which images, 
 how they are formed, who can tell, though it doth 
 s 273 
 
Cl^e €ontmi(im of 
 
 plainly appear by which sense each hath been 
 brought in and stored up ? For even while I 
 dwell in darkness and silence, in my memory I 
 can produce colours, if I will, and discern betwixt 
 black and white, and what others I will : nor yet 
 do sounds break in and disturb the image drawn 
 in by my eyes, which I am reviewing, though they 
 also are there, lying dormant, and laid up, as it 
 were, apart. For these too I call for, and forth- 
 with they appear. And though my tongue be 
 still, and my throat mute, so can I sing as much 
 as I will ; nor do those images of colours, which 
 notwithstanding be there, intrude themselves 
 and interrupt, when another store is called for, 
 which flowed in by the ears. So the other things, 
 piled in and up by the other senses, I recall at my 
 pleasure. Yea, I discern the breath of Hlies from 
 violets, though smelling nothing ; and I prefer 
 honey to sweet wine, smooth before rugged, at 
 the time neither tasting nor handling, but 
 remembering only. 
 
 These things do I within, in that vast court of 
 my memory. For these are present with me, 
 heaven, earth, sea, and whatever I could think 
 on therein, besides what I have forgotten. There 
 also meet I with myself, and recall myself, and 
 when, where, and what I have done, and under 
 what feelings. There be all which I remember, 
 either on my own experience or others' credit. 
 Out of the same store do I myself with the past 
 
 274 
 
continually combine fresh and fresh likenesses of 
 things which I have experienced, or, from what 
 I have experienced, have believed : and thence 
 again infer future actions, events, and hopes, and 
 all these again I reflect on, as present. ' I will do 
 this or that,' say I to myself, in that great recept- 
 acle of my mind, stored with the images of things 
 so many and so great, ' and this or that will follow.' 
 ' Oh that this or tliat might be ! ' ' God avert 
 this or that ! ' So speak I to myself : and when 
 I speak, the images of all I speak of are present, 
 out of the same treasury of memory ; nor would 
 I speak of any thereof, were the images wanting. 
 Great is this force of memory, excessive great, 
 O my God ; a large and boundless chamber ! — 
 who ever sounded the bottom thereof ? Yet is 
 this a power of mine, and belongs unto my nature ; 
 nor do I myself comprehend aU that I am. There- 
 fore is the mind too strait to contain itself. And 
 where should that be, which it containeth not of 
 itself ? Is it without it, and not within ? How 
 then doth it not comprehend itself ? A wonder- 
 ful admiration surprises me, amazement seizes me 
 upon this. And men go abroad to admire the 
 heights of mountains, the mighty billows of the 
 sea, the broad tides of rivers, the compass of the 
 ocean, and the circuits of the stars, and pass 
 themselves by ; nor wonder, that when I spake 
 of all these things, I did not see them with mine 
 eyes ; yet could not have spoken of them, unless I 
 
 275 
 
Cl^e ConffjS^tottjs of 
 
 then actually saw the mountains, billows, rivers, 
 stars which I had seen, and that ocean which I 
 believe to be, inwardly in my memory, and that, 
 with the same vast spaces between, as if I saw 
 them abroad. Yet did not I by seeing draw them 
 into m.yself, when with mine eyes I beheld them ; 
 nor are they themselves with-me, but their images 
 only. And I know by what sense of the body 
 each was impressed upon me. 
 
 Yet not these alone does the unmeasurable 
 capacity of my memory retain. Here also is all, 
 learnt of the liberal sciences and as yet unfor- 
 gotten ; removed as it were to some inner place, 
 which is yet no place : nor are they the images 
 thereof, but the things themselves. For, what 
 is literature, what the art of disputing, how many 
 kinds of questions there be, whatsoever of these 
 I know, in such manner exists in my memory, as 
 that I have not taken in the image, and left out 
 the thing, or that it should have sounded and 
 passed away hke a voice fixed on the ear by that 
 impress, whereby it might be recalled, as if it 
 sounded when it no longer sounded ; or as a 
 smell while it passes and evaporates into air affects 
 the sense of .smell, whence it conveys into the 
 memory an image of itself, which remembering, 
 we renew ; or as meat, which verily in the belly 
 hath now no, taste, and yet in the memory still in 
 a manner tasteth ; or as any thing which the body 
 by touch perceiveth, and which when removed 
 
 276 
 
from us, the memory still conceives. ' For those 
 things are not transmitted into the memory, but 
 their images only are with an admirable swiftness 
 caught up, and stored as it were in wondrous 
 cabinets, and thence wonderfully by the act of 
 remembering brought forth. 
 
 But now when I hear that there be three kinds 
 of questions, ' Whether the thing be ? what it is ? 
 of what kind it is ?' I do indeed hold the images 
 of the sounds of which those words be composed, 
 and that those sounds with a noise passed through 
 the air, and now are not. But the things them- 
 selves which are signified by those sounds, I never 
 reached w!th any sense of my body, nor ever 
 discerned them otherwise than in my mind ; 
 yet in my memory have 1 laid up, not their images, 
 but themselves. Which how they entered into 
 me, let them say if they can ; for I have gone 
 over all the avenues of my flesh, but cannot find 
 by which they entered. For the eyes say, ' If 
 those images were coloured, we reported of them.' 
 The ears say, ' If they sound, we gave knowledge 
 of them.' The nostrils say, ' If they smell, they 
 passed by us.' The taste says, ' Unless they have 
 a savour, ask me not.' The touch says, ' If it 
 have not size, I handled it not ; if I handled it 
 not, I gave no notice of it.' Whence and how 
 entered these things into my memory ? I know 
 not how. For when I learned them, I gave not 
 credit to another man's mind, but recognised 
 
 277 
 
€^e Confe00ion0 of 
 
 them in mine ; and approving them for true, I 
 commended them to it, laying them up as it were, 
 whence I might bring them forth when I willed. 
 In my heart then they were, even before I learned 
 them, but in my memory they were not. Where 
 then ? or wherefore, when they were spoken, did 
 I acknowledge them, and said, ' So is it, it is true,' 
 unless that they were already in the memory, but 
 so thrown back and buried as it were in deeper 
 recesses, that had not the suggestion of another 
 drawn them forth I had perchance been unable 
 to conceive of them f 
 
 Wherefore we find, that to learn these things 
 whereof we imbibe not the images by our senses, 
 but perceive within by themselves, without 
 images, as they are, is nothing else but by con- 
 ception to receive and by marking to take heed 
 that those things which the memory did before 
 contain at random and unarranged, be laid up 
 at hand as it were in that same memory where 
 before they lay unknown, scattered and neglected, 
 and so readily occur to the mind familiarised to 
 them. And how many things of this kind does 
 my memory bear which have been already found 
 out, and, as I said, placed as it were at hand, which 
 we are said to have learned and come to know ; 
 which were I for some short space of time to 
 cease to call to mind, they are again so buried, 
 and glide back, as it were, into the deeper recesses, 
 that they must again, as if new, be thought out 
 
 278 
 
thence, for other abode they have none : but 
 they must be drawn together again, that they 
 may be known ; that is to say, they must as it 
 were be collected together from their dispersion : 
 whence the word ' cogitation ' is derived. For 
 cogo (collect) and cogito (re-collect) have the same 
 relation to each other as ago and agito, facio and 
 factito. But the mind hath appropriated to itself 
 this word (cogitation), so that, not what is ' col- 
 lected ' any how, but what is ' re-collected,' i.e. 
 brought together in the mind, is properly said to 
 be cogitated, or thought upon. 
 
 The memory containeth also reasons and laws 
 innumerable of numbers and dimensions, none of 
 which hath any bodily sense impressed ; seeing 
 they have neither colour, nor sound, nor taste, 
 nor smell, nor touch. I have heard the sound of 
 the words whereby when discussed they are 
 denoted : but the sounds are other than the 
 things. For the sounds are other in Greek than 
 in Latin ; but the things are neither Greek, nor 
 Latin, nor any other language. I have seen the 
 lines of architects, the very finest, like a spider's 
 thread ; but those are still different, they are not 
 the images of those lines which the eye of flesh 
 showed me : he knoweth them, whosoever, with- 
 out any conception whatsoever of a body, recog- 
 nises them within himself. I have perceived also 
 the numbers of the things with which we number 
 all the senses of my body ; but those numbers 
 
 279 
 
wherewith we number are different, nor are they 
 the images of these, and therefore they indeed 
 are. Let him who seeth them not, deride me 
 for saying these things, and I will pity him, while 
 he derides me. 
 
 All these things I remember, and how I learnt 
 them I remember. Many things also most falsely 
 objected against them have I heard, and remem- 
 ber ; which though they be false, yet is it not 
 false that I remember them ; and I remember 
 also that I have discerned betwixt those truths 
 and these falsehoods objected to them. And I 
 perceive that the present discerning of these 
 things is different from remembering that I often- 
 times discerned them, when I often thought upon 
 them. I both remember then to have often 
 understood these things ; and what I now discern 
 and understand, I lay up in my memory, that 
 hereafter I may remember that I understood it 
 now. So then I remember also to have remem- 
 bered ; as if hereafter I shall call to remembrance 
 that I have now been able to remember these 
 thingSj by the force of memory shall I call it to 
 remembrance. 
 
 The same memory contains also the affections 
 of my mind, not in the same manner that my 
 mind itself contains them, when it feels them ; 
 but far otherwise, according to a power of its 
 own. For without rejoicing I remember myself 
 to have joyed ; and without sorrow do I recollect 
 
 280 
 
my past sorrow. And that I once feared, I review 
 without fear ; and without desire call to mind a 
 past desire. Sometimes, on the contrary, with 
 joy do I remember my fore-past sorrow, and with 
 sorrow, joy. Which is not wonderful, as to the 
 body ; for mind is one thing, body another. If 
 I therefore with joy remember some past pain of 
 body, it is not so wonderful. But now, seeing 
 this very memory itself is mind (for when we give 
 a thing in charge, to be kept in memory, we say, 
 ' See that you keep it in mind ' ; and when we 
 forget, we say, ' It did not come to my mind,' and, 
 ' It slipped out of my mind,' calling the memory 
 itself the mind), — this being so, how is it that 
 when with joy I remember my past sorrow, the 
 mind hath joy, the memory hath sorrow ; the 
 mind upon the joyfulness which is in it is joyful, 
 yet the memory upon the sadness which is in it 
 is not sad ? Does the memory perchance not 
 belong to the mind ? Who will say so ? The 
 memory then is, as it were, the belly of the mind, 
 and joy and sadness, like sweet and bitter food ; 
 which, when committed to the memory, are, as it 
 were, passed into the belly, where they may be 
 stowed, but cannot taste. Ridiculous it is to 
 imagine these to be alike ; and yet are they not 
 utterly unUke. 
 
 But, behold, out of my memory I bring it, 
 when I say there be four perturbations of the 
 mind — desire, joy, fear, sorrow ; and whatsoever 
 
 281 
 
Cl^e Confejsjsionjs of 
 
 I can dispute thereon, by dividing each into its 
 subordinate species, and by defining it, in my 
 memory find I what to say, and thence do I bring 
 it : yet am I not disturbed by any of these per- 
 turbations, when by caUing them to mind I 
 remember them ; yea, and before I recalled and 
 brought them back, they were there ; and there- 
 fore could they, by recollection, thence be 
 brought. Perchance, then, as meat is by chewing 
 the cud brought up out of the belly, so by recol- 
 lection these out of the memory. Why then does 
 not the disputer, thus recollecting, taste in the 
 mouth of his "musing the sweetness of joy, or the 
 bitterness of sorrow ? Is the comparison unlike 
 in this, because not in all respects like ? For 
 who would willingly speak thereof, if so oft as we 
 name grief or fear, we should be compelled to be 
 sad or fearful ? And yet could we not speak of 
 them, did we not find in our memory, not only 
 the sounds of the names according to the images 
 impressed by the senses of the body, but notions 
 of the very things themselves which we never 
 received by any avenue of the body, but which 
 the mind itself perceiving by the experience of its 
 own passions, committed to the memory, or the 
 memory of itself retained, without being com- 
 mitted unto. 
 
 But whether by images or no, who can readily 
 say ? Thus, I name a stone, I name the sun, the 
 things themselves not being present to my senses, 
 
 2.8 z 
 
^aint augUjEStine 
 
 but their images to my memory. I name a bodily 
 pain, yet it is not present with me, when nothing 
 aches : yet unless its image were present in my 
 memory, I should not know what to say thereof, 
 nor in discoursing discern pain from pleasure. 
 I name bodily health ; being sound in body, the 
 thing itself is present with me ; yet, unless its 
 image also were present in my memory, I could 
 by no means recall what the sound of this name 
 should signify. Nor would the sick, when health 
 were named, recognise what were spoken, unless 
 the same image were by the force of memory 
 retained, although the thing itself were absent 
 from the body. I name numbers whereby we 
 number ; and not their images, but themselves 
 are present in my memory. I name the image 
 of the sun, and that image is present in my 
 memory. For I recall not the image of its image, 
 but the image itself is present to me, calling it 
 to mind. I name memory, and I recognise what 
 I name. And where do I recognise it but in the 
 memory itself ? Is it also present to itself by its 
 image, and not by itself ? 
 
 What, when I name forgetfulness, and withal 
 recognise what I name ? whence should I recog- 
 nise it, did I not remember it ? I speak not of 
 the sound of the name, but of the thing which it 
 signifies : which if I had forgotten, I could not 
 recognise what that sound signifies. When then 
 I remember memory, memory itself is, through 
 
 283 
 
-^ -^ 
 
 C^e €ontmiom oC 
 
 itself, present with itself : but when I remember 
 forgetfulness, there are present both memory and 
 forgetfulness ; memory whereby I remember, 
 forgetfulness which I remember. But what is 
 forgetfulness, but the privation of memory ? 
 How then is it present that I remember it, since 
 when present I cannot remember ? But if what 
 we remember we hold it in memory, yet, unless 
 we did remember forgetfulness, we could never 
 at the hearing of the name recognise the thing 
 thereby signified, then forgetfulness is retained 
 by memory. Present then it is, that we forget 
 not, and being so, we forget. It is to be under- 
 stood from this that forgetfulness, when we 
 remember it, is not present to the memory by 
 itself, but by its image : because if it were present 
 by itself, it would not cause us to remember, but 
 to forget. Who now shall search out this ? who 
 shall comprehend how it is ? 
 
 Lord, I, truly, toil therein, yea and toil in my- 
 self ; I am become a heavy soil requiring over- 
 much sweat of the brow. For we are not now 
 searching out the regions of heaven, or measuring 
 the distances of the stars, or inquiring the 
 balancings of the earth, It is I myself who 
 remember, I the mind. It is not so wonderful, 
 if what I myself am not be far from me. But 
 what is nearer to me than myself ? And lo, the 
 force of mine own memory is not understood by 
 me ; though I cannot so much as name myself 
 
 284 
 
^aint ^ugujBitine 
 
 without it. For what shall I say, when it is clear 
 to me that I remember forgetfulness ? ShaU I 
 say that that is not in my memory, which I re- 
 member ? or shall I say that forgetfulness is for 
 this purpose in my memory, that I might not 
 forget ? Both were most absurd. What third 
 way is there ? How can I say that the image of 
 forgetfulness is retained by my memory, not 
 forgetfulness itself, when I remember it ? How 
 could I say this either, seeing that when the image 
 of any thing is impressed on the memory, the thing 
 itself must needs be first present, whence that 
 image may be impressed ? For thus do I remem- 
 ber Carthage, thus all places where I have been, 
 thus men's faces whom I have seen, and things 
 reported by the other senses ; thus the health 
 or sickness of the body. For when these things 
 were present, my memory received from them 
 images which, being present with me, I might 
 look on and bring back in my mind, when I remem- 
 bered them in their absence. If then this for- 
 getfulness is retained in the memory through its 
 image, not through itself, then plainly itself was 
 once present, that its image might be taken. 
 But when it was present, how did it write its 
 image in the memory, seeing that forgetfulness 
 by its presence effaces even what it finds already 
 noted ? And yet, in whatever way, although 
 that way be past conceiving and explaining, yet 
 certain am I that I remember forgetfulness 
 
 285 
 
Cl^e Confejijsiottji of 
 
 itself also, whereby what we remember is 
 effaced. 
 
 Great is the power of memory, a fearful thing, 
 
 my God, a deep and boundless manifoldness ; 
 and this thing is the mind, and this am I myself. 
 What am I then, O my God ? What nature am 
 
 1 ? A life various and manifold, and exceeding 
 immense. Behold in the plains, and caves, and 
 caverns of my memory, innumerable and innumer- 
 ably full of innumerable kinds of things, either 
 through images, as all bodies ; or by actual 
 presence, as the arts ; or by certain notions or 
 impressions, as the affections of the mind, which, 
 even when the mind doth not feel, the memory 
 retaineth, while yet whatsoever is in the memory 
 is also in the mind — over all these do I run, I fly ; 
 I dive on this side and on that, as far as I can, and 
 there is no end. So great is the force of memory, 
 so great the force of life, even in the mortal life of 
 man. What shall I do then, O Thou my true 
 life, my God ? I will pass even beyond this 
 power of mine which is called memory : yea, I 
 will pass beyond it, that I may approach unto 
 Thee, O sweet Light. What sayest Thou to me f 
 See, I am mounting up through my mind towards 
 Thee who abidest above me. Yea, I now will 
 pass beyond this power of mine which is called 
 memory, desirous to arrive at Thee, whence 
 Thou mayest be arrived at ; and to cleave unto 
 Thee, whence one may cleave unto Thee. For 
 
 286 
 
even beasts and birds have memory ; else could 
 they not return to their dens and nests, nor many 
 other things they are used unto : nor indeed 
 could they be used to any thing, but by memory. 
 I will pass then beyond memory also, that I may 
 arrive at Him who hath separated me from the 
 four-footed beasts and made me wiser than the 
 fowls of the air ; I will pass beyond memory also ; 
 and where shall I find Thee, Thou truly good 
 and certain Sweetness ? And where shaU I find 
 Thee ? If I find Thee without my memory, 
 then do I not retain Thee in my memory. And 
 how shall I find Thee, if I remember Thee not ? 
 For the woman that had lost her groat, and 
 sought it with a light ; unless she had remembered 
 it, she had never found it.^ For when it was 
 found, whence should she know whether it were 
 the same, unless she remembered it ? I remem- 
 ber to have sought and found many ? thing ; and 
 this I thereby know, that when I was seeking any 
 of them, and was asked, ' Is this it ? ' * Is that it ? ' 
 so long said I ' No,' until that were offered me 
 which I sought. Which had I not remembered 
 (whatever it were), though it were offered me, 
 yet should I not find it, because I could not recog- 
 nise it. And so it ever is, when we seek and find 
 any lost thing. Notwithstanding, when any 
 thing is by chance lost from the sight, not from 
 the memory (as any visible body), yet its image 
 
 ' Luke XV. 8. 
 287 
 
Cl^e Confe00iotti8 of 
 
 is still retained within, and it is sought until it 
 be restored to sight ; and when it is found, it is 
 recognised by the image which is within : nor do 
 we say that we have found what was lost, unless 
 we recognise it ; nor can we recognise it, unless 
 we remember it. But this was lost to the eyes, 
 but retained in the memory. 
 
 But what when the memory itself loses any 
 thing, as falls out when we forget and seek that we 
 may recollect ? Where in the end do we search, 
 but in the memory itself ? and there, if one thing 
 be perchance offered instead of another, we reject 
 it, until what we seek meets us ; and when it 
 doth, we say, ' This is it ' ; which we should not 
 unless we recognised it, nor recognise it, unless 
 we remembered it. Certainly then we had for- 
 gotten it. Or, had not the whole escaped us, but 
 by the part whereof we had hold, was the lost 
 part sought for ; in that the memory felt that 
 it did not carry on together all which it was wont, 
 and maimed, as it were, by the curtailment of its 
 ancient habit, demanded the restoration of what 
 it missed ? For instance, if we see or think of 
 some one known to us, and, having forgotten his 
 name, try to recover it ; whatever else occurs, 
 connects itself not therewith ; because it was 
 not wont to be thought upon together with him, 
 and therefore is rejected, until that present 
 itself whereon the knowledge reposes equably as 
 its wonted object. And whence does that 
 
 288 
 
present itself, but out of the memory itself ? for 
 even when we recognise it, on being reminded 
 by another, it is thence it comes. For we do 
 not believe it as something new, but, upon recol- 
 lection, allow what was named to be right. But 
 were it utterly blotted out of the mind, we 
 should not remember it, even when reminded. 
 For we have not as yet utterly forgotten that 
 which we remember ourselves to have forgotten. 
 What then we have utterly forgotten, though 
 lost, we cannot even seek after. 
 
 How then do I seek Thee, O Lord ? - For when 
 I seek Thee, my God, I seek a happy life. I will 
 seek Thee, that my soul may live. For my body 
 liveth by my soul ; and my soul by Thee. How 
 then do I seek a happy life, seeing I have it not, 
 until I can say, where I ought to say it, ' It is 
 enough ' ? How seek I it ? By remembrance, 
 as though I had forgotten it, remembering that I 
 had forgotten it ? or, desiring to learn it as a 
 thing unknown, either never having known, or 
 so forgotten it as not even to remember that I 
 had forgotten it ? Is not a happy life what all 
 will, and no one altogether wills it not ? Where 
 have they known it, that they so will it ? where 
 seen it, that they so love it ? Truly we have it ; 
 how, I know not. Yea, there is another way, 
 wherein when one hath it, then is he happy ; 
 and there are who are blessed in hope. These 
 have it in a lower kind than they who have it in 
 
Cl^e ConfejSjstonji of 
 
 very deed ; yet are they better off than such as 
 are happy neither in deed nor in hope. Yet even 
 these, had they it not in some sort, would not so 
 will to be happy, which that they do will, is most 
 certain. They have known it then, I know not 
 how, and so have it by some sort of knowledge 
 — ^what, I know not, and am perplexed whether it 
 be in the memory, which if it be, then we have 
 been happy once ; whether aU severally, or in 
 that man who first sinned, in whom also we all 
 died^ and from whom we are all born with 
 misery, I now inquire not ; but only, whether 
 the happy life be in the memory ? For neither 
 should we love it, did we not know it. We hear 
 the name, and we all confess that we desire the 
 thing ; for we are not delighted with the mere 
 sound. For when a Greek hears it in Latin, he 
 is not delighted, not knowing what is spoken ; 
 but we Latins are delighted, as would he too be, 
 if he heard it in Greek ; because the thing itself 
 is neither Greek nor Latin, which Greeks and 
 Latins, and men of all other tongues, long for so 
 earnestly. Known therefore it is to all, for could 
 they with one voice be asked, ' would they be 
 happy ? ' they would answer without doubt, 
 ' they would.' And this could not be, unless 
 the thing itself whereof it is the name were 
 retained in their memory. 
 
 But is it so, as one remembers Carthage who 
 
 ' I Cor. XV. 22. 
 
^aint augujaitme 
 
 hath seen it ? No. For a happy life is not seen 
 with the eye, because it is not a body. As we 
 remember numbers, then ? No. For these, he 
 that hath in his knowledge, seeks not farther to 
 attain unto ; but a happy life we have in our 
 knowledge, and therefore love it, and yet still 
 desire to attain it, that we may be happy. As 
 we remember eloquence, then ? No. For al- 
 though upon hearing this name also, some call to 
 mind the thing, who still are not yet eloquent, 
 and many who desire to be so, whence it appears 
 that it is in their knowledge ; yet these have by 
 their bodily senses observed others to be eloquent, 
 and been delighted, and desire to be the like 
 (though indeed they would not be delighted but 
 for some inward knowledge thereof, nor wish to 
 be the like, unless they were thus delighted) ; 
 whereas a happy life, we do by no bodily sense 
 experience in others. As then we remember 
 joy ? Perchance ; for my joy I remember, even 
 when sad, as a happy life, when unhappy ; nor 
 did I ever with bodily sense see, hear, smell, taste, 
 or touch my joy ; but I experienced it in my 
 mind, when I rejoiced ; and the knowledge of it 
 clave to my memory, so that I can recall it with 
 disgust sometimes, at others with longing, ac- 
 cording to the nature of the things wherein I 
 remember myself to have joyed. For even from 
 foul things have I been immersed in a sort of joy ; 
 which now recalling, I detest and execrate j 
 
 291 
 
Cl^e €onimionfi of 
 
 otherwhiles in good and honest things, which I 
 recall with longing, although perchance no longer 
 present ; and therefore with sadness I recall 
 former joy. 
 
 Where then and when did I experience my 
 happy life, that I should remember, and love, 
 and long for it ? Nor is it I alone, or some few 
 besides, but we all would fain be happy ; which, 
 unless by some certain knowledge we knew, we 
 should not with so certain a will desire. But 
 how is this, that if two men be asked whether 
 they would go to the wars, one, perchance, would 
 answer that he would, the other, that he would 
 not ; but if they were asked whether they would 
 be happy, both would instantly without any 
 doubting say they would ; and for no other 
 reason would the one go to the wars, and the 
 other not, but to be happy. Is it perchance that 
 as one looks for his joy in this thing, another in 
 that, all agree in their desire of being happy, as 
 they would (if they were asked) that they wished 
 to have joy, and this joy they call a happy Ufe ? 
 Although then one obtains this joy by one means, 
 another by another, aU have one end, which they 
 strive to attain, namely, joy. Which being a 
 thing which all must say they have experienced, 
 it is therefore found in the memory, and recog- 
 nised whenever the name of a happy life is 
 mentioned. 
 
 Far be it, Lord, far be it from the heart of 
 
 2^2 
 
Thy servant who here confesseth unto Thee, far 
 be it, that, be the joy what it may, I should 
 therefore think myself happy. For there is a joy 
 which is not given to the ungodly,^ but to those 
 who love Thee for Thine own sake, whose joy 
 Thou Thyself art. And this is the happy life, to 
 rejoice to Thee, of Thee, for Thee ; this is it, 
 and there is no other. For they who think there 
 is another, pursue some other and not the true 
 joy. Yet is not their will turned away from 
 some semblance of joy. 
 
 It is not certain then that all wish to be happy, 
 inasmuch as they who wish not to joy in Thee, 
 which is the only happy life, do not truly desire 
 the happy life. Or do all men desire this, but 
 because the flesh lusteth against the Spirit, and the 
 Spirit against the flesh, that they cannot do what 
 *they would,^ they fall upon that which they can, 
 and are content therewith ; because, what they 
 are not able to do, they do not will so strongly 
 as would suffice to make them able ? For I ask 
 any one, had he rather joy in truth or in false- 
 hood ? They wUl as little hesitate to say ' in 
 the truth,' as to say ' that they desire to be 
 happy,' for a happy life is joy in the truth : for 
 this is a joying in Thee, Who art the Truth,^ O God 
 my light, health of my countenance, my God.*' This 
 is the happy life which all desire ; this life which 
 
 > Isa. xhiii. 22. * Gal. v. 17. 
 
 ' lohn xiv. 6. * Ps. xxvii. i ; xlii. 11. 
 
Cl^e Confe00iotT0 of 
 
 alone is happy, all desire ; to joy in the truth all 
 desire. I have met with many that would 
 deceive ; who would be deceived, no one. Where 
 then did they know this happy life, save where 
 they knew the truth also ? For they love it also, 
 since they would not be deceived. And when 
 they love a happy life, which is no other than 
 joying in the truth, then also do they love the 
 truth ; which yet they would not love, were 
 there not some notice of it in their memory. 
 Why then joy they not in it ? why are they not 
 happy ? because they are more strongly taken up 
 with other things which have more power to 
 make them miserable, than that which they so 
 faintly remember to make them happy. For 
 there is yet a little light in men ; let them walk, 
 let them walk, that the darkness overtake them 
 not} 
 
 But why doth ' truth generate hatred,' and the 
 man of thine,^ preaching the truth, become an 
 enemy to them ? whereas a happy life is loved, 
 which is nothing else but joying in the truth ; 
 unless that truth is in that kind loved, that they 
 who love any thing else would gladly have that 
 which they love to be the truth : and because 
 they would not be deceived, would not be con- 
 vinced that they are so ? Therefore do they 
 hate the truth for that thing's sake which they 
 love instead of the truth. They love truth when 
 
 1 John xii. 35. ' John viii. 40. 
 
 294 
 
she enlightens, they hate her when she reproves. 
 For since they would not be deceived, and would 
 deceive, they love her when she discovers herself 
 unto them, and hate her when she discovers them. 
 Whence she shall so repay them, that they who 
 would not be made manifest by her, she both 
 against their will makes manifest, and herself 
 becometh not manifest unto them. Thus, thus, 
 yea, thus doth the mind of man, thus blind and 
 sick, foul and iU-favoured, wish to be hidden, but 
 that aught should be hidden from it, it wills not. 
 But the contrary is requited it, that itself should 
 not be hidden from the Truth ; but the Truth 
 is hid from it. Yet, even thus miserable, it had 
 rather joy in truths than in falsehoods. Happy 
 then will it be when, no distraction interposing, 
 it shall joy in that only Truth by Whom all 
 things are true. 
 
 See what a space I have gone over in my memory- 
 seeking Thee, O Lord ; and I have not found 
 Thee, without it. Nor have I found any thing 
 concerning Thee, but what I have kept in 
 memory, ever since I learnt Thee. For since I 
 learnt Thee, I have not forgotten Thee. For 
 where I found Truth, there found I my God, the 
 Truth itself; which since I learnt, I have not 
 forgotten. Since then I learnt Thee, Thou 
 residest in my memory ; and there do I find 
 Thee, when I call Thee to remembrance, and 
 delight in Thee. These be my holy delights, 
 
 295 
 
€l)e ConfeiEijiiotija! of 
 
 which Thou hast given me in Thy mercy, having 
 regard to my poverty. 
 
 But where in my memory residest Thou, O 
 Lord, where residest Thou there ? what manner 
 of lodging hast Thou framed for Thee ? what 
 manner of sanctuary hast Thou builded for Thee ? 
 Thou hast given this honour to my memory, to 
 reside in it ; but in what quarter of it Thoii 
 residest, that am I considering. For in thinking 
 on Thee, I passed beyond such parts of it as the 
 beasts also have, for I found Thee not there 
 among the images of corporeal things : and I 
 came to those parts to which I committed the 
 affections of my mind, nor found Thee there. 
 And I entered into the very seat of my mind 
 (which it hath in my memory, inasmuch as the 
 mind remembers itself also), neither wert Thou 
 there : for as Thou art not a corporeal image, 
 nor the affection of a living being (as when we 
 rejoice, condole, desire, fear, remember, forget, 
 or the like) ; so neither art Thou the mind itself ; 
 because Thou art the Lord God of the mind ; 
 and all these are changed, but Thou remainest 
 unchangeable over all, and yet hast vouchsafed to 
 dwell in my memory, since I learnt Thee. And 
 why seek I now in what place thereof Thou 
 dwellest, as if there were places therein ? Sure I 
 am, that in it Thou dwellest, since I have remem- 
 bered Thee ever since I learnt Thee, and there I 
 find Thee, when I call Thee to remembrance. 
 
 296 
 
^aint augttiEitme 
 
 Where then did I find Thee, that I might learn 
 Thee ? For in my memory Thou wert not, 
 before I learned Thee. Where then did I find 
 Thee, that I might learn Thee, but in Thee above 
 me ? Place there is none ; we go backward, and 
 forward,, and there is no place. Every where, O 
 Truth, dost Thou give audience to all who ask 
 counsel of Thee, and at once answerest all, though 
 on manifold matters they ask Thy counsel. 
 Clearly dost Thou answer, though all do not 
 clearly hear. All consult Thee on what they will, 
 though they hear not always what they will. 
 He is Thy best servant who looks not so much to 
 hear that from Thee which himself willeth, as 
 rather to will that which from Thee he heareth. 
 
 Too late loved I Thee, O Thou Beauty of 
 ancient days, yet ever new ! too late I loved Thee ! 
 And behold. Thou wert within, and I abroad, and 
 there I searched for Thee ; deformed I, plunging 
 amid those fair forms which Thou hadst made. 
 Thou wert with me, but I was not with Thee. 
 Things held me far from Thee, which, unless 
 they were in Thee, were not at aU. Thou calledst, 
 and shoutedst, and burstedst my deafness. Thou 
 flashedst, shonest, and scatteredst my blindness. 
 Thou breathedst odours, and / drew in breath 
 and f ant for Thee. I tasted, and hunger and thirst. 
 Thou touchedst me, and I burned for Thy peace. 
 
 When I shall with my whole self cleave to Thee, 
 
 ' Job xxlii. 8, 9. 
 297 
 
€]^e €onttfifiion& of 
 
 I shall nowhere have sorrow or labour ; and my 
 life shall wholly live, as wholly full of Thee. But 
 now, since whom Thou fillest Thou Uftest up, 
 because I am not full of Thee I am a burden to 
 myself. Lamentable joys strive with joyous 
 sorrows : and on which side is the victory, I know 
 not. Woe is me ! Lord, have pity on me ! My 
 evil sorrows strive with my good joys ; and on 
 which side is the victory, I know not. Woe is me ! 
 Lord, have pity on me. Woe is me ! Lo ! I hide 
 not my wounds ; Thou art the Physician, I the 
 sick ; Thou merciful, I miserable. Is not the life 
 of man upon earth all trial ? ^ Who wishes for 
 troubles and difficulties ? Thou commandest 
 them to be endured, not to be loved. No man 
 loves what he endures, though he love to endure. 
 For though he rejoices that he endures, he had 
 rather there were nothing for him to endure. In 
 adversity I long for prosperity, in prosperity I 
 fear adversity. What middle place is there 
 betwixt these two, where the life of man is not all 
 trial? Woe to the prosperities of the world, 
 once and again, through fear of adversity, and 
 corruption of joy ! Woe to the adversities of the 
 world, once and again, and the third time, from 
 the longing for prosperity, and because adversity 
 itself is a hard thing, and lest it shatter endurance. 
 Is not the life of man ufon earth all trials without 
 any interval ? 
 
 » Job vii. I.— Old Vulg. 
 
 298 
 
And all my hope is nowhere but in Thy ex- 
 ceeding great mercy. Give what Thou enjoinest, 
 and enjoin what Thou wilt. Thou enjoinest us 
 continency ; and when I knew, saith one, that no 
 man can be continent, unless God give it, this also 
 was a fart of wisdom, to know whose gift she is} By 
 continency verily are we bound up and brought 
 back into One, whence we were dissipated into 
 many. For too little doth he love Thee, who 
 loves any thing with Thee, which he loveth not 
 for Thee. O love, who ever burnest and never 
 consumest ! O charity, my God ! kindle me. 
 Thou enjoinest continency : give me what Thou 
 enjoinest, and enjoin what Thou wilt. 
 
 Verily Thou enjoinest me continency from the 
 lust of the flesh, the lust of the eyes, and the ambition 
 of the world} Thou enjoinest continency from 
 concubinage ; and for wedlock itself. Thou hast 
 counselled something better than what Thou 
 hast permitted. And since Thou gavest it, it 
 was done, even before I became a dispenser of 
 Thy Sacrament. But there yet live in my 
 memory (whereof I have much spoken) the images 
 of such things as my iU custom there fixed ; which 
 haunt me, strengthless when I am awake : but in 
 sleep, not only so as to give pleasure, but even to 
 obtain assent, and what is very like reality. Yea, 
 so far prevails the illusion of the image, in my 
 soul and in my flesh, that, when asleep, false 
 
 1 Wild. viii. a I. * i John ii. 16. 
 
 299 
 
C]^e Con(e0j5ion0 of 
 
 visions persuade to that which, when waking, the 
 true cannot. Am I not then myself, O Lord my 
 God ? And yet there is so much difference 
 betwixt myself and myself, within that moment 
 wherein I pass from waking to sleeping, or return 
 from sleeping to waking ! Where is reason then, 
 which, awake, resisteth such suggestions ? and 
 should the things themselves be urged on it, it 
 remaineth unshaken. Is it clasped up with the 
 eyes ? is it lulled asleep with the senses of the 
 body ? And whence is it that often even in sleep 
 we resist, and mindful of our purpose, and abiding 
 most chastely in it, yield no assent to such entice- 
 ments ? And yet so much difference there is, 
 that when it happeneth otherwise, upon waking 
 we return to peace of conscience : and by this 
 very difference discover that we did not what yet 
 we be sorry that in some way was done in us. 
 
 Art Thou not mighty, God Almighty, so as to 
 heal all the diseases of my soul^ and by Thy more 
 abundant grace to quench even the impure 
 motions of my sleep ! Thou wilt increase, Lord, 
 Thy gifts more and more in me, that my soul may 
 follow me to Thee, disentangled from the bird- 
 lime of concupiscence ; that it rebel not against 
 itself, and even in dreams not only not, through 
 images of sense, commit those debasing corrup- 
 tions, even to pollution of the flesh, but not even 
 to consent unto them. For that nothing of this 
 
 ' Ps. ciii. 3. 
 300 
 
^aint 9lugU!eittne 
 
 sort should have, over the pure affections even of 
 a sleeper, the very least influence, not even such 
 as a thought would restrain, — to work this, not 
 only during hfe, but even at my present age, is 
 not hard for Thee, Almighty, Who art able to do 
 above all that we ask or think} But what I yet 
 am in this kind of my evil, have I confessed unto 
 my good Lord ; rejoicing with trembling ^ in that 
 which Thou hast given me, and bemoaning that 
 wherein I am stUl imperfect ; hoping that Thou 
 wUt perfect Thy mercies in me, even to perfect 
 peace, which my outward and inward man shall 
 have with Thee, when death shall be swallowed up 
 in victory.^ 
 
 There is another evil of the day,^ which I would 
 were sufficient for it. For by eating and drinking 
 we repair the daily decays of our body, until Thou 
 destroy both belly and meat,^ when Thou shalt slay 
 my emptiness with a wonderful fulness, and clothe 
 this incorruptible with an eternal incorrwption.^ 
 But now the necessity is sweet unto me, against 
 which sweetness I fight, that I be not taken 
 captive ; and carry on a daily war by fastings ; 
 often bringing my body into subjection,^ and my 
 pains are removed by pleasure. For hunger and 
 thirst are in a manner pains ; they burn and kill 
 like a fever, unless the medicine of nourishments 
 
 • Eph. iii. ao. ^ Ps. ii. ii. ' i Cor. xv. 54. 
 
 * Matt. vi. 34.. ' I Cor. vi. 13. • Ibid., xv. 54. 
 ' Ibid., ix. 27. 
 
 301 
 
come to our aid. Which, since it is at hand 
 through the consolations of Thy gifts, with which 
 land, and water, and air serve our weakness, our 
 calamity is termed gratification. 
 
 This hast Thou taught me, that I should set 
 myself to take food as physic. But while I am 
 passing from the discomfort of emptiness to the 
 content of replenishing, in the very passage the 
 snare of concupiscence besets me. For that 
 passing is pleasure, nor. is there any other way 
 to pass thither, whither we needs must pass. And 
 health being the cause of 'eating and drinking, 
 there joineth itself as an attendant a dangerous 
 pleasure, which mostly endeavours to go before 
 it, so that I may for her sake do what I say I do, 
 or wish to do, for health's sake. Nor have each 
 the same measure ; for what is enough for health, 
 is too little for pleasure. And oft it is uncertain 
 whether it be the necessary care of the body 
 which is yet asking for sustenance, or whether a 
 voluptuous deceivableness of greediness is proffer- 
 ing its services. In this uncertainty the unhappy 
 soul rejoiceth, and therein prepares an excuse to 
 shield itself, glad that it appeareth not what 
 sufficeth for the moderation of health, that under 
 the cloak of health it may disguise the matter of 
 gratification. These temptations I daUy endeavour 
 to resist, and I call on Thy right hand, and to 
 Thee do I refer my perplexities ; because I have 
 as yet no settled counsel herein. 
 
 302 
 
^aint augttistine 
 
 I hear the voice of my God commanding, Let 
 not your hearts be over-charged with surfeiting and 
 drunkenness} Drunkenness is far from me ; Thou 
 wilt have mercy, that it come not near me. But 
 full feeding sometimes creepeth upon Thy ser- 
 vant ; Thou wilt have mercy, that it may be far 
 from me. For no one can he continent unless Thou 
 give it? Many things Thou givest us, praying 
 for them ; and what good soever we have received 
 before we prayed, from Thee we received it ; yea, 
 to the end we might afterwards know this, did we 
 before receive it. Drunkard was I never, but 
 drunkards have I known made sober by Thee. 
 From Thee then it was, that they who never were 
 such, should not so be, as from Thee it was, that 
 they who have been, should not ever so be ; and 
 from Thee it was, that both might know from 
 Whom it was. I heard another voice of Thine, 
 Go not after thy lusts, and from thy pleasure turn 
 away? Yea, by Thy favour have I heard that 
 which I have much loved ; neither if we eat, shall 
 we abound ; neither if we eat not, shall we lack ; * 
 which is to say, neither shall the one make me 
 plenteous, nor the other miserable. I heard also 
 another. Tor I have learned in whatsoever state I 
 am, therewith to be content ; I know how to abound, 
 and how to suffer need. I can do all things through 
 Christ that strengtheneth me? Behold a soldier of 
 
 ' Lukexxi. 34. * Wisd. viii. zi. ' Ecclus. xviii. 30. 
 
 ♦ I Cor. viii. 8. * Phil. iv. 11-13. 
 
Cl^e Confe^iaiionjJ of 
 
 the heavenly camp, not the dust which we are. 
 But remember^ Lord, that we are dust, and that of 
 dust Thou hast made man ; ^ and he was lost and is 
 found? Nor could he of himself do this, because 
 he whom I so loved, saying this through the in- 
 breathing of Thy inspiration, was of the same 
 dust. T can do all things (saith he) through Him 
 that strengtheneth me. Strengthen me, that / can. 
 Give what Thou enjoinest, and enjoin what Thou 
 wilt. He confesses to have received, and when 
 he glorieth, in the Lord he glorieth.* Another have 
 I heard begging that he might receive. Take from 
 me (saith he) the desires of the belly ; ^ whence it 
 appeareth, O my holy God, that Thou givest,when 
 that is done which Thou commandest to be done. 
 Thou hast taught me, good Father, that to the 
 pure all things are pure ; but that it is evil unto 
 the man that eateth with offence ; ^ and, that every 
 creature of Thine is good, and nothing to he refused, 
 which is received with thanksgiving;'' and, that 
 meat commendeth us not to God ; * and, that no 
 man should Judge us in meat or drink ; * and, that ■ 
 he which eateth, let him not despise him that 
 eateth not; and let not him that eateth not, 
 judge him that eateth}" These things have I 
 learned, thanks be to Thee, praise to Thee, my 
 
 ' Ps. ciii. 14. ' Gen. iii. 19. ' Luke xv. 32. 
 
 * I Cor. i. 30, 31. ' Eccliis. xxiii. 6. ' Rom. xiv. 20. 
 
 1 I Tim. iv. 4. 8 I Cor. viii. 8. » Col. ii. 16. 
 •* Rom. xiv. 3. 
 
^atnt ^uQmtint 
 
 God, my Master, knocking at my ears, enlighten- 
 ing my heart ; deHver me out of all temptation. 
 I fear not uncleanness of meat, but the unclean- 
 ness of lusting. I know that Noah was per- 
 mitted to eat all kind of flesh that was good for 
 food ; ^ that Elijah was fed with flesh ; ^ that 
 John, endued with an admirable abstinence, was 
 not polluted by feeding on living creatures, 
 locusts. I know also that Esau was deceived by 
 lusting for lentils ; ^ and that David blamed 
 himself for desiring a draught of water ; * and 
 that our King was tempted, not concerning flesh, 
 but bread.* And therefore the people in the 
 wilderness also deserved to be reproved, not for 
 desiring flesh, but because, in the desire of food, 
 they murmured against the Lord." 
 
 Placed then amid these temptations, I strive 
 daily against concupiscence in eating and drink- 
 ing. For it is not of such nature that I can settle 
 on cutting it off once for all, and never touching 
 it afterward, as I could with concubinage. The 
 bridle of the throat then is to be held attempered 
 between slackness and stiffness. And who is he, 
 Lord, who is not some whit transported 
 beyond the limits of necessity ? whoever he is, 
 he is a great one ; let him make Thy Name great. 
 But I am not such, for I am a sinful manJ Yet 
 
 • Gen. ix. 3. ' I Kings xvii. 6. ' Gen. xxv. 34. 
 
 ♦ 2 Sam. xxiii. 15-17. ' Matt. iv. 3. ' Numb. xi. 
 ' Luke V. 8. 
 
 u 305 
 
do I too magnify Thy name ; and He maketh 
 intercession to Thee ^ for my sins who hath overcome 
 the world ; ^ numbering me among the weak 
 members of His body ; * because Thine eyes have 
 seen that of Him which is imperfect, and in Thy 
 book shall all be written.^ 
 
 With the allurements of smells I am not much 
 concerned. When absent, I do not miss them ; 
 when present, I do not refuse them ; yet am ever 
 ready to be without them. So I seem to myself ; 
 perchance I am deceived. For that also is a 
 mournful darkness whereby my abilities within 
 me are hidden from me ; so that my mind, making 
 inquiry into herself of her own powers, ventures 
 not readily to believe herself ; because even what 
 is in it is mostly hidden, unless experience reveal 
 it. And no one ought to be secure in that life, 
 the whole whereof is called a trial,^ that he who 
 hath been capable of worse to be made better, 
 may not likewise of better be made worse. Our 
 only hope, only confidence, only assured promise 
 is Thy mercy. 
 
 The delights of the ear had more firmly 
 entangled and subdued me ; but Thou didst 
 loosen and free me. Now, in those melodies 
 which Thy words breathe soul into, when sung 
 with a sweet and attuned voice, I do a little 
 repose ; yet not so as to be held thereby, but that 
 
 ' Rom. viii. 34. ^ John xvi. 33. ' i Cor. xii. 
 
 * Ps. cxxxix. 16. * Job vji. i. — Vulg. 
 
 306 
 
I can disengage myself when I will. But with 
 the words which are their life, and whereby they 
 find admission into me, themselves seek in my 
 affections a place of some estimation, and I can 
 scarcely assign them one suitable. For at one 
 time I seem to myself to give them more honour 
 than is seemly, feeKng our minds to be more 
 holily and fervently raised unto a flame of devo- 
 tion, by the holy words themselves when thus 
 sung, than when not ; and that the several affec- 
 tions of our spirit, by a sweet variety, have their 
 own proper measures in the voice and singing, by 
 some hidden correspondence wherewith they are 
 stirred up. But this contentment of the flesh, 
 to which the soul must not be given over to be 
 enervated, doth oft beguile me, the sense not so 
 waiting upon reason as patiently to follow her ; 
 but having been admitted merely for her sake, it 
 strives even to run before her, and lead her. Thus 
 in these things I unawares sin, but afterwards am 
 aware of it. 
 
 At other times, shunning over-anxiously this 
 very deception, I err in too great strictness ; and 
 sometimes to that degree, as to wish the whole 
 melody of sweet music which is used to David's 
 Psalter banished from my ears, and the Church's 
 too ; and that mode seems to me safer, which I 
 remember to have been often told me of Athan- 
 asius, Bishop of Alexandria, who made the reader 
 of the psalm utter it with so slight inflection of 
 
 307 
 
Cl^e Confe0jsion0 of 
 
 voice, that it was nearer speaking than singing. 
 Yet again, when I remember the tears I shed at 
 the psalmody of Thy Church, in the beginning 
 of my recovered faith ; and how at this time I am 
 moved, not with the singing, but with the things 
 sung, when they are sung with a clear voice and 
 modulation most suitable, I acknowledge the 
 great use of this institution. Thus I fluctuate 
 between peril of pleasure and approved whole- 
 someness ; inclined the rather (though not as 
 pronouncing an irrevocable opinion) to approve 
 of the usage of singing in the church ; that so 
 by the delight of the ears the weaker minds may 
 rise to the feeling of devotion. Yet when it 
 befalls me to be more moved with the voice than 
 the words sung, I confess to have sinned penally, 
 and then had rather not hear music. See now 
 my state ; weep with me, and weep for me, ye, 
 whoso regulate your feelings within, as that good 
 action ensues. For you who do not act, these 
 things touch not you. But Thou, O Lord my 
 God, hearken ; behold, and see, and have mercy 
 and heal ine^ Thou, in whose presence I have 
 become a problem to myself ; and that is my 
 infirmity.^ 
 
 There remains the pleasure of these eyes of my 
 flesh, on which to make my confessions in the 
 hearing of the ears of Thy temple, those brotherly 
 and devout ears ; and so to conclude the tempta- 
 
 • Ps. vi. 3, ' Ps. Ixxvii. 10. 
 
 308 
 
tions of the lust of the flesh, which yet assail me, 
 groaning earnestly, and desiring to he clothed upon 
 with my house from heaven} The eyes love fair 
 and varied forms, and bright and soft colours. 
 Let not these occupy my soul ; let God rather 
 occupy it, who made these things, very good^ 
 indeed ; yet is He my good, not they. And these 
 affect me, waking, the whole day, nor is any rest 
 given me from them, as there is from musical, 
 sometimes, in silence, from all voices. For this 
 queen of colours, the light, bathing all which 
 we behold, wherever I am through the day, 
 ghding by me in varied forms, soothes me when 
 engaged on other things, and not observing it. 
 And so strongly doth it entwine itself, that if it 
 be suddenly withdrawn, it is with longing sought 
 for, and if absent long, saddeneth the mind. 
 
 O Thou Light which Tobias saw when, these 
 eyes closed, he taught his son the way of life,* 
 and himself went before with the feet of charity, 
 never swerving; or which Isaac saw when, his 
 fleshly eyes being heavy * and closed by old age, 
 it was vouchsafed him not knowingly to bless 
 his sons, but by blessing to know them ; or 
 which Jacob saw when he also, blind through 
 great age, with illumined heart, in the persons 
 of his sons shed Hght on the different races of the 
 future people, in them fore-signified, and laid 
 
 * 2 Cor. V. 2, * Gen. i. 31. 
 
 5 Tob. iv. * Gen. xxvii. 
 
Cl^e ConfejsjJionjf o( 
 
 his hands, mystically crossed, upon his grand- 
 children by Joseph, not as their father by his 
 outward eye corrected them, but as himself 
 inwardly discerned.^ This is the light, it is one ; 
 and all are one, who see and love it. But that 
 corporeal light whereof I spake, it seasoneth the 
 life of this world for her blind lovers, with an 
 enticing and dangerous sweetness. But they 
 who know how to praise Thee for it, ' O All- 
 creating Lord,' take it up in Thy hymns, and are 
 not taken up with it in their sleep. Such would 
 I be. These seductions of the eyes I resist, lest 
 my feet wherewith I walk upon Thy way be 
 ensnared ; and I lift up mine invisible eyes to 
 Thee, that Thou wouldest^/wc^ my feet out of the 
 snared Thou dost ever and anon pluck them 
 out, for they are ensnared. Thou ceasest not to 
 pluck them out, while I often entangle myself 
 in the snares on all sides laid ; because Thou that 
 kee'pest Israel shalt neither slumber nor sleep? 
 
 What innumerable toys, made by divers arts 
 and manufactures, in our apparel, shoes, utensils, 
 and all sort of works, in pictures also and divers 
 images, and these far exceeding all necessary and 
 moderate use and all pious meaning, have men 
 added to tempt their own eyes withal ; outwardly 
 following what themselves make, inwardly for- 
 saking Him by whom themselves were made, and 
 destroying that which themselves have been 
 
 ' Gen. xlviii. ^ Ps. xxv. 15. * Ps. cxxi. 4. 
 
 310 
 
^atnt auguiEitine 
 
 made ! But I, my God and my Glory, do hence 
 also sing a hymn to Thee, and do consecrate 
 praise to Him who consecrateth me, because those 
 beautiful patterns which through men's souls are 
 conveyed into their cunning hands come from 
 that Beauty Which is above our souls, Which my 
 soul day and night sigheth after. But the 
 framers and followers of the outward beauties 
 derive thence the rule of judging of them, but 
 not of using them. And He is there, though 
 they perceive Him not, that so they might not 
 wander, but kee-p their strength for Thee,^ and not 
 scatter it abroad upon pleasurable wearinesses. 
 And I, though I speak and see this, entangle my 
 steps with these outward beauties ; but Thou 
 pluckest me out, O Lord, Thou pluckest me out ; 
 because Thy loving-kindness is before my eyes^ 
 For I am taken miserably and Thou pluckest me 
 out mercifully ; sometimes not perceiving it, 
 when I had but lightly lighted upon them ; 
 otherwhiles with pain, because I had stuck fast 
 in them. 
 
 To this is added another form of temptation 
 more manifoldly dangerous. For besides that 
 concupiscence of the flesh which consisteth in the 
 delight of all senses and pleasures, wherein its 
 slaves, who go far from Thee,^ waste and 'perish, 
 the soul hath, through the same senses of the 
 body, a certain vain and curious desire, veiled 
 
 ' Ps. Iviii. — Vulg. ^ Ps. XXV. 3. ' Ps. Ixxiii. 27. 
 
Cl^e ConfeiS0(onjs of 
 
 under the title of knowledge and learning, not of 
 delighting in the flesh, but of making experiments 
 through the flesh : the seat whereof being in 
 the appetite of knowledge, and sight being the 
 sense chieHy used for attaining knowledge, it is in 
 Divine language called the lust of the eyes} For, 
 to see belongeth properly to the eyes ; yet we 
 use this word of the other senses also, when we 
 employ them in seeking knowledge. For we do 
 not say, hark how it flashes, or smell how it glows, 
 or taste how it shines, or feel how it gleams ; for 
 all these are said to be seen. And yet we say not 
 only, see how it shineth, which the eyes alone can 
 perceive ; but also, see how it soundeth, see how 
 it smelleth, see how it tasteth, see how hard it is. 
 And so the general experience of the senses, as 
 was said, is called the lust of the eyes, because the 
 office of seeing, wherein the eyes hold the preroga- 
 tive, the other senses by way of similitude take 
 to themselves, when they make search after any 
 knowledge. 
 
 But by this may more evidently be discerned, 
 wherein pleasure and wherein curiosity is the 
 object of the senses ; for pleasure seeketh objects 
 beautiful, melodious, fragrant, savoury, soft ; but 
 curiosity, for trial's sake, the contrary as well, 
 not for the sake of suffering annoyance, but out 
 of the lust of making trial and knowing them. 
 For what pleasure hath it, to see in a mangled 
 
 ' I John ii. 1 6. 
 312 
 
carcase what will make you shudder ? and yet if 
 it be lying near, they flock thither, to be made 
 sad, and to turn pale. Even in sleep they are 
 afraid to see it. As if, when awake, any one 
 forced them to see it, or any report of its beauty 
 drew them thither ! Thus also in the other 
 senses, which it were long to go through. From 
 this disease of curiosity are all those strange sights 
 exhibited in the theatre. Hence men go on to 
 search out the hidden powers of nature (which 
 is besides our end), which to know profits not, 
 and wherein men desire nothing but to know. 
 Hence also if with that same end of perverted 
 knowledge magical arts be inquired by. Hence 
 also in religion itself is God tempted when signs 
 and wonders are demanded of Him, not desired 
 for any good end, but merely to make trial of. 
 
 In this so vast wilderness, full of snares and 
 dangers, behold many of them I have cut off, 
 and thrust out of my heart, as Thou hast given 
 me, O God of my salvation. And yet, when dare 
 I say, since so many things of this kind buzz on all 
 sides about our daily life — ^when dare I say that 
 nothing of this sort engages my attention, or 
 causes in me an idle interest ? True, the theatres 
 do not now carry me away, nor care I to know 
 the courses of the stars, nor did my soul ever 
 consult ghosts departed ; all sacrilegious mysteries 
 I detest. From Thee, O Lord my God, to whom 
 I owe humble and single-hearted service, by what 
 
artifices and suggestions doth the enemy deal with 
 me to desire some sign ! But I beseech Thee by 
 our King, and by our pure and holy country, 
 Jerusalem, that as any consenting thereto is far 
 from me, so may it ever be farther and farther. 
 But when I pray Thee for the salvation of any, 
 my end and intention is far different. Thou 
 givest and wilt give me to follow Thee willingly, 
 doing what Thou wilt} 
 
 Notwithstanding, in how many most petty and 
 contemptible things is our curiosity daily tempted; 
 and how often we give way, who can recount ? 
 How often do we begin as if we were tolerating 
 people telling vain stories, lest we offend the 
 weak ; then by degrees we take interest therein ! 
 I go not now to the circus to see a dog coursing 
 a hare ; but in the field, if passing, that coursing 
 peradventure wiU distract me even from some 
 weighty thought, and draw me after it : not that 
 I turn aside the body of my beast, yet still incline 
 my mind thither. And unless Thou, having made 
 me see my infirmity, didst speedily admonish me 
 either through the sight itself, by some contempla- 
 tion to rise towards Thee, or altogether to despise 
 and pass it by, I dully stand fixed therein. What 
 if, when sitting at home, a lizard catching flies, or 
 a spider entangling them rushing into her nets, oft- 
 times takes my attention ? Is the thing different, 
 because they are but small creatures ? I go on 
 
 * John xxi. 22. 
 
 3H 
 
' OURSl MG peRADveMTURe 
 
 i LUICjL DISTRACT 0)e, eVBM fROoj 
 
 a socoe weiobry chouQht:- i>oo^x 
 
from them to praise Thee, the wonderful Creator 
 and Orderer of all, but this does not first diraw 
 my attention. It is one thing to rise quickly, 
 another not to fall. And of such things is my 
 life full ; and my one hope is Thy wonderful 
 great mercy. For Avhen our heart becomes the 
 receptacle of such things, and is overcharged with 
 throngs of this abundant vanity, then are our 
 prayers also thereby often interrupted and dis- 
 tracted, and, whilst in Thy presence we direct the 
 voice of our heart to Thine ears, this so great 
 concern is broken off by the rushing in of I know 
 not what idle thoughts. Shall we then account 
 this also among things of shght concernment, or 
 shall aught bring us back to hope, save Thy 
 complete mercy, since Thou hast begun to change 
 us ? 
 
 And Thou knowest how far Thou hast already 
 changed me, who first healedst me of the lust of 
 vindicating myself, that so Thou mightest forgivg 
 all the rest of my iniquities, and heal all my infirmi- 
 ties, and redeem my life from corruption, and crown 
 me with mercy and pity, and satisfy my desire with 
 good things ; ^ who didst curb my pride with Thy 
 fear, and tame my neck to Thy yoke. And now 
 I bear it and it is light ^ unto me, because so hast 
 Thou promised, and hast made it ; and verily so 
 it was, and I knew it not, when I feared to take it. 
 
 But, O Lord, Thou alone Lord without pride, 
 
 1 Pb. ciii. j-s. * Matt. xi. 30. 
 
because Thou art the only true Lord, who hast no 
 lord ; hath this third kind of temptation also 
 ceased from me, or can it cease through this 
 whole life ? — to wish, namely, to be feared and 
 loved of men, for no other end, but that we 
 may have a joy therein which is no joy ? A 
 miserable life this, and a foul boastfulness ! Hence 
 especially it comes that men do neither purely 
 love nor fear Thee. And therefore dost Thou 
 resist the proud, and givest grace to the humble : ^ 
 yea. Thou thunderest down upon the ambitions 
 of the world, and the foundations of the mountains 
 tremble.''' Because now certain offices of human 
 society make it necessary to be loved and feared 
 of men, the adversary of our true blessedness 
 layeth hard at us, every where spreading his 
 snares of ' well-done, well-done ' ; that greedily 
 catching at them, we may be taken unawares, and 
 sever our joy from Thy truth, and set it in the 
 deceivingness of men ; and be pleased at being 
 loved and feared, not for Thy sake, but in Thy 
 stead : and thus having been made like him, he 
 may have them for his own, not in the bands of 
 charity, but in the bonds of punishment : who 
 purposed to set his throne in the north^ that dark 
 and chilled they might serve him, pervertedly and 
 crookedly imitating Thee. But we, O Lord, 
 behold we are Thy little flock ; * possess us as 
 
 • James iv. 6. * Ps. xviii. 7. 
 
 ii Isa. xiv. 13, 14. * Luke xii. 32. 
 
 316 
 
Thine, stretch Thy wings over us, and let us fly 
 under them. Be Thou our glory ; let us be 
 loved for Thee, and Thy word feared in us. Who 
 would be praised of men when Thou blamest, 
 will not be defended of men when Thou judgest ; 
 nor delivered when Thou condemnest. But 
 when — not the sinner is praised in the desires of his 
 soul^ nor he blessed who doth ungodlily,^ but — a 
 man is praised for some gift which Thou hast 
 given him, and he rejoices more at the praise 
 for himself than that he hath the gift for which 
 he is praised, he also is praised, while Thou dis- 
 praisest ; and better is he who praised than he 
 who is praised. For the one took pleasure in the 
 gift of God in man ; the other was better pleased 
 with the gift of man than of God. 
 
 By these temptations we are assailed daily, O 
 Lord ; wiljiout ceasing are we assailed. Our 
 ^a^Ay furnace ' is the tongue of men. And in this 
 way also Thou commandest us continence. Give 
 what Thou enjoinest, and enjoin what Thou 
 wilt. Thou knowest on this matter the groans 
 of my heart, and the floods of mine eyes. For I 
 cannot learn how far I am more cleansed from 
 this plague, and I much fear my secret sins,*' which 
 Thine eyes know, mine do not. For in other 
 kinds of temptations I have some sort of means 
 of examining myself ; in this, scarce any. For, 
 
 ■ Ps. ix. 29.— Vulg. ^ Ps. X. 3. 
 
 ' Prov. xxvii. I. * Ps. xix. i», 
 
 3^7 
 
€l^e Confe^jaiionis of 
 
 in refraining my mind from the pleasures of the 
 fiesh and idle curiosity, I see how much I have 
 attained to, when I do without them ; foregoing, 
 or not having them. For then I ask myself how 
 much more or less troublesome it is to me not to 
 have them ? Then, riches, which are desired, 
 that they may serve to some one or two or all of 
 the three concupiscences,^ if the soul cannot 
 discern whether, when it hath them, it despiseth 
 them, they may be cast aside, that so it may 
 prove itself. But to be without praise, and 
 therein essay our powers, must we live ill, yea, 
 so abandonedly and atrociously, that no one 
 should know without detesting us ? What greater 
 madness can be said or thought of ? But if 
 praise useth and ought to accompany a good life 
 and good works, we ought as little to forego its 
 company as good life itself. Yet I know not 
 whether I can well or ill be without anything, 
 unless it be absent. 
 
 What then do I confess unto Thee in this kind 
 of temptation, O Lord ? What, but that I am 
 delighted with praise, but with truth itself more 
 than with praise ? For were it proposed to me 
 whether I would, being frenzied in error on all 
 things, be praised by all men, or being consistent 
 and most settled in the truth be blamed by all, 
 I see which I should choose. Yet fain would I 
 that the approbation of another should not even 
 
 > I John ii. 1 6. 
 
increase my joy for any good in me. Yet I own 
 it doth increase it, and not so only, but dispraise 
 doth diminish it. And when I am troubled at 
 this my misery, an excuse occurs to me, which 
 of what value it is Thou God knowest, for it 
 leaves me uncertain. For since Thou hast com- 
 manded us not continency alone, that is, from 
 what things to refrain our love, but righteousness 
 also, that is, whereon to bestow it, and hast willed 
 us to love not Thee only, but our neighbour also ; 
 often, when pleased with intelligent praise, I 
 seem to myself to be pleased with the proficiency 
 or towardliness of my neighbour, or to be grieved 
 for evil in him, when I hear him dispraise either 
 what he understands not, or is good. For some- 
 times I am grieved at my own praise, either when 
 those things be praised in me in which I mislike 
 myself, or even lesser and sUght goods are more 
 esteemed than they ought. But again how know 
 I whether I am therefore thus affected, because 
 I would not have him who praiseth me differ 
 from me about myself ; not as being influenced 
 by concern for him, but because those same good 
 things which please me in myself, please me more 
 when they please another also ? For somehow 
 I am not praised when my judgment of myself 
 is not praised ; forasmuch as either those things 
 are praised which displease me ; or those more, 
 which please me less. Am I then doubtful of 
 myself in this matter ? 
 
 319 
 
ti^z ttmtmiom o( 
 
 Behold, in Tkee, O Truth, I see that I ought 
 not to be moved at my own praises, for my own 
 sake, but for the good of my neighbour. And 
 whether it be so with me, I know not. For here- 
 in I know less of myself than of Thee. I beseech 
 now, O my God, discover to me myself also, that 
 I may confess unto my brethren, who are to pray 
 for me, wherein I find myself maimed. Let me 
 examine myself again more diligently. If in my 
 praise I am moved with the good of my neighbour, 
 why am I less moved if another be unjustly dis- 
 praised than if it be myself ? Why am I more 
 stung by reproach cast upon myself, than at that 
 cast upon another, with the same injustice, before 
 me ? Know I not this also ? or is it at last that I 
 deceive myself,^ and do not the truth before Thee 
 in my heart and tongue ? This madness put far 
 from me, O Lord, lest mine own mouth be to me 
 the sinner's oil to make fat my head} I am poor 
 and needy ; ^ yet best, while in hidden groanings 
 I displease myself, and seek Thy mercy, until what 
 is lacking in my defective state be renewed and 
 perfected, on to that peace which the eye of the 
 proud knoweth not. 
 
 Yet the word which cometh out of the mouth, 
 and deeds known to men, bring with them a most 
 dangerous temptation through the love of praise : 
 which, to establish a certain excellency of our 
 own, solicits and collects men's suffrages. It 
 
 ' Gal. vl. 3 J 1 John i. 8. ' Ps. cxli. 5. ' Ps. cix. zz. 
 
 320 
 
^aint augu0titte 
 
 tempts, even when it is reproved by myself in 
 myself, on the very ground that it is reproved ; 
 and often glories more vainly of the very contempt 
 of vainglory ; and so it is no longer contempt of 
 vainglory, whereof it glories ; for it doth not 
 contemn when it glorieth. 
 
 Within also, within is another evil, arising out 
 of a Hke temptation ; whereby men become vain, 
 pleasing themselves in themselves, though they 
 please not, or displease, or care not to please others. 
 But pleasing themselves, they much displease 
 Thee, not only taking pleasure in things not good, 
 as if good, but in Thy good things, as though 
 their own ; or even if as Thine, yet as though for 
 their own merits ; or even if as though from Thy 
 grace, yet not with brotherly rejoicing, but envy- 
 ing that grace to others. In all these and the like 
 perils and travails. Thou seest the trembling of 
 my heart ; and I rather feel my wounds to be 
 cured by Thee, than not inflicted by me. 
 
 Where hast Thou not walked with me, O Truth, 
 teaching me what to beware, and what to desire, 
 when I referred to Thee what I could discover 
 here below, and consulted Thee ? With my out- 
 ward senses, as I might, I surveyed the world, and 
 observed the life, which my body hath from me, 
 and these my senses. Thence entered I the 
 recesses of my memory, those manifold and 
 spacious chambers, wonderfully furnished with 
 innumerable stores ; and I considered, and stood 
 X 321 
 
Cl^c Confe9jsion0 of 
 
 aghast ; being able to discern nothing of these 
 things without Thee, and finding none of them 
 to be Thee. Nor was I myself who found out 
 these things, who went over them all, and 
 laboured to distinguish and to value every thing 
 according to its dignity, taking some things upon 
 the report of my senses, questioning about others 
 which I felt to be mingled with myself, numbering 
 and distinguishing the reporters themselves, and 
 in the large treasure-house of my memory revolving 
 some things, storing up others, drawing out others. 
 Nor yet was I myself when I did this, i.e. that my 
 power whereby I did it, neither was it Thou, for 
 Thou art the abiding light, which I consulted 
 concerning all these, whether they were, what they 
 were, and how to be valued ; and I heard Thee 
 directing and commanding me; and this I often do, 
 this delights me, and as far as I may be freed from 
 necessary duties, unto this pleasure have I recourse. 
 Nor in all these which I run over consulting Thee 
 can I find any safe place for my soul, but in Thee ; 
 whither my scattered members may be gathered, 
 and nothing of me depart from Thee. And some- 
 times Thou admittest me to an affection, very 
 unusual, in my inmost soul ; rising to a strange 
 sweetness, which if it were perfected in me, I 
 know not what in it would not belong to the life 
 to come. But through my miserable encum- 
 brances I sink down again into these lower things, 
 and am swept back by former custom, and am 
 
 322 
 
held, and greatly weep, but am greatly held. So 
 much doth the burden of a bad custom weigh us 
 down. Here I can stay, but would not ; there 
 I would, but cannot ; both ways, miserable. 
 
 Thus then have I considered the sicknesses of 
 my sins in that threefold concupiscence, and have 
 called Thy right hand to my help. For with a 
 wounded heart have I beheld Thy brightness, and 
 stricken back I said, ' Who can attain thither f 
 I am cast away from the sight of Thine eyes.^ ^ 
 Thou art the Truth who presidest over all, but I 
 through my covetousness would not indeed fore- 
 go Thee, but would with Thee possess a lie ; as 
 no man would in such wise speak falsely, as him- 
 self to be ignorant of the truth. So then I lost 
 Thee, because Thou vouchsafest not to be pos- 
 sessed with a lie. 
 
 Whom could I find to reconcile me to Thee ? 
 was I to have recourse to Angels ? by what 
 prayers ? by what sacraments ? Many endeav- 
 ouring to return unto Thee, and of themselves 
 unable, have, as I hear, tried this, and fallen into 
 the desire of curious visions, and been accounted 
 worthy to be deluded. For they, being high- 
 minded, sought Thee by the pride of learning, 
 swelling out rather than smiting upon their 
 breasts, and so, by the agreement of their heart, 
 drew unto themselves the 'princes of the air^ the 
 fellow-conspirators of their pride, by whom, 
 
 1 Ps. xxxi. 22. ' Eph. ii. 2. 
 
 323 
 
c^e contc0j3!ionj3 ot 
 
 through magical influences, they were deceived, 
 seeking a mediator by whom they might be 
 purged, and there was none. For the devil it 
 was, transforming himself into an angel of light} 
 And it much enticed proud flesh, that he had no 
 body of flesh. For they were mortal, and sinners ; 
 but Thou, Lord, to whom they proudly sought 
 to be reconciled, art immortal, and without sin. 
 But a mediator between God and man must have 
 something like to God, something Hke to men ; 
 lest being in both like to man, he should be far 
 from God : or if in both like God, too unlike 
 man : and so not be a mediator. That deceitful 
 mediator then, by whom in Thy s.ecret judgments 
 pride deserved to be deluded, hath one thing in 
 common with man, that is sin ; another he would 
 seem to have in common with God ; and not 
 being clothed with the mortality of flesh, would 
 vaunt himself to be immortal. But since the 
 wages of sin is death,^ this hath he in common 
 with men, that with them he should be con- 
 demned to death. 
 
 But the true Mediator, Whom in Thy secret 
 mercy Thou hast showed to the humble, and 
 sentest, that by His example also they might learn 
 that same humility, that Mediator between God 
 and men, the Man Christ Jesus,^ appeared betwixt 
 mortal sinners and the immortal Just One; 
 mortal with men, just with God : that because 
 
 1 2 Cor. xi. 14. 2 Rom. vi. 20. ' 1 Tim. ii. 5. 
 
the wages of righteousness is life and peace, He 
 might by a righteousness conjoined with God 
 make void that death of sinners, now made 
 righteous, which He willed to have in common 
 with them. Hence He was showed forth to holy 
 men of old ; that so they, through faith in His 
 Passion to come, as we through faith of it passed, 
 might be saved. For as Man, He was a Mediator ; 
 but as the Word, not in the middle between God 
 and man, because equal to God, and God with 
 God, and together one God. 
 
 How hast Thou loved us, good Father, who 
 sparedst not Thine only Son, but deliveredst Him 
 wp for us ungodly ! ^ How hast Thou loved us, 
 for whom He that thought it no robbery to be equal 
 with Thee, was made subject even to the death of 
 the cross^ He alone, free among the dead^ having 
 power to lay down His life, and power to take it 
 again : * for us to Thee both Victor and Victim, 
 and therefore Victor because the Victim ; for 
 us to Thee Priest and Sacrifice, and therefore 
 Priest because the Sacrifice ; making us to Thee, 
 of servants, sons, by being born of Thee, and 
 serving us. Well then is my hope strong in Him, 
 that Thou wilt heal all my infirmities,^ by Him 
 Who sitteth at Thy right hand and maketh inter- 
 cession for us ; * else should I despair. For many 
 and great are my infirmities, many they are, and 
 
 ' Rom. viii. 32. 
 
 ! Phil. ii. 6, 8. 
 
 ' Ps. Ixxxviii. 5 
 
 ♦ John X. 18. 
 
 ' Ps. ciii. 3. 
 
 3^5 
 
 ' Rom. viii. 34.. 
 
great ; but Thy medicine is mightier. We might 
 imagine that Thy Word was far from any union 
 with man, and despair of ourselves, unless He had 
 been made flesh and dwelt among us} 
 
 Affrighted with my sins and the burden of my 
 misery, I had cast in my heart, and had purposed 
 to flee to the wilderness : ^ but Thou forbadest 
 me, and strengthenedst me, saying, Therefore 
 Christ died for all, that they which live may now 
 no longer live unto themselves, hut unto Kim that 
 died for them? See Lord, I cast my care upon 
 Thee,* that I may live, and consider wondrous things 
 out of Thy law!" Thou knowest my unskilfulness, 
 and my infirmities ; teach me, and heal me. He, 
 Thine only Son, in Whom are hid all the treasures 
 of wisdom and knowledge^ hath redeemed me with 
 His blood. Let not the 'proud speak evil of me ; ' 
 because I meditate on my Ransom, and eat and 
 drink, and communicate it ; and poor, desired to 
 be satisfied from Him, amongst those that eat and 
 are satisfied, and they shall praise the Lsrd who seek 
 Him.' 
 
 1 John i. 12. 
 
 2 Ps. Iv. 7. 
 
 ' 2 Cor. V. 15, 
 
 * Ps. Iv. 22. 
 
 * Ps. cxix. ig. 
 
 6 Col.ii. 3. 
 
 ' Ps. Cxix. 122. 
 
 -Vulg. 
 
 ' Ps. xxii. 26. 
 
 Edinburgh : Printed by T. and A. Constable Ltd.