Augustin: confessions 275


Book IV.


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22 Then follows a period of nine years from the nineteenth year of his age, during which having lost a friend, he followed the Manichaeans—and wrote books on the fair and fit, and published a work on the liberal arts, and the categories of Aristotle.

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Chapter I.—Concerning that Most Unhappy Time in Which He, Being Deceived, Deceived Others; And Concerning the Mockers of His Confession.

1). During this space of nine years, then, from my nineteenth to my eight and twentieth year, we went on seduced and seducing, deceived and deceiving, in divers lusts; publicly, by sciences which they style “liberal”—secretly, with a falsity called religion. Here proud, there superstitious, everywhere vain! Here, striving after the emptiness of popular fame, even to theatrical applauses, and poetic contests, and strifes for grassy garlands, and the follies of shows and the intemperance of desire. There, seeking to be purged from these our corruptions by carrying food to those who were called “elect” and “holy,” out of which, in the laboratory of their stomachs, they should make for us angels and gods, by whom we; might be delivered.1 These things did I follow eagerly, and practise with my friends—by me and with me deceived. Let the arrogant, and such as have not been yet savingly cast down and stricken by Thee, O my God, laugh at me; but notwithstanding I would confess to Thee mine own shame in Thy praise. Bear with me, I beseech Thee, and give me grace to retrace in my present remembrance the circlings of my past errors, and to “offer to Thee the sacrifice of thanksgiving.”2 For what am I to myself without Thee, but a guide to mine own downfall? Or what am I even at the best, but one sucking Thy milk,3 and feeding upon Thee, the meat that perisheth not?4 But what kind of man is any man, seeing that he is but a man? Let, then, the strong and the mighty laugh at us, but let us who are “poor and needy”5 confess unto Thee.

Chapter II.—He Teaches Rhetoric, the Only Thing He Loved, and Scorns the Soothsayer, Who Promised Him Victory.

2. In those years I taught the art of rhetoric, and, overcome by cupidity, put to sale a loquacity by which to overcome. Yet I preferred—Lord, Thou knowest—to have honest scholars (as they are esteemed); and these I, without artifice, taught artifices, not to be put in practise against the life of the guiltless, though sometimes for the life of the guilty. And Thou, O God, from afar sawest me stumbling in that slippery path, and amid much smoke6 sending out some flashes of fidelity, which I exhibited in that my guidance of such as loved vanity and sought after leasing,7 I being their companion. In those years I had one (whom I knew not in what is called lawful wedlock, but whom my wayward passion, void of understanding, had discovered), yet one only, remaining faithful even to her; in whom I found out truly by my own experience what difference there is between the restraints of the marriage bonds, contracted for the sake of issue, and the compact of a lustful love, where children are born against the parents will, although, being born, they compel love.

3. I remember, too, that when I decided to compete for a theatrical prize, a soothsayer demanded of me what I would give him to win; but I, detesting and abominating such foul mysteries, answered, “That if the garland were of imperishable gold, I would not suffer a fly to be destroyed to secure it for me.” For he was to slay certain living creatures in his sacrifices, and by those honours to invite the devils to give me their support. But this ill thing I also refused, not out of a pure love8 for Thee, O God of my heart; for I knew not how to love Thee, knowing not how to conceive aught beyond corporeal brightness.9 And doth not a soul, sighing after such-like fictions, commit fornication against Thee, trust in false things,10 and nourish the wind?11 But I would not, forsooth, have sacrifices offered to devils on my behalf, though I myself was offering sacrifices to them by that superstition. For what else is nourishing the, wind but nourishing them, that is, by our wanderings to become their enjoyment and derision?

Chapter III.—Not Even the Most Experienced Men Could Persuade Him of the Vanity of Astrology to Which He Was Devoted.

4. Those impostors, then, whom they designate Mathematicians, I consulted without hesitation, because they used no sacrifices, and invoked the aid of no spirit for their divinations, which art Christian and true piety fitly rejects and condemns.12 For good it is to confess unto Thee, and to say, “Be merciful unto me, heal my soul, for I have sinned against Thee;”13 and not to abuse Thy goodness for a license to sin, but to remember the words of the Lord, “Behold, thou art made whole; sin no more, lest a worse thing come unto thee.”14 All of which salutary advice they endeavour to destroy when they say, “The cause of thy sin is inevitably determined in heaven;” and, “This did Venus, or Saturn, or Mars;” in order that man, forsooth, flesh and blood, and proud corruption, may be blameless, while the Creator and Ordainer of heaven and stars is to bear the blame. And who is this but Thee, our God, the sweetness and well-spring of righteousness, who renderest “to every man according to his deeds,”15 and despisest not “a broken and a contrite heart!”16

5. There was in those days a wise man, very skilful in medicine, and much renowned therein, who had with his own proconsular hand put the Agonistic garland upon my distempered head, not, though, as a physician;17 for this disease Thou alone healest, who resistest the proud, and givest grace to the humble.18 But didst Thou fail me even by that old man, or forbear from healing my soul? For when I had become more familiar with him, and hung assiduously and fixedly on his conversation (for though couched in simple language, it was replete with vivacity, life, and earnestness), when he had perceived from my discourse that I was given to books of the horoscope-casters, he, in a kind and fatherly manner, advised me to throw them away, and not vainly bestow the care and labour necessary for useful things upon these vanities; saying that he himself in his earlier years had studied that art with a view to gaining his living by following it as a profession, and that, as he had understood Hippocrates, he would soon have understood this, and yet he had given it up, and followed medicine, for no other reason than that he discovered it to be utterly false, and he, being a man of character, would not gain his living by beguiling people. “But thou,” saith he,” who hast rhetoric to support thyself by, so that thou followest this of free will, not of necessity—all the more, then, oughtest thou to give me credit herein, who laboured to attain it so perfectly, as I wished to gain my living by it alone.” When I asked him to account for so many true things being foretold by it, he answered me (as he could) “that the force of chance, diffused throughout the whole order of nature, brought this about. For if when a man by accident opens the leaves of some poet, who sang and intended something far different, a verse oftentimes fell out wondrously apposite to the present business, it were not to be wondered at,” he continued, “if out of the soul of man, by some higher instinct, not knowing what goes on within itself, an answer should be given by chance, not art, which should coincide with the business and actions of the questioner.”

6. And thus truly, either by or through him, Thou didst look after me. And Thou didst delineate in my memory what I might afterwards search out for myself. But at that time neither he, nor my most dear Nebridius, a youth most good and most circumspect, who scoffed at that whole stock of divination, could persuade me to forsake it, the authority of the authors influencing me still more; and as yet I had lighted upon no certain proof—such as I sought—whereby it might without doubt appear that what had been truly foretold by those consulted was by accident or chance, not by the art of the star-gazers.

23 Chapter IV.—Sorely Distressed by Weeping at the Death of His Friend, He Provides Consolation for Himself.

7. In those years, when I first began to teach rhetoric in my native town, I had acquired a very dear friend, from association in our studies, of mine own age, and, like myself, just rising up into the flower of youth. He had grown up with me from childhood, and we had been both school-fellows and play-fellows. But he was not then my friend, nor, indeed, afterwards, as true friendship is; for true it is not but in such as Thou bindest together, cleaving unto Thee by that love which is shed abroad in our hearts by the Holy Ghost, which is given unto us.19 But yet it was too sweet, being ripened by the fervour of similar studies. For, from the true a faith (which he, as a youth, had not soundly and thoroughly become master of), I had turnedhim aside towards those superstitious and pernicious fables which my mother mourned in me. With me this man’s mind now erred, nor could my soul exist without him. But behold, Thou weft close behind Thy fugitives—at once God of vengeance20 and Fountain of mercies, who turnest us to Thyself by wondrous means. Thou removedst that man from this life when he had scarce completed one whole year of my friendship, sweet to me above all the sweetness of that my life.

8. “Who can show forth all Thy praise”21 which he hath experienced in himself alone? What was it that Thou didst then, O my God, and how unsearchable are the depths of Thy judgments!22 For when, sore sick of a fever, he long lay unconscious in a death-sweat, and all despaired of his recovery, he was baptized without his knowledge;23 myself meanwhile little caring, presuming that his soul would retain rather what it had imbibed from me, than what was done to his unconscious body. Far different, however, was it, for he was revived and restored. Straightway, as soon as I could talk to him (which I could as soon as he was able, for I never left him, and we hung too much upon each other), I attempted to jest with him, as if he also would jest with me at that baptism which he had received when mind and senses were in abeyance, but had now learnt that he had received. But he shuddered at me, as if I were his enemy; and, with a remarkable and unexpected freedom, admonished me, if I desired to continue his friend, to desist from speaking to him in such a way. I, confounded and confused, concealed all my emotions, till he should get well, and his health be strong enough to allow me to deal with him as I wished. But he was withdrawn from my frenzy, that with Thee he might be preserved for my comfort. A few days after, during my absence, he had a return of the fever, and died.

9. At this sorrow my heart was utterly darkened, and whatever I looked upon was death. My native country was a torture to me, and my father’s house a wondrous unhappiness; and whatsoever I had participated in with him, wanting him, turned into a frightful torture. Mine eyes sought him everywhere, but he was not granted them; and I hated all places because he was not in them; nor could they now say to me, “Behold; he is coming,” as they did when he was alive and absent. I became a great puzzle to myself, and asked my soul why she was so sad, and why she so exceedingly disquieted me;24 but she knew not what to answer me. And if I said, “Hope thou in God,”25 she very properly obeyed me not; because that most dear friend whom she had lost was, being man, both truer and better than that phantasm26 she was bid to hope in. Naught but tears were sweet to me, and they succeeded my friend in the dearest of my affections.

Chapter V.—Why Weeping is Pleasant to the Wretched.

10. And now, O Lord, these things are passed away, and time hath healed my wound. May I learn from Thee, who art Truth, and apply the ear of my heart unto Thy mouth, that Thou mayest tell me why weeping should be so sweet to the unhappy.27 Hast Thou—although present everywhere—cast away far from Thee our misery? And Thou abidest in Thyself, but we are disquieted with divers trials; and yet, unless we wept in Thine ears, there would be no hope for us remaining. Whence,. then, is it that such sweet fruit is plucked from the bitterness of life, from groans, tears, sighs, and lamentations? Is it the hope that Thou hearest us that sweetens it? This is true of prayer, for therein is a desire to approach unto Thee. But is it also in grief for a thing lost, and the sorrow with which I was then overwhelmed? For I had neither hope of his coming to life again, nor did I seek this with my tears; but I grieved and wept only, for I was miserable, and had lost my joy. Or is weeping a bitter thing, and for distaste of the things which aforetime we enjoyed before, and even then, when we are loathing them, does it cause us pleasure?

Chapter VI.—His Friend Being Snatched Away by Death, He Imagines that He Remains Only as Half.

11. But why do I speak of these things? For this is not the time to question, but rather to confess unto Thee. Miserable I was, and miserable is every soul fetter. ed by the friendship of perishable things—he is torn to pieces when he loses them, and then is sensible of the misery which he had before ever he lost them. Thus was it at that time with me; I wept most bitterly, and found rest in bitterness. Thus was I miserable, and that life of misery I accounted dearer than my friend. For though I would willingly have changed it, yet I was even more unwilling to lose it than him; yea, I knew not whether I was willing to lose it even for him, as is handed down to us (if not an invention) of Pylades and Orestes, that they would gladly have died one for another, or both together, it being worse than death to them not to live together. But there had sprung up in me some kind of feeling, too, contrary to this, for both exceedingly wearisome was it to me to live, and dreadful to die, I suppose, the more I loved him, so much the more did I hate and fear, as a most cruel enemy, that death which had robbed me of him; and I imagined it would suddenly annihilate all men, as it had power over him). Titus, I remember, it was with me. Behold my heart, O my God! Behold and look into me, for I remember it well, O my Hope! who cleansest me from the uncleanness of such affections, directing mine eyes towards Thee, and plucking my feet out of the net.28 For I was astonished that other mortals lived, since he whom I loved, as if he would never die, was dead; and I wondered still more that I, who was to him a second self, could live when he was dead. Well did one say of his friend, “Thou half of my soul,”29 for I felt that my soul and his soul were but one soul in two bodies;30 and, consequently, my life was a horror to me, because I would not live in half. And therefore, perchance, was I afraid to die. lest he should die wholly31 whom I had so greatly loved.

Chapter VII.—Troubled by Restlessness and Grief, He Leaves His Country a Second Time for Carthage.

12. O madness, which knowest not how to love men as men should be loved! O foolish man that I then was, enduring with so much impatience the lot of man So I fretted, sighed, wept, tormented myself, and took neither rest nor advice. For I bore about with me a rent and polluted soul, impatient of being borne by me, and where to repose it I found not. Not in pleasant groves, not in sport or song, not in fragrant spots, nor in magnificent banquetings, nor in the pleasures of the bed and the couch, nor, finally, in books and songs did it find repose. All things looked terrible, even the very light itself; and whatsoever was not what he was, was repulsive and hateful, except groans and tears, for in those alone found I a little repose. But when my soul was withdrawn from them, a heavy burden of misery weighed me down. To Thee, O Lord, should it have been raised, for Thee to lighten and avert it.32 This I knew, but was neither willing nor able; all the more since, in my thoughts of Thee, Thou wert not any solid or substantial thing to me. For Thou wert not Thyself, but an empty phantasm,33 and my error was my god. If I attempted to discharge my burden thereon, that it might find rest, it sank into emptiness, and came rushing down again upon me, and I remained to myself an unhappy spot, where I could neither stay nor depart from. For whither could my heart fly from my heart? Whither could I fly from mine own self? Whither not follow myself? And yet fled I from my country; for so should my eyes look less for him where they were not accustomed to see him. And thus I left the town of Thagaste, and came to Carthage.

Chapter VIII.—That His Grief Ceased by Time, and the Consolation of Friends.

24 13. Times lose no time, nor do they idly roll through our senses. They work strange operations on the mind.34 Behold, they came and went from day to day, and by coming and going they disseminated in my mind other ideas and other remembrances, and by little and little patched me up again with the former kind of delights, unto which that sorrow of mine yielded. But yet there succeeded, not certainly other sorrows, yet the causes of other sorrows.35 For whence had that former sorrow so easily penetrated to the quick, but that I had poured out my soul upon the dust, in loving one who must die as if he were never to die? But what revived and refreshed me especially was the consolations of other friends,36 with whom I did love what instead of Thee I loved. And this was a monstrous fable and protracted lie, by whose adulterous contact our soul, which lay itching in our ears, was being polluted. But that fable would not die to me so oft as any of my friends died. There were other things in them which did more lay hold of my mind,—to discourse and jest with them; to indulge in an interchange of kindnesses; to read together pleasant books; together to trifle, and together to be earnest; to differ at times without ill-humour, as a man would do with his own self; and even by the infrequency of these differences to give zest to our more frequent consentings; sometimes teaching, sometimes being taught; longing for the absent with impatience, and welcoming the coming with joy. These and similar expressions, emanating from the hearts of those who loved and were beloved in return, by the countenance, the tongue, the eyes, and a thousand pleasing movements, were so much fuel to melt our souls together, and out of many to make but one.

Chapter IX.—That the Love of a Human Being, However Constant in Loving and Returning Love, Perishes; While He Who Loves God Never Loses a Friend.

14. This is it that is loved in friends; and so loved that a man’s conscience accuses itself if he love not him by whom he is beloved, or love not again him that loves him, expecting nothing from him but indications of his love. Hence that mourning if one die, and gloom of sorrow, that steeping of the heart in tears, all sweetness turned into bitterness, and upon the loss of the life of the dying, the death of the living. Blessed be he who loveth Thee, and his friend in Thee, and his enemy for Thy sake. 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 created heaven and earth,37 and filleth them,38 because by filling them He created them?39 None loseth Thee but he who leaveth Thee. And he who leaveth Thee, whither goeth he, or whither fleeth he, but from Thee well pleased to Thee angry? For where doth not he find Thy law in his own punishment? “And Thy law is the truth,”40 and truth Thou.41

Chapter X.—That All Things Exist that They May Perish, and that We are Not Safe Unless God Watches Over Us.

15. “Turn us again, O Lord God of Hosts, cause Thy face to shine; and we shall be saved.”42 For whithersoever the soul of man turns itself, unless towards Thee, it is affixed to sorrows,43 yea, though it is affixed to beauteous things without Thee and without itself. And yet they were not unless they were from Thee. They rise and set; and by rising, they begin as it were to be; and they grow, that they may become perfect; and when perfect, they wax old and perish; and all wax not old, but all perish. Therefore when they rise and tend to be, the more rapidly they grow that they may be, so much the more they hasten not to be. This is the way of them.44 Thus much hast Thou given them, because they are parts of things, which exist not all at the same time, but by departing and succeeding they together make up the universe, of which they are parts. And even thus is our speech accomplished by signs emitting a sound; but this, again, is not perfected unless one word pass away when it has sounded its part, in order that another may succeed it. Let my soul praise Thee out of all these things, O God, the Creator of all; but let not my soul be affixed to these things by the glue of love, through the senses of the body. For they go whither they were to go, that they might no longer be; and they rend her with pestilent desires, because she longs to be, and yet loves to rest in what she loves. But in these things no place is to be found; they stay not—they flee; and who is he that is able to follow them with the senses of the flesh? Or who can grasp them, even when they are near? For tardy is the sense of the flesh, because it is the sense of the flesh, and its boundary is itself. It sufficeth for that for which it was made, but it is not sufficient to stay things running their course from their appointed starting-place to the end appointed. For in Thy word, by which they were created, they hear the fiat, “Hence and hitherto.”

Chapter XI.—That Portions of the World are Not to Be Loved; But that God, Their Author, is Immutable, and His Word Eternal.

16. Be not foolish, O my soul, and deaden not the ear of thine heart with the tumult of thy fully. Hearken thou also. The word itself invokes thee to return; and there is the place of rest imperturbable, where love is not abandoned if itself abandoneth not. Behold, these things pass away, that others may succeed them, and so this lower universe be made complete in all its parts. But do I depart anywhere, saith the word of God? There fix thy habitation. There commit whatsoever thou hast thence, O my soul; at all events now thou art tired out with deceits. Commit to truth whatsoever thou hast from the truth, and nothing shall thou lose; and thy decay shall flourish again, and all thy diseases be healed,45 and thy perishable parts shall be reformed and renovated, and drawn together to thee; nor shall they put thee down where themselves descend, but they shall abide with thee, and continue for ever before God, who abideth and continueth for ever.46

17. Why, then, be perverse and follow thy flesh? Rather let it be converted and follow thee. Whatever by her thou feelest, is but in part; and the whole, of which these are portions, thou art ignorant of, and yet they delight thee. But had the sense of thy flesh been capable of comprehending the whole, and not itself also, for thy punishment, been justly limited to a portion of the whole, thou wouldest that whatsoever existeth at the present time should pass away, that so the whole might please thee more.47 For what we speak, also by the same sense of the flesh thou hearest; and yet wouldest not thou that the syllables should stay, but fly away, that others may come, and the whole48 be heard. Thus it is always, when any single thing is composed of many, all of which exist not together, all together would delight more than they do simply could all be perceived at once. But far better than these is He who made all; and He is our God, and He passeth not away, for there is nothing to succeed Him. If bodies please thee, praise God for them, and turn back thy love upon their Creator, lest in those things which please thee thou displease.

Chapter XII.—Love is Not Condemned, But Love in God, in Whom There is Rest Through Jesus Christ, is to Be Preferred.

18. If souls please thee, let them be loved in God; for they also are mutable, but in Him are they firmly established, else would they pass, and pass away. In Him, then, let them be beloved; and draw unto Him along with thee as many souls as thou canst, and say to them, “Him let us love, Him let us love; He created these, nor is He far off. For He did not create them, and then depart; but they are of Him, and in Him. Behold, there is He wherever truth is known. He is within the very heart, but yet hath the heart wandered from Him. Return to your heart,49 O ye transgressors,50 and cleave fast unto Him that made you. Stand with Him, and you shall stand fast. Rest in Him, and you shall be at rest. Whither go ye in rugged paths? Whither go ye? The good that you love is from Him; and as it has respect unto Him it is both good and pleasant, and justly shall it be embittered,51 because whatsoever cometh from Him is unjustly loved if He be forsaken for it. Why, then, will ye wander farther and farther in these difficult 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 could a blessed life be where life itself is not?”

19. But our very Life descended hither, and bore our death, and slew it, out of the abundance of His own life; and thundering He called loudly to us to return hence to Him into that secret place whence He came forth to us—first into the Virgin’s womb, where the human creature was married to Him,—our mortal flesh, that it might not be for ever mortal,—and thence “as a bridegroom coming out of his chamber, rejoicing as a strong man to run a race.”52 For He tarried not, but ran crying out by words, deeds, death, life, descent, ascension, crying aloud to us to return to Him. And He departed from our sight, that we might return to our heart, and there find Him. For He departed, and behold, He is here. He would not be long with us, yet left us not; for He departed thither, whence He never departed, because “the world was made by Him.”53 And in this world He was, and into this world He came to save sinners,54 unto whom my soul doth confess, that He may heal it, for it hath sinned against Him.55 O ye sons of men, how long so slow of heart?56 Even now, after the Life is descended to you, will ye not ascend and live?57 But whither ascend ye, when ye are on high, and set your mouth against the heavens?58 Descend that ye may ascend,59 and ascend to God. For ye have fallen by” ascending against Him.” Tell them this, that they may weep in the valley of tears,60 and so draw them with thee to God, because it is by His Spirit that thou speakest thus unto them, if thou speakest burning with the fire of love.

25 Chapter XIII.—Love Originates from Grace and Beauty Enticing Us.

20. These things I knew not at that time, and I loved these lower beauties, and I was sinking to the very depths; and I said to my friends, “Do we love anything but the beautiful? What, then, is the beautiful? And what is beauty? What is it that allures and unites us to the things we love; for unless there were a grace and beauty in them, they could by no means attract us to them?” And I marked and perceived that in bodies themselves there was a beauty from their forming a kind of whole, and another from mutual fitness, as one part of the body with its whole, or a shoe with a foot, and so on. And this consideration sprang up in my mind out of the recesses of my heart, and I wrote books (two or three, I think) “on the fair and fit.” Thou knowest, O Lord, for it has escaped me; for I have them not, but they have strayed from me, I know not how.

Chapter XIV.—Concerning the Books Which He Wrote “On the Fair and Fit,” Dedicated to Hierius.

21. But what was it that prompted me, O Lord my God, to dedicate these books to Hierius, an orator of Rome, whom I knew not by sight, but loved the man for the fame of his learning, for which he was renowned, and some words of his which I had heard, and which had pleased me? But the more did he please me in that he pleased others, who highly extolled him, astonished that a native of Syria, instructed first in Greek eloquence, should afterwards become a wonderful Latin orator, and one so well versed in studies pertaining unto wisdom. Thus a man is commended and loved when absent. Doth this love enter into the heart of the hearer from the mouth of the commender? Not so. But through one who loveth is another inflamed. For hence he is loved who is commended when the commender is believed to praise him with an unfeigned heart; that is, when he that loves him praises him.

22. Thus, then, loved I men upon the judgment of men, not upon Thine, O my God, in which no man is deceived. But yet why not as the renowned charioteer, as the huntsman?61 known far and wide by a vulgar popularity—but far otherwise, and seriously, and so as I would desire to be myself commended? For I would not that they should commend and love me as actors are,—although I myself did commend and love them,—but I would prefer being unknown than so known, and even being hated than so loved. Where now are these influences of such various and divers kinds of loves distributed in one soul? What is it that I am in love with in another, which, if I did not hate, I should not detest and repel from myself, seeing we are equally men? For it does not follow that because a good horse is loved by him who would not, though he might, be that horse, the same should therefore be affirmed by an actor, who partakes of our nature. Do I then love in a man that which I, who am a man, hate to be? Man himself is a great deep, whose very hairs Thou numberest, O Lord, and they fall not to the ground without Thee.62 And yet are the hairs of his head more readily numbered than are his affections and the movements of his heart.

23. But that orator was of the kind that I so loved as I wished myself to be such a one; and I erred through an inflated pride, and was “carried about with every wind,”63 but yet was piloted by Thee, though very secretly. And whence know I, and whence confidently confess I unto Thee that I loved him more because of the love of those who praised him, than for the very things for which they praised him? Because had he been upraised, and these self-same men had dispraised him, and with dispraise and scorn told the same things of him, I should never have been so inflamed and provoked to love him. And yet the things had not been different, nor he himself different, but only the affections of the narrators. See where lieth the impotent soul that is not yet sustained by the solidity of truth! Just as the blasts of tongues blow from the breasts of conjecturers, so is it tossed this way and that, driven forward and backward, and the light is obscured to it and the truth not perceived. And behold it is before us. And to me it was a great matter that my style and studies should be known to that man; the which if he approved, I were the more stimulated, but if he disapproved, this vain heart of mine, void of Thy solidity, had been offended. And yet that “fair and fit,” about which wrote to him, I reflected on with pleasure, and contemplated it, and admired it, though none joined me in doing so.

Chapter XV.—While Writing, Being Blinded by Corporeal Images, He Failed to Recognise the Spiritual Nature of God.

24. But not yet did I perceive the hinge on which this impotent matter turned in Thy wisdom, O Thou Omnipotent, “who alone doest great wonders;”64 and my mind ranged through corporeal forms, and I defined and distinguished as “fair,” that which is so in itself, and “fit,” that which is beautiful as it corresponds to some other thing; and this I supported by corporeal examples. And I turned my attention to the nature of the mind, but the false opinions which I entertained of spiritual things prevented me from seeing the truth. Yet the very power of truth forced itself on my gaze, and I turned away my throbbing soul from incorporeal substance, to lineaments, and colours, and bulky magnitudes. And not being able to perceive these in the mind, I thought I could not perceive my mind. And whereas in virtue I loved peace, and in viciousness I hated discord, in the former I distinguished unity, but in the latter a kind of division. And in that unity I conceived the rational soul and the nature of truth and of the chief good65 to consist. But in this division I, unfortunate one, imagined there was I know not what substance of irrational life, and the nature of the chief evil, which should not be a substance only, but real life also, and yet not emanating from Thee, O my God, from whom are all things. And yet the first I called a Monad, as if it had been a soul without sex,66 but the other a Duad,—anger in deeds of violence, in deeds of passion, lust,—not knowing of what I talked. For I had not known or learned that neither was evil a substance, nor our soul that chief and unchangeable good.

25. For even as it is in the case of deeds of violence, if that emotion of the soul from whence the stimulus comes be depraved, and carry itself insolently and mutinously; and in acts of passion, if that affection of the soul whereby carnal pleasures are imbibed is unrestrained,—so do errors and false opinions contaminate the life, if the reasonable soul itself be depraved, as it was at that time in me, who was ignorant that it must be enlightened by another light that it may be partaker of truth, seeing that itself is not that nature of truth. “For Thou wilt light my candle; the Lord my God will enlighten my darkness;67 and “of His fulness have all we received,”68 for “that was the true Light which lighted every man that cometh into the world;”69 for in Thee there is “no variableness, neither shadow of turning.”70

26. But I pressed towards Thee, and was repelled by Thee that I might taste of death, for Thou “resistest the proud.”71 But what prouder than for me, with a marvellous madness, to assert myself to be that by nature which Thou art? For whereas I was mutable,—so much being clear to me, for my very longing to become wise arose from the wish from worse to become better,—yet chose I rather to think Thee mutable, than myself not to be that which Thou art. Therefore was I repelled by Thee, and Thou resistedst my changeable stiffneckedness; and I imagined corporeal forms, and, being flesh, I accused flesh, and, being “a wind that passeth away,”72 I returned not to Thee, but went wandering and wandering on towards those things that have no being, neither in Thee, nor in me, nor in the body. Neither were they created for me by Thy truth, but conceived by my vain conceit out of corporeal things. And I used to ask Thy faithful little ones, my fellow-citizens,—from whom I unconsciously stood exiled,—I used flippantly and foolishly to ask, “Why, then, doth the soul which God created err?” But I would not permit any one to ask me, “Why, then, doth God err?” And I contended that Thy immutable substance erred of constraint, rather than admit that my mutable substance had gone astray of free will, and erred as a punishment.73

27. I was about six or seven and twenty years of age when I wrote those volumes—meditating upon corporeal fictions, which clamoured in the ears of my heart. These I directed, O sweet Truth, to Thy inward melody, pondering on the “fair and fit,” and longing to stay and listen to Thee, and to rejoice greatly at the Bridegroom’s voice,74 and I could not; for by the voices of my own errors was I driven forth, and by the weight of my own pride was I sinking into the lowest pit. For Thou didst not “make me to hear joy and gladness;” nor did the bones which were not yet humbled rejoice.75

26 Chapter XVI.—He Very Easily Understood the Liberal Arts and the Categories of Aristotle, But Without True Fruit.

28. And what did it profit me that, when scarce twenty years old, a book of Aristotle’s, entitled The Ten Predicaments, fell into my hands,—on whose very name I hung as on something great and divine, when my rhetoric master of Carthage, and others who were esteemed learned, referred to it with cheeks swelling with pride,—I read it alone and understood it? And on my conferring with others, who said that with the assistance of very able masters—who not only explained it orally, but drew many things in the dust76 —they scarcely understood it, and could tell me no more about it than I had acquired in reading it by myself alone? And the book appeared to me to speak plainly enough of substances, such as man is, and of their qualities,—such as the figure of a man, of what kind it is; and his 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 is shod or armed, or does or suffers anything; and whatever innumerable things might be classed under these nine categories,77 —of which I have given some examples,—or under that chief category of substance.

29. What did all this profit me, seeing it even hindered me, when, imagining that whatsoever existed was comprehended in those ten categories, I tried so to understand, O my God, Thy wonderful and unchangeable unity as if Thou also hadst been subjected to Thine own greatness or beauty, so that they should exist in Thee as their subject, like as in bodies, whereas Thou Thyself art Thy greatness and beauty? But a body is not great or fair because it is a body, seeing that, though it were less great or fair, it should nevertheless be a body. But that which I had conceived of Thee was falsehood, not truth,—fictions of my misery, not the supports of Thy blessedness. For Thou hadst commanded, and it was done in me, that the earth should bring forth briars and thorns to me,78 and that with labour I should get my bread.79

30. And what did it profit me that I, the base slave of vile affections, read unaided, and understood, all the books that I could get of the so-called liberal arts? And I took delight in them, but knew not whence came whatever in them was true and certain. For my back then was to the light, and my face towards the things enlightened; whence my face, with which I discerned the things enlightened, was not itself enlightened. Whatever was written either on rhetoric or logic, geometry, music, or arithmetic, did I, without any great difficulty, and without the teaching of any man, understand, as Thou knowest, O Lord my God, because both quickness of comprehension and acuteness of perception are Thy gifts. Yet did I not thereupon sacrifice to Thee. So, then, it served not to my use, but rather to my destruction, since I went about to get so good a portion of my substance80 into my own power; and I kept not my strength for Thee,81 but went away from Thee into a far country, to waste it upon harlotries.82 For what did good abilities profit me, if I did not employ them to good uses? For I did not perceive that those arts were acquired with great difficulty, even by the studious and those gifted with genius, until I endeavoured to explain them to such; and he was the most proficient in them who followed my explanations not too slowly.

31. But what did this profit me, supposing that Thou, O Lord God, the Truth, wert a bright and vast body,83 and I a piece 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—I, who blushed not then to avow before men my blasphemies, and to bark against Thee. What profited me then my nimble wit in those sciences and all those knotty volumes, disentangled by me without help from a human master, seeing that I erred so odiously, and with such sacrilegious baseness, in the doctrine of piety? Or what impediment was it to Thy little ones to have a far slower wit, seeing that they departed not far from Thee, that in the nest of Thy Church they might safely become 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,84 defend us, and carry us. Thou wilt carry us both when little, and even to grey hairs wilt Thou carry us;85 for our firmness, when it is Thou, then is it firmness; but when it is our own, then it is infirmity. Our good lives always with Thee, from which when we are averted we are perverted. Let us now, O Lord, return, that we be not overturned, because with Thee our good lives without any eclipse, which good Thou Thyself art.86 And we need not fear lest we should find no place unto which to return because we fell away from it; for when we were absent, our home—Thy Eternity—fell not).

————————————


1 Augustin tells us that he went not beyond the rank of a “hearer,” because he found the Manichaean teachers readier in refuting others than in establishing their own views, and seems only to have looked for some esoteric doctrine to have been disclosed to him under their materialistic teaching as to God—viz. that He was an unmeasured Light that extended all ways but one, infinitely (Serm. 4,sec 5).—rather than to have really accepted it.—De Util. Cred. Praef. See also 3,sec. 18, notes 1 and 2, above.

2 (
Ps 116,17

3 1P 2,2.

4 (Jn 6,27,

5 (Ps 74,21,

6 (Is 42,3, and Mt 12,20,

7 (Ps 4,2).

276 8 “He alone is truly pure who waiteth on God, and keepeth himself to Him alone ” (Aug). De Vita Beata, sec. 18). “Whoso seeketh God is pure, because the soul hath in God her legitimate husband. Whosoever seeketh of God anything besides God, doth not love God purely. If a wife loved her husband because he is rich, she is not pure, for she loveth not her husband but the gold of her husband” (Aug. Serm. 137). “Whoso seeks from God any other reward but God, and for it would serve God, esteems what he wishes to receive more than Him from whom he would receive it. What, then? hath God no reward? None, save Himself. The reward of God is God Himself. This it loveth; if it love aught beside, it is no pure love. You depart from the immortal flame, you will be chilled, corrupted. Do not depart; it will be thy corruption, will be fornication in thee” (Aug. in Ps 72,sec. 32). “The pure fear of the Lord (Ps 19,9) is that wherewith the Church, the more ardently she loveth her husband, the more diligently she avoids offending Him, and therefore love, when perfected, casteth not out this fear, but it remaineth for ever and ever” (Aug.in loc.). “Under the name of pure fear is signified that will whereby we must needs be averse from sin, and avoid sin, not through the constant anxiety of infirmity, but through the tranquillity of affection” (De Civ. Dei, 14,sec. 65).—E. B. P.

9 See note on sec. 9, below.

10 “Indisputably we must take care, lest the mind, believing that which it does not see, feign to itself something which is not, and hope for and love that which is false. For in that case it will not be charity out of a pure heart, and of a good conscience, and of faith unfeigned, which is the end of the commandment” (De Trin. 8,sec. 6). And again (Confessions, 1,1): “For who can call on Thee, not knowing Thee? For he that knoweth Thee not may call on Thee as other than Thou art.”

11 (Os 12,1,

12 Augustin classes the votaries of both wizards and astrologers (De Doctr. Christ. 2,23; and De Civ. Dei, 10,9; compare also Justin Martyr, Apol. 2,c. 5) as alike “deluded and imposed on by the false angels, to whom the lowest part of the world has been put in subjection by the law of God’s providence;” and he says, “All arts of this sort are either nullities, or are part of a guilty superstition springing out of a baleful fellowship between men and devils, and are to be utterly repudiated and avoided by the Christian, as the covenants of a false and treacherous friendship.” It is remarkable that though these arts were strongly denounced in the Pentateuch, the Jews—acquiring them from the surrounding Gentile nations—have embedded them deeply in their oral law, said also to be given by Moses (e.g. in Moed Katon 28, and Shabbath 156, prosperity comes from the influence of the stars; in Shabbath 61 it question whether the influence of the stars or a charm has been effective; and in Sanhedrin 17 magic is one of the qualifications for the Sanhedrim). It might have been expected that the Christians, if only from that reaction against Judaism which shows itself in Origen’s disparagement of the letter of the Old Testament Scriptures (see (De Princip. 4,15, 16), would have shrunk from such strange arts. But the influx of pagans, who had practiced them, into the Christian Church appears gradually to have leavened it in no slight degree. This is not only true of the Valentinians (see (Kaye’s Clement of Alex. vi). and other heretics, but the influence of these contacts is seen even in the writings of the “orthodox.” Those who can read between the lines will find no slight trace of this (after separating what they would conceive to be true from what is manifestly false) in the story told by Zonaras, in his Annals, of the controversy between the Rabbis and Sylvester, Bishop of Rome, before Constantine. The Jews were worsted in argument, and evidently thought an appeal to miracles might, from the Emperor’s education, bring him over to their side. An ox is brought forth. The Jewish wonder-worker whispers a mystic name into its ear, and it falls dead; but Sylvester, according to the story, is quite equal to the occasion, and restores the animal to life again by uttering the name of the Redeemer. It may have been that the cessation of miracles may have gradually led unstable professors of Christianity to invent miracles; and, as Bishop Kaye observes (Tertullian, p. 95), “the success of the first attempts naturally encouraged others to practice similar impositions on the credulity of mankind.” As to the time of the cessation of miracles, comparison may be profitably made of the views of Kaye, in the early part of c. 2,of his Tertullian, and of Blunt, in his Right Use of the Early Fathers, series 2,lecture 6.

13 (Ps 41,4.

14 (Jn 5,14,

15 (Rm 2,6, and Mt 16,27,

16 (Ps 51,17

17 This physician was Vindicianus, the “acute old man” mentioned in 7,sec. 8, below, and again in Ep. 138, as “the most eminent physician of his day.” Augustin’s disease, however, could not be reached by his remedies. We are irresistibly reminded of the words of our great poet:—

“Canst thou minister to a mind diseased;
Pluck from the memory a rooted sorrow;
Raze out the written troubles of the brain;
And, with some sweet oblivious antidote,
Cleanse the stuff’d bosom of that perilous stuff
Which weighs upon the heart!”—Macbeth, act. 5, scene 3.

18 1 1P 5,5 Jc 4,6.

19 Rm 5,5.

20 (Ps 94,1,

21 (Ps 106,2

22 (Ps 36,6, and Rm 11,33,

23 See 1,sec, 17, note 3, above).

278 24 (Ps 42,5,

25 Ibid.

26 The mind may rest in theories and abstractions, but the heart craves a being that it can love; and Archbishop Whately has shown in one of his essays that the idol worship of every age had doubtless its origin in the craving of mind and heart for an embodiment of the object of worship. “Show us the Father, and it sufficeth us,” says Philip (John xiv. 8), and he expresses the longing of the soul; and when the Lord replies, “He that hath seen Me hath seen the Father,” He reveals to us God’s satisfaction of human wants in the incarnation of His Son. Augustin’s heart was now thrown in upon itself, and his view of God gave him no consolation. It satisfied his mind, perhaps, in a measure, to think of God as a “corporeal brightness” (see (iii. 12; 4,3, 12, 31; 5,19, etc). when free from trouble, but it could not satisfy him now. He had yet to learn of Him who is the very image of God—who by His divine power raised the dead to life again, while, with perfect human sympathy, He could “weep with those that wept,”—the “Son of Man” (not of a man, He being miraculously born, but of the race of men [anqrw`pou]), i. e. the Son of Mankind. See also 8,sec. 27, note, below.

27 For so it has ever been found to be:—

“Est quaedam flere voluptas;

Expletur lacrymis egeriturque dolor.”

—Ovid, Trist. 4,3, 38.

28 (Ps 25,15.

29 Horace, Carm. 1,ode 3.

30 Ovid, Trist. 4,eleg. iv. 72.

31 Augustin’s reference to this passage in his Retractions is quoted at the beginning of the book. He might have gone further than to describe his words here as declamatio levis, since the conclusion is not logical).

279 32 “The great and merciful Architect of His Church, whom not only the philosophers have styled, but the Scripture itself calls tecnivth" (an artist or artificer), employs not on us the hammer and chisel with an intent to wound or mangle us, but only to square and fashion our hard and stubborn hearts into such lively stones as may both grace and strengthen His heavenly structure.”—Boyle.

33 See 3,9; 4,3, 12, 31; 5,19.

34 As Seneca has it: “Quad ratio non quit, saepe sanabit mora” (Agam. 130).

35 See 4,cc. 1, 10 12, and 6,c. 16.

36 “Friendship,” says Lord Bacon, in his essay thereon,—the sentiment being perhaps suggested by Cicero’s “Secundas res splendidiores facit amicitia et adversas partiens communicansque leviores” (De Amicit. 6),—“redoubleth joys, and cutteth griefs in halves.” Augustin appears to have been eminently open to influences of this kind. In his De Duab. Anim. con. Manich. (c. ix). he tells us that friendship was one of the bonds that kept him in the ranks of the Manichaeans; and here we find that, aided by time and weeping, it restored him in his great grief. See also 5,sec. 19, and 6,sec 26, below.

37 (
Gn 1,1,

38 (Jr 23,24,

39 See 1,2, 3, above.

40 (Ps 119,142, and Jn 17,17,

41 (Jn 14,6).

42 (Ps 80,19

280 43 See 4,cc. 1, 12, and 6,c. 16, below.

44 It is interesting in connection with the above passages to note what Augustin says elsewhere as to the origin of the law of death in the sin of our first parents. In his De Gn ad Lit.(vi. 25) he speaks thus of their condition in the garden, and the provision made for the maintenance of their life: “Aliud est non posse mori, sicut quasdam naturas immortales creavit Deus; aliud est autem posse non mori, secundum quem modum primus creatus est homo immortalis.” Adam, he goes on to say, was able to avert death, by partaking of the tree of life. He enlarges on this doctrine in Book 13,De Civ. Dei. He says (sec. 20): “Our first parents decayed not with years, nor drew nearer to death—a condition secured to them in God’s marvellous grace by the tree of life, which grew along with the forbidden tree in the midst of Paradise.” Again (sec. 19) he says: “Why do the philosophers find that absurd which the Christian faith preaches, namely, that our first parents were so created, that, if they had not sinned, they would not have been dismissed from their bodies by any death, but would have been endowed with immortality as the reward of their obedience, and would have lived eternally with their bodies?” That this was the doctrine of the early Church has been fully shown by Bishop Bull in his State of Man before the Fall, vol. 2,Theophilus of Antioch was of opinion (Ad Autolyc. c. 24) that Adam might have gone on from strength to strength, until at last he “would have been taken up into heaven.” See also on this subject Dean Buckland’s Sermon on Death; and Delitzsch, Bibl. Psychol. 6,secs. 1 and 2.

45 (
Ps 103,3,

46 1P 1,23.

47 See 13,sec. 22, below.

48 A similar illustration occurs in sec. 15, above).

49 Augustin is never weary of pointing out that there is a lex occulta (in Ps lvii. sec. 1), a law written on the heart, which cries to those who have forsaken the written law, “Return to your hearts, ye transgressors.” In like manner he interprets (De Serm. Dom. in Mon. 2,sec. 11) “Enter into thy closet,” of the heart of man. The door is the gate of the senses through which carnal thoughts enter into the mind. We are to shut the door, because the devil (in Ps 141,3) si clausum invenerit transit. In sec. 16, above, the figure is changed, and we are to fear lest these objects of sense render us “deaf in the ear of our heart” with the tumult of our folly. Men will not, he says, go back into their hearts, because the heart is full of sin, and they fear the reproaches of conscience, just (in Ps 33,5) “as those are unwilling to enter their houses who have troublesome wives.” These outer things, which too often draw us away from Him, God intends should lift us up to Him who is better than they, though they could all be ours at once, since He made them all; and “woe,” he says (De Lib. Arb. 2,16), “to them who love the indications of Thee rather than Thee, and remember not what these indicated.”

50 (Is 56,8,

51 See 4,cc. 1, 10, above, and 6,c. 16, below.

52 (Ps 19,5,

53 (Jn 1,10,

54 1Tm 1,15.

281 55 (Ps 41,4,

56 (Lc 24,25,

57 “The Son of God,” says Augustin in another place, “became a son of man, that the sons of men might be made sons of God.” He put off the form of God—that by which He manifested His divine glory in heaven—and put on the “form of a servant” (Ph 2,6, 7), that as the outshining [ajpauvgasma] of the Father’s glory (He 1,3) He might draw us to Himself. He descended and emptied Himself of His dignity that we might ascend, giving an example for all time (in Ps 33,sec. 4); for, “lest man should disdain to imitate a humble man, God humbled Himself, so that the pride of the human race might not disdain to walk in the footsteps of God.” See also 5,sec. 5, note, below.

58 (Ps 73,9

59 “There is something in humility which, strangely enough, exalts the heart, and something in pride which debases it. This seems, indeed, to be contradictory, that loftiness should debase and lowliness exalt. But pious humility enables us to submit to what is above us; and nothing is more exalted above us than God; and therefore humility, by making us subject to God, exalts us.”—De Civ. Dei, 14,sec. 13.

60 (Ps 84,6

61 See 6,sec. 13, below.

62 (Mt 10,29-30.

63 (Ep 4,14 Ep 4,

64 (Ps 136,4

65 Augustin tells us (De Civ. Dei, xix. 1) that Varro, in his lost book De Philosophia, gives two hundred and eighty-eight different opinions as regards the chief good, and shows us how readily they may be reduced in number. Now, as then, philosophers ask the same questions. We have our hedonists, whose “good” is their own pleasure and happiness; our materialists, who would seek the common good of all; and our intuitionists, who aim at following the dictates of conscience. When the pretensions of these various schools are examined without prejudice, the conclusion is forced upon us that we must have recourse to Revelation for a reconcilement of the difficulties of the various systems: and that the philosophers, to employ Davidson’s happy illustration (Prophecies, Introd)., forgetting that their faded taper has been insensibly kindled by gospel light, are attempting now, as in Augustin’s time (ibid. sec. 4), “to fabricate for themselves a happiness in this life based upon a virtue as deceitful as it is proud.” Christianity gives the golden key to the attainment of happiness, when it declares that “godliness is profitable for all things, having the promise of the life which now is, and of that which is to come ” (1Tm 4,8). It was a saying of Bacon (Essay on Adversity), that while “prosperity is the blessing of the old Testament, adversity is the blessing of the New.” He would have been nearer the truth had he said that while temporal rewards were the special promise of the Old Testament, spiritual rewards are the special promise of the New. For though Christ’s immediate followers had to suffer “adversity” in the planting of our faith, adversity cannot properly be said to be the result of following Christ. It has yet to be shown that, on the whole, the greatest amount of real happiness does not result, even in this life, from a Christian life, for virtue is, even here, its own reward. The fulness of the reward, however, will only be received in the life to come. Augustin’s remark, therefore, still holds good that “life eternal is the supreme good, and death eternal the supreme evil, and that to obtain the one and escape the other we must live rightly” (ibid. sec. 4); and again, that even in the midst of the troubles of life, “as we are saved, so we are made happy, by hope. And as we do not as yet possess a present, but look for a future salvation, so it is with our happiness,…we ought patiently to endure till we come to the ineffable enjoyment of unmixed good.” See Abbé Anselme, Sur le Souverain Bien, vol. 5,serm. 1; and the last chapter of Professor Sidgwick’s Methods of Ethics, for the conclusions at which a mind at once lucid and dispassionate has arrived on this question).

282 66 “Or ‘an unintelligent soul:0’ very good Mss. reading ‘sensu,0’ the majority, it appears, ‘sexu.0’ If we read ‘sexu,0’ the absolute unity of the first principle or Monad, may be insisted upon, and in the inferior principle, divided into ‘violence0’ and ‘lust,0’ ‘violence,0’ as implying strength, may be looked on as the male, ‘lust0’ was, in mythology, represented as female if we take ‘sensu,0’ it will express the living but unintelligent soul of the world in the Manichaean, as a pantheistic system.”—E. B. P.

67 (
Ps 18,28, constantly urges our recognition of the truth that God is the “Father of lights.” From Him as our central sun, all light, whether of wisdom or knowledge proceedeth, and if changing the figure, our candle which He hath lighted blown out, He again must light it. Compare Enar. in Ps xciii. Ps 147 and Sermons, Ps 67 and Ps 341
68 (Jn 1,16,

69 (Jn 1,9,

70 (Jc 1,17,

71 (Jc 4,6, and 1P 5,5.

72 (Ps 78,39,

73 It may assist those unacquainted with Augustin’s writings to understand the last three sections, if we set before them a brief view of the Manichaean speculations as to the good and evil principles, and the nature of the human soul:—(1) The Manichaeans believed that there were two principles or substances, one good and the other evil, and that both were eternal and opposed one to the other. The good principle they called God, and the evil, matter or Hyle (Con. Faust. 21,1, 2). Faustus, in his argument with Augustin, admits that they sometimes called the evil nature “God,” but simply as a conventional usage. Augustin says thereon (ibid. sec. 4): “Faustus glibly defends himself by saying, ‘We speak not of two gods, but of God and Hyle:0’ but when you ask for the meaning of Hyle, you find that it is in fact another god. If the Manichaeans gave the name of Hyle, as the ancients did, to the unformed matter which is susceptible of bodily forms, we should not accuse them of making two gods. But it is pure folly and madness to give to matter the power of forming bodies, or to deny that what has this power is God.” Augustin alludes in the above passage to the Platonic theory of matter, which, as the late Dean Mansel has shown us (Gnostic Heresies, Basilides, etc)., resulted after his time in Pantheism, and which was entirely opposed to the dualism of Manichaeus. It is to this “power of forming bodies” claimed for matter, then, that Augustin alludes in our text (sec. 24) as “not only a substance but real life also.” (2) The human soul the Manichaeans declared to be of the same nature as God, though not created by Him—it having originated in the intermingling of part of His being with the evil principle, in the conflict between the kingdoms of light and darkness (in Ps 140,sec. 10). Augustin says to Faustus: “ You generally call your soul not a temple, but a part or member of God ” (Con. Faust. 20,15): and thus, “identifying themselves with the nature and substance of God” (Ps 12,13), they did not refer their sin to themselves, but to the race of darkness, and so did not “prevail over their sin.” That is, they denied original sin, and asserted that it necessarily resulted from the soul’s contact with the body. To this Augustin steadily replied, that as the soul was not of the nature of God, but created by Him and endowed with free will, man was responsible for his transgressions. Again, referring to the Confessions, we find Augustin speaking consistently with his then belief, when he says that he had not then learned that the soul was not a “chief and unchangeable good” (sec. 24), or that “it was not that nature of truth” (sec. 25): and that when he transgressed “he accused flesh” rather than himself: and, as a result of his Manichaean errors (sec. 26), “contended that God’s immutable substance erred of constraint, rather than admit that his mutable substance had gone astray of free will, and erred as a punishment.”

74 (Jn 3,29,

75 (Ps 51,8, Vulg.

76 As the mathematicians did their figures, in dust or sand.

283 77 “The categories enumerated by Aristotle are ojusiva, povson, poi`on, provsti, pou`, povte, keisqai, eŸcein, poiei`n, pavscein; which are usually rendered, as adequately as perhaps they can be in our language, substance, quantity, quality, relation, place, time, situation, possession, action, suffering. The catalogue which certainly is but a very crude one) has been by some writers enlarged, as it is evident may easily be done by subdividing some of the heads; and by others curtailed, as it is no less evident that all may ultimately be referred to the two heads of substance and attribute, or, in the language of some logicians, ‘accident0’” (Whately’s Logic, 4,2, sec. 1, note). “These are called in Latin the praedicaments, because they can be said or predicated in the same sense of all other terms, as well as of all the objects denoted by them, whereas no other term can be correctly said of them, because no other is employed to express the full extent of their meaning” (Gillies, Analysis of Aristotle, c. 2).

78 (
Is 32,13,

79 (Gn 3,19

80 (Lc 15,12 Lc 15,

81 (Ps 59,9, Vulg.

82 (Lc 15,13 Lc 15,

83 See 3,12; 4,3, 12; 5,19).

84 (Ps 36,7,

85 Is 46,4.

86 See 11,sec. 5, note, below).





Augustin: confessions 275