BOOK VIII

O my God, let me, with thanksgiving, remember, and confess unto Thee Thy

mercies on me. Let my bones be bedewed with Thy love, and let them say

unto Thee, Who is like unto Thee, O Lord? Thou hast broken my bonds in

sunder, I will offer unto Thee the sacrifice of thanksgiving. And how

Thou hast broken them, I will declare; and all who worship Thee, when

they hear this, shall say, "Blessed be the Lord, in heaven and in earth,

great and wonderful is his name." Thy words had stuck fast in my heart,

and I was hedged round about on all sides by Thee. Of Thy eternal life I

was now certain, though I saw it in a figure and as through a glass. Yet

I had ceased to doubt that there was an incorruptible substance, whence

was all other substance; nor did I now desire to be more certain of

Thee, but more steadfast in Thee. But for my temporal life, all was

wavering, and my heart had to be purged from the old leaven. The Way,

the Saviour Himself, well pleased me, but as yet I shrunk from going

through its straitness. And Thou didst put into my mind, and it seemed

good in my eyes, to go to Simplicianus, who seemed to me a good servant

of Thine; and Thy grace shone in him. I had heard also that from his

very youth he had lived most devoted unto Thee. Now he was grown into

years; and by reason of so great age spent in such zealous following of

Thy ways, he seemed to me likely to have learned much experience; and

so he had. Out of which store I wished that he would tell me (setting

before him my anxieties) which were the fittest way for one in my case

to walk in Thy paths.

For, I saw the church full; and one went this way, and another that way.

But I was displeased that I led a secular life; yea now that my desires

no longer inflamed me, as of old, with hopes of honour and profit,

a very grievous burden it was to undergo so heavy a bondage. For, in

comparison of Thy sweetness, and the beauty of Thy house which I loved,

those things delighted me no longer. But still I was enthralled with

the love of woman; nor did the Apostle forbid me to marry, although he

advised me to something better, chiefly wishing that all men were as

himself was. But I being weak, chose the more indulgent place; and

because of this alone, was tossed up and down in all beside, faint and

wasted with withering cares, because in other matters I was constrained

against my will to conform myself to a married life, to which I was

given up and enthralled. I had heard from the mouth of the Truth,

that there were some eunuchs which had made themselves eunuchs for the

kingdom of heaven's sake: but, saith He, let him who can receive it,

receive it. Surely vain are all men who are ignorant of God, and could

not out of the good things which are seen, find out Him who is good. But

I was no longer in that vanity; I had surmounted it; and by the common

witness of all Thy creatures had found Thee our Creator, and Thy Word,

God with Thee, and together with Thee one God, by whom Thou createdst

all things. There is yet another kind of ungodly, who knowing God,

glorified Him not as God, neither were thankful. Into this also had

I fallen, but Thy right hand upheld me, and took me thence, and Thou

placedst me where I might recover. For Thou hast said unto man, Behold,

the fear of the Lord is wisdom, and, Desire not to seem wise; because

they who affirmed themselves to be wise, became fools. But I had now

found the goodly pearl, which, selling all that I had, I ought to have

bought, and I hesitated.

To Simplicianus then I went, the father of Ambrose (a Bishop now) in

receiving Thy grace, and whom Ambrose truly loved as a father. To him I

related the mazes of my wanderings. But when I mentioned that I had read

certain books of the Platonists, which Victorinus, sometime Rhetoric

Professor of Rome (who had died a Christian, as I had heard), had

translated into Latin, he testified his joy that I had not fallen upon

the writings of other philosophers, full of fallacies and deceits, after

the rudiments of this world, whereas the Platonists many ways led to the

belief in God and His Word. Then to exhort me to the humility of

Christ, hidden from the wise, and revealed to little ones, he spoke of

Victorinus himself, whom while at Rome he had most intimately known: and

of him he related what I will not conceal. For it contains great praise

of Thy grace, to be confessed unto Thee, how that aged man, most learned

and skilled in the liberal sciences, and who had read, and weighed

so many works of the philosophers; the instructor of so many noble

Senators, who also, as a monument of his excellent discharge of his

office, had (which men of this world esteem a high honour) both deserved

and obtained a statue in the Roman Forum; he, to that age a worshipper

of idols, and a partaker of the sacrilegious rites, to which almost all

the nobility of Rome were given up, and had inspired the people with the

love of

Anubis, barking Deity, and all

The monster Gods of every kind, who fought

'Gainst Neptune, Venus, and Minerva:

whom Rome once conquered, now adored, all which the aged Victorinus had

with thundering eloquence so many years defended;--he now blushed not

to be the child of Thy Christ, and the new-born babe of Thy fountain;

submitting his neck to the yoke of humility, and subduing his forehead

to the reproach of the Cross.

O Lord, Lord, Which hast bowed the heavens and come down, touched the

mountains and they did smoke, by what means didst Thou convey Thyself

into that breast? He used to read (as Simplicianus said) the holy

Scripture, most studiously sought and searched into all the Christian

writings, and said to Simplicianus (not openly, but privately and as

a friend), "Understand that I am already a Christian." Whereto he

answered, "I will not believe it, nor will I rank you among Christians,

unless I see you in the Church of Christ." The other, in banter,

replied, "Do walls then make Christians?" And this he often said, that

he was already a Christian; and Simplicianus as often made the same

answer, and the conceit of the "walls" was by the other as often

renewed. For he feared to offend his friends, proud daemon-worshippers,

from the height of whose Babylonian dignity, as from cedars of Libanus,

which the Lord had not yet broken down, he supposed the weight of enmity

would fall upon him. But after that by reading and earnest thought he

had gathered firmness, and feared to be denied by Christ before the holy

angels, should he now be afraid to confess Him before men, and appeared

to himself guilty of a heavy offence, in being ashamed of the Sacraments

of the humility of Thy Word, and not being ashamed of the sacrilegious

rites of those proud daemons, whose pride he had imitated and their

rites adopted, he became bold-faced against vanity, and shame-faced

towards the truth, and suddenly and unexpectedly said to Simplicianus

(as himself told me), "Go we to the Church; I wish to be made a

Christian." But he, not containing himself for joy, went with him. And

having been admitted to the first Sacrament and become a Catechumen, not

long after he further gave in his name, that he might be regenerated by

baptism, Rome wondering, the Church rejoicing. The proud saw, and were

wroth; they gnashed with their teeth, and melted away. But the Lord

God was the hope of Thy servant, and he regarded not vanities and lying

madness.

To conclude, when the hour was come for making profession of his faith

(which at Rome they, who are about to approach to Thy grace, deliver,

from an elevated place, in the sight of all the faithful, in a set

form of words committed to memory), the presbyters, he said, offered

Victorinus (as was done to such as seemed likely through bashfulness to

be alarmed) to make his profession more privately: but he chose rather

to profess his salvation in the presence of the holy multitude. "For

it was not salvation that he taught in rhetoric, and yet that he had

publicly professed: how much less then ought he, when pronouncing Thy

word, to dread Thy meek flock, who, when delivering his own words,

had not feared a mad multitude!" When, then, he went up to make his

profession, all, as they knew him, whispered his name one to another

with the voice of congratulation. And who there knew him not? and there

ran a low murmur through all the mouths of the rejoicing multitude,

Victorinus! Victorinus! Sudden was the burst of rapture, that they saw

him; suddenly were they hushed that they might hear him. He pronounced

the true faith with an excellent boldness, and all wished to draw him

into their very heart; yea by their love and joy they drew him thither,

such were the hands wherewith they drew him.

Good God! what takes place in man, that he should more rejoice at the

salvation of a soul despaired of, and freed from greater peril, than if

there had always been hope of him, or the danger had been less? For so

Thou also, merciful Father, dost more rejoice over one penitent than

over ninety-nine just persons that need no repentance. And with much

joyfulness do we hear, so often as we hear with what joy the sheep which

had strayed is brought back upon the shepherd's shoulder, and the groat

is restored to Thy treasury, the neighbours rejoicing with the woman

who found it; and the joy of the solemn service of Thy house forceth

to tears, when in Thy house it is read of Thy younger son, that he was

dead, and liveth again; had been lost, and is found. For Thou rejoicest

in us, and in Thy holy angels, holy through holy charity. For Thou art

ever the same; for all things which abide not the same nor for ever,

Thou for ever knowest in the same way.

What then takes place in the soul, when it is more delighted at finding

or recovering the things it loves, than if it had ever had them? yea,

and other things witness hereunto; and all things are full of witnesses,

crying out, "So is it." The conquering commander triumpheth; yet had he

not conquered unless he had fought; and the more peril there was in the

battle, so much the more joy is there in the triumph. The storm tosses

the sailors, threatens shipwreck; all wax pale at approaching death;

sky and sea are calmed, and they are exceeding joyed, as having been

exceeding afraid. A friend is sick, and his pulse threatens danger; all

who long for his recovery are sick in mind with him. He is restored,

though as yet he walks not with his former strength; yet there is such

joy, as was not, when before he walked sound and strong. Yea, the very

pleasures of human life men acquire by difficulties, not those only

which fall upon us unlooked for, and against our wills, but even by

self-chosen, and pleasure-seeking trouble. Eating and drinking have no

pleasure, unless there precede the pinching of hunger and thirst. Men,

given to drink, eat certain salt meats, to procure a troublesome heat,

which the drink allaying, causes pleasure. It is also ordered that the

affianced bride should not at once be given, lest as a husband he should

hold cheap whom, as betrothed, he sighed not after.

This law holds in foul and accursed joy; this in permitted and lawful

joy; this in the very purest perfection of friendship; this, in him who

was dead, and lived again; had been lost and was found. Every where the

greater joy is ushered in by the greater pain. What means this, O Lord

my God, whereas Thou art everlastingly joy to Thyself, and some things

around Thee evermore rejoice in Thee? What means this, that this portion

of things thus ebbs and flows alternately displeased and reconciled?

Is this their allotted measure? Is this all Thou hast assigned to them,

whereas from the highest heavens to the lowest earth, from the beginning

of the world to the end of ages, from the angel to the worm, from the

first motion to the last, Thou settest each in its place, and realisest

each in their season, every thing good after its kind? Woe is me! how

high art Thou in the highest, and how deep in the deepest! and Thou

never departest, and we scarcely return to Thee.

Up, Lord, and do; stir us up, and recall us; kindle and draw us;

inflame, grow sweet unto us, let us now love, let us run. Do not many,

out of a deeper hell of blindness than Victorinus, return to Thee,

approach, and are enlightened, receiving that Light, which they who

receive, receive power from Thee to become Thy sons? But if they be less

known to the nations, even they that know them, joy less for them. For

when many joy together, each also has more exuberant joy for that they

are kindled and inflamed one by the other. Again, because those known to

many, influence the more towards salvation, and lead the way with many

to follow. And therefore do they also who preceded them much rejoice in

them, because they rejoice not in them alone. For far be it, that in Thy

tabernacle the persons of the rich should be accepted before the poor,

or the noble before the ignoble; seeing rather Thou hast chosen the weak

things of the world to confound the strong; and the base things of this

world, and the things despised hast Thou chosen, and those things which

are not, that Thou mightest bring to nought things that are. And yet

even that least of Thy apostles, by whose tongue Thou soundedst forth

these words, when through his warfare, Paulus the Proconsul, his pride

conquered, was made to pass under the easy yoke of Thy Christ, and

became a provincial of the great King; he also for his former name Saul,

was pleased to be called Paul, in testimony of so great a victory. For

the enemy is more overcome in one, of whom he hath more hold; by whom

he hath hold of more. But the proud he hath more hold of, through their

nobility; and by them, of more through their authority. By how much the

more welcome then the heart of Victorinus was esteemed, which the devil

had held as an impregnable possession, the tongue of Victorinus,

with which mighty and keen weapon he had slain many; so much the more

abundantly ought Thy sons to rejoice, for that our King hath bound the

strong man, and they saw his vessels taken from him and cleansed, and

made meet for Thy honour; and become serviceable for the Lord, unto

every good work.

But when that man of Thine, Simplicianus, related to me this of

Victorinus, I was on fire to imitate him; for for this very end had

he related it. But when he had subjoined also, how in the days of the

Emperor Julian a law was made, whereby Christians were forbidden to

teach the liberal sciences or oratory; and how he, obeying this law,

chose rather to give over the wordy school than Thy Word, by which

Thou makest eloquent the tongues of the dumb; he seemed to me not more

resolute than blessed, in having thus found opportunity to wait on Thee

only. Which thing I was sighing for, bound as I was, not with another's

irons, but by my own iron will. My will the enemy held, and thence had

made a chain for me, and bound me. For of a forward will, was a lust

made; and a lust served, became custom; and custom not resisted, became

necessity. By which links, as it were, joined together (whence I called

it a chain) a hard bondage held me enthralled. But that new will which

had begun to be in me, freely to serve Thee, and to wish to enjoy Thee,

O God, the only assured pleasantness, was not yet able to overcome my

former wilfulness, strengthened by age. Thus did my two wills, one new,

and the other old, one carnal, the other spiritual, struggle within me;

and by their discord, undid my soul.

Thus, I understood, by my own experience, what I had read, how the flesh

lusteth against the spirit and the spirit against the flesh. Myself

verily either way; yet more myself, in that which I approved in myself,

than in that which in myself I disapproved. For in this last, it was now

for the more part not myself, because in much I rather endured against

my will, than acted willingly. And yet it was through me that custom had

obtained this power of warring against me, because I had come willingly,

whither I willed not. And who has any right to speak against it, if just

punishment follow the sinner? Nor had I now any longer my former plea,

that I therefore as yet hesitated to be above the world and serve Thee,

for that the truth was not altogether ascertained to me; for now it too

was. But I still under service to the earth, refused to fight under Thy

banner, and feared as much to be freed of all incumbrances, as we should

fear to be encumbered with it. Thus with the baggage of this present

world was I held down pleasantly, as in sleep: and the thoughts wherein

I meditated on Thee were like the efforts of such as would awake, who

yet overcome with a heavy drowsiness, are again drenched therein. And as

no one would sleep for ever, and in all men's sober judgment waking is

better, yet a man for the most part, feeling a heavy lethargy in all his

limbs, defers to shake off sleep, and though half displeased, yet, even

after it is time to rise, with pleasure yields to it, so was I assured

that much better were it for me to give myself up to Thy charity, than

to give myself over to mine own cupidity; but though the former course

satisfied me and gained the mastery, the latter pleased me and held me

mastered. Nor had I any thing to answer Thee calling to me, Awake,

thou that sleepest, and arise from the dead, and Christ shall give thee

light. And when Thou didst on all sides show me that what Thou saidst

was true, I, convicted by the truth, had nothing at all to answer, but

only those dull and drowsy words, "Anon, anon," "presently," "leave

me but a little." But "presently, presently," had no present, and my

"little while" went on for a long while; in vain I delighted in Thy

law according to the inner man, when another law in my members rebelled

against the law of my mind, and led me captive under the law of sin

which was in my members. For the law of sin is the violence of custom,

whereby the mind is drawn and holden, even against its will; but

deservedly, for that it willingly fell into it. Who then should deliver

me thus wretched from the body of this death, but Thy grace only,

through Jesus Christ our Lord?

And how Thou didst deliver me out of the bonds of desire, wherewith I

was bound most straitly to carnal concupiscence, and out of the drudgery

of worldly things, I will now declare, and confess unto Thy name, O

Lord, my helper and my redeemer. Amid increasing anxiety, I was doing

my wonted business, and daily sighing unto Thee. I attended Thy Church,

whenever free from the business under the burden of which I groaned.

Alypius was with me, now after the third sitting released from his law

business, and awaiting to whom to sell his counsel, as I sold the skill

of speaking, if indeed teaching can impart it. Nebridius had now, in

consideration of our friendship, consented to teach under Verecundus, a

citizen and a grammarian of Milan, and a very intimate friend of us all;

who urgently desired, and by the right of friendship challenged from our

company, such faithful aid as he greatly needed. Nebridius then was not

drawn to this by any desire of advantage (for he might have made much

more of his learning had he so willed), but as a most kind and gentle

friend, he would not be wanting to a good office, and slight our

request. But he acted herein very discreetly, shunning to become known

to personages great according to this world, avoiding the distraction

of mind thence ensuing, and desiring to have it free and at leisure, as

many hours as might be, to seek, or read, or hear something concerning

wisdom.

Upon a day then, Nebridius being absent (I recollect not why), 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

thought it some of those books which I was wearing myself in teaching.

Whereat smiling, and looking at me, he expressed his joy and wonder that

he had on a sudden found this book, and this only before my eyes. For he

was a Christian, and baptised, and often bowed himself before Thee our

God in the Church, in frequent and continued prayers. When then I had

told him that I bestowed very great pains upon those Scriptures, a

conversation arose (suggested by his account) on Antony the Egyptian

monk: whose name was in high reputation among Thy servants, though to

that hour unknown to us. Which when he discovered, he dwelt the more

upon that subject, informing and wondering at our ignorance of one so

eminent. But we stood amazed, hearing Thy wonderful works most fully

attested, in times so recent, and almost in our own, wrought in the true

Faith and Church Catholic. We all wondered; we, that they were so great,

and he, that they had not reached us.

Thence his discourse turned to the flocks in the monasteries, and their

holy ways, a sweet-smelling savour unto Thee, and the fruitful deserts

of the wilderness, whereof we knew nothing. And there was a monastery

at Milan, full of good brethren, without the city walls, under the

fostering care of Ambrose, and we knew it not. He went on with his

discourse, and we listened in intent silence. He told us then how one

afternoon at Triers, when the Emperor was taken up with the Circensian

games, he and three others, his companions, went out to walk in gardens

near the city walls, and there as they happened to walk in pairs, one

went apart with him, and the other two wandered by themselves; and

these, in their wanderings, lighted upon a certain cottage, inhabited

by certain of Thy servants, poor in spirit, of whom is the kingdom

of heaven, and there they found a little book containing the life of

Antony. This one of them began to read, admire, and kindle at it; and

as he read, to meditate on taking up such a life, and giving over his

secular service to serve Thee. And these two were of those whom they

style agents for the public affairs. Then suddenly, filled with a holy

love, and a sober shame, in anger with himself cast his eyes upon his

friend, saying, "Tell me, I pray thee, what would we attain by all these

labours of ours? what aim we at? what serve we for? Can our hopes in

court rise higher than to be the Emperor's favourites? and in this, what

is there not brittle, and full of perils? and by how many perils arrive

we at a greater peril? and when arrive we thither? But a friend of God,

if I wish it, I become now at once." So spake he. And in pain with the

travail of a new life, he turned his eyes again upon the book, and

read on, and was changed inwardly, where Thou sawest, and his mind was

stripped of the world, as soon appeared. For as he read, and rolled up

and down the waves of his heart, he stormed at himself a while, then

discerned, and determined on a better course; and now being Thine, said

to his friend, "Now have I broken loose from those our hopes, and am

resolved to serve God; and this, from this hour, in this place, I begin

upon. If thou likest not to imitate me, oppose not." The other answered,

he would cleave to him, to partake so glorious a reward, so glorious

a service. Thus both being now Thine, were building the tower at the

necessary cost, the forsaking all that they had, and following Thee.

Then Pontitianus and the other with him, that had walked in other parts

of the garden, came in search of them to the same place; and finding

them, reminded them to return, for the day was now far spent. But they

relating their resolution and purpose, and how that will was begun and

settled in them, begged them, if they would not join, not to molest

them. But the others, though nothing altered from their former selves,

did yet bewail themselves (as he affirmed), and piously congratulated

them, recommending themselves to their prayers; and so, with hearts

lingering on the earth, went away to the palace. But the other two,

fixing their heart on heaven, remained in the cottage. And both had

affianced brides, who when they heard hereof, also dedicated their

virginity unto God.

Such was the story of Pontitianus; but Thou, O Lord, while he was

speaking, didst turn me round towards myself, taking me from behind my

back where I had placed me, unwilling to observe myself; and setting

me before my face, that I might see how foul I was, how crooked and

defiled, bespotted and ulcerous. And I beheld and stood aghast; and

whither to flee from myself I found not. And if I sought to turn mine

eye from off myself, he went on with his relation, and Thou again didst

set me over against myself, and thrustedst me before my eyes, that I

might find out mine iniquity, and hate it. I had known it, but made as

though I saw it not, winked at it, and forgot it.

But now, the more ardently I loved those whose healthful affections I

heard of, that they had resigned themselves wholly to Thee to be cured,

the more did I abhor myself, when compared with them. For many of my

years (some twelve) had now run out with me since my nineteenth, when,

upon the reading of Cicero's Hortensius, I was stirred to an earnest

love of wisdom; and still I was deferring to reject mere earthly

felicity, and give myself to search out that, whereof not the finding

only, but the very search, was to be preferred to the treasures and

kingdoms of the world, though already found, and to the pleasures of the

body, though spread around me at my will. But I wretched, most wretched,

in the very commencement of my early youth, had begged chastity of Thee,

and said, "Give me chastity and continency, only not yet." For I feared

lest Thou shouldest hear me soon, and soon cure me of the disease

of concupiscence, which I wished to have satisfied, rather than

extinguished. And I had wandered through crooked ways in a sacrilegious

superstition, not indeed assured thereof, but as preferring it to the

others which I did not seek religiously, but opposed maliciously.

And I had thought that I therefore deferred from day to day to reject

the hopes of this world, and follow Thee only, because there did not

appear aught certain, whither to direct my course. And now was the day

come wherein I was to be laid bare to myself, and my conscience was

to upbraid me. "Where art thou now, my tongue? Thou saidst that for an

uncertain truth thou likedst not to cast off the baggage of vanity; now,

it is certain, and yet that burden still oppresseth thee, while they who

neither have so worn themselves out with seeking it, nor for often years

and more have been thinking thereon, have had their shoulders lightened,

and received wings to fly away." Thus was I gnawed within, and

exceedingly confounded with a horrible shame, while Pontitianus was so

speaking. And he having brought to a close his tale and the business

he came for, went his way; and I into myself. What said I not against

myself? with what scourges of condemnation lashed I not my soul, that it

might follow me, striving to go after Thee! Yet it drew back; refused,

but excused not itself. All arguments were spent and confuted; there

remained a mute shrinking; and she feared, as she would death, to be

restrained from the flux of that custom, whereby she was wasting to

death.

Then in this great contention of my inward dwelling, which I had

strongly raised against my soul, in the chamber of my heart, troubled in

mind and countenance, I turned upon Alypius. "What ails us?" I exclaim:

"what is it? what heardest thou? The unlearned start up and take heaven

by force, and we with our learning, and without heart, 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 healthfully distracted and dying, to live; knowing what evil thing I

was, and not knowing what good thing I was shortly to become. I retired

then into the garden, and Alypius, on my steps. For his presence did not

lessen my privacy; or how could he forsake me so disturbed? We sate down

as far removed as might be from the house. I was troubled in spirit,

most vehemently indignant that I entered not into Thy will and covenant,

O my God, which all my bones cried out unto me to enter, and praised it

to the skies. And therein we enter not by ships, or chariots, or feet,

no, move not so far as I had come from the house to that place where we

were sitting. For, not to go only, but to go in thither was nothing else

but to will to go, but to will resolutely and thoroughly; not to turn

and toss, this way and that, a maimed and half-divided will, struggling,

with one part sinking as another rose.

Lastly, in the very fever of my irresoluteness, I made with my body many

such motions as men sometimes would, but cannot, if either they have not

the limbs, or these be bound with bands, weakened with infirmity, or

any other way hindered. Thus, if I tore my hair, beat my forehead, if

locking my fingers I clasped my knee; I willed, I did it. But I might

have willed, and not done it; if the power of motion in my limbs had not

obeyed. So many things then I did, when "to will" was not in itself "to

be able"; and I did not what both I longed incomparably more to do, and

which soon after, when I should will, I should be able to do; because

soon after, when I should will, I should will thoroughly. For in these

things the ability was one with the will, and to will was to do; and yet

was it not done: and more easily did my body obey the weakest willing of

my soul, in moving its limbs at its nod, than the soul obeyed itself to

accomplish in the will alone this its momentous will.

Whence is this monstrousness? and to what end? Let Thy mercy gleam that

I may ask, if so be the secret penalties of men, and those darkest

pangs of the sons of Adam, may perhaps answer me. Whence is this

monstrousness? and to what end? The mind commands the body, and it obeys

instantly; the mind commands itself, and is resisted. The mind commands

the hand to be moved; and such readiness is there, that command is

scarce distinct from obedience. Yet the mind is mind, the hand is body.

The mind commands the mind, its own self, to will, and yet it doth not.

Whence this monstrousness? and to what end? It commands itself, I say,

to will, and would not command, unless it willed, and what it commands

is not done. But it willeth not entirely: therefore doth it not command

entirely. For so far forth it commandeth, as it willeth: and, so far

forth is the thing commanded, not done, as it willeth not. For the will

commandeth that there be a will; not another, but itself. But it doth

not command entirely, therefore what it commandeth, is not. For were

the will entire, it would not even command it to be, because it would

already be. It is therefore no monstrousness partly to will, partly to

nill, but a disease of the mind, that it doth not wholly rise, by truth

upborne, borne down by custom. And therefore are there two wills, for

that one of them is not entire: and what the one lacketh, the other

hath.

Let them perish from Thy presence, O God, as perish vain talkers and

seducers of the soul: who observing that in deliberating there were two

wills, affirm that there are two minds in us of two kinds, one good, the

other evil. Themselves are truly evil, when they hold these evil things;

and themselves shall become good when they hold the truth and assent

unto the truth, that Thy Apostle may say to them, Ye were sometimes

darkness, but now light in the Lord. But they, wishing to be light, not

in the Lord, but in themselves, imagining the nature of the soul to

be that which God is, are made more gross darkness through a dreadful

arrogancy; for that they went back farther from Thee, the true Light

that enlightened every man that cometh into the world. Take heed what

you say, and blush for shame: draw near unto Him and be enlightened,

and your faces shall not be ashamed. Myself when I was deliberating

upon serving the Lord my God now, as I had long purposed, it was I who

willed, I who nilled, I, I myself. I neither willed entirely, nor nilled

entirely. Therefore was I at strife with myself, and rent asunder by

myself. And this rent befell me against my will, and yet indicated, not

the presence of another mind, but the punishment of my own. Therefore it

was no more I that wrought it, but sin that dwelt in me; the punishment

of a sin more freely committed, in that I was a son of Adam.

For if there 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 believe not that

will to be other than good, which draws to them. What then if one of us

should deliberate, and amid the strife of his two wills be in a strait,

whether he should go to the theatre or to our church? would not these

Manichees also be in a strait what to answer? For either they must

confess (which they fain would not) that the will which leads to our

church is good, as well as theirs, who have received and are held by the

mysteries of theirs: or they must suppose two evil natures, and two evil

souls conflicting in one man, and it will not be true, which they say,

that there is one good and another bad; or they must be converted to the

truth, and no more deny that where one deliberates, one soul fluctuates

between contrary wills.

Let them no more say then, when they perceive two conflicting wills

in one man, that the conflict is between two contrary souls, of two

contrary substances, from two contrary principles, one good, and the

other bad. For Thou, O true God, dost disprove, check, and convict them;

as when, both wills being bad, one deliberates whether he should kill

a man by poison or by the sword; whether he should seize this or that

estate of another's, when he cannot both; whether he should purchase

pleasure by luxury, or keep his money by covetousness; whether he go to

the circus or the theatre, if both be open on one day; or thirdly, to

rob another's house, if he have the opportunity; or, fourthly, to commit

adultery, if at the same time he have the means thereof also; all these

meeting together in the same juncture of time, and all being equally

desired, which cannot at one time be acted: for they rend the mind

amid four, or even (amid the vast variety of things desired) more,

conflicting wills, nor do they yet allege that there are so many divers

substances. So also in wills which are good. For I ask them, is it good

to take pleasure in reading the Apostle? or good to take pleasure in

a sober Psalm? or good to discourse on the Gospel? They will answer to

each, "it is good." What then if all give equal pleasure, and all at

once? Do not divers wills distract the mind, while he deliberates which

he should rather choose? yet are they all good, and are at variance till

one be chosen, whither the one entire will may be borne, which before

was divided into many. Thus also, when, above, eternity delights us, and

the pleasure of temporal good holds us down below, it is the same soul

which willeth not this or that with an entire will; and therefore is

rent asunder with grievous perplexities, while out of truth it sets this

first, but out of habit sets not that aside.

Thus soul-sick was I, and tormented, accusing myself much more severely

than my wont, rolling and turning me in my chain, till that were wholly

broken, whereby I now was but just, but still was, held. And Thou, O

Lord, pressedst upon me in my inward parts by a severe mercy, redoubling

the lashes of fear and shame, lest I should again give way, and not

bursting that same slight remaining tie, it should recover strength, and

bind me the faster. For I said with myself, "Be it done now, be it done

now." And as I spake, I all but enacted it: I all but did it, and did

it not: yet sunk not back to my former state, but kept my stand hard by,

and took breath. And I essayed again, and wanted somewhat less of it,

and somewhat less, and all but touched, and laid hold of it; and yet

came not at it, nor touched nor laid hold of it; hesitating to die to

death and to live to life: and the worse whereto I was inured, prevailed

more with me than the better whereto I was unused: and the very moment

wherein I was to become other than I was, the nearer it approached me,

the greater horror did it strike into me; yet did it not strike me back,

nor turned me away, but held me in suspense.

The very toys of toys, and vanities of vanities, my ancient mistresses,

still held me; they plucked my fleshy garment, and whispered softly,

"Dost thou cast us off? and from that moment shall we no more be with

thee for ever? and from that moment shall not this or that be lawful

for thee for ever?" And what was it which they suggested in that I said,

"this or that," what did they suggest, O my God? Let Thy mercy turn it

away from the soul of Thy servant. What defilements did they suggest!

what shame! And now I much less than half heard them, and not openly

showing themselves and contradicting me, but muttering as it were behind

my back, and privily plucking me, as I was departing, but to look back

on them. Yet they did retard me, so that I hesitated to burst and

shake myself free from them, and to spring over whither I was called;

a violent habit saying to me, "Thinkest thou, thou canst live without

them?"

But now it spake very faintly. For on that side whither I had set my

face, and whither I trembled to go, there appeared unto me the chaste

dignity of Continency, serene, yet not relaxedly, gay, honestly alluring

me to come and doubt not; and stretching forth to receive and embrace

me, her holy hands full of multitudes of good examples: there were so

many young men and maidens here, a multitude of youth and every age,

grave widows and aged virgins; and Continence herself in all, not

barren, but a fruitful mother of children of joys, by Thee her Husband,

O Lord. And she smiled on me with a persuasive mockery, as would she

say, "Canst not thou what these youths, what these maidens can? or can

they either in themselves, and not rather in the Lord their God? The

Lord their God gave me unto them. Why standest thou in thyself, and

so standest not? cast thyself upon Him, fear not He will not withdraw

Himself that thou shouldest fall; cast thyself fearlessly upon Him, He

will receive, and will heal thee." And I blushed exceedingly, for that

I yet heard the muttering of those toys, and hung in suspense. And she

again seemed to say, "Stop thine ears against those thy unclean members

on the earth, that they may be mortified. They tell thee of delights,

but not as doth the law of the Lord thy God." This controversy in my

heart was self against self only. But Alypius sitting close by my side,

in silence waited the issue of my unwonted emotion.

But when a deep consideration had from the secret bottom of my soul

drawn together and heaped up all my misery in the sight of my heart;

there arose a mighty storm, bringing a mighty shower of tears. Which

that I might pour forth wholly, in its natural expressions, I rose from

Alypius: solitude was suggested to me as fitter for the business of

weeping; so I retired so far that even his presence could not be a

burden to me. Thus was it then with me, and he perceived something of

it; for something I suppose I had spoken, wherein the tones of my voice

appeared choked with weeping, and so had risen up. He then remained

where we were sitting, most extremely astonished. I cast myself down I

know not how, under a certain fig-tree, giving full vent to my tears;

and the floods of mine eyes gushed out an acceptable sacrifice to Thee.

And, not indeed in these words, yet to this purpose, spake I much unto

Thee: and Thou, O Lord, how long? how long, Lord, wilt Thou be angry for

ever? Remember not our former iniquities, for I felt that I was held by

them. I sent up these sorrowful words: How long, how long, "tomorrow,

and tomorrow?" Why not now? why not is there this hour an end to my

uncleanness?

So was I speaking and weeping in the most bitter contrition of my heart,

when, lo! I heard from a neighbouring house a voice, as of boy or girl,

I know not, chanting, and oft repeating, "Take up and read; Take up and

read." Instantly, my countenance altered, I began to think most intently

whether children were wont in any kind of play to sing such words: nor

could I remember ever to have heard the like. So checking the torrent

of my tears, I arose; interpreting it to be no other than a command from

God to open the book, and read the first chapter I should find. For I

had heard of Antony, that coming in during the reading of the Gospel,

he received the admonition, as if what was being read was spoken to him:

Go, sell all that thou hast, and give to the poor, and thou shalt have

treasure in heaven, and come and follow me: and by such oracle he was

forthwith converted unto Thee. Eagerly then I returned to the place

where Alypius was sitting; for there had I laid the volume of the

Apostle when I arose thence. I seized, opened, and in silence read that

section on which my eyes first fell: Not in rioting and drunkenness, not

in chambering and wantonness, not in strife and envying; but put ye

on the Lord Jesus Christ, and make not provision for the flesh, in

concupiscence. No further would I read; nor needed I: for instantly at

the end of this sentence, by a light as it were of serenity infused into

my heart, all the darkness of doubt vanished away.

Then putting my finger between, or some other mark, I shut the volume,

and with a calmed countenance made it known to Alypius. And what was

wrought in him, which I knew not, he thus showed me. He asked to see

what I had read: I showed him; and he looked even further than I had

read, and I knew not what followed. This followed, him that is weak in

the faith, receive; which he applied to himself, and disclosed to me.

And by this admonition was he strengthened; and by a good resolution and

purpose, and most corresponding to his character, wherein he did always

very far differ from me, for the better, without any turbulent delay he

joined me. Thence we go in to my mother; we tell her; she rejoiceth: we

relate in order how it took place; she leaps for joy, and triumpheth,

and blesseth Thee, Who are able to do above that which we ask or think;

for she perceived that Thou hadst given her more for me, than she

was wont to beg by her pitiful and most sorrowful groanings. For thou

convertedst me unto Thyself, so that I sought neither wife, nor any hope

of this world, standing in that rule of faith, where Thou hadst showed

me unto her in a vision, so many years before. And Thou didst convert

her mourning into joy, much more plentiful than she had desired, and

in a much more precious and purer way than she erst required, by having

grandchildren of my body.