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FOr the space of nine yeeres then (that is from the nineteenth yeere of mine ago to the eight and twentieth) wee were seduced our selves, and o∣thers we seduced; deceived and deceiving in divers lusts; and in
publike we did it by those Arts which are called liberall, but in private we still peretended the assumed a 1.1 name of Religion. Here were we proud, there su∣perstitious, every where vayne; still hunting after the empty noyse of popular reputation, even affecting those The atricall hum∣mings and b 1.2 applauses, and those contentious strifes of wit, and to gaine the grassy garlands, & the vanity of shewing our selves up∣on the c 1.3 stage; and the intem∣perancy of ambition. But much desiring then to purge our selves
from these our naturall corrup∣tions by the helpe of those who were called elect and holy, wee carried them certayne chosen * 1.4 meates, out of which in the workehouse of their owne paun∣ches, they should forge certaine Angels and Gods, by whom we were to bee cleansed. These things did I then follow, these things did I then practise with my friends, who were deceived by me and with me.
2. Let such deride me now, who are arrogant, and not yet savingly cast downe nor broken in heart by thee, O my GOD; but I for all this doe here confesse mine owne shame to thee in thy prayse. Suffer me I beseech thee, and give me grace to runne over in my present remembrance the errors of my forepassed time, and to offer up unto thee the sacrifice of rejoycing. For what am I without thee, but a guide to mine owne downefall? or what am I
even at the best, but an infant sucking thy milke, and feeding upon thee the food incorrupti∣ble? But what kind of thing is any man, seeing at the best he is but a man? Let now the strong and the mighty laugh at us, but let us weake and needy soules ever confesse unto thee.
1. I Taught in those yeeres the Art of Rhetoricke, and my selfe being overcome with a de∣sire of gaine, made sale of a lo∣qu••city, to overcome others by. Yet I desired rather (Lord thou knowest) to have honest schol∣lers (as they are now adayes ac∣counted) and those without all deceipt, I taught how to deceive; not that I would have them
plead against the life of any * 1.5 in∣nocent person, though sometimes to save the life of the nocent. And thou, O God, from afarre perceivedst me falling in that slippery course, & in much smoke sparkling out some small faith, which I then made show of in that Schoole-mastership of mine to those that loved vanity, and becomming the companion to those that sought a lye. In those dayes I kept a Mistresse, whom I knew carnally, not in that law∣full way of marriage; but the way found out by wandring lust, utterly voyd of understanding: yet had I but that one, towards whom I truly kept the promise of the Bed▪ in whom I might by mine owne example learne experience, what difference there would be betwixt the knot * 1.6 of the marriage-covenant, mutually consented unto for the desire of children, and the bargaine of a lustfull love, where though chil∣dren
be against our wils begot∣ten, yet being borne, they even compell us to love them.
2. I remember once, that when I had a minde to put forth my selfe for the prize in a Theatri∣call Poeme, I was demanded by I know not what wizard, what I would give him, to be assured to winne the garland: but I de∣testing and abhorring such filthy compacts returnd him answer; That though the garland were immortall and of gold, yet would I not suffer a flye to lose it's life to gaine me the better of it. For he was to kill certaine li∣ving creatures in those his sacri∣fices, and by those honours to invite the Divels to favour me in the peoples acclamations. But this ill meanes I refused not, out of any chast reservation towards thee, O God of my heart; for then knew I not how to love thee, who knew not how to thinke on any thing but certaine
* 1.7 Corporeall Glories. And did not my soule, panting after such fond fictions, commit fornicati∣on against thee, trust in false hopes, and feed upon the wind? But I would not (forsooth) that hee should doe sacrifice to the Divells for me, and yet did I my selfe offer unto them, even by that my superstition. For, to feed upon the wind, what is it else but to feed them; that is, by our owne errours to make our selves the subjects of their pleasure and derision?
1. THose Star-gazers there∣fore, whom they stile * 1.8 Mathematicians, I verily did not forbeare to consult with; and that because they used no sa∣crifice,
not directed their pray∣ers to any Spirit to speed their Divinations: and yet doth Chri∣stian and true piety consequent∣ly refuse and condemne that Art. For it is a good thing to confesse * 1.9 unto thee, and to say, Have mer∣cie upon me, heale my soule: for I have sinned against thee: and not to abuse thy kindnesse for a liberty of sinning, but to remem∣ber our Lords warning, Behold thou art made whole, sinne no * 1.10 more, lest a worse thing come unto thee. All which wholsome advice they endevour to over∣throw, that say, The cause of thy sinne is inevitably determi∣ned in heaven; and that Man, flesh and blood, and proud cor∣ruption be kept without sinne, is of Ʋenus doing, forsooth; or Saturne or Mars procur'd it; meane while the Creator of Heaven and Starres, beares the blame of it. And who is he but our God, the very sweetnes and
well-spring of Righteousnesse, who shalt render to every man * 1.11 according to his workes: and a broken and contrite heart wilt * 1.12 thou not despise.
2. There was in those dayes a wise Gentleman, very skilfull in Physicks; and famous for his Art, who being at that time * 1.13 Proconsul, had with his owne hand put the Garland upon my distempered head, but not as a Physician: for this disease thou onely curest, * 1.14 who resistest the proud, and givest grace to the humble. But didst thou faile me by that old Physician, or forba∣rest to heale my soule? For in regard I grew more acquainted with him, and that I diligently and firmely depended upon his advice; for hoe delivered it in neate termes, full of quicke sen∣tences, both pleasant and grave withall. Who, when hee had gathered by my discourse, that I was given to study the bookes
of the Nativity-casters and Fi∣gure-flingers, hee courteously and fatherly advised me to cast them all away, and that I should not hereafter in vaine bestow my care or diligence (which was necessary for more useful things) upon that vaine study: affirming withall, that himselfe had in his yonger yeeres studied that Art, with a purpose to get his living by it; hoping, if he could once have understood Hypocrates, he might attaine to understand that kinde of learning also: and that hee had given it over, and wholly betaken himselfe to Phy∣sicke, for no other reason, but that he found it most deceitfull; and he being a grave man, would not get his living by cheating of people. But thou (saith he) hast the profession of Rhetoricke to maintaine thy selfe by, whereas thou followest this study volun∣tarily, not driven to it by neces∣sity: so much the more then
oughtest thou to give me credit in this point, who laboured to attaine to perfection in it, out of a purpose meerely to get my li∣ving by it.
3. Of whom when I had de∣manded, what the reason was then, why so many true things should be foretold by it? Hee answered mee (as well as hee could) That the force of Chance, diffused round about in the na∣ture of things, brought this a∣bout. For if when a man had by hap-hazard consulted the books of some Poet, who sang of and intended cleane another matter, the Verses did oftentimes fall out wondrously agreeable to the present businesse: it were not then to be wondred at (saith he) if out of the soule of man (by some higher instinct) knowing nothing what is done within it selfe, some answer should be gi∣ven, which more by hap than a∣ny good cunning, should have
agreement to the businesse and actions of the demander. And thus much truely, either from or by him, thou then wroughtest for me, and then decypheredst in my memory, what of my selfe I should seeke out after∣wards. But yet at that time nei∣ther he, nor my most deare Ne∣bridius; (a very good dispositi∣oned yong man, and very caute∣lous, who utterly derided that whole manner of Divination) could perswade with me to cast away those studies, even because the authority of the very Authors overswayed more with me, and that I had not yet light upon a∣ny demonstrative argument (such as I sought for) whereby it might cleerely and without all doubt∣fulnesse appeare, that what had beene truely foretold by those Masters of the Science, were spoken by Fortune or by chance, and not out of the sure Art of the Starre-gazers.
1. IN those yeeres when I first of all began to teach Rhe∣toricke in the Towne where I was borne, I gained a very deare friend, upon the occasion of the neerenesse of our studies; one he was about mine owne age, now springing up with mee in the flowre of youth. He had growne up of a child with me, and both schoole-fellowes and play-fel∣lowes wee had beene. But yet was he not so truly my friend, no nor of later times neither, as true friendship should be indeed; for true it cannot be, unlesse thou so∣derest it betwixt such parties as cleave together unto thee, by that
love which is shed abroad in * 1.15 our hearts by the Holy Ghost, which is given unto us. But yet a very sweet friendship it was, being ripened by the heate of the equality of our studies: For, from the true faith, (which he being a Youth was not soundly and throughly grounded in) I had wrapt him, even towards those selfe-same superstitious and per∣nicious Fables, for which my Mother bewailed my condition. With me now erred the mind of that man, nor could my soule be without him. But behold thou, ever at the backes of thy Runne∣awaies, the God of revenge, and Father of mercies, both at the * 1.16 same time, who turnest us to thy selfe by most wonderfull means, tookest that man out of this life, when hee had scarce continued one whole yeere in my friend∣ship, sweet to mee above all sweetnesse of this life.
2. What one man is able to
recount all thy praises which he hath felt in him selfe alone? What was it thou then didst, my God, and how unsearchable is the bot∣tomlesse depth of thy Iudge∣ments? For when as one day, sofe sicke of his Feaver, hee lay senselesse in a deadly sweat, and all despairing of his recove∣rie, he was baptized unwitting to himselfe; my selfe meane while little regarding, and pre∣suming that his soule would have retained rather what it had re∣ceived of me, and not what was now wrought in the body of him that knew * 1.17 nothing of it. But it fell out farre otherwise: for he became refreshed, and re∣covered his health upon it: For when as soone as ever I could come to speake with him; (and I could, so soone as he was able: for I had never yet gone from him, and we very neerely depen∣ded one upon another) I offered to scoffe, as if he also would have
scoffed with me for company, at that Baptisme which he, being most absent both in understan∣ding and feeling, had lately re∣ceived, but had now understood that he had received. But hee lookt with as great indignation upon me, as I had beene his mor∣rall enemy; and with an admi∣rable and sudden freedome of language, advised mee, that if I purposed to continue his friend, I should forbeare such talke to him.
3. But I all astonied and a∣mazed, put off the disclosing of my private commotions, till hee should grow well againe, and had recovered so much strength of health, that hee were fit for me to deale with as I would my selfe. But he was taken away from my phrenzie, that with thee hee might bee preserved for my future comfort; falling in my absence a few dayes after into a relapse of his Feaver, and was
parted away from mee. At the griefe of this, my heart was ut∣terly over-clouded; and what∣soever I cast mine eye upon, lookt like death unto me. Mine owne Country was a very Pri∣son to me, and my Fathers house a wonderfull unhappinesse; and whatsoever I had communicated in with him, wanting him tur∣ned to my most cruell torture. Mine eyes rov'd about every where for him, but they met not with him; and I hated all places for that they had not him; nor could they now tell me, Behold, he will come shortly, as when he was alive they did when-ever he was absent. I became a great examiner of my selfe, and I of∣ten asked over my soule, why she was so sad, and why she af∣flicted mee so sorely: but shee knew not what to answer mee. Then said I to my soule, Put thy trust in God; but very justly she did not obey me; because that
most deare man whom she had lost, was both truer and better, than that phantasticall God she was bid to trust in. Only teares were sweet to me, * 1.18 for they had now succeeded in my friends place, in the dearest of my affe∣ctions.
1. ANd now, Lord, are these things well passed over, and time hath asswaged the an∣guish of my wound. May I learne this from the•• who art Truth, and may I apply the eare of my heart unto thy mouth, that thou maist tell me the rea∣son, why weeping should bee so sweet to people in misery? Hast thou (notwithstanding thou art present every where) cast away
our misery farre from thee? and thou remainest constant in thy selfe, but we are tumbled up and downe in divers tryals: and yet unlesse wee should bewayle our selves in thine eares, there should no hope remaine for us. How comes it then to passe, that such sweet fruit is gathered from the bitter tree of a miserable life, namely to mourne, and weepe, and sigh, and complaine? Is it this that sweetens it, that we are in hope thou hearest us. This may be rightly thought of our pray∣ers, because they have a desire to approach unto thee. But may it be so said too concerning that griefe and mourning for the thing lost, with which I was then wholly overwhelmed? For I could not hope he should now revive againe, nor did I desire this with all my teares; but be∣mone him onely I did, and weep for him: seeing a wretch I was, and had utterly lost all my joy.
Or is weeping a bitter thing, and yet out of a full-gorg'dnesse of what we before enjoyed, and in the very instant while wee are a loathing of them, can it be plea∣sing to us?
1. BVt what speake I of these things? for 'tis no time to aske questions, but to confesse unto thee. Wretched I was; and wretched is every soule that is engaged in the friendship of mortall things; he becomes all to pieces when he forgoes them, and then first he becomes sensible of his misery, by which he is al∣ready miserable even before hee forgoes them. This was my case at that time; I wept full bitterly, and yet was best at quiet in that bitternesse. Thus was I wretch∣ed
enough, and that wretched life I accounted more deare than my friend himselfe. For though I would gladly have exchanged it, yet as unwilling I was to for∣goe that, as I had been to lose him; yea I knew not whether I would have forgone that, even to have enjoyed him. * 1.19 Like as the tradition, (if it be not a ficti∣on) goes of Pilades and Orestes, who would gladly have dyed one for another, or else both to∣gether, it being to them worse than death not to live together. But I know not what kinde of affection prevailed with mee which was too much contrary to theirs, for both grievously tedious to me it was to live, and yet fearefull I was to dye. I sup∣pose that how much the more affectionately I loved him, so much the more did I both hate and feare (as my cruellest enemy) death which had bereaved me of him: and I imagined it would
speedily make an end of all other men, because it had the power to doe of him. Even thus I well re∣member, stood I then affected.
2. Behold my heart, O my GOD, yea search it throughly; search it because I remember it well, O my Hope, who cleansest me from the impurity of such af∣fections, directing mine eyes to∣wards thee, and plucking my feet out of the snare. For I much admired that other mortals did live, since he whom I so loved, as if he never should have dyed, was now dead: yea, I more ad∣mired that my selfe who was to him a second selfe, should be a∣ble to live after him. Well said he of his friend, Thou halfe of my soule: for I still thought my soule and his soule, to have beene but one soule in two bodies: * 1.20 and therefore was my life a very horror to me, because I would not live by halves. And even therefore perchance was I afraid
to dye, lest he should wholy die, whom so passionately I had lo∣ved.
1 O Madnesse, which know∣est not how to love men, as men should be loved! O foo∣lish man, which so impatiently endurest the chances mortality is subject unto! Thus mad and foolish was I at that time. There∣fore I storm'd, and pu••t, and cry∣ed, and tumbled, being capable neither of Rest nor Counsayle. For I was sayne to uphold my shattered and blood-blubbered * 1.21 soule which yet had not pati∣ence enough to be supported by me, yet a place where to dispose of it, I could not light upon. Not in the delightfull groves, not
where mirth and musicke was nor in the odoriferous Gardens, nor in curious Banquettings, nor in the pleasures of the Bed and Chambering; nor (finally) in reading over eyther Verse or Prose, tooke it any content∣ment. Every thing was offen∣sive, yea, the very light it selfe; and whatsoever were not as hee was, was alike painefull and hatefull to me, except groaning and weeping. For onely in those found I a little refreshment.
2. But so soone as I had reti∣red my soule from them, a huge weight of misery over-loaded me, which thou onely couldest ease and lighten, O Lord. I knew thus much, and yet indeed I would not, nor was I able; for thou wert not any solid or sub∣stantiall thing unto me, when in those dayes I thought upon thee. For not thou thy selfe, but mine owne idle phantasie and errou•• were then my God. If I offered
to discharge my burthen upon that, to give it some easement, fell as it were into the empty ayre, and came tumbling againe upon me: whereupon I remai∣ned so unfortunate a place to my selfe, as there I could neither stay, nor get away from it. For whi∣ther should my heart flye from my heart? Whither was it pos∣sible to fly from mine own selfe? Whither should I not have fol∣lowed my selfe? And yet after all this, out of my Countrey fled: for so should mine eyes lesse looke for him there, where they were not wont to see him. And thus I left Tagaste, and came to Carthage.
1. TImes lose no time; not doe they idly goe and re∣turne about these senses of ours;
but they cause strange operations in our minds. Behold, they went a•••• same day by day, and by going and comming to and a∣gaine, they brought into my minde other notions, and other remembrances, and by little and little prec'd mee up againe with my old kind of delights, unto which my present sorrow gave some way. And yet to that a∣gaine there succeeded, though not other griefes, yet the causes of other griefes. For how came that former griefe so easily and so deepely to make impression in me, but even from hence, that I had spilt my soule upon the sand, in loving a man that must once dye, as if he never had beene to dye? For the cōfortings of other friends did mostly repaire and refresh me, with whom I did love, what for thy sake I did not love: and this was a great Fa∣ble, and a long lye; by the im∣pare * 1.22 repetition whereof, our
soule, which lay itching in our eares, was wholly corrupted.
2. But that Fable would Not yet dye with me, so oft as any or my friends dyed. But there were some other things which in my friends company did take my minde; namely, to discourse, and to laugh with them, and to doe obsequious offices of courtesie one to another; to reade pretty bookes together, sometimes to be in jest, and other whiles seri∣ously honest to one another; sometimes so to dissent without discontent, as a man would doe with his owne selfe, and even with the seldomnesse of those dissenting, season our more fre∣quent consentings; sometimes would we teach, and sometimes learne one of another; wish for the company of the absent with impatience; and welcome 〈◊〉〈◊〉 the new commers with joy••••••∣nesse. With these and the like expressions, proceeding out of
the hearts; of those that loved and repaired one anothers affections, by the countenance, by the tongue by the eyes and by a thousand other most pleasing motions, did we * 1.23 soder or runne as it were our soules together, and made but one out of many.
1. THis is it now which a man loves in our friends; and so loves it, that he must in conscience confesse himselfe guil∣ty if he should not love him that loves him againe, or not love that man againe that loves him first, expecting no other thing from him besides the pure demonstra∣tion of his love. Hence is that mourning when ever a friend dyes, yea those overcastings of sorrowes, that steeping of the
heart in teares, all sweetnesse ut∣terly turn'd into bitternesse: hence too upon the losse of the life of the dying, comes the death of the living. But blessed is the man that loves thee, and his friend in thee, and his enemy for thee. For he alone loses none that is deare unto him, to whom all are deare, in him that can never bee lost. And who is this but our God, the God that made heaven and earth, and who filleth them, because in filling them he created them? Thee, no man loses, but he that lets thee go. And he that lets, thee goe, whither goes hee, or whither runnes he, but from thee well pleased, backe to thee of∣fended? For where shall not such a one finde thy Law fulfilled in his owne punishment? And * 1.24 thy Law is truth, and Truth is thy selfe.
1. TUrne us O God of Hosts, shew us the light of thy countenance and wee shall bee whole. For which way soever the soule of man turnes it selfe, unlesse towards thee, it is even ri∣vetted-into dolours. Yea though it settles it selfe upon beautifull objects without thee, and with∣out it selfe: which beauties were no beauties at all, unlesse they were from thee. They rise, and set; and by rising, they beginne to have Being; they grow up, that they may attaine perfecti∣on; which having attained, they waxe old and wither: for grow old all must, and all must wither too. Therefore when they spring up and tend towards a Being, looke how much more hast they
make to Be, so much the more they also make not to Be. This is the law of them. Thus much hast thou bequeath'd them, be∣cause they are parcels of things which are not extant all at one time, but which by decaying and succeeding doe altogether play the part of the whole universe, whereof they are the parcels. And even thus is our speech de∣livered by sounds significant: for it will never be * 1.25 a perfect sen∣tence, unlesse one word gives way when it hath sounded his part, that another may succeede it.
2. And by them let my soule prayse thee, O God, Creator of things; but yet let not my soule bee fastned in to these things with the glew of love through the senses of my body. For these things goe whither they were purposely to go, that they might no longer Be, and they cleave the soule in sunder which most
pestilent desires: even * because * 1.26 the soule earnestly desires to be one with them, and loves finally to rest, in these things which shee loves. But in those things shee finds not settlement, which are still fleeing, because they stand not ever at the same stay: and who is he that can follow them with the senses of his flesh; yea, who is able to overtake them, when they are hard by him?
3. For the sense of our flesh is slow, even because it is the sense of our flesh: and it's selfe is it's owne measure. Sufficient enough it is for the end it is made for; but it is not sufficient for this, namely, to hold at a stay things running of course from their * 1.27 appointed starting place, to their Races end. For in thy Word by which they were crea∣ted, they heare this signall, from hence, and even thus farre.
1. BE not foolish O my soule and make not the care of thine heart deafe, with the tu∣mult of folly. But hearken now: the Word it selfe calls to thee to returne: for there is the place of quiet not to be disturbed, where thy love can never be forsaken, if it selfe leaves not off to love. Be∣hold, these things give way that other things may come in their places, that so this lower would may at last have all his parts. But doe I ever depart, saith the Word of God? There set up thy dwelling, trust there whatsoever thou hast left, O my soule; es∣pecially since thou art at length tired out with these uncertainties. Recommend over unto truth,
whatsoever thou hast left of truth; and thou shalt lose no∣thing by the bargaine; yea, thy decaies shall reflourish againe, and all thy languishments shall be recovered; thy fadings shall be refreshed, shall be renewed, and shall be made to continue with thee: nor shall they put thee downe to the place whither themselves descend; but they shall stay with thee and stand fast for ever before that God, who himselfe stayes and stands fast for ever.
2. Why now my perverse soule wilt thou be still following thine owne flesh? Let that rather turne and follow thee. What ever by her thou hast sense of, is but in part: and the whole whereof these are parts, thou knowest not; and yet this little contents thee. But had the sense of thy flesh beene capable of compre∣hending the whole, and not for thy punishment beene stinted to
a part of the whole; thou wouldst have then desired that whatsoe∣ver hath existence at this present should passe away, that so the whole might better have pleased thee altogether. For what wee speake, by the same sense of the flesh thou hearest, and yet wouldst not thou have the same syllables sound ever, but flye a∣way, that others may come on, and thou mayst heare up the whole sentence. Thus are all these things in ever Being, which have still any one part of theirs in be∣ing, and yet all those parts which goe to the making up of that whole Being, are never all toge∣ther in present Being. All toge∣ther surely must needs delight morefully, than parts single, if the pleasure of all could be felt all at once. But farre better than these all, is he that made all: and he is our God: nor does he de∣part away, for that he hath no successor: If bodies then please
thee, praise God for them, and turne thy love upon him that made them; lest otherwise in those things which please thee, thou displease him.
1. IF then soules please thee, let them be loved in God: for they are mutable, but in him are they firmly established, or else would they passe, and perish. In him therefore let them be belo∣ved; and draw unto him along with thee as many soules as thou canst, and say to them, Him let us love, let us love him; he made all these, nor is hee farre from them. For he did not once make them, and then get him gone, But of him, and in him they are.
See where he is, even where-ever truth is savoury. Hee is within the very heart, but yet hath the heart strayed from him. 〈◊〉〈◊〉 againe to your owne heart O•••• transgressors, and cleave fast •••• * 1.28 to him that made you. 〈◊〉〈◊〉 with him, and you shall 〈◊〉〈◊〉 surely: Repose your 〈…〉〈…〉 him, and yee shall rest 〈◊〉〈◊〉 Whither goe you i•• these 〈◊〉〈◊〉∣gy passages? O whither goe you The good that you love, is 〈◊〉〈◊〉 him; and in respect of him, 〈◊〉〈◊〉 both good and pleasant. But it shall justly be turned to bitter∣nesse, because whatsoever is from him is unjustly loved, if hee be forsaken for it.
2. Whither now wander 〈◊〉〈◊〉 further and further over these difficult and troublesome passa∣ges? There is no rest to be found where you seeke it. Seeke what you doe seeke, but yet 'tis not there where you are seeking for it. You seeke a blessed life in
the land of death; 'tis not there: for how should there be a happy life, where there is at all no life? But our Life descended downe hither, and tooke away our death, and kild him, out of the abundance of his owne life: and he thundered, calling unto us to returne from hence to him into that secret place, from whence he came forth to us; comming first into the Virgins wombe, where the Humanity was mar∣ryed unto him, (even our mor∣tall flesh, though not ever to be mortall) and thence came he like a Bridegroome out of his cham∣ber, * 1.29 rejoycing as a Giant to run his course. For hee foreslow'd not, but he ranne, crying both in words, deedes, death, descent, and ascension; still crying to us to returne unto him. And hee withdrew himselfe from our eyes, that we might returne to our owne heart, and there finde him.
3. He withdrew himselfe, and behold he is still here. He would not tarry long with us, yet hath he not utterly left us; for thither is he gone, from whence he ne∣ver parted, because the world * 1.30 was made by him. And in this world hee was, and into this world hee came to save sinners, * 1.31 unto whom my soule now con∣fesseth, that he may heale it, for it hath sinned against him. O * 1.32 ye sonnes of men how long will ye be slow of heart? will ye not now after that Life is descended downe to you, will not you as∣cend up to it and live? But whi∣ther ascended you when you were high-conceipted, and lifted up your head into heaven? De∣scend againe, that you may as∣cend, and ascend to God. For descended you are, by ascen∣ding against him. Tell the soules whom thou lovest, thus; that they may weepe in this valley of teares; and so carry them up
with thee unto God, because by his Spirit thou speakest thus un∣to them, if speak thou doest bur∣ning with the fire of charity.
1. THese things I as then knew not, and I fell in love with these inferior beauties, and I was sinking even to the ve∣ry bottome, and unto my friends I said, doe wee love any thing that is not beautifull? For what is faire? and what is beauty? what is it that inveigles us thus, and that drawes our affections to the things we love? for unlesse there were a gracefulnesse and a beauty in them, they could by no meanes draw us unto them. And I markt narrowly and perceived that in the bodies themselves, there was one thing as it were the whole feature, which in that
respect was beautifull, and ano∣ther thing that did therefore be∣come, because it was aptly fitted to some thing, as some part of the body, in respect of the whole body, or a shooe in respect of the foot, and the like. And this consideration sprang up in my minde even out of the innermost of my very heart, and I compo∣sed certaine bookes De * 1.33 Pul∣chro & Apto, two or three as I thinke. Thou knowest it O Lord, for 'tis out of my memory. For I have them not now by me, but lost they are, and I know not how.
1. WHat was the cause, O Lord my GOD that moved me to dedicate unto Icherius an Orator of Rome these bookes of mine, whom as
then I so much as knew not by face, but upon love to the man meerely for the fame of his lear∣ning, which was eminent in him, and some words of his that I had heard, which very well plea∣sed me? But rather did he please me, for that they pleased others, who highly extold him, admi∣ting much that a Syrian borne, brought up first in the Greeke Eloquence, should afterwards prove so wonderfull a master in the Latine also: being above all this, a most knowing man in all the studies that pertaine unto Wisdome. A man is commended, and loved even when hee is ab∣sent: Doth then this love enter the heart of the hearer immedi∣diately from the mouth of the prayser? Nothing so. But by one lover is another inflamed. Hence comes it that hee is oft loved, who is heard commended, when (namely) his worth is beleeved to be truely set forth by the un∣feined
heart of the commender; that is, when he that loves him, prayses him. Thus then loved I men, upon the judgement of men, but not upon thine, O my God, in which no man is decei∣ved. But yet why not as that noble Chariotier or Huntsman, so famously spoken of by our vulgar affections? no, but farre otherwise and more seriously; and even so as I would desire to be my selfe commended.
2. For I would by no meanes have my selfe or commended or lov'd, in that kinde that Stage∣players are, (though I my selfe did sometimes both commend and love them) but I would choose rather to have liv'd con∣cealed, than to be knowne that way; and to be hated, than in that kinde to be beloved. Where now are these overswayings of such various and divers kinds of loves distributed in one soule? what is it that I am in love with
in another man? And what a∣gaine is it, that did I not hate him for, I should not detest and keepe him out of my company, seeing wee are men either of us? For the comparison holds not, that as a good horse is loved by him, who would not yet be that horse, no not though he might; the same should likewise be af∣firmed of a Stage-player, who is a fellow in nature with us. Doe I therefore love that in a man, which I hate to be, seeing I am a man? Man is a great deepe, whose very hayres thou numbe∣rest, O Lord, and they fall not * 1.34 to the ground without thee, and yet are the hayres of his head easier to be numbered, than are his affections and the motions of his heart.
3. But that Orator whom I so loved was one of those that I would have wisht my selfe to have beene: and I erred through a swelling pride, and was tossed
up and downe with every wind, but I was governed by thee very secretly. And how now shall I know, and how may I upon a sure ground confesse unto thee, that I loved that man more for the love of them that commen∣ded him, than for the good parts themselves for which hee was commended? Because if the selfe same men should not have dis∣praysed him whom they before had praysed, and by dispraysing and despising him had they not told the same things of him, I should never have been so kin∣dled and provoked to love him.
4. See where the impotent so le lyes along, that is not yet staid up by the solidity of truth. Iust as the blasts of tougues blow out of the brests of censurers, so is it carryed this way and that way, tumbled and tossed up and downe, and the light is so be∣clowded that it can never dis∣cerne the truth: And yet it is
right before us. I conceived to purchase some great credit by it, if my stile and meditations might but be knowne to that famous man: which should he allow of, then were I more on fire, but if he disapprov'd, this vaine heart of mine utterly voyd of thy so∣lidity, had been cut to the quick at it. And yet that subject of Faire and Fit upon which I wrote to him, my meditations gladly laboured upon, and though I wanted others to com∣mend it, yet did I my selfe ad∣mire it.
1. BVt I could not all this while discover the maine point of the businesse in that art∣full carriage of thine, O thou Omnipotent who onely doest great wonders: and my conceit rang'd through corporeal forms; as Faire, that is so, absolutely of it selfe; and Fit, which becomes gracefull when applyed to some other thing: and I defined and distinguished, and confirm'd my argument by corporeall exam∣ples. I set my studies afterwards to consider of the nature of the Soule, but that false opinion which I had already entertained concerning spirituall, matters would not let me discover the
truth, yet the force of truth did ever and anon flash into mine eyes, but I turn'd away my pan∣ting soule from all incorporeall substances, setting it upon line a∣ments, and colours, and swelling quantities. And for that I was not able to see all these in my soule, I verily beleeved that I could not see that soule of mine. And whereas in vertue I loved peace, and in vitiousnesse I ab∣horred discord: in the first I ob∣served an Vnity, but division e∣ver to be in this. And in that V∣nity, * 1.35 I conceived the nature both of truth and of our chiefest good∣nesse to consist: but in this divi∣sion, silly I imagined, I know not what substance of an irrati∣onall life, and the nature of the greatest evill, which should not onely be a substance, but a very * 1.36 true life also: and yet not at all depend on thee, O my God, of whom are all things. And yet that first I called Vnity, as if it
had been a Soule with 〈◊〉〈◊〉, but the latter I stiled a Duality (or a Division,) which should bee Anger, in unmanly cruelties: and lust, in beastly impurities; little knowing what I talke of * 1.37.
2. For I had not as yet either knowne or learn'd, that neither
was any substance evill, or that our owne soule was not that chiefest and unchangeable good∣nesse. For even as those are to be called facinora, that is, bold, heinous, and desperate deedes, if so be that motion of the soule in which the force of the Appetite now is, be vicious or corrupted, stirring it selfe insolently and un∣rulily: and those are to be stiled Flagitia, Crimes, or naughty actions, when that affection of the soule, by which carnall plea∣sures are taken into resolution, be any way immoderate or dis∣orderly. And thus doe Errours and false opinions defile the con∣versation, if so be that the rea∣sonable soule it selfe be viciously disposed; as it was in me at that time, when I was utterly igno∣rant of any other light to illu∣strate it by, to make it partaker of the Truth, seeing of it selfe it is not that Nature of Truth. For thou shalt light my Candle, * 1.38
O Lord my God, thou shalt en∣lighten my darknesse: and of thy fulnesse have wee all recei∣ved; * 1.39 for thou art the true light that lighteth every man that * 1.40 commeth into the world; for that in thee there is no variablenesse, * 1.41 neither shadow of change. But I pressed towards thee, and was as fast thrust from thee, that I might taste of death: for thou resistest the proud.
3. And what could be prou∣der, than for me with a wonder∣full madnesse to maintaine, my selfe to be that by nature which thou thy selfe art? For whereas my selfe was mutable, (so much appearing manifestly unto mee, in that I became so ambitious to grow wiser, that of worse I might so prove better;) yet chose I rather to imagine thee to bee mutable, than my selfe not to be that which thou wert. Therefore gavest thou me the repulse, and thou curiedst my unconstant
stiffe-neckednesse, and I fancied to my selfe certaine corporeall formes, and being flesh, I accu∣sed flesh; and being a way faring spirit, I did not turne towards thee, but went nuddling on and on towards those fancies which have no being, neither in thee, nor in mee, nor in any body. For they were not created for me by thy Truth, but devised meerely by mine owne vaine conceipt, fancying out a body. And I de∣manded of thy faithfull little ones, my fellow-Citizens, (from whom unbeknowing to my selfe I stood exiled) I put the question to them, I say, (prating and foolish man that I was!) Why therfore doth the soule erre which God hath created? But I would endure upon no termes, any one should demand of me, Why therefore doth God erre? And I stiffly maintained, that thy vnchangeable substance rather did erre upon constraint,
than be brought to confesse mine owne changhable substance to have gone astray voluntarily, or gone any thing neere it.
4. I was at that time per∣chance sixe or seven and twenty yeere old, when I composed those Volumnes; canvassing up and downe with my selfe these corporeall fictions, which were still buzzing in the eares of my heart, (which eares I intended rather, O sweet Truth, to hear∣ken after thy inward melody) plodding all this time upon my Faire and Fit, and desiring to stay, and to hearken to thee, and to rejoyce exceedingly at the voice of thy Spouse, but could not bring my selfe to it; for by the cals of mine owne errours, I was drawne out of my selfe, and opprest with the weight of my owne proud conceipt, I sunke into the lowest pit. For thou didst not make me to heare 〈◊〉〈◊〉 * 1.42 and gladnesse, that the 〈…〉〈…〉
which thou hadst not yet enough broken might rejoyce.
1. ANd what was I the bet∣ter for it, when scarce twenty yeeres old, that Booke of Aristotles Praedicaments fal∣ling into my hands, (of which my Rhetoricke-master of Car∣thage, and others, esteemed very good Schollers, would be crac∣king with full mouthes:) I ear∣nestly and with much suspence gap't upon it at first, as upon I know not what deepe and di∣vine peece; but read it over af∣terwards, yea and attained the understanding of it, by my selfe alone? And comparing my Notes afterwards with theirs, who protested how hardly they gate to understand the Booke
from very able Tutors, not di∣ctating to them onely, by word of mouth, but taking paines also to delineate out in the * 1.43 dust the Schemes and demonstrations of it; they could teach me no more of it, than I had observed before upon mine owne reading. And it seem'd plaine enough to my capacity, when they discourst of Substances, such as Man is, and of the Accidents inhering to these Substances; as for exam∣ple, the figure of a man, how qualified he was, and of what shape and stature, how many foot high, and his relation to his kindred, whose brother he is, or where placed, or when borne, or whether he stands or sits, or bee shod or armed, or does or
suffers any thing: and whatso∣ever to bee learned besides in these nine Praedicaments, (of which I have given these former examples) or these other innu∣merable observations in that chiefe Praedicament of Sub∣stance.
2. What now did all this fur∣ther me, seeing withal it as much hindred mee? when as I tooke paines to understand thee, O my God, (whose Essence is most wonderfully simple and un∣changeable) imagining whatso∣ever had being, to bee compre∣hended under those tenne Prae∣dicaments: as if thy selfe had beene subject to thine owne Greatnesse or Beauty; and that these two had an inherence in thee, like Accidents in their Subject, or as in a Body: where∣as thy greatnesse and beauty is thy Essence; but a body is not great or faire in that regard as it is a body, seeing that though
it were lesse great or faire, yet should it be a body notwithstan∣ding. But it was a meere false∣hood which of thee I had con∣ceived, and no truth; a very fi∣ction of mine owne foolery, and no solid ground of thy happi∣nesse. For thou hadst given forth the command, and so it came to passe in me, that my earth should bring forth bryars and thornes in me, and that in the sweat of my browes I should eate my bread.
3. And what was I the bet∣ter, that I the vile Slave to wic∣ked affections, read over by my selfe, and understood all the bookes of those Sciences which they call liberall, as many as I could cast mine eye upon? And that I tooke great delight in them, but knew not all this while whence all that came whatsoever was true or certaine in them. For I stood with my backe to the light, and with my
face toward these things which received that light: and therfore my face, with which I discern'd these things that were illumina∣ted, was not it selfe illuminated. What-ever was written, either of the Art of Rhetoricke, or Lo∣gicke, what-ever of Geometry, Musicke, and Arithmeticke, I attain'd the understanding of by my selfe, without any great dif∣ficulty, or any instructor at all, as thou knowest, O Lord my God; even because the quicknes of conceiving, and the sharpnesse of disputing is thy gift: and yet did I not sacrifice any part of it to thy acknowledgement. All this therefore served not mee to any good imployment, but to my destruction rather, since I went about to get so good a part * 1.44 of my portion into mine owne custody; and I preserved not mine own abilities entire for thy service, but wandring into a far Country, to spend it there upon
my Harlotries. For what good did it me to have good abilities, and not employ them to good uses? For I understood not that those Arts were attained with great difficulty, even by those that were very studious and in∣genuous * 1.45 Schollers, untill that my selfe going about to interpret them in others hearing, hee was held the most excellent at them, who was able to follow me with least slownesse.
4. But what at last did all this benefit mee, thinking all this while, that thou, O Lord my God of truth, wert nothing but a vast and bright Body, and my selfe some peece of that Bo∣dy? O extreme perversenesse! but in that case was I then; nor doe I blush, O my God, to con∣fesse thy mercies towards mee, & to call upon thee, who blush∣ed not then openly to professe before men mine owne blasphe∣mies, and to barke against thee.
What good did then my nimble wit, able to runne over all those Sciences; and all those most knotty Volumes, made easie to me, without helpe or light from any Tutor; seeing I err'd so * 1.46 fouly, and with so much sacri∣legious shamefulnesse in the Do∣ctrine of Piety? Or what hin∣derance was a farre slower wit to thy little ones, seeing they straggled not so farre from thee, but that in the Nest of thy Church they might securely plume themselves, and nourish the wings of charity, by the food of a solid faith.
5. O Lord our God, under the shadow of thy wings let us hope; defend thou, & hold us up. Thou shalt beare us up, both while we are little, and when we are gray-headed: for our weak∣nesse, when 'tis from thee, then is it strength; but when 'tis of our selves, then is it weaknes indeed. Our good still lives with thee;
from which because wee are a∣verse, therefore are we perverse, Let us now at last, O Lord, re∣turne, that wee doe not over∣turne: because with thee our Good lives without any defect, which Good thou art. We shall not need to feare finding a place to returne unto, because we fell headlong from it: for how••ever wee have beene long absent from thence, yet that house of ours shall not fall downe; and that's thy Eternity. {inverted ⁂}
Iust thus doe the Pu∣ritanes of our dayes; some cham∣pions they have that are stil scrib∣ling, and o∣thers brag∣ging in their conventicles how able they are to confute the Adversary: but in private houses they pretend sanctity and long Prayers, and stillseeme zealous against the pretended imperfections of the Church, times, and governors, temporall and spirituall.
It was the old fashion to humme, and give low plaudi∣tees with the band, to their Orators and Preachers; as may be seene in Saint Basile and Saint Chrysostome.
It was the Roman custome to rebearse upon the stage or in publike their owne composures (which they cald Repo∣nere,) before they set forth copies of them, which when they did, they were said Edere. Thus edere spectacu∣lum, & edere librum Semper ego auditor tantum: nunquamne reponam? Pers.
He derides at this wic∣ked Sacra∣ment of the Manichees in which they thought to imitate the recei∣ving and be∣nefit of the Lords Sup∣per. Here had they a chosen meat consecrated by their e∣lect; and they hoped by it to bee purged, and as it were u∣nited to God.
Oh that those Law∣yers would learne this, who thinke they may undoe any mans life, cause, or reputati∣on, so it be for their Cly∣ent: say or unsay, any thing for their Cly∣ent.
I read it Nodum, ••nd not Modum.
He alludes to the Ma∣nichees er∣rours, who thought God and the An∣gels to be but glorious bodies. Hos. 12. 1.
The old Translator is often mis∣taken in this Chapter.
Psal. 41. 4.
Iob. 5. 14.
Rom. 2. 6.
Psal. 51. 17.
This was part of the Procon∣suls Office in the Ro∣mane Pro∣vinces, to be Iudge at these kinde of Exercises: and in these lesser Cities so serve from Rome, a meane man might bee Proconsul. The old Translator turnes Pro∣consul, In place of the Con∣sul, igno∣rantly.
I am. 4. 6.
Rom. 5. 5.
Psal. 94. 1.
The won∣derfull ef∣fect of the Sacrament of Baptisme.
Arar•• conceipt.
The old Translator confounds these two sentences.
This con∣ceipt Saint Augustine Retracted afterwards Retract lib. 2. cap. 6.
Conscis∣sam & cru∣entatam, (not cruen∣tam) ani∣mam.
This pas∣sage hath the old Translator rendred ve∣ry mannerly, and I have followed him.
Confla∣re, & fa∣cere: Here the Infini∣tive Mood is put for the Praeter im∣perfect tense plu∣rall: Hee illudes to ••he running or melting of glasse or metals to∣gether.
Ioh. 17. 17
O most dainty com∣parison and expression!
Quon••a••∣a••••m•• ip∣sa esse vult. This he tran∣slates, for the soule desires to be. Short of the sense.
Ab initio debito, us∣que ad fi¦nem deb¦tum.
Esay 46. 8.
Psal. 19. 5.
Iohn 1.
1 Tim. 1. 15
Psal. 41. 4.
Of Faire and Fit.
Mat. 10. 29. 30.
He alludes to the Ma∣nichees er∣rors, which had infe∣cted him.
The old Translator jumbles two sentences in∣to one.
He alludes to the Ma∣nichees foolish Phi∣losophical Divinity, which notwithstanding that the so••le and 〈◊〉〈◊〉 ••••∣culties were created all at once, and all good, (〈…〉〈…〉 by the Fall;) yet they made the Soule onely to be good, from which vertue came, which they called vnity; 〈◊〉〈◊〉 that the soule was but one: but the powers of the soule, they (having an eye onely to the Fall and not to the Crea∣tion) made to be absolutely and originally Evill and •••• causes of all Evill. Such were those two power of 〈◊〉〈◊〉 Sensitive Appetite, the Concupiscible and the ••••∣cible: (of which they made their Duality or Division) whereof nature intended the first, (the Concupiscible or Longing appetite) for the conservation of the 〈◊〉〈◊〉 and the pleasant or well being of it: and the 〈◊〉〈◊〉 or angry appetite, for the defence of the Concupisci∣ble: by which we are angry at, and resist whatsoever 〈◊〉〈◊〉 our wellbeing The use of both together is to 〈◊〉〈◊〉 good, and to 〈◊〉〈◊〉 evill, for soule and body. 〈…〉〈…〉 Appetites be in the Motive faculty of the 〈◊〉〈◊〉 Soule: by these ••••e soule moves herselfe to or 〈◊〉〈◊〉 sesued or abhorred object. Here the old 〈◊〉〈◊〉 much mistakes, for want of Philosophie.
Psal. 18. 28
Ioh 1. 16, 9
Iam. 1. 16.
1 Pet. 5. 5.
Psal. 51. 8.
Multa in pulvere depingen∣tibus. Which the Other Tran∣slator turnes, writing them in the dust: noting in his margent, that it was a manner of ••••iting then used. Boldly affirmed. I dare say there was never such a manner of writing. But thus it was; The Ma∣thematicians had their pulverem Mathematicum, dust in linnen bagges, which scirced or pownc'd upon a board, they drew their Schemes and Diagrams upon, to make ocular demonstration withall; either for their owne use or their Schollers. This they could easily and the aply put in and out againe. Arch medes was taken in his Study, drawing his Mathematicall Lines in such dust.
He alludes to the Pro∣digall, Luk. ••5.
O wonderful naturall wit of S. Augu∣stine!
The Papists brag of be∣ing in the true Church, but plainely their Chic∣kens seldome prove more than spoone∣feathered, & not hard∣penn'd. For they want the food here spoken of, Sound Faith. Tra∣ditions, Le∣gends, seined Miracles, carnall Vowes, and out side Sanctity, may puffe up, not e∣difie.