The life of S. Augustine. The first part: Written by himself in the first ten books of his Confessions faithfully translated.

THE CONFESSIONS OF S. Augustine, DECLARING The Story of his Life.

LIB. I.

CHAP. I.

[Cap. 1] Invocation and praise of God, so great, so incomprehensible, and yet so near, and intimate to his creatures; and requiring of man (so vile a thing by sin) to love, to invocate, to praise, and to confess unto, Him. This in the five Chapters following.

GReat art thou O Lord, and exceedingly to be praised; great is thy power, and thy wisdom is infinite. And yet man presumes to praise thee, being a piece of thy Creation; poor man, that bears about him (now) Mortality; that bears about this sad Remembrancer of his sin, and this inherent witnesse: that thou O God resistest the proud. Yet man desires to praise thee, as a piece of thy Creation. And this his delight to praise thee also floweth from thee: because Thou madest him for thee, and his heart is restlesse, until it repose in Thee.

Teach me therefore now O Lord this my duty towards Thee: And which ought to precede, That, to call upon Thee; or that, to give praise unto Thee. And again; which is first; To know thee; or, to call upon Thee.— But, who is he, that calls upon Thee, and doth not first

know thee? for so he may addresse his prayers to some∣thing else instead of thee— And yet, call we not also upon thee, that thou wouldest vouchsafe to let us know thee? — But again 'tis said. How shall they call on him, on whom they have not believed? And how shall they believe with∣out a Preacher? And: They shall praise the Lord, that [first] seek after him. For they that seek, shall finde him. And they that finde, shall praise, Him.— Let me then first seek thee O Lord, by calling upon thee; and call upon thee from be∣lieving in thee, because unto us also hast thou been preached. My faith therefore now calleth upon Thee O Lord: thy gift which thou hast inspired into me, by the great myste∣ry of the Incarnation of thy Son, and by the ministery of thy Preachers of it.

CHAP. II.

YEt how may I call upon, or invoke, my God; my God, and my Lord? Since to invoke him, is to call him into me. And what Mansion within me, where my God may reside? God within me, that made Heaven and Earth? Is there then, O Lord my God, any room so spacious in me, that can receive thee? Nay: can the vast Globe of Heaven and Earth, things that thou hast made, and me a small point within their womb, can these, in any wise, receive thee? —Or is it so, that since nothing that is, could Be, without thee; therefore whatever is, must needs receive thee? Since then I also am in Being; what need I intreat thy accesse into me, who therefore am, because thou art in me? Who am not yet a thing so low and remote as Hell, or the Grave; and yet thou art present there. For If I go down into Hell, Thou art there also. Therefore I should not be, O my God, not be at all: but only by thy being in me. Or rather, I should not be, but by being in thee; of whom, and by whom, and in whom, all things be. 'Tis so, Lord; even so. Whether then may I invoke thee, seeing I am already in thee? Or, from whence thou draw-near unto me? For whither can I retire, beyond the utmost limit of Heaven and Earth, to invite from thence my God into me? Who hath said: I fill the Heaven and the Earth.

CHAP. III.

BUt do the Heavens and Earth, thus filled by thee, therefore contain thee? Or dost thou replenish these, and yet overflow; because they cannot wholly receive thee?

And where then dost thou effund (these vessells running over) the remainder of thy self? — Or hast thou no need of any thing at all to contain thee; who, thy self, conteinest all things? For, in thy filling them, thou dost also contain them; and they are full of Thee by being re∣ceived into thee. For, the vessels, that are replenished with thee, add to thy fluxure no consistency; because thou art not shed at all, when they are broken: and, when thou art powred out upon us, thou art not spilled, but we are conserved; nor thou dissipated, but we, by thee, recollected, and kept from effusion.

But thou, who thus fillest all things, fillest thou each with all thy self? Or, they not capable of thee wholly, do they only receive some part? and then, do they all re∣ceive the same, or several parts of thee? The greater taking more, the lesser a lesse? And is there then, some part of thee greater, and some lesse, Or, Art thou every where totally, yet, no where totally, received.

CHAP. IV.

O What art thou therefore, my God? What (can I say) art thou, but the Lord God? For who is God, but the Lord? or who is God, save our God? O Thou, most highest, most good; most potent, most omnipotent; most merci∣full, and most just; most present, and most retired; the fairest, and the strongest; stable, and yet not comprehen∣sible; unchangeable, and yet all-changing; never new, nor never old; and all-renewing; only withering and bringing to nothing, the proud and gallant, before they are aware. Alwayes in action; and alwayes in repose; still gathering, and nothing lacking; supporting, filling, and over-spreading all things; their Father, nurse, and accom∣plisher; still in chase of what is possest. A lover, without affection; jealous, without fearing a rival; repenting thee, without any sorrow; angry, yet still most calmly serene; changing oft thy works, never thy designe; finding, and receiving again, what was never lost; never needy, yet fond of gain; not covering, yet exacting use; men super∣erogate unto thee, that thou becomest their debter, and yet who hath any thing not thine? Thou payest debts, yet owest nothing; forgivest them, and losest nothing.

And what is all this that I say O my God; my life; my sacred, sweet-delight? or what amounts it unto, that any one saith, when he assayes to speak of thee? and yet wo to them, who, in thy praise, are silent; though, in it, they are no more then mute, who are most eloquent.‖

CHAP. V.

O What shall I do, that I may for ever repose and ac∣quiesce in thee? What shall I do, to have my soul wholly-possest with, and inebriated by, thee, so to enjoy an eternall oblivion of all past evills, and the perpetuall embraces of thee (my only Good)? And, in this so much, on both sides, longed-for union, what good art thou to me? (let thy mercies indulge me to speak unto thee:) Or, what good am I to thee? That thou exactest of me, that I should love thee; and, if I do it not, art highly displeased, and threatnest to bring on me the greatest misery; (is this then so small a misery, for me not to love thee?) Ah! By thy mercies tell me (O Lord my God) what is that great thing that thou art unto me? Say unto my soul I am thy salvation. But say it so, as it may hear thee say it. Behold the ears of my heart are before thee, open them; and say unto my soul, there, I am thy salvation. Then will I hasten after thy alluring voice, and catch fast hold on thee. O hide not thou thy face from me. Let me see it though I dye; lest otherwise I dye so, as never to see it.

The Mansion of my soul is too narrow: to entertain thee, O let it be enlarged by thee. 'Tis very ruinous, be thou pleased to repair it. The sordid furniture there∣of must be very offensive to thy holy eyes, (I know and confess it;) but who can purge and cleanse it, besides thee? or to what other (besides thee) shall I cry? Cleanse me, O Lord, from my secret sins, and from my presump∣tuous wickednesses deliver thy Servant. I believe thou hast and wilt forgive them, and therefore do I speak and confess them; O Lord, thou knowest. Have not I Confessed against me my sins unto thee O my God: I hope thou hast forgiven the wickedness of my sin? I do not contend in judgment with thee, for thou art the truth: nor will I be deceived in hearkning to excuses, whilst, perhaps, mine iniquity tells lyes unto me. Therefore do I not contend in judgment with thee; For, if thou Lord shouldest marke iniquities, O Lord who shall a∣bide it.

CHAP VI.

An Account* of St. Austins Infancy nourished and sustained by the divine providence.

YEt suffer me, thy justice laid aside, to speak unto thy mer∣cy; me dust and ashes; yet suffer me to speak, be∣ing it is unto the mercies of my God I speak, and not to

Man, so apt to scoffe at me (and perhaps thou also for the present l••••••liest at me, but in good time thou wilt re∣turn and pitty me) And what is it, I would first utter un∣to thee O Lord my God; but that my silliness cannot tell how, or whence I first came hither; into this dying life, shall I call it? or living death? I cannot tell. And be∣hold then, immediatly the comforts of thy compassiona∣ting mercies * attended me (as I have been told by the Parents of my flesh, out of whose substance thou fashi∣onedst me in thy good appointed time, long before the dawning of this my memory) and * cherished that my helpless age with the soft nourishment of a Womans milk. Neither was it the Providence of my Mother or Nurses; that stored their swelling breasts therewith, but thou it was, that, in those Cisterns, preparedst an agreeable food for that my tender age, according to thin•• ordinance, and the riches of thy bounty, descending to the meanest Original of things. And thou gavest also * to me, to de∣sire that only, which thou then gavest me; and also * to those who nursed me as willingly to bestow on me, what thou didst first bestow on them. For they, by a heavenly-guided affection, took a delight to impart unto me, what they abounded with from thee; and it was al∣so good for them, that I received this good from them: which indeed was not from, but by, them only: for from thee, O God, are all good things, and from my God cometh my universal salvation; as I have well-learned since, by the multiplyed expressions of so many blessings heaped upon me, internal and external, all confessing thee their Author. For, then, I had only the skill, how to suck; to be still, when my flesh was satisfyed; and to cry, when it was offended; and nothing more than this. But afterward came-on smiles and laughter, first when I was asleep, then when awake: (for this hath been told me of my self; and I likewise discover it in the infancy of others, though I remember it not in mine own).

Hence by gentle degrees I advanced, to perceive and discern where I was; and to have a desire to make known my desires, to those that might content them: But this in vain at first; these longings of mine being * shut up within me, and they * without me; unable, with the eye of sense, to pierce so deep into my soul. Therefore next, I laboured to produce and expose my meaning by several motions of my fluttering limbs, and ejaculations of broken words, * some few, such as I could articulate,

and bearing * litle resemblance to my mental conceits▪ And, when I was not presently obeyed, eith••r for that my desires were hurtfull, or not intelligible, I would fall into a ridiculous rage against my Elders, not under my power, and my betters, not owing me service, I would take revenge on them with crying. Such have I heard o∣ther In ants to be, and such my Nurses and Tenders re∣port me to have been, by those dark conjectures they could make of my infantine inclinations.

And now, behold, mine infancy is deceased long ago: and, notwithstanding, I still alive. But tell me, O Lord, thou who livest all ages, yet without the defluxe of any (because, before the first dawn of time, and before all that can be said to be, before, Thou art; and art the God and Lord of all, which thy self hath created; and before thy eye do stand ever-fixed the causes of all the here∣most-fleeting events; and remain unchangeable, the Ideas and patterns of all things here most floating; and before thee live eternall the reasons of all things temporall, which, so often, to us, seem unreasonable.) Tell unto me (O God) thy poor suppliant; thou, that art merci∣full, unto me, who am miserable; tell me, whether this my infancy succeeded not also a younger age of mine, expired before it; that life perchance, the revolution of which I passed, yet being a prisoner within my Mo∣thers womb (for of my abode there also I have under∣stood, and seen many Women bear about the like burdens.)

And, what before that life again (O my God, my sweetest dear delight)? Was I yet then also any where? Or any thing? Which none can tell me, neither Father, nor Mother, that begot me; neither others experience, nor my own memory. And dost not thou now deride this my curiousity, demanding thee such questions? Who only requirest my lauding of thee, and confessing unto thee, concerning things within the circle of my know∣ledge.

I confesse therefore unto thee, Lord of Heaven and Earth, and give thee prai••e for that my first conception, and that my new-born infancy, in which things, though beyond our remembrance, thou hast given unto us a con∣jecture of our selves from our experience of others, and from the authority of those who then attended us. Then had I being, and life, and cogitation, and (toward the wane of my infancy) invention of expressive signes to make my meanings known to others.

And whence such a, vitall, sensitive, piece of matter, as I was then, but from thee O Lord? Can any be his own Creator? Or can there be derived from any other sourse the smallest vein, that may stream essence and life into us, but only from thee, who, thus, hast made us? In whom Being and Living are not a several thing, but thou art one and the same highest supremity of both. For, thou art the most-high, and thou art not changed. Neither doth To-day ever passe-away in thee; and yet in thee it is that it passeth away; for even these transitories are not, but, as in thee. Nor have they any way of passing away, but as conveyed through thee; and yet mean while, be∣cause thy years fail not, therefore thy years are but a con∣tinued to-day. And how many dayes of ours, and of our forefathers, have flowed away through this thy one ever-fixed day, and, from it, received the mould and fashion of their being! And how many more yet shall flow, and shall so receive the measure of their being! Whilst thou art still the same: and all the things of to-morrow, and what ever is beyond it, and all the things of yesterday, and whatever is behind it, in this thy day, thou shalt make, and in this thy day, thou hast made, them. What doth it import me, if any understands not this? Let such a one praise thee, in saying; what meaneth this high mystery? Even so, let him praise thee; and rather chuse, in not ap∣prehending, to conceive nothing but right of thee,† than, in apprehending amiss, to conceive something be∣low thee.

CHAP VII

— And* of its sins; And his praising God for its good en∣dowments.

HEar, O God: wo, wo, unto the sins of Men; and Man confessing this, thou takest compassion of him; because thou hast made him, but yet madest not sin in him. O who can recount unto me the concealed sins of my unknown Infancy? from which none is pure in thy sight O Lord, not the child that is a day old. Who then can re∣present those my remote sins unto me? May not every other such litle one serve for this purpose, in whom I may easily read the faults I know not of my self? What then, in that first bud of my age, was my guilt? Was it crying so vehemently after the pap; and hanging so greedily upon the flowing breasts? which should I now in

like manner do, after my food, I should become both culpable, and ridiculous. Therefore then also I was so; but whilst yet I understood not reproof, neither reason nor custom suffered me to receive it. But yet more-grown, we weed out and cast away such humours; now, none do cleanse a vessel of that which is good. And, in that litle age, were these also commendable qualities? * to beg with tears what would have been, hurtfully, gran∣ted: * to rage and swell against People unobliged to it, its Elders, its betters; and even those, who first gave it life? to strive, with, strengthless, but malicious, blows, to wound those, that were far wiser than it self, for not obeying its commands, which could not be, but to its harm, observed? So that it is the debility of infants limbs, and not the mind of Infants, that is innocent. My self have seen and had experience of such a little one already possessed with jealousie; it had not learned to speak, and yet then would it cast a pale and envious as∣pect upon its indigent fellow-suckling. (A fault well known, and by the Mothers or Nurses expiated usually with I know not what remedies) unless I ought to call that, innocence; for one most rich in a fountain of milk, unexhausted and overflowing, not so much as to endure another to partake a litle with him, that is not able to make provision for it self, and that can sustain life only with this food. But such things are (then) indulgent∣ly tolerated, not because they are none, or no great, faults, but faults, that diminish, as years increase; which (though, then, we allow them) yet are they censured and detested, when they are discovered in a riper age.

Thou therefore (O Lord my God) who hast given life to this my infancy, and a body, which thou hast carefully fenced-about with subtile sense, strongly buil∣ded-up with pliant limbs, beautified with a comely fea∣ture, and implanted in it all vitall functions, for its uni∣versal preservation and safety, (so as we see it) Thou now dost command me, in, and for, all these, to celebrate thee, and to confess unto thee, and to sing unto thy name, O thou-most highest. Because thou art the God all-powerfull and all-good, and ever to be praised, though this only had been all that thou hadst done to me, this, which none else can do, besides thee; out of whose rich unity proceed all the severall shapes and fashions of being; who out of thy own fairnesse beautifiest all things, and

according to thy most righteous rule orderest all things.

This time of my life then, in which I do not remem∣ber so much as that I lived, known only by hear-say, and conjectured, from other infants, that I also once passed through it (though this a conjecture much assured) this time, I say, I am loth to account to the rest of the dayes which I live in this World; it being, in respect of the darkness of my oblivion, much like to that obscure part I passed, before it, in my Mothers womb. But if I was thus conceived in sin, and my Mother brought me forth in iniquity, where, I beseech thee, O my God, where, Lord, was I thy Servant? where, or when, innocent? But, behold, I pass over that time; for why should I stay longer upon it, which passed so swiftly by me, with∣out leaving in me of it the least impression?

CHAP. VIII.

An Account of his childhood, and his learning to speak.

ANd thus growing on, and passing from Infancy, I came into my childhood, or rather it came into me, and here succeeded Infancy; nor did that mean-while depart, for whither went it? and yet it was now no more; for I was now no more a speechlesse babe, but a pratling child. And this I can remember, and have since observed, how I learned to speak; which was, not * by being taught by art, as afterward I was forreign-language, by having the words ordered in a certain form and method of learn∣ing, but only * by the single use of my memory, and the na∣tural apprehension which thou my God gavest unto me: For, after I had first, by fits of crying, broken accents, and various motions of my skrewed limbs, attempted to ex∣pound my thoughts to those that might assist my desires, and yet was not able to explain my self in all things which, and to whom I had a minde; I recorded it first in my yet unwritten memory, when I heard them name any, thing; and, when they moved their body toward the thing named, I observed it; and collected that, that which they pronounced, was that thing which they shewed. And that they meant this thing I was assured by certain motions of the parts of their body, the common and natural language (as it were) of all nations, uttered in the habit of the countenance, glances of the eye, postures of the members, accents of the voice, which paint and expresse the in∣ward passion of the soul, in her desiring, fruition, hatred,

or pursuance, of things: so grew I shortly acquainted with many words (whilst they were in several sentences placed in the same fashion, and often again repeated) what particular things they did designe; and having by degrees tamed and broken my unacquainted mouth to a smooth, and ready articulation of them, by these notes I brought forth the long-suppressed conceptions of my soul. And, thus I began to enterchange these current signes of our conceits with the people amongst whom I lived, and so launched still farther out into the tempestuous society of humane life, being as yet wholly dependent on my pa∣rents pleasure, and the beck of my superiours.

CHAP. IX.

Of his * going to Schoole.

O God, my God; what miseries did I now encounter, and what impostures? When the way of right living, that was then proposed to me a childe, was, to be obedi∣ent to those, who instructed me, how to become glorious in this world; and how to excell in those verbose Arts, which guide the way to humane honours, and false-named wealth. And so, I was put to school, to get these Arts, and when, poor boy, I knew no profit of them, yet, was I mi∣serably beaten, if I profited not in them: And this hard usage was allowed of by my sage superiours; and many, that had trod that life afore us, had chalked out unto us these wearisome and craggy paths, through which we were constrained to follow them, with great pain and sor∣row thus endlessely multiplyed to the sons of Adam.

We little ones meanwhile observed, that men prayed unto thee; and we learnt of them to do the same; con∣ceiving thee (as far as we could apprehend) to be some great one, who, not appearing to our senses, couldst, not∣withstanding, hear and relieve our necessities. I began therefore, when yet a childe, to pray unto thee (my aid and refuge) and then first inured my unskill'd tongue to the invocating of thy holy name, and begged of thee (though a little one, with no little passion) that thou wouldest save me from whipping at School. And, not on∣ly, thou didst not hear me, in that which was inflicted on me for my good, but my elders also, and even my parents (far from wishing me any harm) made a jest of those my stripes, my then grievous and remediless evil. Is there O Lord, amongst thine, any so great a soul, and with so

strong a passion adhering to thee? Is there any, I say, who becomes (not out of a senseless stupidity, but) by an inseparable union to thee, so transported in his minde, as that he can sport at racks, and hooks, and a thousand such tortures (which all the world, with so much fear depre∣cates of thee) laughing at those, who tremble at these; in such a manner, as our parents mocked at those tor∣ments, which we children then suffered from our severe Masters? For, neither had we less horrour of these, than others of greater torments, nor importuned we thee less to escape them: Though meanwhile we were peccant in writing, or reading, or conning our lessons, less, than was exacted of us.

Nor was this peccancy in us, O Lord, from want of me∣mory, or wit (such as thou bestowest on that age) but, from an importunate lusting which we had after play; and they revenged this fault in us, who committed much what the same themselves. But our Superiors equall toyes are named business; and when boys-play is even the like, yet these are seourged for it by their overpow∣ring Master; and in this miscarriage, of things, no body pitties the poor Children, or them, or both. For, who is he that, weighing things well, can justify my being beaten, when I was a boy, for playing at ball; when, by such play, I was only hindred from a speedier attaining those vain arts, in which I should play farr more unbe∣seemingly, when I was Flder. Nor did he, by whom I was corrected, meanwhile do any thing better himself; who, if worsted, in any mean criticisme, by his fellow-teacher, was farr more racked with choler and envy, then I was with the same, when mastered in a match at ball by my Companions.

CHAP. X.

And* love of Play, with an aversion from his Book.

ANd yet I sinned (O Lord God, thou Ordainer and Creator of all things of nature, and only not the Ordainer of sin) O Lord my God I was too blame, in do∣ing then contrary to the will of my Parents, and of those my Preceptors; for I might have put that learning to good use, to which they bred me with another purpose. But my undutifulnesse arose not out of choice of some∣thing better, but meerly out of a lust to play; proudly aspiring to be a victor in my sports, over those that play∣ed

with me, and to have my ears tickled with false ap∣plause, that they might itch more hotly after it; the same, still-more and more perillous curiosity now begin∣ning to sparkle through my wanton eyes toward the shews and playes of the more aged. The Donors of which flou∣rish afterward in so grand a reputation; that almost all the spectators fore-wish the same honour (one day) to their little ones. And yet they are well content, they should be whipt, if, by such shews, they are seduced from their study, by which studies they desire their sons may one day arrive to present such shews. Look upon these things, O Lord, with thy pitty; and deliver us, who now call upon thee: and deliver them also, who do not yet call upon thee; that they also may call upon thee, and thou maist deliver them.

CHAP. XI.

Of his * sicknesse, and, in it, * his desiring Baptism; for what reason, upon hopes of his recovery, deferred by his Mother.

FOr I had heard somewhat, yet a childe, of life eternal, that was promised unto us by the humility of thy Son, our Lord God, descending hither be∣cause of our pride; and I was already signed with the signe of his Cross, and was seasoned with his† salt, even from my mothers womb, a woman, who put much hope in thee.

And thou sawest, O Lord, I happening then to be pain∣ed at my stomack, and suddenly seized with a violent Ca∣lenture near unto death, thou sawest O my God, (for even then wast thou my Guardian) with what passion of minde, and with what faith, I importuned the piety of my own mother, and of our common mother, thy Church, for the Baptism of thy Christ, my Lord and God. And this much-perplexed mother of my flesh (who now travailed far more dearly, in the womb of her chast heart, of the se∣cond birth of my eternal salvation, by her faith in thee, than before she had done of my temporal) was taking

care, that, with all speed, I should be initiated and purged with the salutary† Sacraments, confessing thee, O Lord Jesus, for remission of sins; But that I had a suddain reco∣very; upon which, this my cleansing was, for that time, deferred; although it could not be avoided, but that, if I lived longer, I should be yet more defiled, and so the guilt contracted from the renewed pollutions of sins, after that holy lavatory, would have become greater far, and far more dangerous.

Thus, then, I believed in thee, and she, and the whole family excepting my Father, who yet could not oversway in me the just power of my mothers piety, to make me not believe in Christ, as he at that time believed not in him. For, it was her holy endeavour, that thou, my God, shouldest be my Father, more than He: and thou assistedst her herein to overcome her husband. To whom, in other things, she, though much better, yielded all obedience; because she was to yield all obedience to thee, and this obedience to her husband was commanded by thee.† For what reason, O my God, I would fain know, was this my Baptism at that time delayed? and whether for any my greater good, were the reins of my sinning longer left loose upon me? For if they were not then left loose, whence is it that on every side we do still hear it said of such and such: Let him alone, let him do what he will, for he is not yet baptized? and yet, concerning corporal sanity, we say not, Let him yet receive more wounds, for he is not yet cured of the former? How much better had it been for me, to have been so early healed! and that, with my own, and my friends strict care, the health of my soul, thus restored, might have been ever after kept entire, by thy preserving what thou hadst restored? This, surely, had been much the better. But that my good Mother, al∣ready foreseeing, how many, and how great, billows of temptations, after my childhood spent, were ready to as∣sault, and to ore-set my more unbridled youth, chose ra∣ther to expose to their blows, me now before baptism, as yet a lump of rude clay, which, by it, afterward might be new moulded, than me, when by the Sacraments, thy new-formed image, which so perchance might happen to be defaced.

CHAP. XII.

Of his sins and errours at School, and of their's that in∣structed him.

YEt in this my childhood (far less feared for miscar∣riage, than more head-strong youth) I hated study; and, yet more, to be pressed to it; and yet I was forced to it; and well that I was so; but in that forced studying I did not well; who learned only from constraint; for none doth well, what he doth unwillingly; though it be well, what he doth. (But neither did those, that urged me so in it, do well; but it was thou only, O my God, in it, that didst well unto me) for they, who so earnestly urged me unto it, saw not to what good use I might employ it, save only to go about to satisfie the unsatiable desires of wealthy poverty, and ignominious glory.

But thou, by whom the very hairs of our head are all num∣bred, meanwhile didst make good use of all our errours, △ of their errour, in forcing me, * to my profit; and △ of mine, in being averse from it, * to my punishment; which I well deserved, being so little a childe, and so great a sin∣ner. So thou didst well unto me, by those, who did not well: and didst as justly take revenge on me, in that very thing wherein I did amisse. For thou hast appointed, and so it is; that every inordinate affection should be to it self, its own torment.

CHAP XIII.

Of his hating Greek, and other necessary learning, and affection to Poetry and fables.

BUt why at that time I should so much hate Greek, I do not yet well understand; for Latine I liked very well, I mean not, that which our first Masters spell unto us, but that which the Grammarians teach; for that first learning, to Read, and Write, and cast up an Ac∣count, I thought as afflicting and vexatious as the Greek? And whence this also, but from sin, and the vanity of this life? Because I was flesh, and a wind that passeth away and cometh not again. For that first learning was for the better, because truer, and more certain (which enrich∣ed me with a faculty necessary, and as easily retained, whereby I both read now what I finde written, and write, my self, what I have a minde) than this other, in which

I learnt, and was enjoyned, to remember, the errors and wandrings of, I know not what, Aeneas, forgetful of my own errors; and shed tears for the death of one Dido, who killed herself for love, when meanwhile I beheld my self, in these amorous toyes, perishing from thee (O God my life) with dry eyes: miserable, Creature, as I then was; for what is more miserable than one that is in misery, and yet hath no commiseration of himself? sadly bewailing wanton Dido's death, caused by excesse of love to Aeneas, and never deploring his own death, caused by want of love to thee?

O God the glorious light of my heart, and delicate food of the inner mouth of my soul, and celestiall power, that now espouseth my mind, possessing the bosome of my thoughts, I did not then love thee, and went a whore∣ing from thee, and to this my fornication it was ecchoed on every side, Euge, Euge, well-done, well-done, for the friendship of this world is fornication against thee. And they cry, well-well-done; that a shame to-be-ashamed-of may possess him, who is not such a one, as they com∣mend. And these things I lamented not, but lamented despairing perishing-Dido,

Didonem extinctam, ferroque extrema secutam.

My self following the same extremities, even the lowest of thy creatures and forsaking thee; earth tending toward earth; and when I was forbiden to read these things, I was grieved, because I read not, what might make me grieve. And yet such foolery as this was ac∣counted by me farr more gentile and polite Science, ••han that whereby I learnt to write and read.

But now let my God say unto my soul, and let thy truth tell me, 'tis otherwise; and the former learning is far the better of the two; for I shall sooner, and had ra∣ther, forget, Aeneas his travells, and all such like toyes, than to write and read.

I therefore when a boy did sin, in preferring, in my fond affection, these empty things before those useful; or rather in hating the one, whilst I doted on the other. For then, One and one makes two; two and two four, was an odious repetition to me; Whilst, the wooden Horse lined with armed men, and the flaming funeralls of Troy, and lost Creusa's ghost were most ravishing Idols of my vanity.

CHAP. XIIII.

WHy then hated I the Greek tongue, presenting me with the like fictions? for learned Homer, hath likewise curiously woven such like pleasant-tales, and is, in his poems, wost sweetly-vain, but yet was very bitter to me when a school boy, and so is Virgil, I be∣lieve, to the youth of Greece, when forced to learn him with so much difficulty, as I did the other. For the hardness of attaining a forreign-tongue did, as it were, oresprinkle with gall all the sweets of such fabulous sto∣ries. For I knew not the words of that language, and meanwhile was frighted with cruell terrors and tortures to learn to know them. 'Tis true also, that once (in my Infancy) I understood no Latine: But this tongue I easily learned by observation only, without fear or stripes, a∣midst the flatterings of my nurses, and the chat of my play-fellows. And so I learned that tongue without the penall task of constraint, my surcharged heart sufficient∣ly pressing me to a speedy delivery of its conceptions in the like expressions, which I learned not from those that taught, but that talked with, me; in whose ears I did al∣so bring-forth, whatever my mind preconceived. Whence it appears, that such things are better learnt from a free unspurred curiosity, than from a timorous necessity. But yet the one well qualifies and bridles the over-loos∣ness of the other, in the wise restraint of thy good laws, O God, upon us; which from the Masters ferula, to the tryals of Martyrs, do intermix and infuse those wholsom bitternesses, which may reduce us still unto thee, from the infectious sweets, that allure us to depart from thee.

CHAP. XV.

His offering up to God the fruits of his learning.

O Lord hear my prayer; let my soul never faint under thy discipline; nor grow-weary in confessing thy mercies unto thee; by which thou hast drawn me out of all my wicked wayes; that thou thy self mightest be∣come delicious unto me, above all those charming se∣ducements which I have heretofore pursued; and that I might love thee entirely, and kiss thy delivering hand with all the bowels of my affection, that thou maist yet

rescue me out of all temptation, even to the end.

For behold (O Lord my King) may it now be for thy service, whatever useful thing my childhood hath learnt! may it be for thy service, that I speak—write—read—account! Because; in my learning vain things, thou didst not cease to discipline me; and, after my delighting in those vanities, thou hast forgiven me my sin. For I leanrt in them many useful words, but these also may be as well learnt, in things not vain, and that a far safer way, wherein to guide the un∣wary steps of yet-unseasoned youth.

CHAP. XVI.

Inveighing-against*lascivious Fables.

BUt wo unto thee, precipitous torrent of humane cu∣stome! who shall stop thy heady course? how long ere thy pernicious streams be dried up? How long shall these carry down the sons of Eve into that huge, and dread∣full Ocean, over which, those that are best embarked, are with hazard transported? Have I not read in thee, both of a thundering, and of an adulterating, Jove? Not, that these two were ever really coincident to the same God; but thus feigned, that man might have some authority, to imitate the true adultery, being countenanced by that fa∣bulous thunder... These poetical fictions, transferring hu∣mane passions to the Gods, or, (to say more truly) make∣ing gods of most flagitious men, that such crimes might no more be esteemed crimes; and men committing them might be said to imitate, not the most debauched of men, but the most supreme of Deities.

And yet, O thou infernal stream, the children of men are daily thrown into thee, with great rewards to their Teach∣ers, for compassing such learning; they receiving, beyond private wages, also publick salaries: whilst meanwhile, horrid gulf, thou beatest thy rocks, and makest a roaring noise, saying; here is pure language learned; here elo∣quence; so necessary for maintaining your own opinions, or oreswaying other mens. Should we never then have known these elegant words, Imbrem aureum, & Gremium, & fucum, & templa coeli, and the like, unless Terence had introduced a lascivious youth, proposing to himself Jove for a pattern of whoring; whilst in surveying a t••blet on the wall, he found therein this lascivious picture. How (they say) Jupiter upon a time once showred into Danae's lap a golden rain, and so deceived the gold-enamoured maid:

and thence see how he heightens his lust, from that divine copy of it as it were. And what God was it (sayes he) that did this rape? was it not he that makes the arched Temples of heaven tremble with his ecchoing thunder? and may not I then, a frail tempted mortal, do the same? yes sure, I did it, and that well-pleased. Nor happens it, from this unclean discourse, that those words are any whit better learned; but by these words (conveying it) such uncleanness is more impudently attempted. Not that I blame, * the words, being, as it were, choice and precious vessels, but * the wine of error, which is ministred in them unto us children, by our fore-intoxicated Masters; of which if we refuse to drink, we are beaten, and have no sober Judge, to whom we may appeal. But I, O my God, (in whose presence my remembrance of these things is now fear-less and secure) I poor wretch then swallowed those potions most willingly, and with great delight; and for this was called a hopeful boy.

CHAP. XVII.

—And * the mis-use of his wit;

PErmit me also, O my God, to say something of my wit, thy gift, on what foolish labours it was then employed; for then was set me a task (very vexatious to my spirit) upon the price of applause, or shame, and fear of whipping, to render raging Juno's speech, when she so dolefully la∣mented Non posse Italia Teucrorum avertere Regem. that she could not from Italy divert the Trojan Prince: (which words I had heard that Juno never uttered; but we, tracing errour, were forced to follow the footsteps of such poetick fictions) and to vary into prose, what he expressed in verse: and he did it with best applause, who (retaining the dignity of the person represented) could reach to an higher strain of the like passion, of anger, and sorrow, with an agreeable sense handsomely dressed in an apt expression.

And what happiness was it to me (O thou my true life, my God) that my Exercise should be pre-applauded beyond many my coequals? Behold, are not all such things fume and vanity? And was there then no other better thing, wherein to have exercised our wit and eloquence? Even thy praises, O Lord, thy praises in thy more holy writings, these might have been a divine subject for the tender branch of my spreading fancy to have clasped a∣bout,

and depended upon, without, * being trailed on the ground amongst such empty trifles, and * having its fruit made a filthy prey to those ravenous spiritual fowls of the air. For many wayes there are, whereby the precious fruits of our youth become a sacrifice to those unclean spirits.

CHAP. XVIII.

Misguided by vicious example, and more ashamed of the breach of Grammar-rules, than of Gods Law.

BUt, what wonder was it, if I was thus carried away through vanities, and went out from thy presence, O my God; when such men only were proposed to my imitati∣on, who, if they should relate any of their actions (though not ill) with any barbarisme or solecisme, being censured for it, were abashed and confounded; but, if they should, in a round and well-cohering stile, fluently and neatly expresse, though one of their culpable lusts, being applaud∣ed for this, became exalted with pride. This thou seest, O Lord, and holdest thy peace, long-suffering, and abundant in goodnesse and truth. And wilt thou alwayes hold thy peace? No; but thou drawest out of this swallowing deep, the soul that seeketh after thee, and thirsteth after thy chaster delights, and whose heart saith unto thee, I have sought thy face, and (Lord) thy face will I seek. But, I then was departed far away from the light of thy countenance in my own darkned affections. For 'tis not by motion, or measuring of place, that we recede from thee, or re∣turn to thee. For, that thy prodigal younger son in the Gospel, did he procure himself either horses, or chariots, or ships? winged he himself, to fly, or girded he up his loins, to run, into a far countrey, there lavishly to wast the portion, thou gavest him at his setting-forth? (a kind Father, that sentest him forth so rich, and yet far more kind, when he returned to thee so poor.) No: but his departure from thee was, in his erring mind, and his cour∣sing after strange-lusts; by which the soul becomes darken∣ed and benighted; and this darkness is caused by going-far-off from the light of thy countenance, O Lord.

Behold then O Lord, and with patient eyes, as thou art wont, behold, how scrupulously the sons of men do observe the laws even of letters and syllables, received from those that, before them, have so accented and pronounced them; and yet so carelesly neglect the eternal laws of their ever∣lasting

health, received from thee; so that a Professor or a Scholler of the former traditions of pronuntiation, if, contrary to the law of Grammar, he should but, without an aspirate, speak this word [Ominem] that signifies a man, he should more displease men, than if, contrary to thy law, he hate a man (when himself is one): as though he ought to think a man that is his enemy a more harmful thing to him, than his own hatred is, by which he is incensed against him; or, as though he did more mischief unto another man by persecuting him, than he doth to his own soul, by hating him; certainly that science of letters is not more innate, than this law inscribed in our conscience, Not to do, to any other, what, from another, we are loth to suffer.

O how secret, and undiscovered thou art, dwelling on high, in silence (God only great) and from thence, with an unwearied hand, sprinkling, here, penal cecity upon law∣lesse lust. For, one ambitious to be counted eloquent, when he stands before a mortal Judge, surrounded with a crowd of mortals, and there with implacable wrath declaims-against his enemy, takes extream care, lest, by an errour of his tongue, he chance to say [inter hominibus] to signifie amongst men; but takes no heed, standing also, at the same time, before thee, lest, by a worse fault of his furious passion, he happen to destroy a man from amongst men.

CHAP. XIX.

Of his lyes to his Governours; thefts from his Parents; cheating of his play-fellows.

IN the road of these customs lay I, wretched Boy; and upon this stage of vanity I plaid such prizes; where I far more feared to let-fall a solecisme, than (when I com∣mitted any) to envy him, that made none. I declare now, and confesse these faults unto thee, O my God; for the which they commended me, whom I thought it all vertue to please. For, I discerned not that gulf of filthinesse, wherein I then lay, cast out of the sight of thine eyes; for to those holy pure eyes what could appear more loth∣some than I, who became so displeasing also to others; whilst, with innumerable lyes, I deceived both my School∣masters and Parents, out of love to play; desire to see, and inquietude to imitate, toyes.

Thefts also I committed, out of my Fathers Cellars, and from his Table, either to content my intemperance, or, to have something to give to other boyes, that cunningly sold

that play to me, with which they were no less delighted, than my self. In which gaming also I often sought victory, even by foul-play; being my self miserably overcome with a vain desire of overcoming others: and what did I more unwillingly suffer, or more freely taxed, when ere I disco∣vered it in others, than that, which I used my self to others? & if I were reprehended, when caught doing the same, I thought it far more gallant in such a case, to quarrel, than confesse.

Is this that childrens-innocency? It is not, O Lord; O Lord, it is not. I implore thy mercy, O my God; For these are the very same faults that are acted over and over again, from our being first in subjection to pedagogues and Schoolmasters, and our winning, of balls, and nuts, and sparrows; to that our subjection afterward, to Magistrates and Princes, and our gaining of gold, and mannours, and slaves; and these smaller vanities do magnifie only by the progresse of age into greater toyes; as our ferula, then, is after followed with greater punishments. Thou therefore, O our King, didst only recommend the emblem of humili∣ty, in the little and low stature, not in the vertue, of this age, when thou saidst; of such is the kingdom of heaven.

CHAP. XX.

His praising God for the many good endowments of his childhood.

ANd yet, O Lord, thanks be to thee, the most excellent builder, and great commander, of all this Universe, our God, although thou hadst only preferred me to this perfection of a childe. For, then I had a Being, had life, had sense, and an innate providence for the general safety of this my individual, being a copy of that most secret unity of thine, from which I had my being; then I kept a guard also, upon the acts of my outward, with my more inward, senses; and then, in the smallest objects, and my sensations of them, I delighted in truth, and hated to be deceived. Then was I enriched with a potent memory, to retain things, and speech to deliver them, and sociable∣nesse, to converse; avoided grief, and basenesse, and igno∣rance. and what was there in such a wisely-built creature, as this, not adm rable and amiable?

But all those things are the gifts of my God, I be∣stowed them not upon my self; and good they are, and they are my self. Good is he therefore that so made me, and he is my goodnesse, and to him I rejoyc't in all those good things, by which I was made even so worthy a

creature, as a Child is. Whose sin only was, that I sought my self, and these other delights, sublimities, and truths, not in Him, but in his creatures; and so, in my unhappy quest after them, in lieu of them, light upon sorrow, and shame, and errour. Meanwhile, thanks be unto thee, my sweet-delight, and my glory, and my confidence, my God, Thanks be unto thee for those thy good gifts; but do thou keep them for me; for so shalt thou keep me also, and these things shall still encrease and grow to perfection, which thou hast given me; and so shall I also be in thy custody, because even my being is one gift, which I have received from thee.

LIB. II.

CHAP. I.

An Account of his Youth.

I Will now call to mind the many impurities of my former life▪ and carnal corruptions of my soul; not, that I now love them any more, but, that I may the more love thee, O my God: Out of love of thy love do I this, and review those my most Wicked wayes in the bitternesse of my remembrance▪ to make Thee grow more Sweet unto me; Who art a sweetness not falsified, ever blissful, and secure, and recol∣lecting me from that dispersion, into which my distracting lusts had spread me; whilst, turned from thee, the one only good, I vanished, and lost my self, in the multiplici∣ty of thy creatures.

For, then was the time, when I raged, to be once satiated in the things below, in that wild season of my youth, and strove to spread, and branch out, like a Forrest, into many various and ore-growing loves. And my beauty consumed away, and I became filthy and loathsom before thine eyes; the whilst I was very lovely unto my self, and desirous to please the eyes of men.

CHAP. II.

And of the Ʋnruly lusts thereof, in the Sixteenth Year of his Age.

ANd, what was it then, wherein I delighted, but only to love, and to be loved? But, in this love, a true measure was not observed of one souls chast amity to a∣nother, so far, as the bond of friendship is clear and fault∣less: but that also some foggy vapours were exhaled, from the muddy concupiscence of the flesh, and from the cor∣rupt source of that prurient age, which so over-spread and beclouded my hear••, that therein the serenity of a chast love was mingled with the ••••sts of impure lust; and both together raised strange tempests within me, and, hurrying away that unstayed age through the precipices of unlawfull desires, plunged it in the gulf of many enormous actions. O Lord, thy heavy wrath had overtaken me, and I knew it not; and being deafned with the noise of the chain of my mortality (the punishment of the pride of my soul) I wandred still farther from thee, and thou let∣test me alone. I rowled, and tossed, and spumed, and boiled ore in my fornications, and thou heldest thy peace, O thou my so lately-arrived joy; Thou at that time heldest thy peace, and I departed farr farr from thee, in a con∣stant pursuance of more and more barren, and fruitlesse seeds of sorrows, with an aspiring downfall, and an unti∣red wearinesse.

O where were any then that might at least have modera∣ted that my misery unto me, & converted the fleeting beau∣ties of these lowest things, at least to my honest use; and set some lawfull bounds unto their sweet temptations! That so those tempestuous spring-tides of my youth might at least, have broken themselves upon the shoar of a conju∣gall life, and, if they could no other way have been be∣calmed, might at least have been terminated with the le∣gitimate design of propagation of posterity, as thy law prescibes unto them, O Lord who framest this supply of our mortality, and moderatest with a gentle hand, the pricklings of these‖ thornes, which were not suffered to grow in thy Paradise: because thy all-working power is not then farr from us, even when we are farr from thee.

Or, I my self ought more vigilantly to have attended unto the voice of thy clouds sounding to me from above; such shall have trouble in the flesh; but I spare you. And It

is good for a Man, not to touch a Woman. And again: He that is unmarried careth for the things that belong to the Lord, how he may please the Lord; but he that is married careth for the things that are of the World, how he may please his Wife. I ought therefore more vigilantly, * to have ob∣served these words, and so, making my self an Eunuch for the Kingdom of Heaven, more happily* to have waited for thy own ever-blissfull embraces. But I, poor wretch wrought like a troubled sea, following the course of that violent tide, and having forsaken thee: and I overflowed all the lawfull bounds of thy prescriptions, and meanwhile escaped not thy heavy scourges (for who amongst mor∣tals can do this?) For thou wert alwaies upon my back, mercifully severe, besprinkling with most bitter disgusts, all those my unlawfull pleasures; that so, at last, I might seek out for a pleasure void of any disgust, and might dis∣cover nothing wherein I might have it, besides thee, O Lord; besides thee who prescribest these pangs unto us, by thy most wise decree, and woundest, that thou maist heal us; and killest us, lest we should perish from thee.

Where was I then, and how far exiled from the de∣lights of thy house, in that Sixteenth year of the age of my flesh, when the rage of lust had received the scepter in me, and when I had abandoned my self wholly unto it, being licenced thereto indeed by humane shameless pra∣ctice, but prohibited alwaies, by thy holy laws? Mean∣while my friends took no care to tye me, from this ruine, with the bonds of marriage; but very careful they were to provide, that I should learn to make a good speech, and to become a powerful Orator.

CHAP. III

Advanced by his living idly at home; by the ill example of his Companions; and by his Parents neglect to marry him: though his Mother much dehorting him from forni∣ca ion, and more especially from Adultery.

NOw, for that year, were my studies intermitted; and I was called-home from M••dauris, a neighbour City, whither, for the better learning of Grammar and O∣ratory, I had been already sent abroad, whilst the ex∣pences of a longer journey, as far as Carthage, were pro∣viding, more out of a strong resolution, than a sufficient estate of my Father, a very mean Townsman of Thagaste. To whom tell I this? Not to thee, (O my God) but, be∣fore

thee, to those of the same humane condition with my self, how small a part soever of them shall happen to light on these my writings: And to what purpose to them? Namely, that both I and those, who read this, may consider, out of what profound depths here we must still be crying to thee, (there thou still hearing at hand, where there is a confessing heart, and a life of faith.) For who did not then highly commend my Father, who, beyond the power of his mean estate, would allow his Son whatever was necessary to his travels abroad, for ad∣vancement of his studies? (whilst many Citizens far more wealthy did no such thing for their Children.) When as meanwhile the same my father took no thought, what a one I might grow towards thee, or how chast my life were; so that only I proved eloquent and disert, or rather deserted of thy culture O God; who art the one only, true, and good, owner and cultivater of this my heart, thy field.

But, in that sixteenth year of my mine age (whilst do∣mestick necessities caused a vacation from school, and I lived idle at home with my parents) how did the briars of lusts grow even ore mine head, and there was not found any hand to destroy them.

Nay; but when also that my father spyed me, in the Bath, now growing toward man, and troubled with the unquiet motions of youth, ravished with the hopes of see∣ing shortly more posterity, he rejoycing, presently told it to my Mother; rejoycing; out of that general intoxi∣cating humour, whereby this world, having forgotten thee its Creatour, is become enamoured of thy creature instead of thee, from the fumes of that invisible wine of their perverted will, stooping and debasing it self to these lowest of things. But in my mothers chast breast thou hadst already begun, thy Temple, and the foundation of thy holy habitation, (for he was yet but a Catechumen newly converted); She therefore (upon hearing it) was seized with as much fear and trembling; being afflicted for me al∣though I was yet† no Christian professed, nor baptized, lest I should stray in those common crooked by-wayes, in which others walk, who turn not their face, but back, upon thee.

Wo is me; and dare I yet say, that thou heldest thy peace, the while I wandred thus still farther from thee? And whose then, but thine, was that sweet counsel by my Mother, thy Disciple, which thou sungest in mine ears, but nothing whereof descended into my heart to perform it? For She requested, and in secret (I remem∣ber) with great solicitude admonished me, to keep my self pure from women, especially from defiling any ones Wife. Which seemed to me but womanish advice, and which men should be ashamed to obey: and it was thine; and I knew it not, supposing thee to be silent, and her to speak it, who, by her, wast not silent unto me; and, in her, wast also despised by me; by me, her son, the son of thine handmaid, and thy Subject. But I knew it not, and rushed still headlong with so much precipitancy and blindness, that amongst my equalls I was ashamed of any less filthiness, than what I heard them boast of; and they boasted every one so much more, by how much more beastly they were; and I rejoyced to do the like as they did, not only for the pleasure, but praise, of the Fact.

What is there reproachful, but only vice? And I, to avoid reproach, still became more vicious: and, when there hapned nothing, by acting whereof I might equall others guilt, I feigned, I did, what I did not, lest I should seem more contemptible, by how much I was more in∣nocent: and lest I should feem more vile, by how much I was more chast. Behold, with what companions I travelled in those streets of Babilon; & wallowed in the mire thereof, as in a bed of spices and precious odours; while the invisi∣ble enemy trampled upon me, and seduced me, because I my self was prone also to be so seduced. Neither had that Mother of my flesh (already escap'd out of the midst of Babilon, but in the skirts thereof, yet slow-paced) though she had counselled me chastity, so taken care to restrain that lust (which her husband had discovered to her in me, and which she knew, for the present, so in∣fectious, and, for the future, so pernicious to me) with∣in the bounds of a conjugal affection, if it were found to be otherwise incurable. She had not taken due care of this, because affraid, lest all my hopes should be spoiled by the fetters of a Wife; my hopes; not such a hope, as my Mother had in thee, of the next happy world to come, but the hope of my learning forsooth; in which both my parents were too too desirous of my proficiency;

He, because he thought but little on thee, and many vain things of me; She, because She supposed those usual pro∣secutions of science would be no hindrance, but some help, toward the knowledg of thee. (For such, I con∣jecture, were the inclinations of my parents.) Then al∣so were the reins, beyond all the temper of due severity, let loose unto me, of spending my time in idle sports and recreations, to my growing still more dissolute, in various lusts: and a mist in every thing was before my eyes, in∣tercepting from me (O God) the serenity of thy truth: And iniquity grew up in me, as in a fertile soile.

CHAP. IV.

Of his Theft, * done only out of wantonnesse.

THeft is a thing that is punished by thy law (O Lord) and also by the law written in the hearts of men; which law wickednesse it self never utterly cancels in us: for, what thief doth easily endure a thief? or, who, in plenty, endureth another stealing for necessity? Yet I also, lusted to steal, and executed it, not forced thereto by want or need; but out of a loathing of honesty, and longing to sin. For I stole that, of which I had, my self, great plenty, and much better; neither delighted I in the fruition of the thing stollen, but only in the sin of the theft.

Near a vineyard of ours, there was a tree well-loaden with apples, not much tempting either sight or tast: a company of wicked boyes of us went late at night to rob it; having till then (according to a loose custome) drawn out our sports in the streets: And thence we carried great loads, not for our own eating, but even to be cast to the hogs, after we had first only-tasted them, and de∣lighted our selves in the doing of, what we pleased, not what we ought.

Lo: my heart (O my God) lo, my heart (whereof thou hadst pity, in the bottom of this hell) let it now tell thee, what it was, that it then affected? Even, that I might be wicked gratis, and have no provocation to ill, but the evil it self. I was enamoured of this, I on∣ly loved to perish; I loved to be faulty; not that thing in the which I was faulty, but the very faultinesse I loved. Unclean and filthy soul, starting from thy stable firmament, toward all extreams; not, by disgrace, prose∣cuting something else, but only the disgrace.

CHAP. V.

—And * void of excuse; when—as most sins pretend some good to the sinner.

THere is a tempting appearance in all fair and glittering bodies, in gold, and in silver, and the rest: also in carnal touches, there is a sympathy that transports us; and in the rest of our sences, there is a contemperature of other bodies exactly tuned to the complacency of each of them. Even temporal honour, and the power of conquering, and mastery, hath its splendor and ornament, whence springs so strong an appetite of revenge (yet therefore may not we, for gain of these, O Lord, depart from thee, nor turn aside from thy law). The mortal life also, which we live here, hath its blandishments, from a certain kinde of sym∣metry, and proportion that it hath to all the rest of these lower beauties. And, in it, the friendship also of men is, in a ravishing manner, sweet from a combined union of many hearts.

And, upon occasion of all these, and the like, much sin is committed: whilst, by an immoderate propension to these, the last of goods, those best and highest are deserted, even Thou, O Lord our God, and thy truth, and thy law. For these things below have also their delights, but not like my God, by whom all they were made, because in him doth the righteous delight, and he is the joy of the upright in heart.

Therefore, when we question, for what cause any crime is done; tis presumed to proceed, either from a desire of acquiring, or a fear of losing, some of these the mean∣est of goods: because they also are some way lovely and pretty, though in comparison of those superiour treasures, and beatifical riches, contemptible and base.

One man hath murdered another; what moved him to it? he loved his wife, or his land, or would rob him for his own livelihood, or from the other feared some such losse; or, first insured, thirsted for revenge. Would he commit a murder upon no cause? taken only with the murder? who can imagine this? for, as for that furious and cruel† man, that was said to be gratuito malus atque crudelis; spontaneously wicked, and blood-thirsty gratis; yet is there a cause assigned, ne per otium, &c. l••st his mind or hand, through idleness, should grow useless. And why indeed was he such? but, * that, the City being surpri∣zed

by his mischievous practises, he might possess the ho∣nour, wealth, command thereof; * that, in so necessitous a fortune, so guilty a conscience, he might be free from fear, of laws, and of want. Therefore was not Catiline himself in love with his own villanies, but with something else, for which sake he did them.

CHAP. VI.

BUt, O my Theft, that wicked night-exploit of my sixteen years age, what was it then, that wretched I so much loved in thee? For nothing fair thou wert, be∣cause thou wert Theft, or indeed, wert thou at all any thing, that thus I speak unto thee? Indeed the fruit we robbed was fair, because it was thy Creature, thou fair∣est of all, Creator of all, my good God, God my true and my supream good; fair was the fruit, but that was not it, after which my miserable soul lusted, having thereof far better, in great plenty, of our own. But the other rather I liked, because so I might steal it; which being once gathered, as having now sufficiently satisfied my appetite, I threw it away; enjoying there∣of only the pleasure of the sin: or if I chanced to tast any of the fruit, that, which sweetned it unto me, was the offence.

And now, O Lord my God, fain would I know, what it was, in this fault, that so much delighted me: and be∣hold I cannot find the least allurance of any beauty in it. I do not mean such beauty as is seen in the divine ha∣bits of Justice and Prudence; or, as in the highest fa∣culties of understanding and memory; or, as in the subtility of the senses; or yet in the vigours of Vegeta∣tion: nor yet (inferiour to these) as the stars are glo∣rious and orderly in their Orbs; or, as the Earth and Sea are beautifull in their kind; being alwayes laden with breed; a new growth of which, in their unex∣hausted womb, still succeeds a former departed. But I mean such a gloss at least, as there is (a faint and pain∣ted one) in many a deluding vice. For, both * the sin of pride (to be some way like unto thee) emulates high∣ness, when as thou art only, above all, the most high God. And * Ambition aims at glory and honour; when as thou alone art honourable supreamly, and e∣ternally glorious. And * the cruelty of the great ones desires so to become reverenced and feared; and who is to be feared, but God alone? from whose power what, or

when, or where, or how, or by whom, can ever any thing, by force or fraud, be subducted? And * the ca∣resses of the lascivious seek to be loved: when as nei∣ther is any thing so dearly sweet as thy Love, nor so sa∣vingly enamouring, as thy above-all-beautifull and en∣lightning Truth. And * Curiosity makes semblance of a desire of knowledge, when, as it is Thou, that perfect∣ly understandest all things. Also, even * ignorance and folly, clothes it self with the name of simplicity and in∣nocency; because not any thing is found like simple as thy self, and what is there innocent like thee, whose works are harmfull only to the sinner. And * sloth affects, as it were, quiet; but what repose certain, besides the Lord? * Luxury desires to be called satiety and plenty, yet thou art the only fulness, and never-failing abundance of uncorrupting dainties. * Lavishing hides it self under the shadow of liberality; but the most royally overflow∣ing doner of all good things is thy self. * Avarice would have much to be in its fruition; and it is Thou that pos∣sessest all things. * Envy contends for pre-eminence; and what is so pre-excellent, as thy self?* Anger pre∣tends just vengeance; and who executes it righteously like thee? * Fear abhorrs things, unusuall, surprizing, and Enemies to what she loves; whilst she is alwayes precautelous of her safety; now to thee only it is, that nothing comes unacquainted or sudden; and who can part what thou lovest from thee? and where, but with thee, ever dwells unshaken security? * Sorrow pines for those things lost, in whose enjoyment she delighted, because she desires, that nothing may be taken away from her; as nothing can, from thee. After these the soul goes a whoring, when she is departed from thee; and seeks, besides thee, what she never finds pure and clear, but when returned unto thee. And yet all they (in a wrong way) imitate, and seek likeness unto, thee, who render themselves far from thee, and who pride them∣selves most against thee. And, in this their imitating and resembling thee, shew thee to be the Creator of all na∣ture, and that, in it, they cannot any-whither recede from thee. What therefore in that Theft was it, that I loved? and in what here (though viciously and perversly) have I also imitated my Lord? Was it, that I had a desire, to act against the law, by sleight, where I could not, by power; and, though restrained by it, yet would imitate a lame kind of liberty, in doing, free from punishment,

what I could not, free from guilt, out of a fond resem∣blance of thy omnipotency.

CHAP VII.

He laments his offences: and praiseth God, for the Remission thereof by Baptisme.

SEe, if this were a good Servant; thus flying from his Lord, and embracing a shadow of him. O corrup∣tion, monstrosity of life, profoundness of death, could I then lust after what was unlawfull, for no other rea∣son, but because unlawfull? What shall I render unto the Lord, that, whilst my memory now recalls these things, my soul doth not dread them? I will love thee O Lord my God, and give thanks unto thee, and confess unto thy name, because thou hast forgiven my, so great iniqui∣ties, and detestable deeds. To thy grace I depute it, and to thy mercy, that those sins, I committed, are now dissolved like ice; and to thy grace I depute it al∣so, whatsoever other sins I have not committed: for what one crime would I not have acted, who loved such an act for its being criminous? Therefore, * of all these sins† I confess my self released by thee; not only * of those, by my own wilfulness effected, but * of those, by thy guidance avoided.

And who is he, that, well-weighing his frailty, dares to attribute his chastity, or his innocence, to his own ability: that so he should less love thee, as less obli∣ged to that thy mercy, by which thou remittest sins to those, who return unto thee? And whoever he be, that, called by hee, hath straight followed thy voice, and hath happily escaped, what he here reads by me sadly confessed; hence let him not scorn me, because, being sick I received my cure, from that Physician; from whom, himself also received a preservative, that he was not sick, or rather, that he was not so sick. But, for this, let him as much, nay more, love thee; because, by what hand he sees me from these languishments of sin, recovered, by the same he sees himself, from the languishings of sin, preserved.

CHAP. VIII.

Yet, that he should not have done that theft without company.

WHat fruit had I then, poor soul, in those things whereof my remembrance now is ashamed? Espe∣cially

in that act, wherein I loved nothing, save only the very Theft; and it also was, really, nothing;‖ and therefore more wretched still I in loving it? Yet (be∣ing alone) I had not committed it; so I call to mind my self then, that I should not at all have done it, be∣ing alone. Therefore in it, I loved also the association of others, with whom I did it; and so loved something besides the Theft; though this something also is no∣thing.

For, in reality, what is it? (who can instruct me, but he that enlightens my heart, and discovers all the shadie cor∣ners thereof?) what is this, that here comes anew to be enquired and examined? for if then, I had loved only the stollen fruit, or coveted only the possession of it, I might alone have executed the sin, which would have compassed my content; and not have enflamed the itch of my desires by the mutuall rubbings of other con∣scious parties. But, as my delight was not in the fruit, but the action; so, the delight of the action arose out of the concurrence of others, consenting to be co-peccants with me.

CHAP. IX.

WHat was this humour then in me? Too too bad I confess, and great wo was to me by it. But yet what was it? and who can understand his faults? Why, it made us laugh, and tickled us with joy, that we co∣sened those; by whom any such thing of us was little imagined, and less wished. Why then was I so pleased, not to do it alone? Because none, hardly, laughs by himsel••; though laughter sometimes also may overcome us all alone; when something very ridiculous presents it self, to our sight, or to our fancy: but, as for me, a∣lone I should never have done this. See, O my God, the fresh remembrance of my then-inclinations set before thee; that that theft had never been done by me, a∣lone; wherein, that which I stole pleased me not, but that I stole it; and this to me alone would have yielded no delight. O Enemy friendship, powerfull inveigler of the soul: to an unaccountable greediness of mischief, even out of jest and merriment, and to an appetite of a∣nothers loss, without any lust of my own gain, or with∣out any lust of revenge! but only, because tis said; Let's go; let's do't: and then we are ashamed, not to be shameless.

CHAP .X.

WHo can perfectly unfold this so involved and en∣tangled a knot? so foul a business, I can intend it no more, no more reflect upon it. But thee will I con∣template, O righteousnes and innocence, * beautiful and comely to all chast eyes, and * of a satiety never 2satisfy∣ing. With thee are the riches of true repose, and life void of perturbation. Who so entereth into thee, enters into the joy of his Lord. And he shall have nothing more, whereof to be affraid, but in the most happiest, ever be most happy. From thy stability was I dispersed, from thee I went astray, O my God, too much astray, in that my Youth, and so became to my self a barren Land.

LIB. III.

CHAP. I.

Of his journey to Carthage, to finish his studies; and his A∣morous passions there.

TO Carthage now I came; and there on every side sounded in my ears the hot reports of unchast Loves. And I, though not yet in Love, yet then loved to be in love; and, in this want of something to be loved by me, I, out of a more secret want, hated my self because I wanted less; and I earnestly sought about for something which I might love, in love with being in love. And I loathed easy security; and a way without snares. And all, because there was a famine within me of that spiritual food (thy self my God). And yet being thus sterved, I was not an hungred; but void of appetite to that incorruptible sustenance; not because I was full thereof, but because the more empty I was of it, the more fastidious. And for this rea∣son my soul was sickly, and being full of itchy ulcers, miserably broke out, seeking to be scratched and rubbed with the touch of sensitive and corporeal things; yet these corporeals would not at all be so affected, if they were destitute of a soul; yet to love, and to be loved of,

those souls, so became farr more sweet unto me, if the body also of what I loved were enjoyed by me.

And thus I defiled the chast source of a pure amity with the dirt of unclean concupiscence; and from the hell of lust below beclouded its brightness; and when I was so nasty and filthy, yet I fancied my self fine and courtly, out of a strange excesse of vanity.

And at length I fell into the toils of love, in which I de∣sired so much to be entangled. My God, my mercy, with how much gall (and yet with how much compassi∣on) didst thou besprinkle those sweets unto me? For then I happened also to be re-beloved; and so was in secret admitted also into the bond of fruition, and most joyfully was fetter'd in those disasterous chains, that I might be scourged sufficiently afterward with the glowing iron-rods of Jealousies, and suspicions, and Fears, and Wraths, and quarrels.

CHAP II.

Of Stage-playes much affected by him, and, of the faulty passions they caused in him.

ABout this time also I was mainly carried away with Stage-playes and interludes, which were replenish∣ed with * the images of my own miseries, and * the fewel of my fires. And here what means it, that a man desires to grieve in beholding these mournful and tragical sights, which things himself would by no means suffer? and yet from them he suffers sorrow, when a spectator; and this sorrow is his delight. What means this, but a wretched madnesse in men? For so much more is any affected by them, by how much himself is lesse free from the like passions. Though when himself suffers such things, 'tis misery; when he compassionates others, 'tis stiled Pity. But what kind of pity that, in these (only feign∣ed and scenical) disasters? For there the Auditor is not solicited to succour, but invited to deplore; and he ap∣plauds the Actors of those representations the more, the more they make him grieve. And if perhaps the calami∣ties of such persons, whether historical, or feigned, be so coldly acted, as not to contristate the spectator, be speedily departs full of anger and disdain; but, if it be otherwise, stayes attentive, and sheds joyful tears. Love we sorrows then, and tears? Surely every one desires joy rather. Or, is it, that, when as we desire, that

none should be miserable, yet we are pleased, that our selves should be pitiful, and this pity not being at all without some grief, therfore becomes grief it self also affected? And all this proceeds from a certain vein and source of friendship in us.

But whither goes that source? Whither runs it? Wherefore falls it at length into that torrent of boyling pitch, those vast whirlpools of stinking lusts, into which it becomes wilfully changed and transformed, being pre∣cipitated and degraded from its own celestial purity? Must all affection and pity then be abandoned? by no means; and hence sometimes grief also may be loved. But beware of any uncleaness in these, O my soul, un∣der the tuition of my God, the God of our Fathers, and through all ages to be praised and superexalted, beware of any uncleanesse in them. For now also am I not void of compassion and pity: But whereas then in those thea∣ters I co-rejoyced with lovers, when enjoying their un∣chast desires (though these imaginary only, in the play) and, out of pity to them, grew as sad, when they lost one another; and yet both these passions afforded me delight; I now (contrary) more pity one, when triumphing in his obtained wickednesse, than when despairing in the missing of that pernicious pleasure, and in the loss of that miserable felicity.

This certainly is the truer compassion: but in it the heart is not joyed. For though he is commended for doing an office of charity, that condoles anothers misery; yet had he alwaies rather, that thing had not been, which he condoles, whosoever is truly compassionate. For if good∣will could be thus ill-wishing (which cannot be) then he, that truly and sincerely pities, might desire another should be miserable, to the end that himself so might be merci∣ful. Some grief then is to be approved, none to be lov∣ed (yet is it sometimes too approved: for this belongs to thee only, Lord God, that whilst thou lovest souls farr more purely then we, and more incorruptibly hast pity toward them, yet no manner of sorrow for them can wound thee. And who is sufficient for such things besides thee?) But I then poor wretch Loved to grieve; and searched what might cause it; when, in another mans, and this only a personated, disaster, that action of the player delighted more, and stronglier bewitched me, that drew tears from me. And what marvel was it, that I an unfortunate sheep, strayed from thy flock, and im∣patient

of thy discipline, should be overspread with such a nasty scab? And hence was that affection to sorrow, not such, as pierced me inwardly (for neither did I love to suffer, what I loved to see); but such, as, being re∣lated only, and feigned, but razed as it were the skin of my soul, yet, like the scratching of an envenomed nail, an enflamed tumor and impostumation and putrefaction followed upon it. Such was the life I led: But indeed was that then to be called a life, O my God.

CHAP. III.

His Concupiscence in the Church; the Ambition of his studies; and conversation amongst the jeering and abusive Wits.

ANd, then, thy mercy (ever faithfull to me) hover∣ed still afar off over me. Whilst I was dissolved into all impiety, pursuing a sacrilegious curiosity, which brought me, having forsaking thee, to low and treache∣rous vanities, and to the circumventing service of ma∣ligning Devils, to whom I sacrificed my villanies; though in them all I was still scourged by thee. Then I dared e∣ven in the celebration of thy solemn feasts, within the walls of thy sanctuary, to exercise my concupiscence, and to drive the trade of procuring the fruits of death: for which thou scourgedst me with grievous pains, but nothing comparable to my crimes, O thou my exceed∣ing great mercy, my God, thou, who wert also my refuge from those terrible mischievous† persons, amongst whom I gadded here and there with an outstretched neck, a run-away from thee, loving my own wayes and not thine, and loving that my fugitive Liberty.

Those studies, which were counted of great repute, had a strong influence upon me (as, fitting us for plead∣ing in the publick Courts of Justice) and I, had an am∣bition to be excellent in them; thus to become so much the famouser, how much by my eloquence more deceiv∣ing: so great is the blindness of Men, glorying also in their blindness. And, by this time I was grown a head-Scholler in the Rhetorick-school, pleased with self-con∣ceit, and swollen with pride; though much more mo∣dest, O Lord, thou knowest, than some others were; and far removed from those Eversions, the† Eversores made (for this cruell and diabolical name is, as it were, a badge of their witty urbanity). Amongst these I lived with a shameless bashfulness, because my self was not

the like; and with these I conversed; being taken with their society, whose actions I ever abhorred; I mean those eversions of theirs, with which they wantonly persecuted the modesty of new-comers gratis and unprovoked, abu∣sing and disgracing them, and therewith feeding their malicious mirth: An act so like to those of Devils, that what could they be more truly called, than Eversores? be∣ing everted first and perverted themselves, by those ma∣ligning Spirits, who first deceive and deride them in this very thing, that they delight to deride and to de∣ceive others.

CHAP. IV.

In the nineteenth year of his age, his reading of Cicero's Hor∣tensius invites him, from affectation of Eloquence, to the search of Wisdom.

AMongst this company (then a youth) I learned books of Eloquence; in which I desired to be eminent; but out of a faulty and ambitious end, and a fond affecta∣tion of humane vanities; and, in the usual course of stu∣dy, I then was to read a certain book of one Cicero, whose tongue almost all Men admire, not so his heart. Which Treatise of his conteined an exhortation to Phi∣losophy, called Hortensius: And this book it was, that first altered my affections, and turned my addresses un∣to thee, (O Lord) and rendred my purposes and de∣sires clean of another mould, than formerly. Suddenly all other vain aspirings were slighted by me, and with incredible ardency I lusted after the immortality of wis∣dom; and began already to rise up, that I might again return unto thee. Now, not to sharpen my tongue (which thing I came thither to purchase with the exhi∣bition my Mother then allowed me, I being now nine∣teen years old, and my Father deceased two years be∣fore) no more now 〈◊〉〈◊〉 my tongue made I use of that book; nor did the how, but what, was said, in it, affect me.

Now how did I burn, O my God, how did I burn to re-mount up from things terrene toward thee (not then knowing, what thou wouldst act with me)? For with thee only is wisdom; and the love of wisdom (cal∣led Philosophy) was it, with which those writings so enflamed me. There are those that seduce through Philoso∣phy; with this smooth and noble and vertuous name pal∣liating

and colouring ore their errors; and almost all, who in those, or in former, times, were such, are in that book noted and set down. And there likewise was expres∣sed that salvifical admonition of thy spirit by thy pious and devout Servant. Beware lest any Man spoil you through Philosophy and vain deceit, after the tradition of Men, after the rudiments of the World, and not after Christ, for in him dwelleth all the fulness of the Godhead bodily.

And I (for thou O Light of my soul knowest, that the Apostolical advice was then unknown to me) was much pleased with this in that exhortation of Cicero's; that it excited, and kindled, and enflamed, me not to this or that sect, but to the affecting and pursuance, and apprehend∣ing of wisdom it self (whatever it were). And, in this great ardency of mine, this one thing only cooled me, that the name of Christ was not there. Because this name, according to thy mercy, O Lord, this name of my Saviour thy Son, my tender heart, with my very Mothers milk, had piously imbibed, and deeply apprehended; and whatsoever wanted this name, though never so learned, polite, or veritable, yet did not wholly sway me.

CHAP. V.

Not finding our Saviour in Philosophy he turns to the Scri∣ptures: Whose humble stile, in comparison of Tullie's, gives him distast.

THerefore now I designed my studies to the holy scri∣pture, to see what a writing it was. And behold I find it, not intelligible to the proud, nor yet discovered and naked to Children; but in its stile lowly; lofty in its sense, and veiled with mysteries. Nor was I such as could enter into it, or stoop my neck unto its humble pace: for not as I judge now, so fancied I then, when I first looked upon that sacred book. But to me altogether unworthy it seemed to be once compared to Tully's lofty stile; for my swollen tumor abhorred its sober tem∣per, and my sight pierced not the inside thereof. Yet such it was, as would still have grown up higher toge∣ther with those who were litle ones, as they should grow higher; but such a little one I scorned to be; and swel∣led with pride, me thought I was some great one,

CHAP. VI.

In quest of wisdom, he falls into the society and errors of the Manichees, absurd, pernicious.

ANd even therefore I fell among the proudly doting,† and too too carnal, and yet great Talkers; in whose mouths were laid the snares of Satan, and a catching birdlime, compounded of the commixture of the syllables of Thy name, and also of that of our Lord Je∣sus Christ, and of the Comforter the Holy Spirit. In their mouth were all these very rife; but in the sound only and noise of the tongue, with a heart void of truth. And they spoke of Truth and Truth, and many they were that named it unto me; and no where was it in them; but false things they spoke, not of thee only, who art the true Truth, but also of those elements of the World, thy Creatures. Of which I found the Philosophers speak∣ing truth (yet those also I ought to have passed by for the (transcending) love of thee, my Father, the highest good, and the beauty of all that's beauteous.)

O Truth Truth, how intimately then did the very mar∣row of my soul suspire towards thee, when they noised thy name unto me often and variously, but in words only, and in many and voluminous writings

†[And those were their dishes, wherein to me, hungring after thee, were served up, instead of thee, the Sun and the Moon, splendid works of thine, but thy works though, and not thee; nor those the primest of them: for thy spirituall works precede those corporeal, though glo∣rious and celestial. But, neither was it those thy pri∣mest Creatures, but thy self (Thou O Truth,‖ in whom is no change, neither shadow of turning) whom I hun∣gred and thirsted after. In stead of whom those tables pre∣sented me yet with other glittering phantasmes, when far worthier had it been, to have pitched my admiration upon the sun, to my eyes a real thing, then on those o∣ther falsities, wherein my mind through my eyes was de∣ceived. And yet taking them to be thee, I fed upon them; not so greedily indeed; for what rellish had these like unto thee with which I then was fed, or emptied rather? Meat in a dream, though not feeding us, resem∣bles that, which we feed on, waking; but, that food did not the least resemble thee, as thy sweetness hath now appeared unto me: for they were but corporeal phan∣tasmes,

the counterfeits of bodies; more real than which, are those true ones, which with our fleshly sight, we con∣template, whether Heaven or Earthly. We together with the beasts and fouls gaze on these; more real there∣fore they are, than those we only imagine; yet again more reasonably do we imagine those, than conjecture and derive again from them yet more vast and infinit-nothings: With which emptinesses I was then fed, or ra∣ther was not fed at all.

But thou (O my Love) into whose arms I faint, that I might there gain strength, art neither those bodies above, which we see, though from Heaven thou comest, nor art thou those we there see not, for all them hast thou framed; neither countest thou them the chiefest of thy works How much more remote then art thou from being those my phantasms, the phantasies of bodies which are not; more reall than which are the images of those bodies that are, and yet the bodies themselves more certain, than these; which real bodies yet thou art not. Neither yet art thou the soul, which is the life of these bodies; and this life of bodies is better, stabler, than the bodies, but thou art the life of the souls, the life of these lives, living alwayes from thy self and never varying.]

O thou life of my soul. Where wert thou at that time, and at how great a distance? And I sojourned far from thee, being deprived even of the husks of those swine, whom I then fed with husks. For how much better were the fables of the Grammarians and the Poets, than these cheats.

[For making a verse, and a sonnet, and a Medea flying in the air, &c. were more to purpose, than five Elements colourably diversified to sute the five caves of darkness; which are meer no∣thing in themselves, yet mortal to those who believe them. But my verses and my poetry I exercise on the Elements, that truly are so. And for Medea's flying, I neither believe it sung, nor sing it to be believed; but the other I believed.]

Alas! alas! by what stairs was I conveyed into the depths of hell? For, toiling and sweating in quest of still-wanted truth, whilst I sought thee O my God (for to thee it is I now confess my faults, who hadst pity on me, be∣fore I confessed them unto thee) whilst I sought thee, not according to the higher reason of my understanding, in which thou hadst pleased to advance me above beasts, but according to the exterior sense of my carnality, (when as thou meanwhile wast more interior, to me than what

of me was most intimate, and more superior then what was my highest) I lighted upon that shameless, witless wo∣man (Salomons Emblem of errour) sitting at the door of her house, and saying: Come eat ye secretly of my pleasant bread, and steal ye a draught of my sweet waters. Who easi∣ly seduced me, because she found my soul inhabiting a∣broad in the eye of my flesh, and chewing its cud upon such food, as it had, before, received and swallowed by the senses.

CHAP. VII.

Their questions that stumbled him; and the solutions of them: in the three Chapters following.

FOr meanwhile, that which was true in thy word was not truly understood by me; and their seeming a∣cutenesse moved me to assent to those silly deceivers, when they put such questions unto me; Whence came E∣vill?† [ 1] And, * whether God were concluded within a [ 2] corporeal shape? And had hair and nails? And * whe∣ther they were to be accounted righteous men, that, at [ 3] one time, had many Wives? and those who slew men? and sacrificed living creatures? With which things my ignorance was much troubled; and travelling away from Truth, thought still, I marched toward it. For, ignorant I was, that Evil was a privation of Good, even to the furthest extent thereof: any thing lesse than which good, hath at all no real being. Which how could I di∣scern, [ 1] whose sight, * of my eyes, extended only to a body; * of my mind, to a phantasme.

Again; I knew not God to be a Spirit, and not such a thing, whose parts were extended in length and breadth, [ 2] and whose being was bigness: for a bigness is less in a part, than in its whole, and (though supposed infinite) is lesse in some portion of it included within a certain space, than in its infinitude; and is not all of it every where, as a spirit, as God, is. And what there could be in us like unto God, and whether we were rightly said in the Scriptures to be made after his image, I was utterly ignorant.

And again; I knew not, that true and interior iustice, not judging out of customs, but out of the perfect Law of [ 3] the Almighty God; by which were variously fashioned the manners of all Countries and times, according to the exigence of those times, and Countreys; when as it,

meanwhile, in all times, and all places, remaineth but one; not, at any time diverse, or any where otherwise: According to which, Abraham, and Isaac, and Jacob, and Moses, and David, were righteous, and commended by God, though deemed ungodly by silly men, judging ac∣cording to their own short day, and measuring, by a little span of their own fashions, the universal customes of all mankind; As if one in an Armory, not knowing what suted to every member, would cover his head with Greaves, and his feet with an Helmet, and then murmur at his ill accoutrement: Or, when traffick is forbidden for an afternoon, a shop-keeper should rage, that he was not permitted to sell his wares, because he might only do this in the morning: Or, a Servant in a house, seeing another take something in hand, which perchance the cup-bearer was forbid to meddle with, or something done behind the stables, not sufferable in the Dining-room, should chafe, that in one dwelling, and one fami∣ly, the same thing, to every one, in every place was not allowed. Even such are they, who strange at it, when they hear; that righteous men in one age might do something, which in another, righteous men might not; and that God had commanded one thing to these, to those another, for reasons temporal, whilst still the same eternal justice is obeyed by both: when as yet in one man, and on one day, and in one family, they see several things sute to the several members; something formerly lawful, after an hour not so: some thing in one corner permitted, or also commanded, that is in another forbidden & punished. Doth the rule of justice then swerve sometimes and vary from it self? No. But the times, over which it presides, run not constant, and even, for they are (fleeting) times. But men, whose dayes are few upon the earth, being, by their short sense, unable to con∣nex & reconcile the causes unexperienced of past ages, and forreign Nations, with those of their own tryed by them, and yet well discerning in one body, or day, or house, what members, what minutes, what roomes and persons every thing becometh, are offended in those, in these well satisfied.

These things then I knew not, observed not; on every side they beat upon my sight, I regarded them not. And I knew when I composed Sonnets I might not place every foot every where, but in several kinds of verse, in a di∣verse manner; and, in any one verse, not in all places

the same foot; yet the art, by which I composed, in its capacity comprehended all these varieties at once. And I did not behold, that that justice which good and holy men obeyed, did farr more excellently and more sub∣limely together at once in fold all those things, which it had severally commanded, and was in no part varied, and yet through so varying times did distribute and en∣joyn, not all at once, but to each their proprieties. And thus (Blind-man) I censured those holy Patriarchs, not only managing the present affairs, as God commanded and inspired them; but also thereby, foreshewing the future, as he revealed these unto them.

†

CHAP. VIII.

BUt now, since some Constitutions are changeable, according to places and times, becomes it then at any time, or in any place, unjust; To love God with all ones heart, with all his soul, and with all his mind, and his neighbour as himself? No. △ Those infamous crimes, which† are against nature it self, are, in every time, in e∣very place, to be abhorred, to be detested; such as those of the Sodomites were, which-like should any other Nation at any time commit, they should incur the same guilt by the divine Lawes, which made not men so, as to use themselves in such manner. For, by this is violated that society which we ought to have with God, when the nature, whereof he is author, is polluted by the per∣version of lust, contrary to the Authors design. △ Like∣wise those infamous crimes, which are against the civil society of men, (according to the diversity of their seve∣ral usages and practice) are to be avoided and forborn: As a covenant, which is ratified by a custom or law made amongst those of any City or Nation, may not, at any Native's or Forreigner's pleasure, be violated: for that is a deformed and shapelesse part, that is not suting with its whole. But when God, against any such Constitution or custom, commands a thing, though it (there) never was done, yet now is it to be done; or, if intermitted, to be re-inforced; or, if not formerly instituted, 'tis then to be enacted. For if a Prince in the City, for which he governs, may command something now, which neither any before him, nor himself, before, had ere en∣joyned

joyned; and, without any detriment to the common weal of that City, is obeyed (nay it were contrary to the weal, should he be disobeyed, this being a princi∣pal ground of humane society, to obey their Prince) how much more is God, the Governour of all his creatures, in whatever he commands, to be observed? For, as, a∣mongst humane authorities, for our obedience, the greater is still preferred before the less, so▪ must God be∣fore all.

And, what is said of the perpetual unlawfulness of in∣famous crimes, must be said also of malicious practices† towards our neighbour, wheresoever there is a licenti∣ous desire of hurting another,† whether it be by a con∣tumely, or by an injury: and these, whether done * for revenge, as an enemy towards his enemy; or * for some profit, as the robber to the traveller; or, * for avoiding evil to our-selves, as we do to one we fear; or, * out of envying anothers good; as the afflicted doth, one more prosperous; or one in prosperity another whom he fears should grow to be, or grieves, that he already is equal unto him; or, * for the pleasure afforded us from ano∣thers pain; as the spectators of fightings, or the deriders and scoffers of other men.

All these are several Heads of iniquity springing out of the pride of life, the vanity of the eyes, and the lust of the flesh; out of some one or two of these, or out of all three together; and who so, in any time or nation, lives wickedly in these, trespasseth against the two Tables of the three and seven Commandements, the instrument of Ten strings thy Decalogue, O my most high and most dear God.

But what infamous crimes can be committed against thee, who art not at all prostituted or defiled by them? or what injurious practises are against thee, who canst not at all be hurt by them? But that, which thou revengest is, what men commit against themselves, for, their sinning a∣gainst thee, is the trespassing against their own souls; and iniquity still doth the wrong and the cozenage to it self; either △ when men licentiously corrupt and per∣vert their own nature (which thou hast created and regu∣lated) by immoderate use of things allowed, or by the burning (in things not allowed) after such an use of them, as is against nature; or △ when they revolt against thy power in a perverse-mind and blasphemous speeches, and kick against the pricks that wound them. Or when

they break down the pale of civil society by their audaci∣ous combinations for lust or rapines, as any thing is de∣lightfull, or offensive, to them.

And such things are done by us, when thou art deser∣ted the Fountain of life, who art the one and the true Cre∣ator and Rector of the Universe, and, by a foolish and par∣ticular pride, some one thing, in some corner of it, that is false, is loved before thee. And from this pride, it must be an humble piety that reduceth any unto thee: and then thou cleansest them from these evil habits, and art mercifull to the sins of such as confess them, and hearest the groanings of those in their fetters, & loosest the chains, with which we have shackled our selves: so that, we do not again advance the proud horns of a false liberty against thee, and through covetousness of enjoying something more, suffer the loss of all; by loving a private, good of our own, more than thee, the Universal good of all.

CHHP. IX.

AMongst these infamous crimes, and malicious practi∣ces, and so many sorts of iniquities, are to be men∣tioned also the faults and deficiencies of those who are proficients in piety. Which deficiencies by sincere judg∣ments are both disallowed, according to the rule of per∣fection, and yet the persons are encouraged from the hope of a future improvement; as the green blade is cherished, that after may be corn.

But there are some things again resembling heinous crimes or malicious deeds, yet which are no faults at all, because they neither offend thee our Lord and God, nor humane society: As when some things are procured, for the services of life, sutable to the exigences of the time; although to others it is uncertain, whether this procure∣ment not mixt with some inordinate lust of having; or when some-things are inflicted by a lawfully constituted power, with a charitable mind of correcting, although to others it is uncertain, whether not mixt with some malice of hurting. Therefore many deeds which might seem to men to be disallowed, by thy testimony are approved; and as many, commended by men, are by thy wisdom condemned. There being often a large difference between the appearance of the act, and the intention of the actor, together with the exigency of the secret circumstance of time wherein it is acted.

When therefore thou suddenly commandest some unusu∣all

and unexpected thing, and which had formerly been by thee prohibited although the cause of such thy com∣mand should, for that time, be occult, and though the thing repugnant, perhaps, to the ratified league of some humane society, yet doubts any one, that it is instantly to be obeyed, since that society of Men only truly observeth the rule of Justice, that obeyeth and serveth thee? and happy they, that know these thy commands. For the ex∣traordinary things done by them that obey thee, are ei∣ther to exhibit something requisite for the present, or to fore-signifie something in the future to be accomplished.

CHAP. X.

The Manichees opinion of the parts of God emprisoned in the Creature.

THese things I not knowing, derided those thy holy ser∣vants and Prophets. And what was I, in deriding of them, but meanwhile derided by thee? being drawn by small and insensible degrees, to such foolery, that I believed, when a fig was gathered, that both it, and the tree its Mo∣ther shed milken tears for such a violence. Which fig, not∣withstanding, if some Manichean-Saint should eat (after first plucked forsooth by some other's, and not his crime) his bowels enclosed, and his breath at every belch or e∣very sigh in his prayers, from them exhaled, Angels, nay some particles of the Deity it self: which pieces of the high and true God were captiv'd in that fruit, until the teeth, and digestion, of some Elect-Saint restored their li∣berty. And wretchedly I thought more mercy due to these fruits of the Earth, then to the men, for whom they grew; for of these fruits should any one a hungred, that vvas no Manichean, have begged a piece, that morsel seemed to me, as it vvere, condemned to a capital punish∣ment, if given unto him.

CHAP XI.

His weeping Mother comforted, * by a vision, concerning his Conversion.

ANd thou sentest thine hand from above, and drewest my soul out of this profound darkness, whilst my Mother, being one of thy† Faithful, wept for me unto thee far more bitterly, than other mothers bewail any corporeal funerals. For well discerned she that my far

worser death, by the Faith, and the Spirit, which she had from thee. And Thou hearkenedst unto her; thou hear∣kenedst unto her, nor despisedst thou her tears, when streaming from her they watered the ground in every place of her devotions, and thou hearkenedst unto her. For whence else-came-that Dream wherewith thou com∣fortedst her, so far as to perswade her that I should live with her again, and sit at the same table in the house again with her (a thing she had begun to be averse from, avoiding and detesting the horrid blasphemies of those my errours). For she saw (in her sleep) her self standing upon a cer∣tain straight wooden Rule, and coming toward her a beau∣tiful yong man, cheerful, and smiling upon her, as she was weeping, and spent with grief; who asking the cause of that her sorrow and daily tears (with intention to instruct, not to learn of, her) and she answering that it was my perdition she so bewailed, he bade her be secure; and wished her to look about, and she should see, that, where she was, I was also: who, when she looked aside, saw me close by her standing upon the same Rule. And from whence all this, but from thy attentive ears formerly bow∣ed to her praying heart?

O Thou Good Omnipotent, so caring for every one of us, as if thou caredst for him only; yet so caring for all, as for any one: Whence again was that also? that she re∣lating to me her Vision, and I interpreting it thus, that she rather should not despair of being one day what I was: suddenly without any hesitation, No, said she; for it was not said to me; where he, there also you; But: where you, there also he. I confesse unto thee, O Lord, as much as I remember (and I have often spoke of it) that this an∣swer of thine given me by my mother, when she was now a∣wake (that she, not at all perplext with that false but indeed very colourable interpretation of mine, so quickly saw that, which also my self, before she spake it, had not observed) struck me even at that time far more, than her dream; in which this pious woman had her joy to come so long after foretold her, for the solace of her present grief, so long before.

For there succeeded yet almost nine years, in which I (endeavouring often to arise, and by this still plunged so much the deeper) lay wallowing in the mire of that pit, and darknesse of errour, the while that chast, devout, so∣ber Widow (such as thou lovest) already much chear∣fuller in her hopes, but no whit slacker in her weeping,

and laments, never ceased, at all the hours of her devo∣tions, to bewail my condition unto thee. And her prayers found admittance into thy presence; and notwithstanding thou let'st me go on to be involved, and reinvolved more and more in that cloud of darknesse.

CHAP. XII.

And * by the answer of a Bishop; who (notwithstanding) re∣fused to reason with him as yet too-self-conceited.

ANd in this interim Thou gavest her yet another an∣swer, which now I call to mind. For many things I omit (hasting to those which more urge my confession un∣to thee) and many things I have forgot. Thou gavest therefore yet another answer by thy Priest, a certain Bi∣shop, one nursed within the bosom of thy Church, and well-experienced in thy Books. Whom that woman soli∣citing, that he would vouchsafe a Conference with me, to refute my errours, and to unteach me ill, and to instruct me good things, (for this he did, where haply he found persons capable) he refused: (and that very prudently; as I perceived since) answering her, that I was as yet in∣docile, being swollen, and puft up with the novelty of that heresy; For already I had netled divers unexpert men with some trifling questions, as she also had declared unto him. But, Let him alone (said he) where he is: only pray to our Lord for him; In reading he will at length discover, what that errour is, and how great its impiety.

He told also, that he, when a little one, was, by his se∣duced Mother, committed to the Manichees institution; and had not only read, but also copied out almost all their books; and that himself discerned (unopposed or con∣vinced by any) how much to be abhorred that impious sect was; and that so he forsook it. This said; and she ne∣verthelesse not satisfyed, but persisting (with much in∣treating, and weeping much) that he would see me, would discourse with me, now a little disgusted with this her im∣portunity; Go your way (said he) and may you live happy; for it cannot be, that the childe of those tears should miscarry. Which speech she received in such manner (as she hath since many times told me) as if an oracle from heaven had sounded it unto her.

LIB. IV.

CHAP. I.

From the Nineteenth, to his twenty eighth, year continuing addicted to the Manichees.

FOr this space of Nine years (from the Nineteenth of my age to the Twenty-eighth) we lived in va∣rious lusts; seduced, and seducing; deceived and deceiving, openly, by the Sciences, which they call Liberal; secretly, with a false-named Religion; here arrogant, there superstitious, every where vain, and zealous of the emptiness of popular praise, in Theatrical applause; and playing publick prizes of wit; and in contentions for crowns of Hay, and the fooleries of shews, and the excesse of Lusts. From which un∣cleannesses otherwhiles desiring expiation in the com∣pany of those who are called the Elect, and the Saints, we † carried provision, which in the forge of their stomachs was to be moulded into Angels and Gods, by whom we were to be cleansed. Such things I followed, and such things I practised; I, and my friends, seduced both with, and by, me.

Let the arrogant deride me, and those not yet savingly cast down and broken by thee (O my God): but let me continue to confess unto thee my disgrace to thy praise. Permit I pray thee, and grant unto me, with a present memory, to repass through all those past circles of my er∣rour, and from thence to offer unto thee the sacrifice of joy. For what am I to my self, at any time, without thee, but an infant sucking thy milk, and feeding on thee, the meat not perishing? Nay what is any man, that man is? Let them laugh at us then, the strong and mighty, whilst we, the infirm and poor, confesse unto thee.

CHAP. II.

Of his teaching Rhetorick in Thagaste, the City where he was borne: his having a Concubine, yet true to her bed; his playing a prize of poetry on the Theater, yet refusing the as∣sistance of the Art of a Magician.

IN those years I taught the Art of Rhetorick; and a victo∣rious loquacity I sold, my self overcome by lusts. Yet then (O Lord thou knowest) I rather wished to have honest and vertuous Schollers (such as are so called) and to them I taught deceits without deceit: yet not those deceits, whereby the life of an innocent should be endan∣gered, but whereby sometime the life of the guilty might be preserved, And thou O God beheldest then afarr off some little fidelity in me (though staggering in a slippery station, and only sparkling a little as it were through a cloud of smoke) which in that School-mastership I exhibi∣ted toward those who loved vanity and sought after leasing, my self also, in the same, being their companion.

In those years also I had a woman not joyned unto me by that which is called legitimate wedlock, but chosen by the wandering ardor of my imprudent affection. Yet one only it was, and my bed constantly true to her: In whom I might, in my own particular, try the difference between a Matrimonial condition, confederated for the desire of issue; and the contract of a libidinous love; where children are born undesired; yet, born once, can∣not but be loved.

I remember also; * that I, having undertaken upon the Theater to try a prize of Poetry, was sent-to by a Magi∣cian, to know what reward I would give him, to make me the Victor; and * that I, abominating and detesting such odious mysteries, answered, that, were the crown of immortal Gold, I would not permit a fly to perish for the conquest. For in his Art he was to sacrifice some live-creatures for me, and by those religious honours to at∣tract unto me some suffragating Daemons. But this wick∣edness was repulsed by me, not out of my chastity towards thee O God of my soul: for I had not yet known how to love thee, who mistook only certain corporeal splendors for thee. And a soul languishing after such figments, is it not gone a whoring from thee, and trusts in vanities and feeds the winds? and yet unwilling forsooth I was, the de∣vils should be sacrificed to, for my sake, to whom I my

self in that superstition of mine, did sacrifice my self: and what other thing is it to feed the winds, than to feed and be a prey to those fiends; that is by errour, to become their scorn and laughter.

CHAP. III.

Yet addicted to Astrology, and by a learned Physician disswa∣ded from it.

BUt on the other side those Planet-gazers, whom they stile Mathematicians, were freely and unscrupulous∣ly consulted by me; because, in their divination forsooth no sacrifice, no prayers, were made to any spirit; which art (notwithstanding) Christian and true piety, by con∣sequence renounces and condemns. For, since it is a good thing to confess unto thee O Lord; and to say; Have mer∣cy upon me, and heal my soul for I have sinned against thee, And then to take heed of not abusing the indulgency of thy forgiveness to a further licence of sinning; but to remember the saying of our Lord; Behold thou art made whole, sin no more, lest a worse thing happen unto thee. The whole life of this salutary advice they seek to destroy; when they say; The cause of thy sinning is from heaven, and inevitable, upon thee: And; this thing Venus caused; or Saturn; or Mars; That man (forsooth) might be without fault; Man, flesh and blood, and proud putre∣faction; and blameable the Creator, and wise disposer of the heavens and of the Stars And who is this but our God; but the sweetness, and the fountain of all Justice? by whom shall be rendred to every man a••cording to his work; yet an humble and contrite heart, with him, shall not be despised.

There was at that time a sharp-witted man, very ex∣pert in the Art of Physick, and one of the noblest of that profession; who, being then Proconsul, with his own hand set the Agonistical Garland upon my sick head; but not as its Physician. For that disease which it then had, 'tis thou only that curest; thou; who resistest the proud, and givest thy grace unto the humble. Yet also by this old Man thou wert not altogether deficient unto me; nor didst forbear to administer Physick unto my soul. For, afterward grown well-acquainted with him, and daily af∣fectionately frequenting his discourse (which was grave and delightsome for vivacity of the sence, though without much ornament of words) when he had perceived by my talk, that I was much addicted to the books of Nativity-ca∣sters, he kindly and fatherly advised me, to throw them a∣way,

and not idly to bestow my care and pains, useful for more necessary studies, upon those fruitless vanities. Telling me, that himself in his yonger years had so studied them, that he intended wholly to have owed his maintenance to that profession; & that he, who well understood Hippocra∣tes, surely was not uncapable of that kind of learning; yet that afterward, quitting it, he had betaken himself to Phy∣sick, only out of a discovery of the falsity thereof; and so, an unwillingness to sustain himself by deceits and cheating: But you, said he, have the profession of Rhetorick, where∣by to subsist; and do pursue this fallacious study, not out of necessity, but choice; by how much the more you ought in this point to give me credit; who endeavoured to attain perfection in it, with design to get my living by it.

Of whom I demanded what then was the reason, that so many things by this art were so truly foretold? He answered as he could, being no Christian, that this was done by the power of a soveraign chance, every where diffused through the whole body of nature. For if out of a page of a poet dipt-into at hap-hazard, a verse often appears strangly conso∣nant to our present business; whereas the poets device and intention was farr different, 'tis less to be admired (said he) if out of the soul of a man, from a superior instinct (it self being nothing conscious thereof) by hap, not art, something is delivered which closely sutes to the condition and affairs of the enquirer.—And so much that man, or thou by his in∣strumency, conveyedst unto me; and registredst in my me∣mory what I should afterward by my self further examine. But as then, neither he, nor my dearest Nebridius (a youth excellently good, and singularly cautious, deriding all this kind of Divination) could perswade me to desert these stu∣dies; swayed as yet more by those Authors, than by these mens, authority; and discovering no demonstration certain (such as I sought for) whereby it might, without all ambi∣guity, appear to me, that the things that were by these men (when consulted) truly foretold, were answered by hap-hazard and chance, and not by the art of the Astrologer.

CHAP. IV.

His Anxieties for the death of his dearest friend, by him entan∣gled in the same errors, but, before his death, baptized.

IN those years likewise, when first I began to teach in the Town where I was born. I had a friend, grown, by the so∣ciety of our studies, too too dear unto me, my co-a••••anean, & co-flourishing with me in the fresh blossom of youth. With me he had sprung up from a child; and we had been alwaies

school-fellows and play-fellows together. Yet was he not then by me so accounted a friend, as afterwards; nor indeed was he so afterward, according to the rule of true friend∣ship; because that only is true amity which thou joynest betwixt such parties, as first co-here in thee by the glew of that love which is shed abroad in our hearts by the Holy Ghost, which is given unto us. But yet too too sweet was that our amity, being long backed and concocted by the equal hear of the same studies pursued by us both. For I had also alrea∣dy bended him from the true faith (which his youth had not so strongly and deeply comprehended) to those fables, so superstitious and pernicious, for which my poor Mother deplored me: And now that man strayed in his judgment together with me; nor could my soul mind ought without him. And Lo, Thou pursuing close upon the backs of us thy fugitives, God of revenges, and at the same time, fountain of mercies, who re-convertest unto thee by wonderful waies, Lo thou tookest away that man out of this World, when he had scarce compleated a year in that my friendship, so sweet unto me beyond all the sweetnesses of that my life.

Who can enumerate thy praises? Who, those which he hath experienced in himself alone? What was it thou didst at that time O my God? And how uninvestigable is the Abyss of thy judgments? For falling sick of a burning-fever, he hapned to lie long time in a mortal sweat without all sense. And his recovery then despaired-of, he was, unknowing it, baptized, whilst I much mattered it not, and presumed that he would sooner retain those signatures I had imprinted on his soul, than those which (he inscient) were received upon his body. When far otherwise it proved: for he was suddenly refresh∣ed upon it, and made† whole. And I presently, as soon as I could speak with him (which was so soon as he could answer me, for I departed not from him, who too intimately depen∣ded on each other) began to scoff to him, as to one like∣wise that would deride with me, the baptism, which he had received, when he was so much absented, at that instant, both in understanding and senses; though he had been ac∣quainted after, that he had received it. But he looked upon me with the same horror, as it had been on an enemy; and, with a wonderful, and suddenly-assumed, freedom, advised me, that if I meant to continue a friend, I should desist to speak to him on that manner. And I, though perplexed and amazed thereat, yet deferred my passion till his recovery; and till the strength of his health were capable of my agita∣ting with him what I thought fit. But he, ravished from my

folly, that with Thee he might be preserved for my conso∣lation, after a few daies, in my absence, was re-seized by his Fever, and died.

With what agony was then my heart darkned? And whatever I looked on had the face of death upon it; Even my Country was a banishment to me; and my Fathers house a wonderful affliction: And what ever sweet thoughts I had communicated with him, turned now unto me, being without him, into a most bitter torment. Mine eyes every where sought him, and he was not restored unto me; and all places were hated by me, because they had him not. Neither could they now answer me, Behold he will come shortly, as it was before in his life time, when he was absent. And I became unto my self a great astonishment, and I asked of my soul; Why she was so sad, why so disquieted within me? Nor knew she what to answer me. And if I said, Trust in God; she, most justly, did not obey me: Because a farr truer and better thing that man was, whom, so dear to her, she had lost, than that phantasm of God, on which she was bidden, yet, to repose her hope. Of all things weeping only was left pleasant to me; and this alone had succeeded my Friend in the dearest place of my af∣fection.

CHAP. V.

Why Mourning so pleasant to the afflicted.

ANd now O Lord those storms are long since blow over, and time hath healed up that wound. O might I learn from thee who art the truth, and, thy mouth applied to the ear of my heart, wouldst thou tell me; why are tears so sweet to the afflicted? art thou, who art every where present, yet as it were then retired from our miseries? dwelling alwayes in thy con∣tented self, whilst we are varied in much wofull experi∣ence; in which yet if we might not bemoan our selves in those thy passion-less ears, the lost spark of our hope would be extinguished. From whence then is so lushious a fruit cropped out of the very bitterness of life, as that of groaning, and weeping, sighing and bemoaning our selves, is? * Is that the sweetness of it, that we hope thou hearest it? Tis so (truly) in our prayers; for that they have an earnest desire of access unto thee. But may it be so said too, concerning that grief and mourning for a thing utterly lost, wherewith I was then overwhelmed? For neither conceived I any hopes to revive him; nor pe∣titioned

I this with my tears; but only wept and la∣mented my loss, as desolate and bereft of all my joyes. Or, * is weeping it self indeed a bitter thing; and only, in a fastidiousness of things before enjoyed, whilst we abhorr all those former sweets, this bitternesse de∣lights us?

CHAP. VI.

His wounded soul for his deceased Friend, not finding any consolation.

BUt why do I speak of these things? For this is not a time now of questioning, but of confessing unto thee. Miserable then I was, and miserable is every soul fettered with the love of mortal things; and racked asunder it is, when it loseth them: and then resents the infelicity, by which it was equally miserable, before it lost them. So was I at that time, and mourned most bitterly; and in that bitterness placed my repose. Such a wretch I was, and I accounted dearer to me even than that my Friend, this my so wretched life. For although fain I would have changed it, yet was I unwilling to have lost it, any more than him, and I know not whether unwilling to have lost it, even for him. As 'tis storied of Orestes and Pylades (if it be not a fiction) that they strove to dye * for each o∣ther; or, at least, * together; to whom not to live to∣gether, was a thing worse than death. But there ruled in me, I know not what, passion, quite contrary to this: Both the tediousness of living was most afflicting to me, and the fear of death. I think because the more I loved him, the more I abhorred and dreaded (that my cruel∣lest Enemy) Death, that bereaved me of him; fancying it a monster, that would soon devour the rest of men, be∣cause it could destroy him. Even thus, I well remember, stood I then affected.

(Behold my heart O my God; Behold and see into me, how I remember this very well, O thou my hope, that now cleansest me from the impurity of such passions; guiding my eyes unto thy beauties, and plucking my feet out of these snares.) For I wondred much, that the rest of mortals, could any longer live, when he, whom I loved as a thing immortall, was now dead. And yet more wondred, that my self, being only another He, could live, when he was gone. Well said one of his friends Animae dimidium mea.—Half of my soul— for I deemed his and mine, to be but one soul, as it were, in differ∣ent

bodies. And therefore my life was an horror to me, who would not live thus, an Half; and death yet a greater affright to me, lest he should perish all, whom I so pas∣sionately loved.‖

CHAP. VII.

He forsakes the place of their acquaintance, and goes to Carthage.

O Fond madness, that knows not how to love men, men-like. O sottish man, so impatiently taking to heart accidents, only humane; such as poor I then was. Therefore I stormed, and sighed, and wept, and was distracted; bereft both of content and counsel. For I carried about a soul all lacerated and gored in blood; and impatient longer to be carried by me; and where, to repose it I found not. Not in delightsome groves, nor in playes and musick, not in fragant odors, nor in ex∣quisit banquets, not in the pleasures of the chamber, or of the bed, not in books or poesie took it any rest. All things looked gastly, even the day: And whatever it was, that was not He, importune it was, and loathsome, ex∣cept mourning and tears, and in these only it found some small content.

And when at any time I retired my soul from these, I was re-surcharged with the grievous burden of my mi∣sery, which was only to be lightened by thee O Lord; only by thee to be removed. And I knew this, but yet was so much the less, either willing, or able, to find remedy; because thou then to me wast no solid or sta∣ble thing, when my despairing thoughts fled for sup∣port unto thee. For it was not thou, but an empty Phantasm, and my own errour, that was my God, where∣on assaying ••o place my soul, that it might find some stay, through this inanity it still relapsed, and again came rouling back upon me. And my self remained the a∣lone unhappy place to my self; where I could neither be, nor be from thence. For whether could my heart from my heart fly away? where could I avoid my self? and where would not my self follow me? And yet farr from my Country I fled; for my eyes less missed him, where they were not used to see him. And thus forsaking Ta∣gaste, I went to Carthage.

CHAP. VIII.

His wound eured by time; and new Friendships.

TImes do not lose time, nor idly rowle away by these our senses, but in the mind produce strange operations. Behold, they came and went day by day, and in coming, and passing they insinuated into me other images, and other remembrances; and, by degrees re∣paired me with my formerly known delights, to which that my grief at length gave place. But there succeeded, though no new sorrowes, yet the causes, (only) of more sorrowes. For, whence did that my last grief so easily and so deeply wound me, but, because I had spilt my soul upon a bed of sand, and loved a mortal, as if he could not die? And that which recovered and repaired me of this, were but like solaces of other mortal friends, with whom I loved something, which was not loved for thee, even those fabulous delusions,† and long-spun lies, by the a∣dulterous touches whereof, our lascivient minds, through our itching ears, became still more defiled. (Nor did these delusions perish to me, when my friends did.) Besides which there were also many other things cementing to∣gether our affections: To chat and laugh together; civil obsequiousnesse, and mutuall compliance; together to read merry books; to jest together, and together be solemn; to dissent from one another sometimes without offence, and as a Man would do from himself, and, by this disagreeing in some very few things, to season and rellish the more our consentments in the rest; to teach one another somewhat, or somewhat to learn; to expect those absent with impatience, em∣brace their returns with joy. It being usual, by these and the like expresses and emanations from hearts continually reflecting interchanged loves, through the countenance, through the tongue, through the eyes, and through a thousand other charming motions, as it were by so much fuell heaped on these fires, to melt down souls, and to cast many of them into one.

CHAP. IX.

Yet these too failing him.

ANd this is it that is loved in a friend; and so loved, that the conscience is self-accused in any, who con∣tinues not to love him, who loves him again; or who loves not that man again, who loves him first; requiring nothing from his body, but only demonstrations of his affection. And for this are those mournings, if one dies, and nights of sorrowes, and a languishing heart having all its sweets converted into bitterness, and, from the dear loss of the life of those who are dead, even the death of those alive. But alway-blessed he, who loves, * thee and in thee, * his friend; and for thee, * his Eenmy. For he alone loseth nothing dear, to whom all are dear only in him, whom he never loseth. And who is this never∣lost, but our God, the God that made, and filleth, Heaven and Earth; and that even by filling them, made them: Thee none loseth, but who leaveth; and who so leaveth thee, whither goeth he, or whither doth he flie, but from thee gracious, back again to thee offended? For in what place finds he not the presence of thy law in his pu∣nishment? And thy law is truth: and Truth is thy self.

CHAP. X.

All things loved besides God, pass away, and leave the lover to embrace sorrowes.

TƲrn us unto thee O God of power, shew us the beauty of thy countenance, and we shall be whole. For which way soever the soul of man turns it self, it is consigned un∣to sorrowes; unless only, toward thee; yea though it seize upon all those other beauties, that are out of it self, and out of thee: (which yet could be none at all un∣less they were from thee). All which have their rise and their setting; their spring and their fall; and in their springing they begin (as it were) to be, and then grow on to attain perfection; perfected, straight they decrease again and wither: for all of them have their decadency, and fade they do all. Therefore also when they spring and blossom toward a being, look how much more spee∣dily they advance, to be, the more precipitancy again they make, not to be. Such their condition; and such a lot hast thou bequeathed them; because they are parcels of things which are not consistent all together; but which, by some still retiring, and others coming on, all of them successively build up that fleeting Universe, of which they

are parcels. In the same manner, as our speech is compo∣sed of many significant sounds, and cannot be perfected, un∣less each word thereof give way and vanish, when it hath sounded its part, that another may succeed it.

From all these Creatures O God let my soul raise praises unto thee the Creator of them all; but never let my cor∣poreal senses fasten me unto them with the glew of love. For they go, whither they alwayes did go, hastily toward a not-being; and then wound and rack the soul with most pestilent longings: because she would fain be nothing, but what they are; and loves to set up her final rest in the thing she loves, and in them there is no place of repose; for they stay not, but pass away: And who can, with the sen∣ses of this flesh, either pursue them, when gone; or com∣prehend them, when at hand? For the fleshly sense is slow-paced, because it is but the sense of flesh, and this is the condition of it. And sufficient it is for those ends, for which it was made; but for this, it serveth not, to detain and stay things, here, running their prescribed race, and hasting from their beginning appointed to their appointed peri∣od. For in thy word, by which they were created, there they all hear their sentence; Hinc, & huc usque: Hence and hitherto.

CHAP. XI.

The transition of its parts, is necessary to make this Ʋniverse compleat.

BE no more so vain O my soul, nor suffer the tumultu∣ous noise of thy busie vanity to deafen the ear of thy heart. Hearken thou also unto the word, for it speaks un∣to thee, to return back from these, unto it; and that there is the seat of un-molested quiet, where thy love shall never, if it forsake not, be forsaken. Behold those other things are alway departing, that other things yet may succeed; and this lower fleeting globe be compleated with all its parts. But do I any where depart? saith the word of God. There then fix thine abode; thither devote all that thou hast from thence received O my soul; at least now; after thou hast been out-wearied with impostures. Recommend over unto truth, what hath been imparted to thee from her; and thou shalt so not suffer loss; yea thy decayes shall enjoy a fresh spring, and thy languors be restored; the continual flux of thy materials, shall be renovated, and re-fashioned, and made permanent with thee; nor shall they sway thee down also whether they now descend, but stand with thee and abide for ever before God, who abides and standeth fast for ever.

To what end therefore dost thou so erroneously pur∣sue the inclinations of thy perverting flesh? Rather now let it (converted) follow after thee. For whatever thou discernest by it, is only a part of the successive Universe; and the whole is yet unknown by thee, whereof these are parts; and yet so little a part of it delights thee. But had thy carnal sense any capacity of comprehending the whole, and had it not (for thy punishment) by reason of its mortality, been confined to the prospect only of a small part thereof, thou wouldst have wished a speedy transition of these parts, which for the present exist; that from the whole perfected, thou mightst have received a su∣pream content. For by the same carnal sense also thou hear∣est what we speak; yet wouldst thou not have one syllable still to sound before thee, but sly away by thee, and others come, till thou maist hear the whole. Even so are some of them ever in being, which make up one whole; yet are they never all together, of which that whole is made. And these would please more all together, than the severall pieces, could they be all at once surveyed by thee. Yet farr better than all these summed together is he, who made them all; and this is our God; and he hath no transition, be∣cause he hath no succession. If bodies therefore attract thy affection, let thy praises, from them, ascend unto God, and thy love wheel about unto their Maker; lest in those things which please thee, thou displease him.

CHAP. XII.

To rest our love upon God, and to love other things only for, and in, him.

OR if souls delight thee; in God let these be loved; be∣cause these also, subject to mutability, from him only have their stability; else‖ pass-on they would, and at last pass-away. In him therefore let these also be loved. And entice with thee to him as many of them as thou canst; and say unto them; him let us love, him let us love: He made these things, and he is not farr off. For he made them not, and so left them; but, being of him, they are in him too. Lo where he is! Where truth is rellished well! He is in the heart; but, alas! that heart hath strayed from him. Return O prevaricators unto your heart again, and be united unto him that made you. Stand with him, and ye shall stand fast: rest in him, and ye shall be at rest. Whither go ye into precipices? Whither go ye? The

Good ye court and woo, is from Him: and so much as it is, it is in your tending toward him good and delicious to you. But justly then embittered to us, when it is once unjustly loved, with the desertion of him, from whom it is.

To what purpose still and still tread ye those difficult and toilsome paths? Rest is not there, where ye seek it; seek freely what ye do seek; but there it is not, where you are seeking it. A blessed life ye seek in the region of death, and it is not there. How, life happy there, where neither life? But life it self descended hither, and underwent our death, and, out of the super-abundance of its life, slew it: And then with a voice of thunder called out unto us, that we should hence return unto him into that secret place, from whence he came forth unto us, coming into that first pure Virgins womb, where he espoused this hu∣mane creature of our mortal flesh; that it might not be ever mortal; and thence like a Bridegroom going forth of his chamber, he rejoyced as a Giant to run his course; But did run all the way, here staid not; calling out unto us, by his words, by his deeds, by his death, by his life, by his descension, by his Ascension, calling out unto us, to return unto him: and then presently vanished from our eyes, that we might return into our heart, and might there find Him.

For he so withdrew himself, as that here he is still: he would not stay long with us, and yet he hath not left us. As also thither he departed, whence he never parted. Because the World was made by him: and in this World he was; and yet came into this World to save sinners; To whom my soul now also confesseth, that he may heal it, for it hath sinned. O ye Sons of men, how long so heavy hearted? And is it possible, after this de∣scent of life it self to you, that ye will not ascend to it, and live? But whither, ascend ye then, when ye set up your selves on high, and turn your face against Heaven? first descend, that so ye may ascend; and ascend to God; who fell (before) by ascending against Him. These things tell the souls thou lovest, that they may deplore their misery in this vally of tears; and be carried up with thee towards God: for tis from his Spirit also, that thou tellest them this; if thou saist it from a heart enflamed with the fire of true charity.

CHAP. XIII.

Much exercised in Love, he writes a book, De Pulchro & Apto.

THese things (then) I knew not; and I was enamoured of these lower beauties; sinking still deeper in the pit, and saying to my Friends; Love we any thing but what is fair? What is that which is fair then? And what is the fairness of it? What is that inveigles us so, and chaines our affections to the things we love? For unless there were gracefulness and beauty there, they could by no means thus attract us. And I marked narrowly, and perceived, that in the bodies themselves the whole feature as it were of them was one thing, from which they were called fair, and another thing their decency and fitnesse; namely as they were aptly suting to some other thing; as a part of the body is to the whole; or a shoe to the foot; and the like. And, these speculations springing still more in my mind from the multiplicity of thoughts, I composed cer∣tain books, De pulchro & apto; Of Fair and Fit; as I re∣member two or three (God thou knowest for I have for∣got) For I have them not by me, but they are straggled abroad, I know not whither.

CHAP. XIV.

Dedicated, to Hierius a Roman Rhetorician, much admired by him, only upon report.

BUt what was it, that moved me O Lord my God, to addresse these Books to Hierius a Rhetori∣cian in Rome, not known to me by face, and yet loved by me for the same of his learning, which was very emi∣nent. And some speeches of his likewise I had heard, and they had pleased me: but pleased me far the more, be∣cause they pleased others, who much admired, and mag∣nified the man; that he, a Syrian by Nation, first trained up in the Grecian Eloquence, had become so admirable a Master also in the Latine, and so knowing in Philosophy. A man is, * praised, and presently upon it, though never seen, * loved. Enters this love then into the heart of the hearer, from the mouth of the commender? No∣thing so. But from one lover another is incensed to love. For hence is he loved that is commended, when he that praiseth, is supposed to extoll him with an undissembling

heart; (that is,) when one, that loves, commends, him. For so I then loved men, according to the estimation of men; and not thine, O my God, Which is never deceived.

[But yet why loved I him, not as I did some others (a famous Chariotier, or Huntsman, &c.) that are much extolled by popular applause, but with a farr different and more serious affection, and so, as my self also desi∣red the same commendation.

For neither could I endure that my self should be so commended, or loved, as Stage-players are; whom yet I both commended and loved: yet would I chuse my self rather to be obscure, than, in such a manner noted; and even rather to be hated, than, in such a manner, loved. Where are the plummets, that give motion to so many heterogeneous and divers loves dis∣posed-of in one soul? What is it, that I love in another man? Which same thing again unless I hated I should not loath it in my self, and repell it from me, though, in a like condition, both of us are men. Indeed a good horse is loved by one, who yet would not be the thing he loves; but we cannot say so of an Actor, communicating with us in nature, Can I then love in a man something I would not be, though I am a man? Man himself is a great deep: The very hairs of whose head are all numbred by thee O Lord, nor is any of them wanting unto thee: and yet those hairs can more easily be numbred, than can his affections, and the motions of his heart.

But this Rhetorician was of those, whom I so loved, as that I wished also the like; who strayed thus, swolne with ambition, and whirled about wi••h every wind, yet all the while was steered by thee, though extream se∣cretly.]

And whence know I this, and whence so confidently confess I unto thee, that I loved him more from the love of those who commended him, than from the things, for which he was commended? From hence: Because had the same men disparaged him to me, and related the same things they commended in Him, with contempt and scorn, I had not been so taken with Him. Yet certainly those things had neither been another man's nor the man another from himself; but only another, the affec••ion of the Relaters. See in what a condition lies the feeble soul, that is not yet fixed upon the Basis of Truth. As the unconstant Gales of tongues blow from the breasts of the opinative, so is she carried and turned, driven forward, and driven back again, and her eyes are beclouded

and the truth not discerned: And yet behold it standeth before us. And it seemed to me a matter of great impor∣tance, if my stile and my studies might be known to such a man. Which, if by him they were approved, I should have been still more enflamed; if dis-esteemed, my heart had been grievously wounded, being altogether void and empty of thy solidity, Yet that Pulchrum & Aptum, of which I writ to him, was not conceived by me without much delight, and the subtilties of those contemplations I my self admired, before they had another to praise them.

CHAP. XV.

His late imaginations concerning these things, being not yet en∣lightned by the Scriptures.

BUt the causes and hinges of such a weighty business I had not as yet studied in that thy sacred science (O thou omnipotent, who alone workest all these wonders) and my mind ranged through corporeal formes: and Fair I defined (and with corporeal instances illustrated) * that which is so, absolutely, of it self: Fit; * that which is decent and gracefull from application to another.

[And I cast my thoughts also upon the nature of the mind and there the false opinion, that I entertained of things spiritual, permitted me not to discern truth: And there was still flashing in my eyes the very power of truth; and yet I averted my timorous mind, from the cogitation of any thing incorporeal, to lineaments, and colours, and swelling magnitudes. And when I could not see these in my mind, I thought that neither could I see or discern my mind: And whereas I loved the harmony that is in vertue, and loathed the discord of vice, I noted an unity in the one, and in the other a kind of division. And I conceived the rational soul, and the nature of truth, and of the Summum Bonum, the Chiefest Good, to consist in this unity. But in that division I sillily supposed that there was I know not what substance of an irrational vitality, and the na∣ture of summum malum, which was not only a substance, but also animate, and yet was not at all from thee (O my God) from whom are all things. And the one I stiled a Monade or Unity, as if it were a soul void of all sex; the other a Dyade or Duality; namely the faculty, * irascible, in all malicious actions; * concupiscible and lusting, in all im∣pure affections; Not knowing what I said.

For I neither knew then, nor had learnt; that no substance at all was evill; nor that our very soul was not the supream and incommutable good.† For as our acti∣ons are Facinorous, if that faculty of the soul, which com∣mands our force, be vicious, and behave it self insolently and unruly: and again Flagitious, if that affection of the soul, wherewith carnal pleasures are entertained, be∣come intemperate; so errors and false opinions are likewise a contamination of our life, if so be the rational soul it self be any way vitiated: As it was then in me, not knowing, that it was to be illuminated with another ray, than its own, to partake of Truth, for that it self was not the very nature of Truth. Because 'Tis thou that shalt light this my candle O Lord my God, thou shalt en∣lighten my darkness. And of thy fulness have we all receiv∣ed; For thou art the true light that enlightneth every man that cometh into the World: for that in thee there is no varia∣bleness, nor returning shadow. But I aspired toward thee, and was repelled from thee, and confined unto the shadow of death; Because the proud are alwaies re∣sisted by thee.

And what thing prouder than I, who by a strange madness maintained, that my self was naturally, what thou art? For when I was a thing mutable, (which was from this apparent to me, that I, in coveting wisdom, sought, from somthing worse, to become something bet∣ter) yet I had rather conjecture thee mutable also, than my self not to be the same, which thou wert. Therefore was I repelled by thee, and thou didst resist my stiff-swoln neck; and I somniated corporeal forms, and being flesh I notwithstanding accused the flesh, & being a wind that pas∣eth, I returned not unto thee, but passing I passed unto those things, which have no being, nether in thee, nor in me, nor in any body else. Neither were they created for me by thy truth, but by my vanity devised, out of a body; And I said to the little ones thy faithful, my now fellow-Citizens, from whom then I lived an exile; I said to them, as arrogant, as silly, Why therefore er••s that soul which God had made? Yet could I not endure it should be said to me again, Why then errs [the soul be∣ing] God? And I rather contended, that thy immutable substance was necessitated to err, than confessed that mine, so mutable, was, spontaneously, either erring, or in danger of errour.]

And I was of the age of six or seven and twenty, when I

penned those Volumes, revolving within my self those corporeal fancies, that continually buzzed about the ears of my heart; which ears of mine were intent (O thou sweetest Verity) unto that interior melody of thine, all the while I meditated on this Fair, and Decorous subject; longing indeed to stand qui••t, and hear thee, and with joy to rejoyce at the voice of the Bridegroom, and I could not; because by the call of my errour I was with-drawn from thee, and with the weights of my pride sunk down into the dungeon. Nor didst thou then give to this my hearkning, joy and gladness; nor did the bones exult, which had not yet been humbled.

CHAP. XVI.

Of his strange acuteness of Wit, acquiring all the Liberall Sciences without a Teacher, and yet so grosly erring in Religion.

ANd, △ what did it profit me, that being scarce twenty years old, I read and understood alone a work of Aristotle's, that fell into my hands, called the Ten Catego∣ries? which my Master, (a Rhetorician of Carthage, and others accounted learned, had commented on, to other schollers, with checks even bursting with pride, and I also had with much admiration longed after, as I know not what, profound and divine piece). And I afterward con∣ferring with others, (who professed that they had much ado to comprehend these things, though instructed by most learned Tutors not only expounding, but in Sand-Tables demonstrating them) they could add nothing to my former self-acquired knowledg.

[] △ What did this profit me? Nay did it not harm me? When likewise thou, O my God, so wonderfull sim∣ple and un-accidental (whilst I thought whatever was, was comprehended in these Ten Praedicaments) Thou also wert so conceived by me, as if thou also wert the subject to thy greatness, or to thy beauty; and that they inhered in thee, as they do in bodies. When as thy greatness and thy beauty are thy self: but body is not, by that, great or fair, by which it is a body: For were it less great or less fair, nevertheless a body it were. For a falsity it was which I imagined of thee, and not truth; and those were figments of my wretchedness, not the firmaments and stabilities of thy blessednesse. For thou commandedst and so it came to pass unto me, that this my Earth should bring forth thorns and briars unto me, and with labour I should earn my bread.

And again △ what profited it me, that all the books I could procure of the Arts, called Liberal (my self mean∣while being a slave to Lust) were read over by me and by my self alone throughly understood? (And I took great delight in them for the Truth and certainty I found there; yet knew not whence it was: For I had my back upon the light, and my face upon the things enlightned; whence my face that beheld the things illustrated, it self was not illuminated at all.) And whatsoever was said in them concerning the Art of speaking, or of reasoning; whatsoever of the Measures of figures; of notes Musical, or of numbers, without much difficulty I understood; and without any Teacher, as thou knowest O Lord my God; For both quickness of apprehension, and subtility of reasoning is thy gift; though I did not sacrifice my due acknowledgments thereof unto thee; therefore served it, not for my use, but my perdition rather; because I desired to have that so liberal a part of my portion in my own hands; and did not preserve my strength for thy service, but went farr from thee, into a remote Coun∣try; that I might wast it upon meretricious delights. For, △ what profited it me, so good a thing, not rightly employed? For I perceived not, that th•••••• arts, ••ven by the studious and ingenious, were so difficultly u••••er∣stood, till afterward I went about to teach these unto them, when he was accounted most excellent amongst them, that was lesse-slowly capable of those my expo∣sitions

But yet, △ what did this profit me, meanwhile imagi∣ning that thou, O Lord my God, who art the truth, wert only a lucid and immense body; and that my self was a piece of that lump? Perversness too great; but so it was with me. Nor will I now blush, to confess unto thee my God, thy mercies toward me, and to call upon thee, who then blushed not, to profess to men my blasphemies and to bark against Thee.

△ What then profited me, * that my wit, in all those sci∣ences, so nimble; and * so many knotty books, without any humane assistance, so easily unfolded by me, when I so foully and sacrilegiously erred in the doctrine of piety? Or what hindrance was a farr slower capacity to those thy little ones, that never strayed far from thee; but within the nest of thy Church securely feathered themselves; and had the wings of their charity nourished with an Ortho∣dox faith?

O Lord our God, let us ever trust in the overspreading of thy wings; cover thou us with them, and bear thou us upon them. Bear us, both when thy young ones; and when never so aged; carry us on them still Because our infirmity, when thou art with it, is strength; and our strength, when tis only our own, is infirmity. And all our good lives alwayes only with thee; and, because we turn∣ed away from thee, we lost it. Let us now return unto thee O Lord, that we may repossess it. For with thee lives our good still, without any decay thereof: For thou thy self art it. And we need not fear, lest, at our return, our former habitation should be ruined and demolished; For we indeed, in departing from thence, fall and come to ruine; but our house, (in this our absence) which is thy Eternity, can never fall.

LIB. V.

CHAP. I.

Oblation of his Confessions to God: their end being to set forth his praise.

ACcept (O Lord) the sacrifice of these my Con∣fessions offered unto thee from the hand of my tongue; made and moved by thee to confess unto thy name: And heal Thou all my bones, that they may say; O Lord who is like unto thee? It is not at all to teach thee that which is done within him, when any one confesseth it unto thee; for the closeness of the heart excludes not thy eye, nor the hardness of it re∣pels thy hand, but that Thou dost (often in pity, and o∣therwile also in vengeance) melt and dissolve it at pleasu••••; And there is nothing hid from thy heat. But yet, let my soul be still praising, and speaking good of Thee, that for this it may love Thee; and let it be confessing thy mercies unto Thee, that for them it may praise Thee.

The whole Creation ceaseth not, nor resteth, from praising Thee; both every spirit by their own mouths turned immediatly upon Thee; and all corporeals also (living or inanimate) by the mouth of those, who in them

contemplate thy wisdom; That so our wearied and sick soul may thus erect it self, and move toward Thee, and leaning on the things which Thou hast made may by them be conducted unto Thee, who madest them all so admira∣bly, and there find refection and true strength.

CHAP. II.

Invitation of all other strayed sinners to return to the Omnipo∣tent God by Confession.

THe wicked, discontented, and restless, may depart and fly from thee, but still thou seest them, and di∣videst the darknesse, and behold all things round about them are still fair and lovely in thy sight, only themselves deformed. For alas, in thus abandoning thee, how have they hurt or frustrated Thee at all? Or any way discom∣posed thy absolute empire; from the highest heaven to the lowest abysse, just and entire? For whither fled they when they fled from before thy face? Or where are they not discovered by Thee? They fled only, * that themselves might not see thee, when seeing them; and might yet (blindfold) still run against Thee; who never departest from any of the things made by Thee: * that they being unjust, might run against Thee, and so be justly hurt by Thee; withdrawing from thy lenity and softness, and so dashing against thy uprightness, and falling upon thy sharpness▪ ignorant, that Thou, who art circumscribed by no place, are yet in every place, and the only He, that art present to those, who are farr from Thee.

Let them then return, and let them seek thee, because though they have left Thee their Creator, yet hast not Thou left thy creature. Let them then return only, and seek Thee; and lo Thou art present in their hearts; in the heart of all those who make Confession unto Thee, and cast themselves upon Thee, and in Thy bosom deplore their former vexatious deviations. And then how wilt Thou, indulgent, wipe off again such tears from their eyes; and this wiping also provoke more tears, and make them to joy in these sorrowings, because Thou, O Lord, and not man, (flesh and blood) but thou, O Lord, that createdst them, dost thus recreate and comfort them. Where was I, then, when I sought for Thee? For Thou wast just before me: but I was strayed from my self, and not able to finde my self, much less could I find Thee.

CHAP. III.

The passages of the 29th. year of his age. The coming of Faustus, an eloquent Manichean Bishop to Carthage; The Philosophers tenents in the sciences found much more pro∣bable, than the Manicheans.

I Will now recount before my God the story of the tweny-ninth year of my age there was then come to Car••ha••e a Mani h••an Bishop called Faustus, a great snare of the Devil's, and many were caught by the sweet bait of his smooth tongue, which, though I also much rellished in him, yet could I well distinguish it from the verity of the things, which I desired to learn of him; examining on∣ly what nourishing provision of science he set before me, and not in how rich a dish of language he served it up. For fame had before reported him most knowing in all ex∣cellent learning, and exquisitly skilled in the liberall Arts. And I, having read formerly and still retaining in memory, much of the Philosophers tenents, began to compare those with these long fables of the Manichees; and in∣deed found the other of the two much more probable: By whom in some measure the course of nature was right∣ly weighed, though the Lord thereof undiscovered by them. Because Great art thou O Lord and thou regardest the lowly, but the proud thou knowest a farr off, neither dost thou approach save to the contrite in heart; neither art thou discovered by the high-minded; though their curious search numbereth the stars of the Heaven, and the sands of the Earth; and though they quarter out all the celestiall regions, and describe the various courses of the planets. For indeed by the light of understanding they do find out all these things; and by the wit which thou hast given them, they have many years before both discovered, and foretold the eclipses of the great lights, the Sun and the Moon, in what day, what hour, and in how many digits they should happen: and their calculation hath not faild, but the event punctually answered their prescription; And by the rules, which they have delivered, men still prognosticate in what year, month, day, hour, and in what portion of its light the Sun or Moon shall be dark∣ned, and what is said, is done. And these things the ig∣norant admire and stand amazed at; the knowing ex∣ult in and glory of; and yet being, by their wicked pride, put in this opposition to thee their Sun, and ecclipsed of

thy light, they, that do so long before discover the Sun or Moons defects, cannot, though present, discern their own?

For they do not religiously search in the first place, from whence they have that wit, by which they search out other things; and again, when finding that thou art he that madest them, they do not restore them∣selves unto thee, that thou maist keep that in them, which thou hast made; Nor slaughter and sacrifice unto thee that which they have made themselves, and offer up unto thee their exalted and soaring imaginations, as the fouls of the Heavens; their diving curiosities with which they walk through the paths of the deep, as the fishes of the Sea, and their sensuall luxuries, as the beasts of the field; that thou O God, as a purging fire, maist consume in them there their former dead cares, and re∣create them anew into immortality.

[But these poor souls knew not the way (unto thee) namely; Thy word; by which were made all those things they number, and themselves also, that number them; and the reason, by which they know how to number, of which, thy wisdom there is no number. Which only-begotten of thine was made unto us Wisdom and Righteousnesse and Sanctification, and descended so low as to be numbred amongst us, and, amongst us, to pay Caesars tribute. This humble way they knew not, by which they should descend first from themselves unto Him, that afterward, by the same, they might ascend unto him. This way they knew not: and fancying themselves as illustrious and exalted amongst the starrs which they numbred, behold they fell upon the Earth and their foolish heart became darkned, And many truths indeed concerning the Creature are vented by them; and yet the Truth, that formed these Creatures, remains to them undiscovered, because not piously by them inquired of; or if found, yet knowing God, they do not own him as God; neither are thankfull; but be∣come vain in their imaginations, and say they are wise. Thus attributing to themselves what is only thine, and, attributing to thee (by a most obstinate cecity) what is theirs; namely, forging lies of thee, who art truth, and changing the glory of an incorruptible God into an image made like to corruptible man, & to birds, and four-footed beasts and creeping things, they do also convert thy truth into a lye, and worship, and serve the Creature before the Creator.]

Yet many truths, learned from the Creature, I received from these men: and saw some reason thereof from cal∣culations, and the successions of times, and the visible revolutions of the stars: and these I conferred with the dotages of Manicheus, who had written much foolish stuffe of the same subjects; and therein I could discover no reason, neither of the solstices, and aequinoctialls, nor of the ecclipses, nor of any other part of secular know∣ledg. Only there I was required to believe things con∣trary to my experience.

CHAP. IIII.

Sciences not beatifying,

ANd now is he such a one (O Lord the God of truth) as knowes all these things, therfore a favorite to thee? Surely, unhappy man he who knowes all these, and knows not thee, and blessed the man, who knows thee, though none of these; and who so knows both them and thee, happy he is not for them, but for thee; if knowing thee, he, as God glorifie thee, and be thank∣full unto thee, and become not vain in his own imagi∣nations.

For as he is in a farr better case, that hath the possession of a tree, and for the fruits thereof gives thee praise, though he knows not how tall the trunk thereof is, or how many the branches, than another who hath exactly measu∣red it, and counted every sprig; but neither owes it, nor knows, nor loves its maker: even so the faithfull, (whose the whole World is, and who, as having nothing, yet possesseth all things by inhering in thee, who owest all things) though he knows not so much as the short re∣volution of Charles Wain, yet it were silly to doubt that he were not a much better person than the surveyer of the Heavens, and the calculat••r of the stars, and the poiser of the Elements, and meanwhile one careless of thee, who art he that ordered all those things in their exact, number, and weight, and measure.

CHAP. V.

Yet the Manichees ignorant also in them.

BUT yet what needed (I know not what) Manicheus to trouble himself to write so much on these subjects; without the science of which true piety might well be learnt? And thou hast said: that piety and the fear of Thee, this is wisdom; of which he might possibly be ignorant still, though perfectly knowing all those things; but, in this most impudent presumption of his to teach such things, when he knew them not, must needs be ignorant of it. For 'tis but a vanity to make much shew and pro∣fession of such secular things when never so well known by us: and piety, to be making our humble confessions unto thee. But he, very deficient in this, therefore by thy just permission spent much discourse on the other, that so discovering his errors in things so well known, men might hence judge, how to value his opinions in things more hidden and obscure. []

CHAP. VI.

Faustus naturally eloquent, but very ignorant in those Arts, wherein he was reputed to excell.

THerefore, for almost all those nine years in which with an unsatisfied opinion, I had been a Disciple to those Doctors, I impatiently expected the long longed-for coming of this same Faustus. For the rest I had met with, unable to solve my doubts, still promised him to me; a little of whose conference should easily clear to me not only those, but any harder, queries. When he came therefore I found him a person indeed of very agree∣able and compleasant discourse, and much more charm∣ingly delivering the same things which they had said be∣fore. But what was my thirst relieved by having so decent a minister of such pretious, but empty, cups. My cars had been long since cloyed with such dainties; nor did a∣ny thing seem better to me, because better said: nor therefore any thing true, because elegant: nor the soul wiser for a comely mine and a graceful utterance. Neither were those who promised him to me good weighers of such things; to whom he seemed prudent in his judgment, because pleasing in his words. Whereas I have also found others of a contrary humour, that suspect truth it self, and suspend their assent to it, so often as presented in

compt and elegant expressions. But Thou hadst then already taught me, O my God, by wayes secret and admi∣rable, for I presume, that it was Thou that taughtest it me; because I now know it to be true; and there is no other Doctor of truth besides thee, where or howsoever it shines forth unto us; then had I already learnt from Thee both these; that neither any thing should therefore seem spoken truly, because eloquently; nor therefore falsly, because the signification thereof from the lips is somewhat inharmonious; Nor again therefore a thing be true, because plainly and nakedly spoken; nor therefore false, because much painted and adorned; but the truth and falshood, wisdom and folly, are like wholsom and hurtful meats; both of which may be served up, either in rich or mean language, as these may in courtly or coun∣try dishes. []

CHAP. VII.

S. Austins affection to the Manichean Doctrines much abated upon discovery of Faustus his ignorance; whom he instructs in the Art of Rhetorick.

WHen therefore he also, (after much tryal made of him) appeared sufficiently ignorant of those arts, in which I presumed him excellent, I despaired of receiving from him any solution of those doubts, which so much perplexed me. Though yet, in the ignorance of those arts, I grant he might have retained still the truths of pie∣ty, supposing he had not been a Manichean. For their books are full of tedious fables, of the Heaven, and the Starrs, and the Sun, and the Moon, which now I had no longer a conceit that he could evidence unto me, by shewing out of the Manichean writings, reasons better, or at least equal to those I had formerly read. Which reasons when I proposed to be examined, and discussed, he (modestly) durst not undertake the controversy; and, well knowing his ignorance, neither was he ashamed to acknowledg it: not like to those I before met with, who undertook to teach me, and said nothing. But he had a soul, though not upright towards thee, yet not also treacherous to himself: not altogether ignorant was he of his ignorance; and not willing in a rash dispute, to run himself into those straits, out of which he could nei∣ther find an issue, nor a fair retreat. And herein his carri∣age much took me; the modesty of his soul, in confessing

its defects, having much more beauty and worth in it, then his science could have had, in solving my doubts. And in all difficulter and subtler questions which I proposed, on this manner I found him.

My affection therefore which I formerly had to the Manichean opinions was now much abated, and despairing of their other Doctors skill, after the trial of one so much famed, I began a new conversation with him in those studies of Rhetorick, which he much affected, and I then taught at Carthage; reading with him such books as he desired, or I thought sutable for such a wit, and to such a purpose. But all design of further advancing my self in that Sect, after his acquaintance, now fell to the ground; only I continued to be what by chance I then was, untill I should discover something more eligible.

Thus this Faustus, to so many the fetters of death, be∣came the first looser of my chaines, and that neither wit∣ting, nor willing it, himself. For thy hand (O my God) out of the secret of thy providence never let go my soul. whilst my Mother did sacrifice even her hearts blood unto thee, by her continual tears day and night, in my behalf, and thou proceededst with me all this while by wayes very wonderful and secret and undiscoverable. 'Twas thou didst this O my God, For mans steps are directed by the Lord and he it is that disposeth his way. And what effi∣cient of safety can there be save thy hand, which only can repair what it at first builded?

CHAP. VIII.

Much offended with the unrulinesse of his Schollers in Car∣thage he removes from thence beyond Sea to Rome, to profess Rhetorick there, extreamly against his Mothers will.

THerefore, by the conduct of thy providence, it was now so brought about, that I should be perswaded rather to go to Rome, and to teach there, what I did at Carthage. And here, how I became so resolved, I will not omit to confess unto thee, because also in these things thy most secret workings, and alwayes most present mercies toward us, ought ever to be considered, and professed. My intent for Rome was not so much for greater profit or honour, though both these were pro∣mised by my friends, and then not a little swayed my in∣clinations, but the chief and almost the only reason thereof was because youth was, there said to be more

orderly in the School, and quiet, and under stricter dis∣cipline, the Schollers of one School▪ not without leave rushing in and disturbing the Government of another; contrary to the wicked and licentious custom of those of Carthage, who impudently without leave of the Master, and to the disturbance of the Schollers, rush into his School, whom they do not learn of, and there commit such out∣rages as are punishable by the laws, were they not, a∣gainst these, patronized by custom: yet in this they so much the more unhappy, that they do as a thing lawfull, what thy eternall commands have prohibited; and that they conceit they do it with all impunity, to whom the cecity, by which they do it, is a great punishment, and the mischief which they suffer themselves, incomparably worse, then that they act on others. Therefore, those wicked fashions, which I hated my self to do, when I was a student, being now forced to suffer, when a Master, from others, I resolv'd rather to remove to a place, where I was told were no such insolencies. But thou (O my hope and my portion in the land of the living) to make me change my station for the changing of my life, and for the safety of my soul, both administredst discou∣ragements at Carthage to chase me thence; and proposedst allurements at Rome to draw me thither; and this thou didst unto me, * by vain men, only taken with the things of this dying life, by some on one side doing mad, things; and some on the other side promising vain —* and thus, to reform my present ill courses, thou secretly madest use of both their, and my own, faulty inclinations. For both those who thus disturbed my quiet, were blinded with a sottish madness; and those who invited my re∣movall, favoured only Earthly advantages; and my self, who loathed my present misery, yet courted elsewhere but a false felicity.

But another end, why I should leave this place, and go to that, thou then well knowest (my God) neither shewedst thou it to me, nor to my mother; who misera∣bly lamented my departure, and followed me to the Sea-side; that either she might yet reduce, or else her self al∣so accompany, me. And I feigned, that my design was on∣ly to accompany a friend, till he had a favourable wind for his embarquement, and should put to Sea: and thus I lied to my mother, and to such a mother, and got away from her. Nevertheless thou, in thy great mercy, didst not instantly revenge this fault upon me: but savedst me

from the waters of the Sea a soul so stained with execrable filthiness, unto the baptismall waters of thy grace, with which I being once washed and made clean those ri∣vers also of my mothers eyes might be dryed up, which, from her sad face, daily watered the ground under her feet, poured out unto thee in my behalf. There she re∣fusing upon any terms to return back without me, I with much ado perswaded her for that night to take some rest, in a place that was very near to our ship, being† a memoriall of St. Cyprian's, but that same night I stole a∣way to sea, and she was left there, praying and weeping. And what was it that with so many tears she begged of thee? but, that thou wouldst put a let to that voyage; but thou, deep in thy counsels, and yielding then also un∣to her, in the sum of her desires, regardedst her not, in the particular she then requested of thee, that so, in an higher manner, thou mightest accomplish it in the main thing for which she alwayes petitioned thee.

The wind blew fair and swel'd our sails; and the shore withdrew it self from our sight; whither my Mother, being returned next morning to seek me, was now over∣whelmed with grief and filled thine ears with groans and complaints; thine ears that despised her moan; whilst, by the the means of my lusts, thou hurriedst me away, to put an end to those very lusts; and chastisedst this her too carnal affection to me with a just scourge of sorrow. For she as other Mothers do, but much more than many do, loved and desired my corporal presence with her; and knew not how much joy thou wert preparing for her out of that my absence. She knew it not then, and therefore mourn∣ed and wept, and shewed the Reliques of Eve in her, seek∣ing thus with sorrow, what with sorrow she had brought forth. At last, after a sad accusation of that my cosen∣age and cruel behaviour toward a Mother, returning a∣gain to her prayers to deprecate Thee for that my fault, she went about her accustomed affairs, and I towards Rome.

CHAP. IX.

Coming to Rome he is stricken with a dangerous fever, the re∣covery from which he imputes to his Mothers prayers.

ANd lo there, presently, I am smitten with a rod of corporal sickness, and now am going post to the place below carrying with me all those evills I had

committed against, Thee, and my self, and others, ma∣ny and grievous; besides the chain of Original guilt, by which we all dye in Adam. For as yet Thou hadst remitted nothing unto me in Christ; nor had he yet slain that enmity by his Crosse, which by my sins, I had incurred with thee. For how could he take them away by that only-phantastical Crosse of his, which I believed. How false therefore at that time the death of his flesh seemed to me; so true was the death of my soul; and how true the death of his flesh was indeed, so false was the life of my soul, which then did not credit it. And thus my fever much increasing I now approached to the very point of dying; and of dying eternally. For whither had I gone, if I had dyed then, but into flames and torments sutable to my deeds, according to the setled truth of thy ordi∣nance concerning us. And my po••r mother knew no∣thing of this; yet did I (absent) enjoy her prayers; and Thou (omnipresent) where she was gavest ear unto her; and where I was hadst pity on me, in restoring me again to the health of my body, though still sick and much distempered in a sacrilegious mind. For neither did I so much as desire thy baptism, in that my great peril; and much better affected I was, when I was yet a child, and earnestly requested it of my mothers piety, as I have before recited, and confessed.

But as I grew bigger, so I grew worse; and madly de∣rided the prescription of this thy medicine; who yet per∣mittedst me not, when in such a case, so to dye a double death. Which had it happened, my mothers heart also would have received a wound incurable. For I cannot expresse the great affection she bare me; nor with how much more sorrow and pain she travelled-again of me, to bring me forth * in the spirit, then she had formerly done at her child-bearing, * in the flesh. I see not therefore how ever she should have been cured, if these bowels of her love had been once pierced with such a sad end of my life. And then what would have become of so many, and so passionate prayers without intermission† in all places made by her unto thee? Couldst thou (a God of mercies) despise the contrite and humble heart of a desolate wid∣dow, so chast and so sober, so abounding in almes-deeds, so dutiful and officious to thy saints; no day omitting her oblation at thine Altar; twice in the day, Morning and E∣vening, without intermission coming to thy Church, not for vain chat and idle tales, but that she might hear Thee in

thy words, & thou her in her prayers? by thee then could the tears of such a one, wherewith she begged of thee neither silver, nor gold, nor any mutable or fading good, but only the safety of the soul of her poor son, could the tears of such, a one by thee, who madest her such, be neg∣lected, and contemned, and fail of thy help?

No Lord, yea thou wert present, and heardst, and didst, her requests, according to the order of thy own predesignments of them to be done. Farr was it from thee that thou shouldst deceive her in those visions of hers, or answers of thine, some already related, some omitted, by me: which pre-engagements from thee she treasured up in a believing heart; and alwayes in her prayers presented and pressed, as thy own hand∣writing before thee. For thou art pleased, because ever∣lasting are thy mercies, not only to remit unto us all our debts; but often with thy promises, to become our debtor?

CHAP. X.

Recovered he still consorts with the Manichees, retaining many of their errors (the chief of which was his imagi∣ning God a corporeall substance) but with much more re∣misseness, then formerly.

THus thou recoveredst me from that sickness, and healedst the Son of thy handmaid, first, in body, that afterward thou mightest conferr upon him a more ex∣cellent and permanent Sanity of his soul too. And here also at Rome I usually conversed with the same sect of those deceived, and deceiving, saints: not only with their Auditors, as they are called (in the house of one of whom I had this sickness and recovery) but also with those whom (for their holiness) they call the Elect. With whom I also entertained the same conceit; that it was not I, that sin∣ned, but I know not what other forreign nature that was in me; and my pride was much pleased, thus to be fault∣less. And, when I committed any sin, I was ready, not to make confession thereof; that thou mightest heal my soul, because I had sinned against thee; but, to excuse my soul, and lay the fault upon something else besides me; which I granted indeed was joyned, with me, but was not Me. Yet alas the whole was nothing, but me: and my impiety only it was, that had thus divided me, against my self: and this any sin was the more incurable, be∣cause

I conceited my self no sinner: and much more exe∣crable this my iniquity; in that I blasphemously had ra∣ther, that thou (O omnipotent God) shouldst be over∣come by I know not what [contrary principle] in me, to my destruction; than that I should humble my self, a sin∣ner, to be conquered by thee and thy grace, to my sal∣vation.

For, thou hadst not as yet set a watch before my mouth, and a door of caution about my lips, that my heart might not de∣cline to wicked speeches, to excuse the excuses made for sins, with the men that work iniquity: and therefore I retained still a close combination with these Elect: yet so, as that I despaired of any further progress in that false doctrine; and was very remiss in my present opinions, resolving to keep them only if no better could be found.

[and of∣ten reflecting on the prudence of those Philosophers, who, in all things recommended doubting, and conten∣ded that nothing could be known certainly. But from the great acquaintance contracted with this sect (of whom Rome, privately, shelters not a few) I was ren∣dred somewhat lasier to seek truth elsewhere; and l••st of all imagined, that within thy Church (O Lord of Heaven and Earth, and Creator of all visibles and invisi∣bles) could be found that truth, from the which they had long averted me. For it seemed to me a thing too gross and unseemly, to imagine thee to have (as they had informed me that thy Church did teach) the shape of our humane flesh, and to be confin'd and girt up with the narrow lineaments of our members. And indeed this very thing, that, when I went to form to my self an Idea, of my Lord God, I could fancy nothing but a cer∣tain corporeall substance and bulke (for I supposed be∣sides this nothing in nature, and that what had no body, had no being) this, I say, was the greatest and almost the only cause of that my, (hence inevitable) errour.

For from this I imagined a certain substance of evil to be the like, and to have a corporeal bulke, malignant and hideous: and this either more gross, which they call Earth; or more tenuous and subtile, (as the body of the air is) which they imagin to be a maligne mind or soul, gliding every where through the other more Earthly matter. And because the less piety, I then had, forced me to believe, that the good God created no na∣ture evill, therefore I made two corporeal masses opposit to one another; both infinit, but the evil much straiter, the good much 〈◊〉〈◊〉

And from this pestilentiall source issued all the rest of my sacrilegious opinions. And when at any time I would have made a retreat to the Catholick faith, I was repulsed by this fancy, (because indeed that was not the Faith Catholick, which I thought to be so) for I supposed it a much more reverend piety to imagine thee (my God, to whom thy mercies wrought in me do now confess it) infinit on many sides, though on one bounded with a contrary mass of evill, than to be on e∣very side confin'd and compassed-in by the form and li∣neaments of an humane body, such as was supposed by me to be the faith of thy Church. Again; I thought it more honourable to believe, that thou createdst not e∣vill, supposing it a substance corporeall (for I acknow∣ledged no entity but such, and even mentals to be more tenuous bodies) than to think it, (such a nature) to flow from thee. Aga n; for thy only begotten Son our Saviour, (whom I fancied to be streamed forth from the lucid part of thy mass for our salvation) I supposed, that such a nature could not be born of the Virgin Mary without being coagulated with flesh; and that, in such a mixture (flesh being a part of the substance of evill as I imagined) such soveraign purity could not but be con∣taminated and stained: and therefore I feared to be∣lieve him born in the flesh, lest I should make him de∣filed by the flesh. Thy spirituall ones will gently smile at this my folly when they shall read these my confes∣sions. Yet, true it is, that such a one, then I was.

CHAP. XI.

Especially finding the Manichees not clearly to answer to the objections of Catholicks made out of the Scriptures.

YEt for all this, though that which these objected against thy scriptures, I thought could no way be defended, I had a desire, to conferr every particular with some person more excellently skilled in those holy books, and to know the uttermost of the churches o∣pinions. And this the rather, because one Helpidius, disputing in publick with the Manichees at Carthage, had not a little moved me, in pressing many things out of the scriptures, against which (me seemed) little could be said. And that answer of theirs seemed very weak, (which they did not so frequently give in publick, as pri∣vately to us) namely, that the Scriptures of the new

Testament were much falsified by some (I know not who) that intended to insert the Jewish law into the Christian faith. Yet themselves produced no other copies thereof which were unsophisticated. But all this while that which chiefly oppressed and suffocated me was the conceit I had only of corporeall bulkes and magnitudes of all things, under which mass I lay gasping after the free air of thy truth, but could not as yet breath in the purity and simplicity thereof.]

CHAP. XII.

Having set up a Rhetorick-School at Rome, his Schollers there defraud him of their stipends.

NOw therefore I began diligently to put in practice that for which I came to Rome, the teaching of Rhe∣torick, and first to gather some to my lodging; by whose means I had begun to be made known abroad. And now I am acquainted, that some other unworthy tricks were played at Rome, which I suffered not at Carthage. For it was assured to me indeed that there were not here such insolencies and tumults of unruly youth as there; But (say they) a many of them, to avoid the paiment of their stipends will of a suddain conspire together before the time they are due, and depart to another master: de∣sertors of their faith; and vilifying honesty for the love of mony. And these also my soul hated though not with a perfect and upright hatred. For I hated them (perhaps) more for the dammage I should suffer, than for the evill they committed.

And surely very guilty such persons are, who do go a whoring from thee, enamoured of these volatile trifles, of temporall goods, and of dirty Lucre which foules the hands that touch it; hugging this World that flies from them: and slighting thee, that stayest for them, and cal∣lest after them, and pardonest every meretricious soul a∣mongst them, that returneth unto thee. And now these I hate, as wicked and crooked, but so, as I also love them corrigible and amendable, by a preferring learning before silver, and again a preferring above their learning Thee, (O God,) the truth, and the fulness of all as∣sured good, and our most chast and delicious peace. But, at that time, I rather could not endure them evill for my own sake, than wished them good for thine.

CHAP. XIII.

Recommended by Symmachus, he removes from Rome to teach Rhetorick at Millain, where he is favourably received by St. Ambrose their Bishop, whose Sermons he frequents only for the fame of his eloquence:

IT happened afterward, that an order was sent from Millain† to the Prefect of Rome to provide a Rhetorick Professour for that City, and to send him thither upon the publ••ck charge. Therefore I made suit by the same persons, such who were intoxicated with the Manichean fables (from which that I might now be delivered, thou orderedst this journy, but little did we know it) That Symmachus the then Prefect (upon triall of my ability on some subject of Oratory) would be pleased to send me thither. And thus I came to Millain, and there had access to the Bishop Ambrose, famous all the World over amongst good men, and thy most devout Servant; whose most eloquent Sermons undauntedly ministred the pure floure of thy wheat, and the celestiall gladness of thy oyle, and the sober inebriation of thy spirituall wine un∣to thy People, in that place. Thus to him was I brought by thee, knowing nothing, that by him I might be brought unto thee, not without my knowledg; And that man of God, in a paternall way, received me, and with an Episcopall charity entertained this my peregrination.

And I began much to love him, not at first as a teacher of truth (by me despaired-of to be found within thy Church) but as one kind, towards me. And I diligently heard him, (preaching to the people) not out of any right intention at all, but as it were for the trying of his e∣loquence; whether it were answerable to the great fame thereof; and whether it flowed higher, or meaner, than reported; and there I stood, very intent upon his ex∣pressions, but in-observant of his matter: and was much taken with the elegancy of his language, though more learned, yet not so chearfull and pleasing, as Faustus his was, but for the matter there was no comparison; the one vainly expatiating through Manichean delusions, the other profitably teaching salvation But salvation is farr from the ungodly, such as I then stood before him; yet I drew nearer and nearer to it, by gentle degrees, and knew it not.

CHAP. XIIII.

And is by little and little taken with his doctrine, whereup∣on he resolves, abandoning the Manichean sect, to remain a Catechumenus in the Church Catholick, till some further discovery of truth.

FOr when as I minded not to learn, what he said, but only how he said it (for this vain care now only re∣mained in me, despairing of any further guidance there to the knowing of thee) there descended into my soul with the language which I affected, the matter also which I slighted; not possible to be severed by me; and whilst I opened my heart to entertain the eloquence of his sayings, together with it entered in the truth of them: Yet this by slow and gentle degrees. For first there seemed to me, that some plea might be made for the Catholick faith: and that, for which I formerly supposed nothing (sub∣stantiall) against the Manichees objections could be said, I thought now capable of some modest defence. Especi∣ally, after I had heard, one, or two, or more Enigma's, and obscure places of the old Testament, well resolv'd and cleared; which whilst before I understood literally, by them I was slain spiritually.

Very many places of those books being thus explained; then I began to blame my despair; yet thus farr only; that I should think impossible any probable reply, to those who opposed and derided the law and the prophets. Yet neither did I therefore see reason, that the Catholick way should be taken, because it had also such patrons and a∣bettors, as were able, without absurdity, to repell ob∣jections; nor yet, that what I held on the contrary should be condemned, because both were defensible. For the Catholick cause seemed to me to be so not conquered, as also not to have obtained the victory. And now I began more couragiously to consider, if by any means I might, upon any certain grounds, convince the Manichees of falshood. And could I but once have imagined a sub∣stance spirituall, I had quickly demolished and cast away all their structures out of my soul; but such a substance I could not fancy.

Yet, concerning, the corporeall substance of this ele∣mentary World, and all the pieces of nature occurring to sense, I, (more and more considering and comparing things) judged the Philosopher to have much better dog∣matiz'd,

than the Manichee. Therefore like the Acade∣micks (as they are reported) doubting of all things and fluctuating between all sides, yet I resolved presently to abandon the Manichean profession; enduring no more (though in this su••pense of my opinion) to be numbred of that sect, before which I preferred the Phi∣losopher. Yet neither could Philosophy satisfie Men, nor durst I commit the cure of my sick and languishing soul, to an order void of the saving name of Christ; and therefore I resolved to continue a Catechumenus in the Church Catholick, (which religion remained from both my Parents recommended unto me) till some thing of certainty should appear, to which I might steer my course.

LIB. VI.

CHAP. I.

His Mother Monica passing many dangers at Sea, comes to him to Millain. Her vision at sea.

O Thou my hope from my youth, where was't thou then, and whither hadst thou retired thy self? Was it not thou, that hadst made me, and distinguished me from the beasts of the field, and from the foules of the air? For thou hadst made me wiser than these; and lo I walked through dark, and slippery, paths, and sought thee abroad, in things without me; and so I found not the God of my soul, and was now at last sunk into the bot∣tom of the deep, disconsolate, and despairing, of ever finding truth. And now was my good Mother come un∣to me; courageous through piety, and both over land and Sea, following after me, in all her perils secure of thy help. For also, when they were in great danger at Sea, She comforted the mariners themselves, by whom the unexperienced passengers of the deep rather use to be comforted, and assured them of a safe arrivall, because thou hadst before, by vision, assured this to her.

And here she found me languishing, all in despair of dis∣covery of truth. And when I told her, that now, though I was no Catholick, yet I was no Manichee, she expressed

no extraordinary joy, as at a thing unexpected; (al∣though by this she remained now secured concerning one great part of my misery; wherein she, * had long deplo∣red me as dead, but so dead, as capable of a resuscitati∣on unto thee, and * had offered me, carried forth upon the Bi••re of her thoughts, unto thee, that thou touched with companion wouldest be pleased to say unto the Son of this widow; Y••ung man, I say unto thee Arise; and so her Son might revive, and might begin to speak, and thou mightest deliver him to his Mother). With no such ex∣traordinary exultation (I say) was her heart transported at all, in hearing, that the business was so farr done (for which she had daily wept before thee) in that I was al∣ready, though not confirmed in truth, yet removed from errour; But, as being ascertained, that in due time, thou wouldst give the rest, who hadst promised her the whole, she calmly, and with a brest full of confidence, answered me; that she fully believed in Christ, before she died, she should see me also a perfect Catholick

And this to me: Bu•• to thee (Fountain of mercies) she redoubled her requests and tears, that thou wouldst, hasten thine aid, & enlighten my darknesse; more zealously she ran to the Church, and to that Fountain of living water, springing up unto life eternal; and hung upon the sweet lips of thy Servant Ambrose. For, she loved and reverenced that man as an Angel of God, because she knew, that by his means I was reduced to this fluctuating and aguish condition, and she certainly presumed that my disease being now brought to a Crisis, as Physicians speak, I should after the access of a sharp fit, be advanced to a perfect health.

CHAP. II.

Her great piety, sobriety, obedience to Bishop Ambrose pro∣hibiting charity-feastings at the tombs of Martyrs, then an usual custom in Africk.

THerefore when, according to the custom in Africk, she had brought with her to the Oratories of the Saints, bread, wine, and† other edible provisions, and, by the Sextons of such Sanctuaries, was forbidden it, so soon as ever she understood, that it was the Bishops Countermand, she so piously and obediently conformed to i••, that I much admired, she could so suddainly become rather an accuser of her former practice, than a disputer

of the present prohibition. For her spirit was free from all inclinations to intemperance; and the love of wine did not provoke her to the hate of truth, as it doth many of both sexes; whose excess makes them nauseat a lesson of sobriety, like a cup of small water. But she carrying thither her basket furnished with the accustomed pro∣visions only to be tasted of, and so distributed to others, never presented but one little cup of wine▪ much d luted and mixed, for her sober palat, to take a little tast there∣of. And if there were more Memorialls than one so to be honoured,† the same small cup served her for them all; which not only much watery, but also by carriage very hot and unrefreshing, was by small sippings divided between her and her compani∣ons in the devotion, as who in such places sought not sensuality, but piety.

She therefore perceiving that this pi∣ous Prelat and famous Preacher had commanded no such thing to be practised though by the sober, * least so any occa∣sion of gluttony should be given to the intemperat; and also * because such parentalia, as it were, and festival ceremonies at the tombs of the deceased, very much resembled Pagan superstition, she did most willingly acquiesce thereto: and in stead of a basket (formerly) full of the fruits of the Earth, she learnt to carry to these Sanctuaries a heart full of more purified vowes, both to give to the poor what she could spare, and there to celebrate the communion of the Lords body, in the imitation of whose passion was the immolation and coronation of those Martyrs.

Yet my mind perswades me, that my Mother would not so easily have yielded to the reversing of this her custom, had another person, than Ambrose prohibited it; whom she dearly loved for his advancing my salvation, and he her, for her religious conversation, so fervent in Spirit, and good works, so frequent at Church; so that he, espy∣ing me there at his sermons, would often to me break forth in her praise, much joying me of such a Mother; not knowing, that she had such a Son, who was yet in all matters a Sceptick, and thought the true way of life ut∣terly undiscoverable.

CHAP. III.

S. Ambrose his employments. S. Austin findes no opportuni∣ty of p ivate discourse with him; yet learns from his Ser∣mons, that Catholicks held not the Doctrines charged on them by the Manichees.

NEither was my soul now mourning in prayers to procure thy deliverance, but intent to make queries, and restless to dispute. As for Ambrose, I took him to be a man only secularly happy, being so much reverenced by so, many, and great Per••onages; (sa••ing that his Celi∣bacy seemed to me somewhat troublesom to be under∣gone). But what lively hope he had of future, to coun∣terpoise the temptations and vanities of present, eminen∣cy, what conflict or solace he felt in adversities,† what sa∣v••ury joyes the hidden mouth of his heart tasted in rumina∣ting upon thy delicious food, these I could not conjecture, nor had experienced. Nor on the other side knew he the anxieties of my spirit, nor the depth of my danger. For I could not confer with him what, and how much, I pleased; being secluded from his speech, by the many bu∣sinesses of others, whos•• infirmities he served: and the rest of his time not spent on them (which was but little) was tak••n up, either in the necessary refection of his body with su••••erance, or of his mind with reading. But in this rea∣ding also, his eye only run ore the page, and his mind ga∣thered the sense, whilst his voice and tongue were silent. And often we were there present (for none were hindred entrance, nor was it the custom to give him notice of any mans comming to him), and alwaies saw him reading to himself, and never aloud, and so sitting down, after a long silence we departed again (for who durst disturbe one so intentive?) conjecturing that, in that small time, which he redeemed, from the noise of other businesses, for the repairing of his mind, he was loth to be diverted; and perchance therefore did not read aloud, lest his Audi∣ditor, where the Author seem'd obscure, should desire his exposition; or, where questions difficult, his determi∣nation; and so the time allotted his studies should not suffice for the perusal of so many volumes as he desired. Although the chiefest cause might be the sparing of his voice, which was very soon flatted and dulled. But the intention of th••t man, (whatever), doubtless was good.

But, certainly, I had no opportunity of consulting, a∣bout

things I much desired, that Oracle of thine, the breast of this good man, unless it had been something proposable very briefly: and my perpexities required one perfectly vacant, to whom they might be clearly unfolded, and at so much leisure I never found him; only standing amongst the people, I heard him every Lords day rightly dividing the word of truth; and was more and more by him con∣firmed, that all those artificial knots of subtle calumnies, which my deceivers had so fast tyed in prejudice of those divine books, might possibly be dissolved.

And when I also came to dis••over; that mans being made by thee after thine own image was not by those ••y spiritual children (whom by grace thou hast begotten a∣gain of their Catholick Mother) so understood at all, as if they believed or imagined thee to be bound up or limited within the shape of an humane body, although on the o∣ther side what a spiritual substance could mean I could not in the least manner apprehend), I mingled joy and blushes, and was ashamed, that I had now for so many years been a barking and railing, not against the Catholick faith, but only against the fictions of my carnal conceits. For so temerarious and impious was I, that, those things which I ought first to have learned from thee by inquiry, I first charged upon them by accusation; readier to impose falshoods, than to be informed of truths. For thou, (O most High, and yet most near; most unseen, and yet most present) since thou art not composed of several, (some greater and some smaller) members or parts, but art All of thee in every place, and yet within no place at all, art no such corporeal forme thy self; and yet madest thou man truely after thine own image; and lo He, so composed of members from head to Foot, is in Place. When there∣fore I did not conceive, how such a one thus made could be the image of thee, I should humbly have inquired, how this thing was to be believed or understood; and not in∣sultingly have opposed it, as if so understood, as I imagin∣ed. And so much more solicitude now I had, what thing, I could hereafter pitch upon as certain, from the shame I suffered, in that I being so long deluded and deceived by the Manichees with the promise of all certainties in their school, had, with a childish ignorance and stubbornness pra∣ted so many now discoursed uncertainties for things most certain; for, that the things, I then maintained, were ut∣terly false, I fully discerned not till afterward: But alrea∣dy certain I was, that they were uncertain, and that by

me formerly they were taken for certain, when I so blind∣ly accused thy Catholick Church, now sufficiently cleared to me, though not * that she taught the truth, yet, *that she taught not the opinions, I so vehemently persecuted.

CHAP. IV.

Confuted, he blames his former, too much caution and jealou∣sie, * in assenting to the Ca••holick tenents:

THus I was confounded, and converted, & much joyed (O my God) to find, that thy only Church, the body of thy only son, in which my insancy had received the name of Christ, entertained no such childish conceits, nor containd any such fancy in her most pure & sound doctrine as should croud up thee, the Creator of all things, within a circle of place, though never so high and large, yet on every side terminated and surrounded, and thee also, there cloth∣ed with an humane forme.

And I rejoyced also, that those old writings of the Law and the prophets were now proposed to me to be peru∣sed with another eye, than that with which, read formerly, they seem'd absurd, when thy Saints were accused by me of understanding them otherwise, than really they did. And I was glad also, to hear thy servant Ambrose in his sermons often repeating this rule, as if he would most diligently re∣commend it, Litera occ••idit, spiritus autem viv••ficat, the letter kills, but the spirit giveth life. Where, whilst he drew aside the mystical veile, and opened the spiritual sense of many things; which according to the letter seem to teach something unsound, he said such things, * as then gave me no offence, though not, *as then convinced me of their truth. For warily I guarded my soul from all as∣sentment; and whilst I feared a precipice, was mean∣while ruined by my too much suspense; whilst of things not subjected to sense, I required the same certainty, as I had of such an account, as this, that 7. and 3. make 10. For I was not so senseless then, as to think, that neither this could certainly be known; but even so demonstrable as this, I desired to have all things else, whither corpo∣real, such as were not obvious to my sense; or spiritual, of which I had only a corporeal conceit. And in this thing believing would easily have cured me, that the bet∣ter-cleared eyesight of my mind might in some manner have speculated thy truth, for ever permanent, and in no∣thing deficient. But as the infirme who have fallen into

the hands of an unskilful Physitian, afterward fear to com∣mit themselves to the good, such was this malady of my soul; which without believing could not be healed, and refused also to be so cured, for ••••ar it should believe again something that was fal e, not smi••ring thy hand upon me, who hast compounded this medici••e of faith, and applyed it to the di eases of all the World, and given unto it such power and efficacy to cure them.

CHAP. V.

And * in acknowledging the divine authority of the Scriptures, as they are delivered by the Church.

ANd in this thing also I could not but preferr the Ca∣tholick doctrine; where, with more modesty, and no fal••e dealing, I was pl inly required to believe, what was not demonstrated (whither the thing were demonstrable, though all not capable thereof, or whither it were not) before the Manichean proceedings, where first, with a temerarious promising of certain science, such credulity was derided: and next, so many fables and absurdities, which could never be demonstrated, were imposed to be believed. But afterward by little and little thou (O Lord) with a gentle and mercifull hand touching my sores and composing my soul, didst throughly perswade me in this matter: after that I had well considered, how many things I, not seeing and farr absent when they were acted, yet firmly believed; As, so many things in secu∣lar histories; so many things of Countries and Cities ne∣ver viewed by me; so many things heard from my friends, from my Physitian, from many others, which if not cre¦dited, an end must be put to all humane soci ty and commerce. Lastly, wh••n I ••s••••er••d, how firmly I be∣lieved, that I was born of such parents, a thing not known to me but by crediting anothers relation: Thou at last perswad dst me, I say, That not so much those who believed thy books, which with so gr••••t authority, thou hadst established alm••st thr•• ••ll Nations, as those who believed them not were blameworthy.

Nor were any such to be hearkened, to, who should say: How knowest thou, that these books were, by the Holy Spirit of the true, and truth-communicating, God, delivered to mankind? For this point of all the 〈◊〉〈◊〉 is most rationally credible. For first no sophistry nor ••••∣villing questions, that I had read in the contradicting Phi∣losophers, could ever stagger this faith in me, That thou

art, (though I were ignorant what thou art;) and that the Government of humane affairs belongs unto thee. Though I confess, this faith in me was sometimes stronger, sometimes weaker, yet alwayes I believed, that thou were; and that we also were a care unto thee; though I knew not what to think of thy substance, nor of the way of thy guiding and reducing man unto thee. Again since our too great weakness, to find out clear and evi∣dent truth, had need also of the revelation of some di∣vine writings, I began now to believe; that thy care o∣ver us, would never suffer such a swaying authority throughout all the World to be given to these writings, unless it had also been thy good pleasure, that acccording to them, we should believe in thee, according to them, seek thee.

For now the seeming absurdities which offended me in thy Scripture, after a many of them so probably expound∣ed, were imputed by me to the altitude of its mysteries: and the authority thereof seemed to me so much the more venerable and worthy of a religious credit, in that it yielded it self to be read by all in an humble stile, and yet preserved the honour of its secrets in a more pro∣found meaning: stooping to every one in the plainness of its words, and lowness of its phrase, and yet exerci∣sing the best observance of those who are not light of heart; that it might, with a displayed bosom, receive all, though, through its narrow passages, it transmits but few unto thee; yet many more transmitted thus, than if it either had not reached so high in the top of its mysteri∣ous authority, or not invited such multitudes into the lap of its venerable humility.

CHAP. VI.

His ambition, and the cares attending it. His great solici∣tude being to speak a Panegyrick before the Emperour; much envying the secure mirth of a poor beggar seen in the street.

THese things I mused, and thou wast with me; I sighed unto thee, and thou heardest me: I wav'd to and fro, and yet thou didst steer me, I walked in the broad and trodden way of this World, yet thou didst not desert me. I pursued after Honours, Wealth, Marriage, and thou smiledst at me. And I underwent, in these my lusts, most bit∣ter crosses, and thou wast the more kind to me, the more unsweet thou mad'st all that to me, which was not thee.

See my heart (O Lord) thou whose pleasure it is, I should now recollect the••e things, and confess them before thee, and let my soul now adhere unto thee, after it hath been, from that tenacious birdlime of death, so rescued by thee. In what a miserable condition was it at that time, and thou continuedst to prick and chafe the sensibleness of its wound, that, leaving all things, it might return unto thee, who art above all things, and without whom all things would be nothing at all; that it might return, and so be healed. How miserable was I then! and how didst thou advance the sense of that my misery, upon a time, when, (preparing in praise of the Emperour a Pa∣negyrick full of lies, and yet applauded by those, who knew them to be so, my heart trembling with restless care, and burning in a fever of consuming thoughts) as I passed through a certain street of Millain, I happened to cast my eye upon a poor beggar, with his belly well filled, (as I suppose) who was very jocund and full of mirth: Whom seeing, I fetched a great sigh and began to discourse with my friends, then with me, the many sor∣rowes and sufferings of our vain follies; For we sought no more with all our labours (such as that I then travail'd with, whilst, pricked forward by the goad of my ambi∣bitions, I drew after me a heavy load of my own infelici∣ty, and in drawing it on still augmented it) we sought I say no more, than to arrive at a secure mirth, void of care: * in which that poor beggar had already prevented us, and * to which perhaps we should never attain. For what he had already gained with a few pence, and those got by begging, that was I still toiling for, through so many winding and difficult paths, namely, the pleasure of a temporal felicity.

It is granted, that this was no true pleasure which he had, but yet I, in my ambitions, pursued a much falser. And, surely, merry he was, whilst I perplexed; he in security, whilst I in fear: and the question being asked; which were the better; mirth, or fear; I should have answered, mirth doubtless. Yet being demanded again; which I would ra∣ther chuse, his, or my own condition; I should have e∣lected my own, laden with cares and fears as it was, but this only out of a perverseness; for, was there any true reason for it? For neither was I at all, in this my choice, to be preferred, because the more learned; since I joyed, not in it, but in pleasing men with it: and not in teach∣ing them also with it, but only in pleasing them; and

therefore (meanwhile) thou didst most justly, thus break my bones with the s••affe of thy severe discipline.

Away with those therefore from my soul, who say unto it, That there is great difference, what thing it is, that one (secularly) joyes in. Drink was the cause of the beggars mirth; Glory was the obiect of mine. And what a glory is it O Lord, that is not in thee? For as his was no true joy, so neither was mine true glory: and much more did my glory overturn my reason, than his drink did his, and he that very night should d••gest his distemper, but I had long time slept and rose again with mine, and so was to do (thou, God, knowest) for how many dayes. Some difference therefore indeed there is, upon what grounds a man rejoyceth; and, no doubt, a Christians hope in thee incomparably excells that vanity of his; but the advantage in this point between us was on his side, and he was much the happier of the two; not only, because his heart was swel'd with mirth, when mine was shrunk with cares, but, that he with his pray∣ing for people had got some good wine, I, by lying to them, sought for empty glory.

I said many things to this purpose to those my intimates, and often on these occasions observed how my pulse beat; and I found, things were not well with me; and I sor∣rowed, and, by it, doubled my evill. And if I some∣times light on some pro••perous occurrent that pleased me, I was almost loth to entertain or solace my self in it, because, when hardly yet seized on, it flew away again from me.

CHAP. VII.

Of his friend Alipius, his Scholler at Carthage, whom he there reclaimed from the vain sports of the Circus, but in∣fected him with Manicheisme.

THese things were much bemoaned, amongst a compa∣ny of us, that lived friendly together, though I com∣municated my thoughts more familiarly with Alipius and Nebridius. Alipius was born in the same town where I was, and his Parents of the best rank there; younger then I, and, before time, my scholler; both when I first set up school ••n my own Town, and afterward at Carthage: and he loved me dearly for my seeming, piety, & learning; and I him again, for his great inclinations to vertue: which in so slender an age were very eminent. Yet had

the stream of the licentious customes of Carthage (ex∣treamly given to those vain sports) carried him away to an immoderate affection to the sh••ws of the Circus.† I then professed Rhetorick at Carthage, and kept a publick School. But, by reason of some unkindness risen be∣tween his Father and me, he at that time was none of my Auditors. And I knew well, that he was miserably be∣witched with the Circus; and was much afflicted, that so great a hopefulness would be, or rather was already, lost: but, in this coniuncture found no means either of ad∣monishing, or of restraining him, from the good will of a friend, or from the authority of a Master: For I imagi∣ned he had the same opinion of me with his Father; though it was much otherwise; and he, neglecting his Fathers quarrell, began kindly to salute me, coming ma∣ny times into my Auditory, hearing some part of my Lecture and so erelong departing; whence I still forgat to negotiate with him, that he would not suffer a blind and precipitate affection to such vain sports to ruine so good a wit. But thou (O Lord) who sittest at the helme and steerest the course of all things which thou hast created, thou didst not then forget him, that, one day, he should be numbred amongst thy Children, and be a Bishop, and dispenser of thy Holy Sacrament. And, that his reformation in this matter might be clearly attribu∣ted to thee, thou effectedst it by me indeed, but unknown to me. For, one day I being in the wonted place, and my Schollers about me, he came in, saluted me, sat down, attended to my Lecture, whilst, for the illustrating the subject in hand to ••ender it both more pleasant and more plain, I borrowed a very apt similitude (as I thought) from the Cir••ensian shews, not without a tart derision of such, as were fondly captivated with such a madness, (thou knowest O our God) without any thought at that time of conferring any thing to the cure of Alipius his malady. But he presently applied it to himself, and thought it was aimed at him; and, whence another would have taken oc∣casion to have been angry with me, that good youth did * to be angry with himself, and, for it, yet more dearly * to love me. For thou hast said it long ago. Rebuke the wise and he will love thee. Yet I then intended no re∣buke toward him, but thou employest us, knowing and not knowing, in thy designes, according to the order thou hast appointed; and that order is alwayes most just. Thus from my heart and tongue thou applyedst burning coals

whereby thou mightest scorch and awaken the stupified soul of that hopeful disposition, and so mightest heal it. Let him conceal thy praises, who weigheth not thy mer∣cies, which from the bottom of my soul are confessed un∣to thee. For Alipius presently upon those words reco∣vered himself out of that deep ditch, wherein he was wil∣lingly sunk, and blinded with a miserable pleasure: and he shook his mind with a resolute forbearance; and all the Circensian filth, he had contracted, dropt off from it, and he returned thither no more. And after this he prevailed with his unwilling Father to become my Scholler again, and, beginning to be my Auditor, became likewi••e in∣volved in the same superstitions with me, and, much ta∣ken with the Manicheans, extolled continency; which he supposed to be sincere and true, but it was indeed so∣phisticate and inveigling, catching pretious souls, who as yet knew not how to reach to the height of true sancti∣ty, and therefore were easily deceived by the resemblance of a shadowed, and counterfeit vertue.

CHAP. VIII.

Alipius, before him, a Student of the law at Rome, how seduced there (though very averse) to behold, and there to delight in, the bloody shews of the Gladiators.

HE, pursuing the secular course of life which was pressed upon him by his parents, was gone to Rome before me, to study the laws there. And, (there) was again carried away to the Gladiatory shews, with an in∣credible passion, and after as incredible a manner. For, he being much averse from, and detesting, such sports, some friends and fellow-students, meeting him in the streets after dinner, with a familiar violence, would needs hurry him along with them (though making much re∣sistance and many excuses) to the Amphitheater, upon a day when those cruel and mortall sports were there ex∣hibited. He saying to them: If ye do hale my body thither, and fixe it there, yet can ye force me to lend my mind or my eyes at least to such a loathed spectacle? Ther∣fore in my corporall presence there I will be absent, and so triumph or'e both you, and it.

They, hearing this, notwithstanding had him along, perhaps to try whether he had power to do, as he said: whither so soon as they came, and had gotten places, pre∣sently these horrid sports began.

But Alipius shutting the doores of his eyes, barred up also his soul from going forth to such mischeivous objects; and would to God he had as well bolted his eares too! For, upon a certain accident in the fight, a great shout be∣ing raised by the people, he, out of curiosity, and prepa∣red, whatever it might be, though seeing, to despise, it, opened his eyes; and hence was presently struck with a greater wound in his soul, than the Gladiator, (beheld by him) was in his body; and fell himself farre more mise∣rably, than he at whose fall this clamour was made; which entred through his eares, and unlocked his eyes, through which a mortal blow was given to his soul, yet more confident, than confirm'd; and for this also the weaker, that it presumed to have from it self, what it could owe to thee alone. For no sooner had he seen that stream of blood, but he also drunk down the cruelty and savage∣ness thereof, with eyes no more averted, but fixed upon it: and he sucked in those furies, and knew not, and be∣came delighted with the crime of the combat, and inebri∣ated with those bloody pleasures. And no more was he the man he came, but now one of the multitude amongst whom he sate, and their true Associate, with whom he came. What shall I more say? He beheld, he shouted, he grew hot upon the sport, he carried away a longing mad∣ness to return, not only with his former seducers, but be∣fore them, and without them, and seducing others. And yet from hence also, with a most strong and merciful hand, thou savedst him; and by this also learnedst him, that he could have nothing from himself, but all from thee. But this was long afterward.

CHAP. IX.

Of his being apprehended, when S. Austin's Schollar, at Car∣thage, for a Thief. His going to S. Austin to Millain, where he practiseth in the Law.

ANd this his fall was laid up in his memory for a cauti∣on for the future. As also was that which happened to him at Carthage, when my Schollar; where, walk••ng at mid-day in the Forum, meditating an exercise that he was afterward to recite, he was apprehended by the Officers of the Forum for a Thief; which I suppose (O our God) thou permittedst for no other reason, than that he, so great a man that was to be, might learn by this, how wary one should be, in hearing causes, of hastily con∣demning

any upon a slight credulity. For as he was then walking alone, with his table-book and stile in his hand, be∣fore the Tribunal, another of the Schollars, a true Thief, carrying secretly a hatchet, undiscovered by him, had got into the leads, that covered the Silver-smiths shops, and there fell on cutting them. The Silver-smiths underneath hearing the sound of the hatchet, send some to appre∣hend any they should find there; and the youth over∣hearing their murmurings, as quickly left his instrument, for fear he should be taken with it, and got away. And Alipius, who saw him, though not at his going in, yet coming forth, and making such hast away, desirous to know the cause, went into the place, and taking up the hatchet, stood wondring, what he had been doing with it; when they that were sent come in, and find him with the hatchet in his hand: they lay hold on him, draw him a∣long, and, calling the Shop-keepers of the Forum together, rejoice, as if they had taken the true Thief in the very act; and so he was to be carried before the Judge. And thus far thy Servant was to be instructed. But thou (O Lord) presently relievedst that his innocency, of which thou wast a sole witness. For as he was led, either to pri∣son, or to punishment, there met him the Architect, that had the chief oversight of those publick buildings; And glad the Officers were that they met him, especially (who was apt to suspect some of them for the thefts done there) that he might now at length see, who had done all those robberies. But so it happened, that this man had often seen Alipius in a Senatours house, which he fre∣quented: and, knowing him, took him by the hand aside, and was informed by him, how all things had passed: and so intreating the people, who made a great tumult, and used many threats, to go along with him, he came to the house of the young man who had done the fact, where, stood at the door the Gentlemans boy, who had attended on him in the Forum, so little a one, as that he might tell all the matter, without having suspicion therefrom of any hurt to his Master. Alipius, knowing him again, streight intimated so much to the Artificer, and he▪ presently shew∣ing the hatchet to the boy, asked if he knew whose it might be? who quickly answered, tis our hatchet; then, further examined, told all the rest. So the crime was devolved on another, and the insulting multitude asha∣med; and He that was to be a Dispenser of thy Word, and an Examiner of many Causes in thy Church,

became more experienced and instructed for his Office.

CHAP. X.

A memorable example of Alipius his Integrity. Concern∣ing his other Friend Nebridius, deserting his countrey for St. Austin's society, and the study of wisdome.

HIm therefore I found at Rome, and he there adhered to me with a most strong bond of friendship, and went also with me to Millain; both for the enjoyment of my society, and for following the practise of the Laws there, which he had studied more from his Parents, than his own, affection thereto. In which employment he had been already an Assessor† of Justice; much admired by the rest of his profession for his integrity and incorrupt∣ness; and he as much wondring at them for their valuing gold above vertue. And his inclinations also had been strongly, but in vain, assaulted, not only with the bait of co∣vetousness, but the spurr of fear. For at Rome, he being an Assessor in Court to the Lord Treasurer of the Italian contribution, there was a Roman Senator of great autho∣rity, to whose favours many were obliged, and to whose terror many obnoxious, who would needs have, I know not what, usurpation allowed to his power, which was prohibited by the Laws. Alipius withstood him in it: he was promised a reward, he rejected it with scorn: was assaulted with threats, slighted them also; whilst all admi∣red such an extraordinary spirit, that neither wished a man, so great and renowned, for the many wayes he had of doing courtesies and displeasures, his friend; nor feared him, his enemy. And the Judge himself, whose Assessor and Counseller he was, though he had rather the Sena∣tors suit should not have been granted, yet did not open∣ly declare himself against it, but casting the blame upon Alipius, said, that he would not consent thereto. For in∣deed had he passed it, the other would have gone off the Bench. With one desire (and that was in the way of his studies) was Alipius almost overswayed; and that was to get himself a Library of Books taken up at the Praetors price. But consulting justice in this, he rectified his purpose, esteeming equity more gainful to him, by which he was prohibited this priviledge, than his power could be, by which he might have used it.

What I have said of him is in no great matter, But he that is faithful in that which is least, is faithful also in much: nor can that possibly be spoken to no purpose, which came from the mouth of thy Truth, If ye have not been faith∣ful in the unrighteous Mammon, who will commit to your trust true riches? and if ye have not been faithful in that which is another mans, who shall give you that which is your own? He then, (such a man as I haue described) ad∣joyned himself to me, and with me laboured in the same uncertainty of what course of life were fittest to be pro∣secuted by us.

Nebridius likewise leaving, * his own Country not farre from the principal City, Carthage, and * Carthage also it self, where his residence most usually was, leaving his Fathers Lands, and his House, an excellent seat, and his Mother de∣solate (who would not follow his travels, as mine did), He also came to Millain, for no other cause, but to live and joyn with me in the same zealous quest after Verity and Wisdom▪ and such likewise was his suspiring, such his fluctuation; an ardent Inquisitor after a beatifical life; and an acute Discusser of the most difficult questions. And here now were the famished mouths of three necessitous persons, breathing their spiritual poverty and wants one to another, gasping towards, and waiting on thee, until thou shouldest give them their meat in due season. And, in that bitterness and anguish of spirit, which, (by thy great mercy), followed our secular employments, when we ex∣amined the end, why we should suffer such ungrateful la∣bours, we discovered nothing but darkness; and we turn∣ed away our faces with grief, and said: How long will this be? and this we often said; yet, saying so, did not leave such things, because there appeared elsewhere nothing certain, to which, these forsaken, we might confidently ad∣here.

CHAP. XI.

S. Austin's reasoning with himself concerning his past and present condition, and the disposal of his future life; the misery he apprehended to be in a single life.

AND I wondered extremely, when I considered what a long time it was since the nineteenth year of my age; when I began first to be enflamed with the pursuite of Wisdom; resolving, upon discovery thereof, to quit all other empty hopes, and deceiving frenzies of vanish∣ing

desires: and now behold me thirty years old, still sticking in the same mire, covetous after the fruition of things, * present, * drawing me hither and thither, and * then flying from me; whilst I said to my self; To mor∣row I shall find it out; it will clearly discover it self, and I shall embrace it: and; Behold, Faustus will come, and will expound all to me. O wise Academicks (then said I) in whose opinion, there is nothing certainly knowable for the regulating of humane life Nay; (said I then) But let us not despair, but more diligently search on: Behold there are not those absurdities in the Ecclesiastical Books that we imagined, but they may be otherwise, and ratio∣nally, interpreted. Finally, let me remain in those noti∣ons of Religion, wherein my childhood was instructed by my parents, till clear truth be found out. But where, or when, shall we seek it? Ambrose is not at leisure; nor have we the leisure to read books. Where shall we seek these books? with what, or, in what time, procure them? upon whose recommendations take them?—Nay; but let us set some times apart; let us contribute some certain houres for the salvation of our soul: Great hope appears; the Church Catholick teacheth not, what we thought, and whereof vainly we accused her. Her learned condemn it as blasphemous, to think God terminated with an hu∣mane shape, and doubt we to knock, that the rest may be opened? My Schollars employ my forenoon houres; for the rest of my time what do I; why not do this? But when then visit our greater friends, whose favours we must use? when prepare the matter we sell to our Schol∣lars? and when repair our spirits, in relaxing our mind from this intention of cares?— Perish all; and let these vain and empty solicitudes be dismissed; and let us now set our selves only to this inquisition of truth. The life we live is wretched; death uncertain; if it should sud∣denly seize on us, in what a case go we hence? and where ever shall we learn, what here neglect? or more; shall not this our neglect, then, be punished? But yet, what if death deprive the soul of all its sense, and its cares, to∣gether? Then is this also worthy to be sought out. But God forbid, it should be so. Sure, 'tis no vain, no empty matter, that the authority of the Christian faith should thus o're spread all the world with so great pre-eminence and renown; and, surely, the divine hand would not have operated so great things for us, if, together with the death of the body, were also wasted and extinguish'd the life of

the soul?? Why delay we then, the hopes of the present age forsaken, to give up our selves wholly to the search of God and happiness.

But deferre a while: these things are also pleasant, and have in them no little sweetness. Let us not call off our intentions from them too hastily, because, after this done, it will be dishonourable to return to them; see how little we want of acquiring some place of honour in the world, and this obtained, we may then set up our rest. Great store of friends we have, very potent; if nothing else be got, and our hast will not stay for a better place, yet we may soon attain a Presidentship: And then a Wife also must be gotten with a reasonable dowry, that she may not be a charge. And here shall my secular desires take up. Many great and imitable persons have bestowed them∣selves in the study of wisdom, being married.

Whilst I discoursed such things, and these contrary winds drove my heart to and fro, the times ran on; and I foreslowed to be converted to the Lord God; and de∣ferred from day to day to live in thee, though I deferred not daily, more and more to die, in my self. In love with a beatifical life, yet I feared to find it where it was, and sought after it, by flying from it. For I thought I should be in too wretched a condition, if deprived of the embra∣ces of a woman; and I imagined not the medicines of thy mercy to cure this infirmity, because I had not tryed them, and supposed continency an effect of our own abi∣lity, in which I found mine too weak. For I was so unin∣structed, that I knew it not to be written, That none is con∣tinent, but from thy gift; But that thou wouldest give it, if I did with hearty sighs and groanes knock at thy eares, and with a solid faith cast upon thee my cares.

CHAP. XII.

The disputes between Him and Alipius (most chastly disposed) concerning marriage and single life.

INdeed Alipius much disswaded me from marrying, al∣ledging, we could no way with any secure leisure attend upon our long purposed search of Wisdom, if I ran this course. For himself was in those years chast even to a wonder. For that which the beginnings of his youth had unhappily tasted, he longed not after it any more, but ra∣ther ••amented it, and despised it, and lived most conti∣nently ever after. And I opposed against him examples,

of those, who in matrimony had studied wisdom, accep∣tably-served God, and faithfully observed and loved their friends. Notwithstanding; of which mens greatness of spi∣rit I indeed came farr short, and being delighted with that disease of my flesh, and with those deadly suavities, drew my chain still after me, fearing to be loosed from it, and, as it were, with a shrugging of my sore, repelling the words of him so well advising me, as the hand of one, that would unchain me.

Moreover the Serpent also, by me, tempted and spake to Alipius, and by my tongue wove and spread most plea∣sing nets in his way, to entangle those vertuous and right treading feet. For when as he much wondered at me (of whom he had no small esteem) that I should stick, so fast, in the bird-lime of that pleasure, as that, so often as he spoke to me of this subject, I affirm'd I could not possibly passe my life in Celibacy, and defended my self against his admiration with saying, that there was a vast difference between his transitory, stoln pleasure, long since forgotten, and therefore easily contemned, and my well-experienced and accustomed delights; which being also by marriage once rendered honest, that then he could have no reason at all to blame my choice of such a life. Upon this, I say, he also began to desire a married condition, not overcome with the lust,* of such a pleasure, out * of curiosity; for he said, he longed much to know, what those delights were, without which this my life, so pleasant to him, seemed not a life, but a pain unto me. For that soul, free from such yoak, became astonished at my thraldome, and from this astonishment, proceeded to a desire of trying it, from that desire ready to advance to the experiment it self, and from thence, perhaps, to fall into that thraldome he so much wondered at, because he was so bold to make a Treaty and Covenant with Death; and because, he that loveth danger, shall fall into it. For neither of us, if there be any conjugal honour, in the office of ruling a family, and of educating children, were moved with that, unlesse very slightly. But it was the custom of satisfying unsatia∣ble lust, that, for the greatest part, and with the most vehe∣mency, agitated me already enslaved; and it was the ad∣miration at me, that led-on him to become enslaved. And in this deplorable case we were, until thou, the most High, not deserting that our lowness, but commiserating that our misery, didst by thy wonderful and secret wayes con∣trive our relief.

CHAP. XIII.

S. Austin Suitor to a yong Maid, with whom marriage is intended (but she as yet two years too young) His Mother seeks, but cannot obtain any revelation from God concerning this marriage.

UPon this, great endeavour there was, that I should shortly be married. Already there was one that I made suit to; already she was promised to me; chiefly by my Mothers soliciting, that so, my unlawful lusts being reformed by marriage, I might be washed from all my former uncleannesses by purifying Baptism, for which she perceived me to be daily better and better disposed, and her prayers and thy promises to be fulfilled in my pro∣fession of the Faith. Yet when, both from my intreaty and her own inclination, she with strong affection of heart importuned thee daily, to shew to her by vision something concerning my future marriage, thou never vouchsafedst it; only some vain fantastical imaginations she saw, proceed∣ing from the vehemency of her spirit, intent only on that subject: which she related also to me, but with a careless sleighting of them, and not with that confidence she used in things which thou hadst manifested to her. For she said, she well discerned by (I know not what) secret tast and rellish, which she could not express, the difference between thy Revelations and her own Dreams. Yet ve∣ry earnest she continued in this business; and a Maid was sued to, and gained; not yet marriageable by two years; nevertheless, because I had a good liking to her, I was con∣tent to stay so long for her.

CHAP. XIV.

Their living, a many, together, and having all things common, in a married condition, designed; but soon laid aside.

ANd a many friends of us together, had long consider∣ed, and, (in often discoursing one to another, and detesting, the vexatious tumults of a worldly life,) had almost resolved, remote from the crowd thereof, to spend ours in quiet and vacancy from secular affairs. Having so design'd this retirement, that every one should bring in what he had, and one common stock be made of all; where nothing should belong to this or that person, but all to

every one, and every thing to all; There were about some ten of us ready to have joyned in this society; and some of them of great estates; especially one Romanianus† my fellow-townsman, and familiar acquaintance from our youth (whom many important and perplexed affairs had brought to the Court)† and he was the most earnest upon this busines, and having a much better estate than any of the rest, had most power to perswade it. And we had agreed, that two of us yearly, as it were Governours, should be chosen to take care of all ne∣cessaries, whilst the rest remained in repose, and without trouble. But when we took into consideration how the Wives would like this (which many of us had, and the rest would have) this whole plot, so well-moulded, fell in pieces, and was broken, and cast aside. Whence we re∣turned again to our former sighs and complaints, and our steps to tread the broad and beaten paths of this world. Because‖ many cogitations are in mans heart, but it is the Counsel of the Lord, that endureth for ever. From which Counsel of thine, thou didst then deride our pro∣jects, and didst make way for thy own; ready to† give us food in due season, and to open thy hand, and to fill our souls with thy Benediction.

CHAP. XV.

His former Concubine (of whom see lib. 4. cap. 2.) be∣ing removed (as an impediment to his marriage) and leaving with him the Son he had by her, returns into Africk; vows continency; in stead of whom he privately takes ano∣ther.

MEanwhile mine iniquities were still multiplied; and; she being removed from my side, (as an impedi∣ment to my marriage), whom I formerly companied with, my heart, which clave unto her, being now, as it were, torn from her, became wounded, and bleeding. And away she departed into Africk; vowing unto thee never to know any other man, and leaving with me the Son I had by her. But unhappy I, not able to imitate a woman, impatient of the two yeares delay, (in which time I might not enjoy her I made suit to) and being not so much a lover of marriage, as a slave of lust, got me ano∣ther,

though no Wife, that so, by the continuance of the same custome with her, I might sustain and preserve in its vigour, or also augment, that disease of my soul, till it might arrive to the kingdom of marriage. And thus was the wound, that was made in me by the cutting off of my former Concubine, not now cured at all, but, after most acute and burning torments, grown more putrified and corrupt, and, under a colder, and less violent pain, a more desperate sore.

CHAP. XVI.

Yet his lusts somewhat restrain'd, from the fear he had * of death, and * of the soules immortality, and * of future judgements.

TO thee be praise; To thee be glory; (Fountain of mercies): thou camest still more near, as I became more wretched: And even very now was thy right hand ready, when I was quite sunk, to pull me out of this mire, and to wash me clean; and I knew nothing thereof. Nor was there any thing that stayed me from yet-a-deeper stream of carnal voluptuousness, save the fear of, death, and thy judgement to come: which terrour, by all my vari∣ous opinions, could never be quite defaced in my soul. And often I reasoned with my friends, Alipius, and Nebridius, * of the ends of good, and wicked, persons; and * that Epi∣curus above all men with me should carry away the prize, but that I believed, the soul, after death, still lived, and was treated, according to its merit••; a thing which Epicurus credited not.

And I asked, whether if so be we might be immortal, and might live in the perpetuated pleasures of the body, with∣out any fear at all of losing them any more, whether (I say) this were not enough to be happy? or whether some thing else were desirable to it? not knowing that this also was a great part of my misery, that so deeply plunged and blinded I could not cast my thoughts upon the fair light of vertue and honesty, and that soveraign beauty, interiorly by the soul discerned, though not by the eye of flesh, which is imbraced gratis, and without any bodily pleasure issuing from it.

Neither considered I, so wretched, from what Principle it came, that this was to me a great pleasure, sweetly to confer with my friends, even concerning these filthy plea∣sures; and that without friends also, I could not be happy,

(according to my then opinion) though in never so much affluence of those carnal delights; Yet which friends I lo∣ved gratis, without any interest of my corporal plea∣sure, and so perceived my self gratis also of them be∣loved.

O crooked paths! Wo to the audacious soul, that de∣parting from thee foolishly hopes, elsewhere, to find some∣thing better; and, when she hath turned and returned her self, on back, and sides, and belly, she finds all things hard, and uneasie, and thee only, Rest. And yet behold thou patiently stayest by us, and freest us from these our miserable wandrings, and puttest us into thy way, and en∣couragest us, and sayest: Run; and I will sustain you, and I will conduct you through, whither you desire to go; and at your journeys end also, I will sustain you.

LIB. VII.

CHAP. I.

His entrance now, being thirty years old, into mans estate. His apprehension of God, as inviolable, incorruptible, immuta∣ble, every way infinite, but yet corporeal.

* DEceased now was my youth, so evil and so profane, and I, * entred into the state of man∣hood; advancing in vanity, as in age; and imagining no substance, but only such as with these our eyes we usually behold. I indeed never thought thee, O God, to bear an humane shape; since the time I had heard any thing of wisdom, I alwayes avoided so grosse a conceit: and was much joyed, when I found the same also to be the faith of our spiritual Mother thy Ca∣tholick Church; but what other thing I should think thee to be was not easily resolved. And I, a man and such a man, yet endeavoured to know, and apprehend thee, the supreme, and the only, and the true God: and, from the bottom of my soul, I believed thee to be incorruptible, and inviolable, and immutable; because (how, and whence, I know not, but) I plainly saw and was assured, △ that that which cannot be corrupted, nor injured, and

hurt, nor changed, was, doubtless, more perfect, and more excellent, than what is capable of corruption, or violation, or mutation. And then again; △ that no soul ever was, or shall be, able to imagin any thing, which should be something better than thee, who art the very best and chiefest Good. But, since the incorruptible is, most truly and certainly, preferrable before the corruptible, I could, with my thought, have ascended unto something, that would have been better than my God, unless thou wert incorruptible. [ ] But still I was forced to imagin thee, though not figured like a man, yet as something corpo∣real; having a certain space of being, either infused into, and through all the world, or also diffused infinitely be∣yond it; because what I abstracted from being in such space, seem'd to me, not to be at all. [ ] I therefore con∣ceived thy greatness (O Life of my life) to be such, as to penetrate (by an extension through an infinite space), on every side the whole masse of the world, and to flow to all immensity beyond it, without any limit; so that thee, the earth had, the heavens had thee, all things had thee, and they were bounded in thee, but thou no where. And as this body of air, which floats above the earth, hin∣ders not the darting of a sun-beam through it, which beam penetrates it, not by cutting or breaking the parts, but by filling the whole; in such manner I conceived the bodies, not only of the heavens, or of the air, or water, but of the thicker earth also, transpassable by thee, and in all her least, as well as greatest, parts, pierceable, to receive every where thy presence, thus with thy secret inspiration, both intrinsecally and extrinsecally actuating and managing all those things which thou hast created. So I conceited, not able to think of any other way; Though this was false; For thus a greater part of earth would receive a greater part of thy essence, and a lesser, a lesse; And, in such a sense would all things be full of thee, that the body of an Elephant would contain a greater quantity of thee, than that of a Sparrow, by how much it is bigger and possessing a greater space, and so thou shouldest apply thy presence to the parts of the world by parcels; a greater part of thee to the large, and a lesser to the small. But thou art nothing so. Notwith∣standing as yet thou hadst not so farre enlightened my darkness.

CHAP. II.

[ ]

CHAP. III.

Still unsatisfied concerning the cause of evill, and why Angels and Men being created by the most good God, there should, by him, be placed in them a power to will evilly.

BUt although I thus granted thee uncontaminable and unalterable, or liable to misery in any part, or member of thee, from the (Manichean-feigned) opposition of (I know not what) Gens tenebrarum or adverse malignant powers, arising out of another lump of matter, contrary to that which thou hadst made: which could it any way have hurt thee, thou must then (the very name of which all abhorre) have been supposed both violable and cor∣ruptible; (as was well pressed by Nebridius long since at Carthage, and had then much startled us, that heard it.) And although I also firmly acknowledged thee, our Lord, the true God, that madest not only our souls,† but bodies, but all, * of us, and * of all things, notwithstanding as yet I apprehended not, clearly, and free from scruples, the cause of Evil. Yet whatever it were, such I saw it must necessarily be, as might no way oblige me to believe, * thee, the immutable God, to be subject to change; nor * thy substance to suffer evil, rather than ours to do any evil; lest so my self should become, that I sought for. And I strained hard to see and discern (what I had heard,) that our own free-will, was the cause, that we did evil; and thy righteous judgements, that we suffered it. But I was not yet able to behold this clearly; But as I endea∣voured to raise up the eye of my soul above these deep waters, I presently sunk again, and, often endeavouring it, I sunk down again, and again.

On the one side, this elevated and buoy'd me up toward thy light, that already I knew as well, my self, to have a will, as to live. Therefore, in willing, or nilling, any thing, I was most certain no other thing but me to will and nill it; and I quickly observed also, that the cause of my sin was there. Again: whatever I did unwillingly and with re∣gret, I saw my self to suffer rather such evil, than to do it: and judged it to be not my fault, but punishment; which also I, apprehending thee as just, soon confessed, not to be unjustly inflicted.

But then I argued; And who made me? Did not my

God, not only good, but, goodness it self? from whom have I then, to will evilly, and to nill well; that so there might be that, for what I might be justly punished? Who put this thing into me? who planted in me this root of bitterness, All of me being made by the most sweet Creator? If the Devil the author of it, whence then the Devil? But if he also, by a perverse will, of a good Angel became a Devil, whence came in him this evil will, by which he became such, since he totally was made, by the best God, a good Angel? And by these thoughts was I plunged again, and suffocated, yet not so low as that infernal error, to believe; That thou rather didst (forced∣ly) suffer, than man do, evil.

CHAP. IV.

[ ]

CHAP. V.

Pursuing the same query still; Unde malum? Yet, * his faith of Christ to be our Lord and Saviour, remaining in Him firm and unshaken.

ANd I sought from whence Evil might come, and I sought evilly; yet saw not this evil in my inquisiti∣on: And my spirit placed before it the whole Universe, both of visibles; as the Earth, Sea, Air, Starrs, Plants, Animals, &c. and of invisibles; as the Firmament of Heaven, and all the Angels and spiritual Inhabitants there∣of. [ ]. After this, I considered thee my God, as eve∣ry way infinite and boundless, environing, and entirely pe∣netrating this masse, as a shoarless sea would fill a sponge of a great, but finite, magnitude, placed within it: so con∣ceived I the finite Creature filled with thee the infinite God: and I said within my self: Behold, God: and behold, all the things God hath created. O how good is he; and most perfectly and incomparably more excellent and bet∣ter, than they! yet, being good, he created these good; and behold, how he (outwardly) encircleth and (with∣in) replenisheth all his Creation. Where then is Evil? or, whence, or what way, hath it stoln in hither? what is the root, and what the seed of it? Or indeed is it at all? Why fear we then, and why avoid we, that which is not? Or, if we vainly fear, surely this fear it self is an evil, by which our soul is needlesly pricked and tortured. There∣fore, either there is an evil which we fear; or this, that we should so fear, is an evil. Whence is it then? because

God made all these things: the good God, all things good: He, the greater, and the supreme good, made these, the lesser; but yet both the creating and the created, all are good. From whence then is Evil? or out of what did God make these things? Was there some preexistent matter which was bad, and he formed and rectified this; but so, that he left something in it not converted into good? But why this then? Was he impotent to change it all, that so no more evil should remain in it, who yet is omnipotent? Lastly: why would he make any thing at all of it, and not rather by the same omnipotence annihi∣late it? [ ] and prepare another matter totally good, out of which he might produce all things? for he were not omnipotent, if he could not make any good, unless he were first furnished with some matter, which himself had not made.

Such things I agitated in my perplexed breast, loaded with corroding cares from fear of death. And not find∣ing out the truth, yet the faith concerning Christ, both our Lord, and our Saviour, retained in the Church Catho∣lick, was irremovably fixed in my heart; in many things indeed yet unformed, and floating besides the rule of sound doctrine; But my mind did never forsake it; yea, daily more and more sought to imbrace it.

CHAP. VI.

And * the lying divinations of Astrologers foretelling, from the starrs, future events, no way credited by him.

ALready also I had cast off the lying divinations and impious dotages of the Astrologers. And for this also let me confess unto thee, from the bottome of my soul, thy compassions (O my God). For it was thou, thou alone; (for who else recals us from the death of any errour, but the life never dying, and the wisdom, illuminating our needy minds, needing no illumination it self, by which the whole world is orderly administred, even to the wind-scattered leaves of trees.) It was thou, that procuredst for the re∣medying of my obstinacy († which opposed both Vendi∣cianus an acute old man and Nebridius, a youth of an ex∣cellent spirit; the one vehemently affirming; the other, somewhat doubtfully, yet often, repeating; That there was no Art at all of foreseeing or divining things future: but that mens conjectures had many times a luckiness in

them; and that, in their speaking many things that should, were spoken some things which did, after come to passe; not foreknown by those who said them, but happened on, by their not saying nothing). Thou procuredst (I say) a friend of mine, a curious consulter of Astrologers, though himself not much seen in it, who related to me something from his father, which (though he made little reflection thereupon) served very much for the over∣throw of the vain esteem of that Science. This man therefore (by name Firminus) ingenuously educated, and well studied in eloquence, consulting me, as one very dear to him, what I collected from his Constellations (as he call'd them) concerning some important affair of his, to which his secular hopes aspired; and I (who was now somewhat inclined to Nebridius his opinion) conjecturing, and divining thereupon, what my doubting mind met-with in the Art, but withall superadding, that I was almost perswaded, all those things were ridiculous and vain; he proceeded to tell me, how his father was a most curious student of such books, and had also a friend alike-affected; who, with emulating studies, and comparing of their ob∣servations, were so farre enflamed toward those toyes, as that, when any mute Animals of their own brought forth young, they marked the moment of their birth, and set down the positions of the Heavens in them, from whence they might gather some experiments of this Art. And he said, he had heard from his father, that when his mo∣ther was great with child of the said Firminus, a certain maid-servant of his friends happened to be big with child at the same time, not unremarked by her Master, (who observed with most exact diligence even the puppyings of his dogs); and that so it happened, that, they with most wary observation accounting, one the day, hour, minute, of his wifes, the other, of his maids, being brought to bed, both were delivered at the same instant, so that they were forced to set down the same calculation, to a minute, of the Nativity, one of his son, the other of his servant: For, as soon as the women fell in labour, they gave mutu∣all notice, and had one ready to send to each other, so soon as the child was born, and those sent, met so justly in the mid-way, that neither of them was permitted to ob∣serve any position of the starrs, or particle of time diffe∣rent from the other. And yet Firminus, as honourably descended, ran the more happy courses of this world, in∣creased in wealth, was advanced in dignities. But the

servant, having the yoke of his condition no way eased, waited on a Master, as he told me, vvho very vvell knevv him.

Hearing therefore and believing these things from so cre∣ditable an Author, all my former reluctance presently melted: and first I endeavoured to reduce Firminus from this curiosity; saying; That, from the inspection of his Constellations, to tell him the truth of what should suc∣ceed, I was in them to discern, that his parents were of better quality, his family noble of the City, where they lived, his extraction, and his education honourable, his studies ingenuous. But, if afterward the servant out of these Constellations (for he had the same) consulted me, to tell him the truth also, I must in them behold his fortune, a most abject family, a condition servile, and all other things, farr differing, and much contrary to the for∣mer. Whence it would follow, that, on the same aspects, I was to read contrary fortunes, if I foretold the truth; or, if I read the same fortune, must say what was false. And hence I gathered, that what is spoken true from conside∣ration of such Constellations, is said, not by Art, but by guesse; and what is spoken false, is not from any unskil∣fulness of Art, but from the errour of guessing.

From this entrance, upon a further consideration of these things; lest any, who lived by this trade, (whom I much desired to confute and render ridiculous) should reply, that Firminus to me, or his father at least to him, had told an untruth, I reflected my thoughts on those who are born twins, who ordinarily are excluded into the world so hastily one after the other, that the small interval of time, whatever operation they may pretend it to have in nature, yet cannot be collected by humane observation, nor expressed in the composition of any figure, out of which the Astrologer is to make his prognostication. His predictions therefore either cannot be true, if from peru∣sing the same figure he should say the same things (for example, of Esau and Jacob, when as the same things happened not to them both): Or, if true, he must not say the same of them, whereas yet his inspection was utterly the same. Therefore, not from Art, but chance, it is, that he speaketh truth. For thou, O Lord, the most just Mo∣derator of the Universe, whilst the consulters and the con∣sulted know not any thing, by a secret instinct orderest, what is fit, both that the one should say, and the other hear, according to the hidden merits of souls, and the abyss

of thy just judgement: To whom let none say: What is this? wherefore is that? let him not say, let him not say it: for he is but a man.

CHAP. VII.

Pr••secu••ing the same query Unde Malum?

THus loosed from these bonds by thee my Helper, yet I was still in a labyrinth concerning the query; From whence Evil; and could find no way out. Yet thou didst not suffer me, by any wayes of those my cogitations, to be carried away from the right faith, by which I believed; both that thou wert, and that thy substance was immuta∣ble, and that thou didst take a care of, and didst justice amongst, men: and that, in Christ thy Son our Lord, and in the holy Scriptures, which the authority of thy Catholick Church recommended unto me, thou hadst appointed a way of mans salvation in reference to that life, which, af∣ter this present death, shall be enjoyed. These points therefore being safe and well-quieted in my mind, I still hotly enquired, from whence should come Evil.

And what pangs were those of my heart in travel, what groans, O my God? And, there, were thine eares receiving them, and I knew it not; and whilst in silence I importu∣natly sought, the tacite contritions of my soul were pow∣erful clamours to thy mercy. [ ] And my desire was before thee: and the true light of mine eyes, was not with me; For it was within; and I was abroad: Neither possessed it any place: But my fancy was intent only upon things circumscribed by place; and amongst them I found no place of rest: and neither did they so well entertain me that I could say: I am well: this is enough. Nor yet did they quite release me to return, where it might be well enough with me. For I was much superiour to them, as inferiour to thee. And thou wouldest be true joy and sa∣tisfaction to me so long as remaining thy subject, and also hadst subjected unto me these things which thou hadst created below me.

And this was the right temper and the middle region of my felicity and safety, * to remain (as I was created) according to this thy Image, and serving thee, * to rule o••re these bodies. But when I would by my pride rise up a∣gainst thee, and with the buckler of a stiffe neck make head against my Lord and Master, even these lower things were made above me, and pressed me down, and there

was no relaxation, no taking breath, under them; but, when I offered to return into my self, and unto thee, the bodies themselves, rushing by troops unto my eyes, and the images of bodies unto my fancy, on every side way∣laid and opposed me: as if they had said: Whither goest thou, so unworthy; so filthy? To this height were my wounds increased, and the tumour of my spirit kept me at distance from thee, and my pride-swoln face closed-up my eyes.

CHAP. VIII.

BUt thou (O Lord) who abidest for ever, yet art not angry with us for ever; but hast compassion on this suddenly-perishing dust and ashes; and it seemed good in thy sight to reform all those my deformities, and, with In∣ternal and secret goads, thou renderedst me still impati∣ent, until, by a more inward sight diverted from corpo∣real phantasmes, I came to have a true discovery of thee. [ ]

CHAP. IX.

Ʋpon recommendation, he falls to reading the books of the Platonists, and d scovers in them much concerning the Divi∣nity of the Eternal Word, but nothing of the Humility of his Incarnation.

ANd first to shew me, * how thou resistest the proud, & givest Grace to the humble; And * how great a mer∣cy of thine it was, that the way of humility was demon∣strated unto man in thy Son's, being made flesh and dwel∣ling amongst men, thou procuredst me, by a man much swoln with humane Science, some books of the Platonists translated out of Greek into Latine. And in these I read, not in the same words indeed, but the very same thing, and that confirmed with great variety of reasons; * That in the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God; the same was in the beginning with God. All things were made by him, and without him was not any thing made that was made. In him was life, and the life was the light of men. And the light shined in darkness, and the darkness comprehended it not; And: * that the soul of man, though it bear witness of that light, yet is not it self the very light, but the Word of God is It. For God is, the true light, that enlightneth every man coming into this world, And: that he was in this world, and the world was made by him, and the

world knew him not — But: That he came unto his own, and his own received him not; But as many as received him, to them gave he power to become the Sons of God, even to them that believe on his name; this, there, I read not. —Again I read there: that God the Word was born, not of blood, nor of the will of the flesh, nor of the will of man, but of God. But then, That this Word was made flesh, and dwelt amongst us: This I read not there. For in those books I found fre∣quently said, and divers wayes expressed; That the Son is in the form of the Father, and thinks it not robbery to be equal with God, because really he is the same thing with him. But then; That he emptied himself, and took upon him the form of a servant; and was made in the likeness of men: and, be∣ing found in fashion as a man, he humbled himself and be∣came obedient unto death, even the death of the crosse: where∣fore God also hath highly exalted him from the dead, and gi∣ven him a name which is above every name, That at the name of Jesus every knee should bow, of things in heaven, and things in earth, and things under the earth, and that every tongue should confesse, that Jesus Christ is Lord in the Glory of the Father: This those books contain not. For indeed, that He, before and above all times, remains unchangeably thy Son only begotten, and coeternal unto thee: and that souls are made * happy, only from the effusions they re∣ceive from his fulness; and * wise, as they are renewed by the participation of that self-subsisting wisdom; is to be found there. But, that He in the fulness of time died also for the ungodly, and that thou sparedst not thine only Son, but gavest him up for us all; is not to be found there. For thou didst hide these things from the wise, and revealedst them unto babes, that there should come unto him those who labou∣red and were heavy laden, and he might give them rest; be∣cause he is meek and lowly in heart; and the meek doth he guide in judgement, and the humble he teacheth his wayes; Looking upon our lowness and our travel, and forgiving all our sins. But those, who are raised up aloft on the buskins of a seeming-more-sublime Science, do not hear Him say∣ing: Learn of me meek and lowly in heart, and ye shall find rest unto your souls; and although they know God, yet they glorifie him not as God, nor are thankful, but vanish away in their imaginations, and their foolish heart is darkened: and, professing themselves to be wise, they are made fools. And therefore I read there also, The glory of thy incorruptible∣ness changed into Idols and divers Images, made like to cor∣ruptible man, and to birds, and four-footed beasts, and creeping

things; Egyptian food, which I found also in those books, and was not tempted with it: [ ] But I took what was good and precious, as thou causedst thy people to car∣ry gold out of Egypt it self, because thine it was, where∣ever it was. And also thou saidest to the Athenians by thy Apostle; [That in thee we live, and move, and have our being,] as some also of their own had already said it from thee before; From the same fountain therefore came, doubtless, what was good and true in these books.

CHAP. X.

He now more clearly discovers divine matters: That some∣thing might have a being, and this not corporeal, or extended in place.

HAving therefore out of these books extracted some wholsome advice to reflect and return into my self, I entered into the innermost recesses of my soul to seek thee. I entred, and beheld, with the eye of my soul, such as then it was, farre above the same eye, and above my soul, the immutable light of the Lord: being not any greater degree of this vulgar light conspicuous to al flesh, but farr farr different from it. Nor beheld I it above my soul, as oyl is above water, or the heavens over the earth, but thus superiour, as being it that made me, and I inferiour, as made by it. He, that knows truth, knows this light; and he that knows it, knows eternity; and Love knows it. O eternal Truth, and true Love, and lo∣ving Eternity! Thou art my God; For thee I sigh day and night. And when I first began to know thee thou ele∣vatedst me, that I might see, that there was something which I might see, but that I was not yet such, as could see it. For thy beames streaming vehemently upon me, re∣verberated my weak sight, and I stood trembling with love and fear; And I found my self to be very remote from thee, hearing thy voice, as it were, a farre off, from on high; I am the Meat of the strong; Grow and thou shalt feed on me; not, that thou shalt convert me into thee, (as fleshly food) but that thou shalt be converted into me. And I knew that, with rebuke thou correctest man for iniquity, and madest my soul to consume away like a moth. And I said: is the Truth then nothing? because it hath no extension (finite or infinite) in place? And thou criedst out unto me, as it were, from a very farre off. Yes surely; and I am He, that only am. And I heard thee, as men hear in the

heart; and it caused to cease in me all further doubt; and I should rather question that I live, than that there is not the Truth; Which is clearly seen, being understood by the things which are made,

CHAP. XI.

That the Creatures may be said, in some sense to have, in ano∣ther, not to have, a Being.

ANd I beheld those things below thee: and I saw, them neither altogether truly to be, nor altogether not to be. To be indeed, because they are from thee; and yet not to be, because, that which thou art, they be not; and that only truly is, which without change abides so. To me therefore 'tis good to adhere to God; be∣cause, if I shall not abide in thee; neither can I, in my self. But thou, abiding in thy self, makest all things anew; and art my Lord, who hast no need of me, or my Good things.

CHAP. XII.

That all natures, even the corruptible, are good, though not the supreme Good.

ANd it became clear to me, that those things also are good, which are subject to corruption: which things neither could be corrupted, if they were the supreme Good; nor again could be corrupted, unless they were good: for * if they were the supreme good, they would be incorruptible; * if not good at all, there would be nothing in them corruptible. For corruption doth some hurt unto them; and if it diminish no good in them, it hurteth them not. Either therefore corruption hurts them not at all, (which cannot be said); or things corrupted are de∣prived of some good (which is most certain) But if they are deprived of all good, they will no longer be at all. For if they be still; then, when no further deprivable of good, nor capable of further corruption, something better they must be, than before so corrupted; because now they will subsist incorruptibly. And what more monstrous and absurd, than to say, that things become better by the losse of all in them that is good? Therefore, what is deprived of all good, absolutely ceaseth to be. It follows then, as long as they are, that they are good; and therefore what∣ever things are, are good. And consequently that evil which I so long sought whence it was, is no substance; for

were it a substance it would be good, and not evil; good, either incorruptible, and so an excellent good: or corrup∣tible, and so good, because it may be corrupted. Thus I saw, and it was most manifest to me, that thou madest all things good; and that there were no substances at all, which thou madest not And because thou hast not made all things equal, therefore all things, taken ••everally, are good; but all things, together, very good; because thou, our God; hast made all things, in their conjunction, very good.

CHAP: XIII.

That there can be nothing in the world simply, but only rela∣tively, evil.

ANd to Thee there is nothing evil in any case; neither to thy self, nor yet to thy Creature universally consi∣dered. Because there is not any thing, without thee, and it; that can break in, and corrupt the order thou hast pla∣ced in it. But indeed in the parts thereof, some things, to othersome, because disconvenient, are counted evil; and yet are those same, both agreeable, (and ••o, good), to some others, and also good in themselves; And all these things, so opposite among themselves, are most agreeing to this lower part of Nature, which we call [earth] to which its cloudy and stormy heaven is very congruous and highly advantageous.

And although, when considering these lower corporeals apart, or as the only things in being, I could have fancied and desired (perhaps) some things better and more ex∣cellent than they; yet farre be it from me to desire that these things should not be; since, were these alone in being, much praise, for them, were due unto thee: Because these also shew thy praise.

So: Praise the Lord from the earth the dragons and all deeps; fire and hail; snow, and vapour, and stormy wind, fulfilling his word, mountains and all hills, fruit-bearing trees, and all cedars: beasts and all cattel; creeping things and flying fowles: Kings of the earth and all people, Princes and all Judges of the earth; young men and maidens, old men and children, let them praise thy name. — But when as, from the heavens, other things also do praise thee; For these do praise thee (O our God) in the Highest, all thy Angels, all thy H sts, Sun and Moon, all the Starrs, and Light, the Heavens of Heavens, and the Waters that are above the

Heavens, let them praise thy name; Now my desires could aspire to no things better, than they, when my thoughts comprehended all. And with a more sound judgement I now apprehended, as, the things higher to be much better than the things below, so all together to be much better, than the higer only.

CHAP. XIV.

BUt no sound reason or judgement is there in those, who are displeased with any thing of thy Creation; as in me there was not; whom many things offended, which thou hadst made; and because my soul did not dare to be displeased also with my God, therefore she would by no meanes have it thy work, whatever displeased her. And hence she run into the opinion of two substances. [ ] But, after thou hadst cured my sick head and removed this my frenzy, I awakened to behold thee, but not with my former eye of sense, and I saw thee infinite in a much other manner, than formerly I imagined thee.

CHAP. XV.

ANd I cast back my eye on other things, and saw them to owe unto thee their being, and to be in thee finite and bounded, yet not as circumscribed by place, but as all supported by the hand of thy reality and verity. And I saw, that they had a verity in them all, because they had a Being: and that falsity was nothing at all else, but, when that is thought to be, which hath no being. And I saw, * them every one suitable and agreeing, not only with places, but times. And, * that thou, who alone art eternal, didst not begin to work after infinite times and ages were run out, because all those times and ages which have already, or shall hereafter, passe, could neither go, nor come, but by thy working first their set courses and revolutions, whilst thy self abideth unmoveable.

CHAP. XVI.

That Sin is no substance, but the perversity of an irregular will declining from its Maker.

ANd I perceived by experience, that it was no strange thing, that bread was an affliction to a diseased palat, which was sweet to a sound; and light grievous to weak

eyes, which was amiable to the clear. And thy justice it self offends the wicked, how much more may a Viper or a Worm? which, notwithstanding, thou hast made good, and befitting their rank and station in the lowest region of thy creatures; the which region also the wicked themselves are most fit for, as they are unliker unto thee; and fit again for a superior region, as they shall be made liker unto thee.

And I sought, what this Evil and wickedness was. And I found it not a substance, but only a perversion and decli∣nation of a distorted will, from the soveraign substance, of thee, O God, toward the lowest of things,, forsaking and rejecting what is most precious and intimate unto it; and swelling toward vanities abroad.†

CHAP. XVII.

That he began now to have a right opinion of God.

ANd I wondred, that now indeed I began to love thee, and no more a phantasme instead of thee.

[But I stayed not in this fruition of my God: But was, now, wrapt toward Thee by thy beauty, & straight part∣ed from thee, again, by my own weight, falling down upon the things below thee, not without sighing: And this weight that pressed me down were my former car∣nall customes. But I retained still a remembrance of Thee: Nor could I now doubt at all; that there was such a thing as was all-worthy to be possessed and adher∣ed-to, but, that I as yet was not such a one, as could ad∣hear to it. For the corruptible body presseth down the soul, and the earthly tabernacle weigheth down the mind, that museth on many things. And I was now most certain; That thy invisible things from the Creation of the world are clearly seen and understood, by the things that are made, even thy eternal Power and Godhead. For I, searching from what principle it should be, that I so approved the Beauty of Bodies, celestial or terrestrial, and what was present to my mind, when it passed its free judgement upon mu∣tables, and said: This ought to be thus, and that must not be so; Searching therefore, from what it was, that I judged, when I judged so, I had already found, that there was an unchangeable Eternity of truth superiour to this

changeable mind of mine; Whilst I ascended in this my quest by these degrees; from bodies first, * to the soul as outwardly sensitive by the body; then * to the inner powers thereof, which those outward corporeal senses informe concerning external objects, whitherto reacheth the knowledge of Beasts; Then * to the reasoning Fa∣culty, to which the things received from the external sen∣ses are presented, to be considered and judged-of. Which rational faculty, well perceiving it self also to be in me a thing mutable, ascended yet higher, * to a more pure intelligence, such as abstracts from accustomed ob∣jects, & removes from the troops of several contradicting phantasms, that so it might find out what light that is, with which it is informed, when without any hesitancy, it cries out; That the unchangeable is to be prefer••ed before the changeable, and so might come to know this unchangeable Essence; which had it not already known in some mea∣sure, it could not have so certainly preferred it before things mutable; and thus I might arrive at last to that, which is discerned only in a twinkling glance of a trem∣bling sight.]

And thus I had now a glimpse of thy invisible things, be∣ing understood by those things which do appear. But I could not yet steadily fix mine eye upon them, nor stand still any while to enjoy my God. But my weakness straight being dazled and beaten back, and relapsing to accustomed objects, I carried away with me only a loving ••••••em∣brance of thee, and a longing after things which I 〈◊〉〈◊〉, as it were, already, but I was not, yet, able to feed upon.

CHAP. XVIII.

But had not yet a right opinion of the Incarnation of the Lord Jesus, the only way to salvation.

ANd I sought after some way of acquiring so much strength as might enable me to enjoy thee. Nor found I any, * till I came to embrace the M diator be∣tween God and man, the Man Christ Jesus (who is above all, God blessed for ever) calling unto me and saying: I am the Way, the Truth, and the Life; and * till I met with that food (which otherwise, I was unable to receive), mingling it self with our flesh. For The Word was made Flesh, That so thy Wisdom might nurse and give suck to our Infancy, which before gave a being to our nature. For

I did not then as yet embrace my Lord Jesus Christ so as I ought; (that is) my humility embrace his humility: Nor knew I what lesson that his infirmity read me. Who, being thy Word, the eternal Truth, supereminent to the most eminent part of thy Creation, yet, in the lowest regions thereof, builded himself an humble Cottage of our mud; that he might depress and cast down such, as would be∣come his subjects, from themselves, and then raise them unto himself: healing their pride, and nourishing their love, to the end, they might proceed no further in their haughty self-confidence, but rather * might become con∣scious of their own infirmity, in beholding before their feet an infirme Divinity from the participation of our leathern mortal covering; and so in their feeblenesse and lattitude * might deject and prostrate themselves upon it, that it, rising again, may also raise and exalt them with it.

CHAP. XIX.

BUt I, as then, imagined quite another thing; and had an estimation * of my Lord Christ, only, as of a man admirably wise and no way to be equalled: and * that he being so miraculously born of a Virgin, and giving us such an example of contemning temporal things for attaining immortality (by the divine care over us) seemed well to deserve that soveraign authority to be the Master of the world. But concerning what mystery [Th•• Word made Flesh] contained in it, I had not then the least considera∣tion, only I kn••w, from what was storied of him, concern∣ing his eating, drinking, sleeping, rejoycing, sorrowing, discoursing, &c that * humane flesh was not united unto thy Word alone: (which was the Apollinarian errour), but, together with it, * an humane, both sensitive, and ra∣tional, soul. And I hold that he was to be preferred be∣fore all others, not * as being the very Person of the Truth, but * from a certain very great excellency of his humane nature, and from his more perfect participation of the di∣vine Wisdom.

But Alipius imagined the Catholicks to believe God cloathed with Flesh in such a manner, as that, besides the Deity and the flesh of man, there were in Christ no soul or mind of a man; and because he held it for certain, that the things recorded of him, could not be performed but by a Creature both vital and rational, therefore he made somewhat a slower progress toward the Christian Faith.

But afterward knowing this to be the Heresie of the Apollinarists, he much congratulated, and readily enter∣tained the Catholick belief.

And for my self, I confess, I learnt not till afterwards, how, in the manner of the Words being made Flesh, and in the mystery of the Incarnation, the Catholick Truth was distinguished from the Photinian errour. For the opposition and contest of Hereticks more illustrates the sound doctrine of the Church: And there must be also He∣resies, that they which are approved may be made manifest a∣mongst the weak and infirme.

CHAP. XX.

Though from the Platonick writings he became assured of ma∣ny divine Truths, yet these books breeding pride in him, and not humility.

UPon reading these writings of the Platonists, being already instructed to seek after a verity incorporeal and disengaged of Bodies, I beheld thy invisible things, understood by the things which are made; and being re∣pulsed had a glimpse only of that, which, by reason of the darkness of my soul, I could not more fully contemplate, being thus farre assured, that thou art; and art infinite; yet without any diffusion of thee either through finite, or infinite, space; and that thou only hast true being; and alwayes the same being; in no part of thee, by any motion, mutable; and that all others, in that they are, are from thee. These things I was then assured of concern∣ing thee: but yet farre too infirme to enjoy thee. And I * talked, as one that had knowledge, when as had I not fought out the way to thee in Christ our Saviour, I had been eternally lost; and * began to affect the seeming wise, being full of my punishment, and I deplored not this my misery; but was also puft up and exalted with my Science. But where was that charity, edifying on the foundation of humility, which is Christ Jesus? Or when could these books have learned me that? To which wri∣tings, I suppose, thou guidedst me before any studying of thy Scriptures; that my memory might afterward re∣flect on the affections they caus'd in me; and that, when I should be asswaged and humbled afterward in perusing thy book, and my sores had been dressed by thy all-heal∣ing hands, I might discern and distinguish between blind presumption and humble confession; between those, who

saw to what place they should go, but saw not what way, and those who enjoyed the Way it self leading into that beatifical Country, not to be seen only by them, but in∣habited. For had I been first instituted in thy holy books; and thou, in their familiar entertainment, hadst there grown sweet and dear unto me; and then afterward I had happened on these volumes, perhaps either their no∣velty (last looked on) might have removed me in some∣thing from the foundation of piety; Or, in my retaining stedfast still the saving principles and affections I had im∣bib'd from thence; yet I might have thought, that those other books, though alone studied, might have produced the like.

CHAP. XXI.

He lastly betakes himself to reading of the Scriptures, especi∣ally those of S. Paul; where he finds the advancement of Gods Grace, and salvation through Jesus Christ, to the peni∣tent and humble.

AFter these therefore, with an extraordinary ardour, I betook my self to the venerable stile of thy Spirit, and above the rest of the Apostles to the writings of S. Paul. And those scruples presently vanished, wherein his discourse had sometimes seemed to me contradictory to it self, and also not agreeing with the testimonies of the Law and the Prophets. And now it appeared one uniform piece of chast and pure doctrine; and I learned to re∣joyce in them with reverence and trembling. And I at∣tempted them, and found what truths I had read in the other books to be said here also, but with great recom∣mendation, and advancing, of thy Grace; * that he who sees, should not boast, as though he had not received, both, that which he sees, and that he sees it: (For what thing hath any which he hath not received?) and, * that he must by thee, who art alwayes the same, not only be admonish∣ed and instructed, that he may see, but, also his infirmity be healed, that he may possesse: And * that he who being yet afarre off cannot see, yet ought to walk in the way, whereby he may come, to approach nearer, and to see, and possess: Because indeed though a man delight in the Law of God after the inward man, yet what shall he do concerning the other law in his members, war••ing against the law of his mind, and bringing him into captivity to the law of sin, which is in his members? because that thou ar•• just, (O Lord)

and we have sinned, and done wickedly, and behaved our selves impiously, and therefore thy hand is heavy upon us, and we are justly delivered over to that old sinner, the President, and Prince of death; because he perswaded unto our will a conformity unto his will, which remained not stedfast in thy Truth. And now wretched man that he is, what shall he do? For who shall deliver him from the body of this death, but thy grace through Jesus Christ our Lord? whom thou hast be∣gotten coeternal with thy self, and hast possessed in the begin∣ning of thy wayes. In whom the Prince of this world found nothing worthy of death, and yet sl••w him; by whose death for us, was cancelled the hand-writing which was against us. Those other learnings contain none of these matters. Those pages present no such Scene of piety as this; viz. the tea••s of confession; thy acceptable sac••ifice an afflicted spirit; an humble and c••n••••i••e heart, the salvation of man∣kind; the cel••st••al bridal-City; the present earnest of the Spirit; the precious cup of our redemption. No ravish'd spirit, there, breaks out into such a song. Truly my soul waiteth upon God: For from him cometh my salvation. He only is my rock and my salvation: he is my undertaker, no more shall I be moved. No distressed soul, there, hears him calling; Come unto me ye l••••••u••ing and heavy-laden. And those knowing men disdain to learn of him, because he is meek and lowly in heart. For thou hast hid these things from the wise and prudent, and hast revealed them unto Babes. And it is one thing, from the top of a thick and woody forrest, to behold only afarre off the happy Country of peace; but not find at all any way made to it, and to toil in vain toward it, through places desert and unpassable, being on every side besieged and laid wait for; by those fugitives of heaven and desertors of this Country under the conduct of their Prince, the Lion and the Dragon: And another thing, to possesse and hold the true way† conducting thither, and this way safe-guarded, by the spe∣cial care of the Emperour of heaven, Upon which they do not rob, nor spoil, who have forsaken the Celestial Camp: for they dread and avoid it, as their punishment. These things were deeply engraven in my soul by won∣derful wayes, whilst I read those writings of the least of thine Apostles, and considered those thy works, and was afraid.

LIB. VIII.

CHAP. I.

He goes to consult Simplicianus (an holy man and the spiri∣tual father of S. Ambrose) about the future ordering of his life, remaining still passionately bent on mar∣riage.

O My God, let me remember, with thanksgiving unto thee, and confess thy mercies upon me: Let all my bones be pierced with thy love, and let them say; O Lord, who is like unto thee? Thou hast broken my bonds insunder: I will sacrifice unto thee the sacrifice of praise; and how thou breakest them, I will now relate: and all those, who worship thee, when they hear these things, shall say: Blessed be the Lord in heaven and in earth; great and wonderful is his name. Thy words stuck fast in my breast, and thou didst compasse me on every side. Of thy life eternal I was now well assured, though yet discern∣ing it but enigmatically and through a glasse. Yet was all doubt, concerning thy incorruptible substance, from which all other substance whatever must have its being, remo∣ved from me; now wishing, not to be more certain of thee, but more established in thee. But then, concerning my own life temporal, all things were much discomposed; and my heart as yet to be purified and cleansed of its old leaven; and the way (being our Saviour himself) well-pleased me, but the straitness thereof yet much dis∣heartened me.

And thou put into my mind, and it seemed good in my sight, to go to Simplicianus, whom I took to be a good servant of thine, and thy Grace to shine very eminently in him, and of whom I had heard, that he had lived from his youth, in great devotions, unto thee. And now was he grown very aged; and, by reason of so long time spent in thy service, it seemed to me that he should be much ex∣perienced and well seen in thy way; and indeed so he was. Whereupon acquainting him with my griefs, I requested he would direct me, what course of life were

fittest, for one, so affected, as I then was, to walk in thy way.

For I saw the Church full, and in it some following one course of life, some another. And it much displeased me to continue any longer in a secular condition; and a great burden to me it was, now no more enflamed with my former lusts of pursuing honour and wealth, to tolerate any longer that so grievous a servitude. For now these things yielded me no more delight, in comparison of thy sweetness, and the honour of thy house which I loved. But still I remained fast engaged in respect of women. Neither did the Apostle prohibit me marriage, though he exhort∣ed me to something better, much wishing that all men were even as he himself. But I, as weaker, chose a more indulgent condition; and, by reason of this one impedi∣ment, proceeded in other things more faintly; wearied with many consuming cares, and forced in those things, which I was most unwilling to suffer, to conform to a con∣jugal life, to which I had so violent inclinations. I had heard indeed from the mouth of Truth, That there were Eunuchs, who had made themselves Eunuchs for the kingdom of heaven: But then he said: He that can receive it, let him receive it.

Certainly △ those men are strangely vain, who have not the knowledge of God in them, nor can, from these things which are seen so good, find out the soveraign Being. But this vanity I had already escaped and overpassed, and by the witness of all thy Creation had found out thee our Creator, and thy Word, that was God with thee, and one God with thee and the Holy Ghost, by which Word thou hast created all things. △ Another sort of impious there are, who know God indeed, but have not glorified him as God, neither been thankful: And I had fallen into this infeli∣city also, but thy right hand (O God) laid hold on me and took me from thence, and set me in an estate of recovery. For thou hast said to man: Behold: the Fear of the Lord is the only wisdom: and, Do not thou desire to seem wise; be∣cause, professing themselves to be wise they became fools. And I had now found the Pearl of great price; and, with sel∣ling all that I had, it was to be purchased; and I doubted and demurred upon this.

CHAP. II.

Ʋpon mention of Victorinus (a famous Roman Rhetorician) Simplicianus relates the Story of his Conversion to Chri∣stianity.

ON then I went to Simplicianus the spiritual father in receiving thy grace† to Ambrose then Bishop, and, as a father, honoured by him. To him I revealed all the circuits and windings of my errours; and when I told him that I had read also some books of the Platonists (translated into latine by one Victorinus formerly a famous Rhetorick-Professor in Rome, who, I had heard, died a Christian) he congratulated me much, that I light not on the writings of any other Philoso∣phers, full of fallacies and lyes according to the Elements (and corporeal principles) of this world, but rather on these which after many several wayes, insinuated God and his eter∣nal Word: And then, to exhort me to the humility of Christ, hidden from the wise, and revealed to babes, he took occasion to speak of the same Victorinus, with whom (when at Rome) he had had very intimate acquaintance; and told me something of him, which I think not fit to be concealed, containing great matter of praise and glory to thy Grace, which ought to be re-acknowledged unto thee.

He related, therefore, after what manner that most learned old man and most expert in al the Liberal sciences, who had read, digested and explained the works of so many Philosophers; the Tutor to so many noble Senators: (that for a monument of his excellencies, had erected his statue in the Forum Romanum, which among the Citi∣zens of this World is accounted a great honour) having been, even to that age, a worshipper of Idols, and a par∣taker of those Sacrilegious devotions, to which most of the Roman Nobility were so zealously addicted, that they now worshiped and numbred amongst their G••ds Bark∣ing† Anubis, and those other monstrous blood of Dei∣ties, which once were enemies to the Roman State, and which took up armes against Neptune and Venus and Mi∣nerva her Protectors, Rome now supplicating and serving those deities also, whom she had conquered; (of all

which aged Victorinus had, for so many years, been a most powerfully eloquent patron and defender) he rela∣ted I say, in what manner, after all this, that old man was not ashamed to become a Child of thy Christ, and an In∣fant at thy Font; submitting his neck to the yoak of thy humility, and forcing his proud forehead to the reproach of the crosse.

O Lord, Lord, who bowest the Heavens and comest down, who touchest the Mountains and they smoak, with what sweet and secret attractions didst thou insinu∣ate thy self into that breast, and becamest Master of it? He attentively read (as Simplicianus said) the holy Scripture; and all the Christians writings he carefully sought out, and examined; and then said to Simplicia∣nus not publickly but secretly, as to a friend; Know, that I am now a Christian. And he replyed; I will not be∣lieve it, nor repure you such, untill I shall see you with∣in the Church of Christ. And the other in derision answer∣ed him again; And is it walls, then, that make Christians? And often he said this, that already he was a Christian; and S••mpli••ianus, often iterated the same reply: and as often was the jest of the walls returned by him. For he was affraid, to displease his great friends, those proud worshippers of Divels; from the high top of who••e Ba∣bilon••sh power; as from Cedars of Libanus, whom the Lord had not yet broken, he foresaw great storms of wrath would fall upon him.

But afterward, by continual reading and meditating, he gathered more firmnesse, and fearing to be denied by Christ before his holy Angels, if he feared to confesse him before men: and appearing to himself guilty of a grievous crime, if he should be ashamed of the Sacraments of the humility of thy eternall Word, and not ashamed of that sacrilegious worship of those proud devills, (of whom being first a proud imitater, he became also a worshipper) he began to be shame-free for abandoning such vanity, and to blush for not professing the Truth; and, all on a sudden and unexpectedly, said to Simplicianus; (as he told me): Let us go to Church, there I will be made a Christian. And so he, transported with joy, immedi∣ately accompanied him thither; where, when he had been‖ initiated in the first Sacraments of instructions, he not long after gave in his name, to receive regeneration by Baptisme; Rome wondering, the Church exulting▪ The proud saw it and were grieved, they gnashed with

their teeth, and consumed away. As for thy servant (O Lord) God was his hope, and he no more regarded lying vanities.

Lastly, when the time came of professing his faith, which profession at Rome, by those who are about to receive thy grace in Baptism, is wont to be made, in a set form of words learnt by heart, from a higher place, before all the Faithful, he said, it was offered by the priests to Victori∣nus that he should performe it, if he pleased, in private as the custom was to indulge this to some, whose bash∣fulnesse in publick was apt to be timo••ous. But, that he chose rather to professe the matter of his salvation in the presence of all the holy congregation; For that there was no matter of salvation in the Rhetorick he had taught, and yet he had professed that publickly Why therefore should not he lesse fear thy meek and humble flock in pro∣nouncing thy word; than he had feared formerly, in de∣livering his own words, a more rude and censorious multitude.

As soon then as he ascended publickly to repeat it; every one, as they knew him, whispered his name to others with much congratulation, and who was there; almost, that knew him not? And every ones joyful mouth in a low murmur sounded; Victorinus, Victori∣nus. Such noise they suddenly made in exultation to see him; and as soon were they silent again out of attention to hear him. And so he pronounced the orthodox faith with a wonderful confidence, whilst every one strove, with the arms of his love and joy, to embrace and to seat him in the chiefest place of his heart and af∣fections.

CHAP. III.

Why more joy for men converted, than had they been alwayes Professors.

[† GOod God, how comes it to passe in man, that he rejoyceth much more in the safety of a soul des∣pair'd of, or delivered out of some extream peril, than, where his hopes of him were always great or the danger escaped, but little? And so thou also (Father of mercies) rejoycest more over one penitent, than over ninety nine just persons, who need no repentance. And with much consolation we hear it, when we hear in thy word, how the over-joyed shepheard brought home on his own shoulders the strayed sheep: And how the lost groat was

brought back into thy treasures with the great joy, * of the woman that found it, and also * of her neighbours. And the solemn gladness of thy whole house hath forced tears from us, when in thy Church it is read, concern∣ing thy younger son: that he had been dead, and was alive again; had been lost, and was found. But this thy extraordinary rejoycing is properly in us only, and in thy Angels, satisfied with holy charity; whilst thou art alwayes the same; who knowest all those things, alwayes, after the same manner, which neither abide alwayes, nor on the same manner.

How then comes it to passe, in a soul, that it is more delighted in things found again, or restored, than in those alwayes possest? For many other things witness this, and all places are full of testimonies, that so it is. The conquering Emperour solemnizeth a triumph, but first undergoes a battel, and how much his peril is grea∣ter in the fight, so much is his joy in the triumph. A tem∣pest ariseth at sea and threatens shipwrack: all grow pale with the fright of approaehing death. The heaven and sea become serene and calme; and their joy is now excessive, because, before, their fear was so. A dear friend falls sick, and his pulse indicates some danger? all, that long for his recovery, become sick in mind, as he in body: he becomes somewhat better and walks a little about, yet not restored to his former strength: and there is al∣ready such mirth upon this, as was not before, when he went about, healthful and lusty. And so all the plea∣sures of this humane life arise from some precedence of pain, and that not only casual and undesired, but many times purposely and industriously procured. Eating and drinking are no delight without the foregoing molestation of hung••r and thirst. And drunkards by eating salt things provoke that biting heat, which drinking may afterward, with the more pleasure, quench and allay. And between contracts and nuptials, 'tis ordered, some time should intercede, lest, when once married, he should lesse va∣lue her being possessed, whom he first longed not for being, after espousals, deferred. This holds in wick∣ed and prophane, this in lawful and allowed, joyes; this in the sincerest love and friendship; this in him, who had been dead and was alive, had perished and was recovered. Every where greater joy is preceded with greater anxiety.

What is this (O Lord my God), that, whenas thou

art an eternal joy to thy self, and when as some-things al∣so, that are from thee, rejoyce perpetually about thee, How is it, that this inferiour part of thy creature so alter∣nately ebbs and flows, is grieved and contented, displea∣sed and reconciled?

Is this the limited measure of their being? and the set proportion thou wouldst allot to them, when, from the highest heaven to the lowest parts of earth, from the beginning to the end of times, from the Angel to the Worm, from the first motion to the last, the several sorts of thy good creatures were placed by thee every one in their proper seats, and all thy just and upright works were acted by thee, every one in their proper seasons? Woe is me; How high art thou in the highest, & how profound art thou in the lowest of them? never departing from us, and yet we hardly attaining un∣to thee.

CHAP. IV.

Why more joy in the conversion of men eminent, or noble.

INspire (O Lord,) and operate; excite and restrain; enflame and elevate, us; breath forth thy fragrant odour, and lustill thy delicate tast; make us in love with thee, and let us run after thee. How many are there, who do, out of a more profound hell of darkness, than Victorinus, return toward thee and come to thee, and are illuminated by thee, and receive that thy light, which who so receive, have power also given them to become thy sons? But yet, as such happen to be lesse known a∣broad, so even those, who know them, joy less for them. For, where more men rejoyce, there every one hath more joy, because they hear, and are enflamed from, one another. Again those Converts, known by more, are guides to more in the way to salvation, and go before many others, that will follow; and therefore men re∣joyce also more for these that go before, because they rejoyce not for them single. Otherwise farre be it, that in thy tabernacle the persons of the rich should be ac∣cepted before the poor; or the noble before the igno∣ble; when as rather; Thou hast chosen the weak things of the world to confound the mighty, and base things of the world, and things that are despised hast thou chosen, yea, and things which are not, that thou mightest bring to nought things that are. And yet the same least of thine Apostles, by whose tongue thou spakest these words, when as the Proconful Paul, being conquered of his pride and great∣ness by his arms, and being brought under the gentle

yoke of thy Christ, became now a Subject of the great King, he himself, from his former name, Saul, delighted to be called Paul, in memory of so great a Victory. For the enemy is much more conquered in such a one, whom he more possesseth, and by whom he possesseth more; and the proud are by him more possessed, from the title of their nobility and by them many more others, from the name of their authority. By how much higher, therefore, * the breast of Victorinus was esteemed, in which the Devil had held and fortified himself, as an im∣pregnable fort, and * the tongue of Victorinus, with which great and keen weapon so many souls had been slain; so much greater must needs be the exultation of thy chil∣dren, when our King had thus bound the strong man, and when they saw his vessels, taken from his service, and made clean and fitted for thy honour, and serviceable un∣to to the Lord for every good work.]

CHAP. V.

What operation the story of Victorinus had upon him; and his great captivity under former ill Customs.

WHilst Simplicianus thy servant told these things of Victorinus, I was enflamed to imitate them; which was his design also in telling them. And when he had ad∣ded also, that, in those dayes of Julian the Emperour, a Law was enacted, prohibiting all Christians to teach any humane literature, and particularly Oratory; which Law Victorinus most welcomly entertaining, chose rather to forsake his own l••quacious school, than thy word, which makes even the tongues of Infants eloquent, he seemed to me in this not more valiant, than happy, in gaining so an occasion of a total vacancy and attendance on thee. Which thing I also aspired-to and sigh'd-after; but was fast bound not with anothers irons, but those of my own, hard and iron, will.

The enemy possest my perverse desires, and of them had made a chain and fast-tied me with it. For of a per∣verse will there was made lust; and, in serving that lust, there was made custom; and, not resisting that custom, it became necessity, with which, as with certain links fastened one within another, this cruell servitude held me close shackled. And the new Will but now beginning to grow in me, by which I desired (disengaged of all other loves) freely to serve thee: and by which I wished to enjoy thee

(O my God, the only certain pleasure), was not yet able to master the former will strengthened with age. So these two wills of mine, the one old, the other new; one carnal, the other spiritual, combated one another, and, in their disagreeance, rent and divided my soul.

Thus I understood, my self being the experiment, that, which I had read; How the flesh lusteth against the Spirit, and the spirit against the fl••sh: and it was I, that was in them both: but more I, in that, which in me I now all••w∣ed, than in that, which in me I disallowed For in this it was more, not I; because, in a great part, I rather suffered it against my mind, than willingly acted it. But yet this custome, now so eagerly warring against me, was contract∣ed by me; and willingly it was that I came thither, whi∣ther now, I will'd, that I had never come. And who could justly reprehend this tyranny, when, as a just punishment, it followed my former fault? And now there remained no more that excuse, in which I formerly pleased my self; that therefore I yet forsook not the world to serve thee, because clear truth was not yet discovered unto me. For now was it also made clear enough; and yet I, (still fettered,) refused to f••ght under thy colours; and so much feared to be freed from my impediments as, to have such impediments, ought to be feared. The burden of secular affections, as the pressure of sleep, sweetly kept me down; and the thoughts, wherein I meditated on thee; were like the s••••uglings of one that would fain awaken himself, yet is still surprised with his drowsiness, and relapseth into his former slumbers. And as though none would wish always to sleep, but all of any sound judgement, do much preferr vigilancy, yet many times, from a benummed laziness in his h••••bs, one deferrs to shake it off, and still more l••stingly entertaineth what already displeaseth him, when 'tis high time for him to get up; So was I satisfied, that it was better to ••es••g•• my self to thy love, than thus to yield to my own lust; But, as the one I approved, and was convinced by it, so the other I affected, and was captivated by it. For nothing had I then to reply unto thee, when thou saidst unto me: A••ise, thou that sleepest, and stand up from amongst the dead, and Christ shall illuminate thee: and, when thou on every side shewedest me that thou spakest truth, I had nothing to an∣swer, now convinced with truth, but some sleepy and drowsie words: Presently; by and by; suffer me but a lit∣tle while; But, presently; presently, were farr from being

presently; and suffer me a little while, lasted a long time. In vain did I delight in the Law of God, after the inward man, when another law in my members thus warred against the law of my mind, and brought me into captivi∣ty to the law of sin, which is in my members. For that law of sin is the violence of custome, which now hales and forceth along the mind, unwilling indeed, but from its own desert; because (before) the mind willingly fell into it. Wretched man therefore I, who could deliver me from the body of this death, but thy Grace, through Jesus Christ our Lord?

CHAP. VI.

After this, Pontitianus an African, and an Officer in the Court, giving him and Alipius a visit, occasionally relates the story of S. Antony; and how two of his fellow-Courtiers upon the reading thereof, in the same moment renoun••ed the world (though hath engaged to Mistresses) and betook themselves to a solitary life.

ANd now I will declare and confess to thy name (O Lord my Helper and my Redeemer) how thy good∣ness freed me, △ from that bond of the desire of a wo∣man which tied me very straight, as likewise, △ from the hinderance and servitude of secular affairs. I performed my former wonted employments with a continually-growing anxiety, and sighed daily after thee: I frequent∣ed thy Church, as often as there was any vacancy from those affairs, under the pressure of which I then lived. There was Alipius with me, now, after the third Sessions, having a vacation from his Law-employments, and expect∣ing to whom he might sell his advice; as I also sold elo∣quence, and the faculty of pleading, so farr as Art may conferr it. As for Nebridius; he had condescended, to the importunity of our common friendship, to teach un∣der Verecundus a most intimate acquaintance to us all, a Citizen, and a Grammarian of Millain, who much wanted help, and earnestly begged it from some one of our socie∣ty. It was no desire of gain that drew Nebridius to this employment, who could have had much higher from his learning, but only a loving respect unto us, whose request so sweet and compliant a disposition could not deny. And very prudently was it undertaken by him, who purposely shunned to be known to persons, according to this world, great, that he might so avoid all inquietude of mind;

which he desired to have free, and (as often as might be) vacant, for to meditate, or read, or hear, something con∣cerning wisdom,

Now on a certain day; (when Nebridius was absent, I remember not on what occasion) there came to our house, to me and Alipius, one Pontitianus our Country∣man an African, who served in honourable place in the Em∣perours Court. I know not what his business was, but we sat down to entertain some discourse; and, by chance casting his eye on a book that lay on a billyard-table which stood before us, he took it up, opened it, and found it to be the Epistles of the Apostle Paul, much contrary to his expectation; for he imagined it some book belonging to that Profession, which then spent most of my time. But then, smiling, and, after a glad and gratulatory manner, looking upon me, he expressed his wonder, that he thus found those, and only those, writings before me. For a Christian he was, and a baptized Professor of the Faith, and who often prostrated himself before thee our God in the Church, with frequent and long-continued prayers. To whom when I had replyed, that now my greatest study was of those writings, he began some speech of one Antonius an Egyptian Monk; whose name was very famous amongst thy Servants, but to that hour unknown to us; which he perceiving, staid longer on that discourse; informing, and wondring at, our ignorance concerning so eminent a person.

And much were we astonished, when we heard those so strongly-witnessed wonders of thine in the true Faith and in the Catholick Church, to be done so lately, and al∣most in our own dayes. All of us wondred: we, that they were so great; and he, that they were so unknown to us. Thence, he enlarged his discourse concerning, * the multitudes of Religious in Monasteries there, * their holy customes and manner of their life of a sweet-smelling savour unto thee, and * the fruitful breasts of those barren deserts; of all which we had heard nothing. And there was also a Monastery at Millain without the City-walls full of Good Friers under the maintenance and govern∣ment of Ambrose; and we were ignorant of it also.

And he, continuing his discourse, and we attentively silent, further told us: That, when the Court was at Tri∣ers, one afternoon, when the Emperour was entertained with some publick sports in the Circus, he and three others of his companions went a walking into some Gardens not

farr from the City-walls, and there casually walking two and two together, one with him went one way, and the other two another; and that those other, as they wan∣dred up and down, light upon a little House, where dwelt some Servants of thine, poor in spirit, of whom is the king∣dome of heaven; and that they found there a book, in which was written the life of this Antonius Which life one of them began to read, and then to admire, and then to be enflamed, and, even whilst reading it, to meditate of, instantly taking up the same life, and of forsaking his se••u∣lar service, to entertain thine. (He was one of those whom they call Agentes in rebus, Agents in the Prince's affairs†). Then suddenly, filled with a holy zeal, and a sober shame, and anger at himself, he cast his eyes upon his friend, and said to him: Tell me, I pray, with all these our labours and pains, what doth our ambition reach at? what seek we? what is it we serve for in this our employment: Can we have any greater hopes in the Court, than to arrive to be Favorites to the Emperour? and in being so, what is there in that condition not brittle, and full of perils? and through how many dangers ascend we to this much grea∣ter danger? and how long will it last? and how long ere we attain to it? But the Friend and Favourite of God I am, if I please, now presently, and so for ever.

Thus he said; and, labouring in the birth-throws of a new life, cast his eyes again upon the paper, and read, and became changed within, where thou sawest; and his mind emptied and stripped of the World; as soon appeared: for whilst he reads, and suffers a tempest in his fluctuating breast, and now and then casts out some sighs, and groans, at last he concluded, and resolved, upon those better things: and, now wholly thine, said to his Friend: I have now bidden a finall adieu to that our former hope, and am fully purposed for the service of God: And this, from this hour, in this place, I will begin to put in practise. But you, if you do not like to imitate this my retreat, do not oppose it. Then answered the other: that he would alwayes adhere to the companion of so noble a war∣fare, and so high a reward. And thus, now both thine, having first cast up the charges, they built that Tower of * their leaving all that they had, and following thee.

By this time Pontitianus, and the other that walked with him, through another quarter of the Garden, were arrived at the same place, and, having found them, minded

them of returning homeward, because it grew late. But they acquainting them with, their holy purpose, and the manner, how such inclination was raised and confirmed in them, requested, that, if they pleased not to joyn with them in the same resolution, they would give no distur∣bance to it. Hereupon, they being nothing altered from their former selves, yet lamented (as he said) their own worldly condition, and congratulated the others piety, and recommended themselves to their prayers, and so, with a heart pointing downward toward the earth, returned into the Palace, and the other with a heart erected to heaven, continued in that little habitation. And both of them had their Spouses, to whom they were contracted, who so soon as they heard of it, in imitation of them, con∣secrated likewise their virginity unto thee. These things Pontitianus related to us.

CHAP. VII.

The tumults of his spirit upon Pontitian's discourse.

BUt thou, O Lord, amidst his discourse, didst turn me about towards my self; and tookest me from behind my back, where I had placed me, whilst I had no mind to observe my self; and settest me before my face, that I might see how crooked, how ugly, and deformed a thing I was, covered over with scabs and ulcers; and I be∣held and abhorred, and no way there was to fly or run away from my self; and if I endeavoured to turn away my sight from so loathed a spectacle, still as he proceeded in his story, thou didst again bring me before my self, and thrust me before my eyes, that so I might discover mine iniquity and hate it. Not that I had not known it before; but I dissembled it, and conniv'd at it, and forgot it. And now the more ardently I loved these persons, who so pi∣ously and absolutely resign'd themselves into thy hands, to receive their total cure from thee, the more detestably hated I my self, when compared with them. Because a many years were now run out with me (about some twelve years) since (in the nineteenth year of my age) the reading of Cicero's Hortensius had excited me to the study of wisdom; and I had thus long deferred, by the contempt of earthly felicities, to set my self at liberty for the search of it; whereof not the finding, but the very search, was farr to be preferred before all the found treasures and Crownes of the World, and before

all the freely-flowing pleasures of the body.

But I, then a wretched, very wretched, young man, had also, in the first dawning of that my youth, begg'd of thee chastity: and had said:

[Give me chastity and conti∣nency, but, yet a while, do not give me it.]

For I feared that thou shouldest hear me too soon, and shouldst pre∣sently heal me of that disease of concupiscence, which, I wished rather, might be satiated, than extinguished. And I had taken very wicked courses in a sacrilegious supersti∣tion, not as fully assured in it, but yet as preferring it be∣fore some other things taught in thy Church, which were not by me reverently examined, but prejudicately oppo∣sed, And I had also with pre••ences cosened my self, that therefore I deferred the contemning and renouncing of secular hopes, to follow thee alone, because as yet there appeared not to me any certain truth to which I might steer my course. And now was the day come, in which I was laid naked to my self; and my conscience began thus to reproach me. Where art thou, Tongue? thou, that only professedst this, that thou wouldst not lay aside thy pack of vanity, for truth, or happiness, whilst yet un∣certain: Lo, now, certain it is and assured unto thee; and yet thy burden still presseth thee; whilst those, with lightened shoulders, take wings, and soar upwards, who have not tired themselves, (as thou), in the search of it, nor, for ten years and more, meditated such things.

Thus was I inwardly corroded, and extremely confoun∣ded with an horrible shame, all the while Pontitianus was telling these stories. And so, his talk being ended, and the business for which he came, away he went. And I, being returned to my self, what did not I now say against my self? with what spurring and lashing words did not I whip forward my soul, that it might readily fol∣low me striving to go after thee? and it still hung back and refused; and refused now, without excuse. All its argu∣ments and reasons were spent and confuted. Only there remained a mute and speechless cowardise and trem∣bling; whilst it feared, like death, to be bound from that flux of former custom which wasted it unto the death.

CHAP. VIII.

In this anguish of soul his retiring into a garden, Alipius fol∣lowing him.

AMidst this great controversie within, which I hotly disputed with my soul in the closet of my heart, troubled as well in countenance, as in mind, I turn to Ali∣pius, and exclaim:

[What is this we suffer? what is it, you have heard? The unlearn'd start up, and take heaven by force, whilst we with all our Science, cowardly, and heart∣less, (see) how we wallow still in flesh and blood. What? because they have out-stript, and are gone before, us, are we ashamed to follow? and are we not more ashamed at least not so much as to follow them?]

Some such thing said; and straight my rage flung away from him; who stood silent, and beheld me with much amazement. For neither did I speak language usual; and besides, my eyes, forehead, cheeks, colour, the accent of my voice, more spoke my passion, than my words did.

There was a little garden belonging to our lodging, which we had use of (as of the whole house) our hospi∣table friend, the Master thereof, dwelling elsewhere. Thi∣ther this tumult in my breast carried me away, where none might hinder the hot contention which I had engaged with my self, until it concluded in that issue, which thou already knewest, but not yet I. Only I was, in a sober rage, and suffering a death that would beget life: well knowing, what evil I then was; not knowing what good, within a little while, I was to be. Thus away I went in∣to the garden, and Alipius followed close after me: for I counted my privacy not the lesse for his presence; nor indeed would he forsake me, whom he saw in such dis∣order.

We sate us down as remote as might be from the hou∣ses. I fretred in my spirit, and raged with most implaca∣ble indignation, that I did not goe into a strict league and covenant with thee (O my God,) whilst all my bones cri∣ed out, that I should enter into it, and extolled it to the heavens unto me. And thither I needed not go, either in Ships, or in Coaches, or on my feet: no, not so farr as I went from the house to this seat in the garden. For not only to go, but to come to the end of such a journey, was nothing else, but only to consent and to be willing to goe; that is, to be resolutely and entirely willing; and not to

turn and tosse a will, maimed one half of it, sometimes on one side, and sometimes on another, in one part raising it self up, and strugling with another part that hangs down: And yet how many things (in these conflicts of my lin∣gring will) did I effect, as I pleased, in my body, (which yet those who would, alwayes cannot, do; as if per∣chance they have not such members, or the••e be tied with bands, or dissolved with sickness, or, some other way, re∣strained.) For example: if then I tare off my hair; or smote my forehead; or clasped my hands about my knee, as soon as I pleased, presently I did it. Yet was it possible, in all these, to have willed them, and not have done them; if the unpliantness of my joynts could not serve my pur∣pose. So many things therefore did I then, where to will them only, was not to do them: and yet did I not that, which incomparably more contented me; and which, as soon as I would. I might, do, because as soon as I would I might will it; for here the ability was the same that the will; and to will only, was to do, it: and yet it was not done; and the body yielded a more easie obedience to the smallest willing of the soul, to bend its limbs accord∣ing to the others beck, than the soul it self did to it self, and that for its greatest joy and pleasure; and this to be per∣fected and accomplished only by willing it.

CHAP. IX.

The fierce combate there between the Flesh and the Spirit: and his sad complaint of the great difficulty the will hath to command it self, when it so easily commandeth the other members.

FRom whence such a monster? and how can this be? let thy mercy enlighten me, and let me enquire, (if perhaps, in these great secrecies of mens punishments for sin, and the most obscure judgements of the sons of Adam, any thing may appear that may afford me some answer;) whence such a monster? and how can this be? The mind commands the body, and is presently obeyed; the mind commands it self, and is opposed; the mind commands the motion of the hand, and so speedily is it executed, as the obedience is scarce distinguishable from the com∣mand; and yet the mind is a spirit, and the hand a body: the same mind commands the mind to will a thing, the very same essence with it, and yet it doth it not. Whence such a monster? and how can this be? It commands (I say)

that it should will a thing, which could not command it un∣less it willed it, first; and yet that is not done, which it commands.

Indeed it is not wholly willing, therefore neither doth it wholly command; for only so farr it commands, as it wills: and so farr what it commands is not done, as it wills not, that it should be done. Because the will com∣mands, that there should be a willing, and nothing else commands this, but only it self upon it self, therefore it doth not wholly command it: and therefore that which it commands that it may be, is such a thing, as is not alrea∣dy; for if the will were already wholly inclined to such a thing, it would not command, that such inclination should be, because it was already. Both to will, and yet to nill in part, therefore, is no monster; But a sickness and infirmi∣ty of the mind, which cannot entirely arise, when lifted up by the truth, because 'tis counterpoised by vitious custom. And, therefore only, there are two willings, because one of them is not total; and so what is wanting to the one, makes up and fortifieth the other.

CHAP. X.

LEt them perish from before thy face, (O God), as the speakers of lies, and imposters do perish, who when they observe in our deliberating two wills, do affirm two distinct minds in us of a different nature, the one good and the other bad. [ ] For when I thus deliberated, at last to enter upon the service of my Lord God, as I had long design'd, i•• was I that willed, and I also that nilled, it. It was the ••••me I, who as yet neither fully willed, nor fully nilled it; and therefore, was in contention with my self, and divided and rent from my self; and this rent in me indeed was made against my will; yet it signified not in me, the inhabitancy of some forreign mind, but the punish∣ment of my own: and therefore it was no more I, that wrought this distraction, but sin that dwelled in me, from the punishment of that first more freely-committed of∣fence; inasmuch as I am a son of Adam.

And, certainly, if there were so many contrary natures in us, as there are in us contrary desires, there will not be two principles only: one of our good inclinations, the other of our bad; But must be many also of the bad, and many of the good. Since we have many wills and desires opposing and hindering one another, and yet all of them

bad; and many repugning also, one to another, yet all which are good; the acting of all which may concurr up∣on the same point of time, and all may be equally affected, but cannot be all at once effected. [ ] Which, there∣fore struggle amongst themselves until some one thing be chosen, to which may be totally carried that one will, which before was divided towards many. So when Eter∣nity delights us above, and the pleasure of a temporal good re-tempts us here below, it is the same soul, not with a full will, willing the one, or the other; and therefore it remains suspended with a tormenting distraction, whilst from the Truth it preferrs one, and from its acquaintance cannot quit the other.

CHAP. XI.

THus sick of mind, and thus tormented I was, accusing my self much more severely than formerly, and tum∣bling, and winding to and fro in my chain, till I had wholly broken it off; a small piece only of which now held me, yet held me still. And thou, O Lord, pressedst sore upon me in my inner parts, with a severe mercy; redoubling the lashes of fear and shame, * that I might not give over stretching, and * lest I should not break off that thin piece which only remained, and it should grow again upon me, and bind me faster, than ever.

For now I said within to my self;

[Come, let it be done presently, just now let it be done:]

and already in word I began a league with thee: and already I almost did it: but quite did it not. Neither relapsed I again into for∣mer wonts, but stood and took breath, being very near it, and then set on again, and was arrived almost at it; and almost, now, and now, touched, and laid hold on it; and yet I was not quite there, nor, yet, touched, nor held, it; demurring a while, to die unto death, and to live unto life; and the worse, long used, being farr more prevalent in me, than the better, untried: And the point of time, in which I was to become another man, how much it approached nearer, struck in me so much more hor∣rour. Yet did it not make me to reconcile, or quite turn away, but only to stand in a suspense.

There hung still upon me those trifles of trifles, and vanities of vanities, my old Mistresses; and plucking me by the vesture of the flesh, softly whispered unto me.

[Will you then thus forsake us? and, from this moment no

more, for ever, shall we accompany you? and from this moment shall not this, nor that, be lawful for you to do, any more, for ever?]

And what things were they, that these suggested unto me under the words which I call This and That? What kind of things were they, that these promoted to me, O my God? Let thy mercy ever avert the remembrance of them from the soul of thy Servant. What filthiness, what infamies did they suggest? and I heard them (now, much more than half, none of theirs) not as boldly affronting me, or freely contradicting me to my face, but as lowly muttering behind me, and secretly pulling me (when going away), only to look once more back upon them. Yet they somewhat retarded me, that I made not due speed to catch away my self and shake them off, and to spring from them whither thy Grace cal∣led me, whilst a strong custom of them said unto me, Thinkest thou, that thou canst, for ever henceforth, live with∣out such things?

But now it said this but very faintly. For there ap∣peared unto me on that part, where I had already turned my face, but whither I yet trembled to passe, Continency, with a maiestick modesty, serene, and un-dissolutely cheer∣full; and honestly tempting me to come forward, and to fear nothing: and extending, towards the receiving and the embracing of me, those charitable armes of hers, so full of societies, of good examples. There were enter∣tained so many children, boys and girles, so much flourish∣ing youth, and all other ages, grave widdows, and aged virgins: And, in all these, Continency, not barren, but a fruitful mother of children, namely of celestial joyes be∣gotten by thee, O Lord, her most dear Husband. And she, with a perswading derision, laughed at me, as if she had said; And art not thou able to do, what those youths and those maidens are? Or are those and those able in them∣selves? and not in the Lord their God? the Lord their God gave me unto them. Why standest thou upon thy self, and therefore dost not stand? throw thy self upon him, and fear nothing, he will not withdraw himself, to let thee fall: Cast thy self upon him securely, for he will catch and will save thee. And I blushed exceedingly, that I yet continued to hear the former whisperings of those Toyes, and to hang in suspense. And, again, she seemed to say to me; Stop thine eares against those thy unclean members which are on the earth, that they may be mortified. They tell thee of some cer∣tain delights, but not of such as the Law of the Lord thy God

proposeth. Such was the contest acted within in my heart only between me and my self, whilst Alipius, who sate close by me, silent expected the event of such an unusal commotion.

CHAP. XII.

His totall Conversion by reading (upon hearing a voice from Heaven) a passage of S. Paul, where the book first opened.

BUt as soon as more profound meditation had drawn out, from the very bottom of this sink, and laid on an heap, all my misery before the view of my soul, there arose in me a mighty tempest, bringing with it great showres of teares. Which that I might more freely pour forth with their proper words and expressions, I rose from Alipius, conceiving solitude more suitable to a business of weeping, and removed so farr off, as where neither his presence might be burdensome unto me. Thus it was with me; and he perceiving something (I know not what) from my words when I arose, in which the change of my voice shewed me big with tears, stayed still where he sate, much amazed.

I, under a certain fig-tree, threw down my self I know not how, and gave liberty to my teares; and the rivers of my eyes ran apace, being an acceptable sacrifice unto thee. And, not indeed in these words, but, to this pur∣pose, I said many things unto thee. And thou, O Lord, how long? how long wilt thou be angry, for ever? Remember not our former iniquities. For I well perceived I was still possessed and withheld by them, and therefore call out such miserable complaints. How long; how long? to mor∣row and to morrow? Why not presently, why not, this very hour, an end to my filthiness?

These things I uttered, as I wept, with a most bitter contrition of spirit: And behold I heard a voice, as from a neighbouring house, as of a Boy or Girle, I know not whether, in a singing note: saying, and often repeating: Tolle, Lege; Tolle, Lege; Take up and read. And pre∣sently my countenance being altered, I began with much intention to consider, whether Children were wont, in any kind of play, to sing any such words: nor could I call to mind, that I had any where heard the like. Where∣upon, suppressing the course of my teares, I rose up, in∣terpreting it to be nothing else but a divine Admonition,

that I should open the book; and read the place I first light upon. For I had heard of Antonius, * that entring by chance into a Church, when the Gospel was reading, he took himself to be admonished, as if that was particularly addressed to him, what was then read: [Go and sell that thou hast and give to the poor, and thou shalt have treasure in heaven, and come and follow me]: and * that by this Ora∣cle he was out of hand converted unto thee.

So getting up hastily, I returned to the place where Alipius was sitting, for there, when I arose, I had left the Apostles book: I catched it up, opened it, read, in silence, the piece of the Chapter, on which I first cast mine eyes. Not in rioting and drunkenness; not in chambering and wan∣tonness; not in strife and envying: but put ye on the Lord Jesus Christ; and make not provision for the flesh to fulfil the lusts thereof. I would read no further, nor was there need: For at the end of these lines, as it were with a new light of confidence and security streaming into my soul, the darkness of all former doubting and hesitancy was dispelled. Then putting my finger, or I know not what other mark, between, I shut the book, and now with a serene and untroubled countenance related all to Alipi∣us. Who also thus discovered, what should be done like∣wise in him, which I observed not. He requested to see, what I had read: I shewed him the place; then He look∣ing attentively further than I had read, who knew not what followed, there found these, the next words. Him that is weak in the faith receive ye. Which words he applied to himself, and so shewed them to me. But this very admonition sufficiently confirmed him, and streight, without any afflicting delayes, did he joyn himself to me in this good and holy resolution, so pleasing and agreeable to his former manners, in the vertuous inclinations of which he alwayes aforetime had far surpassed me.

Thence we go in to my Mother. We relate our reso∣lution to her; she rejoyceth; we tell her all the circum∣stances thereof, she exults and triumphs, and fell a blessing thee, who art able to do above that which we ask or think; because she saw so much more granted her by thee concerning me, than ever she had petitioned thee for, with all those her miserable and lamentable groans. For in such a full manner didst thou convert me unto thee, that I sought now no more after wife, nor after any other hope of this world, standing now with her upon that rule of faith,† as thou hadst in a vision represented me unto

her so many yeares before. And thus thou turnedst her mourning into gladness; into a gladness much more plentiful, than that she had aspired to, and much more pre∣cious and chast, than that she had promised her self from her grand-children of my body.

LIB. IX.

CHAP. I.

Doxology and Thanksgiving for this his freedom from his former lusts; aad the great joy and content he presently re∣ceived therein.

O My Lord, I am thy servant, I am thy servant, and the son of thine handmaid, thou hast broken my bonds insunder. I will offer to thee the sacrifice of praise. Let my heart, and let my tongue, praise thee, and let all my bones say: O Lord, who is like unto thee? Let them say this, and do thou answer me, and say thou again unto my soul; I am thy Salvation. Alas! who, and what a one was I? What evil was not I? evil, either my deeds, or, if not deeds, my words; or, if not words, my will? But Thou (O Lord) wert good and mercifull, and thy right hand sounded the profundity of that my death: and drew, out of the bottom of my heart, that abysse of corruption, summed up in this: To nill all that thou wouldest; and to will all that thou wouldest not.

But where was all this while, during so many yeares, and out of what low and deep retreat of my soul didst thou thus in a moment call forth, that my (now indeed) Free-will, wherewith I should submit my neck unto thy easie yoke, and my shoulders unto thy light burden, (O Jesus Christ my helper and my Redeemer?) How sweet, on a sudden, became it now unto me to want the sweets of those toyes! and what before it was my fear to lose, how was it now my joy, to dismiss! For thou, the true and the supreme sweetness, didst expell them from me: Thou expelledst them, and thy self enteredst into me in∣stead

of them: more delicious than all delights, but not to flesh and blood; more bright and glorious than all light, but to the inward hidden man: exalted above the heights of all honour, but not to those, who exalt them∣selves. Now was my mind freed from those consuming-cares of seeking honour, and of getting wealth, and of weltring in pleasure, and scratching the tickling and itchy scabs of my lusts. And now my infant-tongue began to converse with thee, my ambition, and my riches, and my salvation, my Lord God.

CHAP. II.

His purpose to relinquish his profession of teaching Rhe∣torick, but the thing deferred till the Vintage-vaca∣tion.

ANd it seemed good to me before thee, not tumultu∣ously to break off, but yet gently to withdraw any further service of my tongue in those Faires of loquacity, that the young men, who meditated not thy Law, not thy Peace, but lying fooleries and forensick warrs, might no longer buy from my mouth armes for their madness. And now there remained but a few dayes to the vacation of the vintage; which I resolved patiently to endure, that I might relinquish my School at an accustomed sea∣son; and, being now purchased by thee, might return no more to be thus exposed to sale. This was then my pur∣pose, agreed on before thee, and amongst our selves; but not thought fit to be divulged to others abroad.

Although thou hadst given unto us, ascending from the valley of teares, and singing unto thee in this our ascent a song of degrees and of joy, sharp arrows and hot burn∣ing coals against the deceitful tongue, which under pretence of advising our good, averts us from it, and (as it useth its meat) in loving, consumes us. But thou hadst shot through our hearts with the love of thee, and we carried the arrows of thy words sticking in our entrals, And the examples of others thy servants, as hot burning coals (whom thou hadst made, of once black and dead, now lively and lucid), being thrown into the bosom of our serious cogitations, fired and consumed our former heavy stupidities, that our motion, like that of fire, should point no more downward to low things: which examples had kindled such a flame in us, that all the blasts of contradicti∣on from a deceitful tongue could only more increase, but

not extinguish, it. Nevertheless, because that, by reason of thy name, now so glorified through the world, such our purpose and vow must needs find many commenders, it seem'd, * that it might appear to have some relish of vain-glory in me not to have patience till a vacation so near, but to desert a Profession so publick, and eyed by all, before it; and * that the mouths of all men reflect∣ing on this my act, and how near a breaking-up school I would yet prevent, might say many things, as if I affect∣ed to magnifie my self and seem some great one; and yet what mattered it to me, that men should divine and di∣spute my intentions; or that our good should be thus evil-spoken of?

But, besides the opportunity of the Vintage-vacation, so it was, that, in the heat of Summer, my lungs began, * to fail, under the too much toil of my School, difficultly * to fetch breath, and by the pains of my breast to signifie their hurt, and now * to refuse any very loud or long speaking; which thing, at the first, had much troubled me, because it would force me, either they being incurable, upon necessity to give o're so burdensome a profession: or, if curable, yet to intermit it. But after that a resolute will to attend only on thee, and to see, how that thou art the Lord, was raised and confirmed in me; thou knowest (O my God, my joy) that I had this also, no false, excuse, to sweeten the discontent of those men, who, for their childrens benefit envied my liberty.

Full of such joy, I patiently therefore endured that in∣terval of time, till it should be run out. I know not, whi∣ther they were about some twenty dayes, but they were endured not without some patience, for I was already rid of those ambitions, which formerly helped me to bear that heavy burden, with which now, therefore, I should have been overlaid, had not patience took their place. Some of thy Servants, my brethren, may blame me for this, that, having a heart now fully resign'd to thy service, I should any longer, (though but for an hour), sit down in the chair of lies. And for my part I do not oppose them. But thou, O Lord, so full of mercy, hast thou not pardoned and remitted this sin also unto me, a∣mongst many others so horrible and deadly, in the holy water of my Baptism?

CHAP. III.

Verecundus, a Citizen of Millain, offers his country-house for their retirement. The death of Verecundus and of Nebridius not long after S. Austin's conversion: being both first made Christians.

†VErecundus was much afflicted concerning this our purpose, because thus he saw himself, by reason of the many bonds wherewith he was most straitly tyed, de∣prived of our society: Himself not yet a Christian, though his wife a baptized Professor of the faith; and yet was he *retarded by her, as one of his straightest fetters, from fol∣lowing our intended course; * and did deny to become a Christian upon any other termes, than these he could not perform. Truly he very courteously offered and lent us, for the time of our abode in that place, the use of his coun∣try-house. Thou, O Lord, shalt recompense him at the resurrection of the righteous, since the lot of the righte∣ous is already happened to him. Who, (though in our absence, after we had removed to Rome)▪ being seized by a corporal sickness, was, in it, made a Christian, and a Fidelis, and so departed this life. In which thing thou hadst mercy, not only on him, but on us, lest considering the great courtesies of this friend toward us, and not able to number him amongst thy flock, we should have been tor∣mented with too disconsolate a sorrow. Thanks be to thee, our God; thy care we are all; thy exhortations and thy consolations sufficiently shew it, faithful in all thy promises: Thou shalt return to Verecundus, for that his house at Cassiacum (where from the tumults of the world we quietly reposed in thee) the amenity of thy eternal∣ly-green and flourishing Paradise (because thou hast re∣mitted unto him his sins here on earth) in the mountain of fat pastures, the Hill of God, that fruitful Hill.

Thus was Verecundus afflicted, but Nebridius, as much joyed: for although he, not as yet a Christian, had for∣merly fallen into the pit of that most pernicious errour, to believe the flesh of thy Son only an empty apparition, yet now, reclaimed from it, he was a most earnest inq isi∣tor of truth; though not as yet initiated in any Sacra∣ments of thy Church. Whom, becoming also, not long after our conversion and regeneration by thy baptism, a faithful Catholick, and serving thee in all continency and chastity amongst his Kindred in Afri k, and having con∣verted

all his family to Christianity, thou hast loosed from the flesh, and now he lives unto thee in Abraham's bo∣som.

Whatever it is, that is signified by that bosom there my Nebridius lives, my sweet friend, and thy adopted Son; there he lives. For what other place can receive such a soul? In that place he lives, concerning which he asked of me, a poor unexperienced man, so many questions. He now layes his ear no more to my mouth, but his spiritual mouth to thy fountain, and there drinks wisdom to his fill, endlesly happy. Yet cannot I imagin him so inebria∣ted therewith, that he forgets me, since thou also, O Lord, whom he drinketh, art mindful of me.

Thus therefore it was with us at that time; we com∣forting Verecundus, much grieved (yet without diminu∣tion of friendship) for such our conversion; and * ex∣horting him to a profession of the faith suting with his condition, namely with a married life; And, * attending for Nebridius, when he would run the same course of life with us, which he might presently, and was upon the point to do it, every moment, when, behold, those dayes were at last run out, which seemed, so long, and many, from the affection I had of a vacant liberty, That I might sing from the innermost marrow of my soul. Tibi dixit cor meum. My heart hath said unto thee: I have sought thy face: and thy face, O Lord, will I seek.

CHAP. IV.

His retiring, in the Vacation, (after his School dissolved) to the country-house of Verecundus: His meditations on the fourth Psalm, and his several writings there: and the miraculous cure of his violent tooth-ach, after he was ren∣dred thereby speechless.

ANd now was the day come, wherein I should actually be released from my Professorship in Rhetorick, from which I was released before in affection: And it was done; and thou now freedst my tongue, from what thou hadst before freed my heart: And I blessed thee with much rejoycing, and so retired to the Country Villa† with all my nearest friends. Where * what I did in my writings, (now indeed dedicated to thy service, but yet as it were panting after, and somewhat relishing of, the School of pride so lately left) is witnessed by my

books,‖ reasoned partly with those who were present before me, and partly with my self alone before thee; and what I acted with absent Nebridius, is testified by my Epistles.

O! when shall I find sufficient time for commemoration of those thy so many and so great benefits toward us in that time; especially I hastening to yet greater matters? For my remembrance calls me back to those times; and it is a sweet thing to me (O Lord) to confess now unto thee, * with what inward rods thou then tamedst me, and * in what manner thou levelledst and plainedst me; humbling the mountains and banks of my vain and tow∣ring thoughts, straightening my crookedness, and smooth∣ing my roughness: and also * in what manner, thou sub∣duedst Alipius, the brother of my soul, to that blessed name of thy only begott n Son Jesus Christ our Lord: Which name at first he disdained to have inserted in our writings, which he desired might rather rellish ^△ of the lofty Cedars of the Philosophy-school, which the Lord hath broken, than ^△ of the humble and low medicinal herbs of ecclesiastical knowledge, salutary for nourish∣ment, preservative against poisons.

O! what passionate voices sent I up onto thee then, when I read the Psalmes of David, those faithful Hymns, and those Aires of piety, not to be sung by any swoln spirit, then, when I was but yet a novice in the School of thy Love, and only Catechumenus, solacing my self in that Villa, in the society of Alipius, a Catechumenus also; my Mother still adhering to us, in a female habit, but with, a manly faith, the security of old age, the affection of a Mother, the piety of a Christian. O what passionate ex∣pressions (I say) made I unto thee, in the reading of those Psalms! and how much was I enflamed towards thee by them! and how was I incensed to have sung and proclaimed them (if I could) all the world over, to the confusion of the swelling and pride of men. Though verily all the world over are they sung, and there is none, that can hide himself from thy heat. With what bitter indignation and grief did I storme against the Manichees? and then again pittied them, that they were * ignorant of those Sacraments, of those Medicines, and * mad also

against the Antidote from which they might have received the cure of their madnesse. How did I wish that they had been somewhere near me, and might (I igno∣rant of their presence or hearkning) have * observed my countenance; and * heard my ejaculations, when I read the fourth Psalme; and * seen, what things, in that my retirement were wrought on me by this Psalme, [Cum invocarem—When I called upon thee thou heardest me O God of my righteousnesse in my distress thou hast enlarged me. Have mercy upon me O Lord and hear my prayer.] That (I say) they might have heard (without my knowledge that they heard, lest they might think that for them I said so) what things I uttered on those words, for indeed neither should I say the same things, nor in such manner say them, supposing them to have seen or over-heard me; nor if I should have said the same, would they have so en∣tertained them, as when I said them only with, and to, my self before thee, in the familiar and native affections and expressions of my mind.

How did I now tremble with fear, now again burn with hope, and with exultation in thy mercy (O Father) and how did these issue forth by my eyes, and voice, my tears, and sighs, when thy good spirit, turning unto us, saith in the words following: O ye sons of men, how long dull of heart? How long will ye love vanity and seek after a lye? Know ye that the Lord hath magnified his holy one.— For I had loved vanity and sought a lye. And thou, Lord, hadst already long since magnified thy Holy one; raising him from the dead, and setting him at thy right hand. Whence also he should send from on high his promised Comforter, the Spirit of truth. And he had also sent him already, but I knew it not. He had sent him already, because he was already magnified rising from the dead and ascending into heaven († For till then the H. Ghost was not given, because Jesus was not yet glorified.) And for these things it is, that the Prophet cries out: How long dull of heart? How long love ye vanity and seek a lye? And know ye that the Lord hath glorified his holy One? He cries out How long? He cri s out: Know ye? And I so long, not knowing, had loved vanity and sought after a lie; and therefore I heard and stood in awe; because this was spoken to such as (I remembred) I had been. For, in those phantasmes, which I had held for Truth, there was vanity and a lie. And I burst forth in∣to many serious and vehement expressions, in the bitter∣nesse

of my remembrance. Which I wish they might have heard, who, even until now, love that vanity, and seek after that lie. Perhaps they would have been pain'd and have emptied themselves of that poyson, and so thou wouldst hear them, when they cried unto thee. For, not in a vain and lying appearance, but by a true death of his flesh, he died for us, who now intercedes and cries unto thee for us, and thou hearest him.

I further read there:† Be angry and sin not? And how was I moved therewith, O my God! Who had already learnt to be angry with my self for my past sin, that I might for the future forbear sinning: and with good rea∣son angry; because, it was not any other nature of the Nation of darknesse that sinned in me; as they say; who therefore are not angry with themselves for it; and so treasure up anger against the day of anger, and of the re∣velation of thy just judgment.

Neither were now my‖ good things (as theirs) placed abroad, and without me, nor sought with my carnal eyes by the light of that Sun; For those who seek their joy in something abroad, do easily become vain, and are spilt upon those things which are seen, and which are tempo∣ral; and with hunger-sterved cogitations continue still licking the images thereof. And Oh, that they might once grow weary of, and loath, such an hunger, and say: quis ostendet nobis bona? Who will shew us any better good? And that we might answer again, & they might hearken unto it. [Si∣gnatum est, &c. The light of thy countenance must be lifted up upon us.] For we our selves are not the light, which enlight∣neth every man, but we are enlightned from thee; that,‖ who were sometimes darkness, may be light in thee. Oh, that they might see that eternal light internal, unto us. Which I (now when I had tasted it,) much greived, that I could not† shew to them, when they bring unto me their heart in their eyes, wandring without and abroad, from the place where thou art, and then say; who will shew us a∣ny good? For there, there it was, that I had been angry at my self; namely within△ in the private bedchamber of my heart, there had I been compunct and pricked; there sacri∣ficed my old life now slain, and the inchoated meditations of a new putting my trust in thee. There it was, That thou hadst now begun to grow sweet and delicious unto me; And hadst put joy into my heart. And I was transported in∣to an exclamation, what I read here without, experien∣cing it within. Neither desired I any longer to be

multiplyed and divided toward any terrene goods: wasting time; whenas I might enjoy another corn and wine and Oyle, in an eternal simplicity, instead of such a temporal multiplicity.

And then I cryed out in the following verse, with the loud clamour of my heart. O, in pace, O, in idipsum; O in peace; O in possession of that very thing; O what is it that he saith? Obdormiam & somnum capiam, In that peace and in that fruition I shall lay me down and sleep: because who shall any wayes disturb us, when is come to passe the saying, that is written Death is swallowed up in Victory? And it is thou O Lord that art that idipsum [the very same] indeed, who art never changed; and in thee is this resting; eternally forgetting all labours, because there is none other thing labour-worth besides thee; and to what purpose is it to get many other things, which are not thee? Therefore thou O Lord hast established me in the sole hope of thee.

I read; and I was all on fire; and yet I found not what to do to those deaf, and dead; of whom my self was once a pestilent member, and a bawler (full of bitternesse and blindnesse) against those writings, * all sweet from the hony-dew of heaven, and * all-lightsom from thy light. And now I pined away as much because of those their Scriptures which were penned in opposition to these.

How shall I call to mind all the passages of that our coun∣try-retirement? — But, amongst them, I forget not, nor will I conceal, the severity of thy rod upon me in that place, as likewise the celerity of thy mercy. Thou didst then greatly torment me with the tooth-ach: and when it had increased to such an excesse, as that now I was no more able to speak, it came into my mind to re∣quest all my friends then present to go to their prayers for me to thee, the God of all manner of health. This I writ in a waxen Tablet and gave it to them to read; and no sooner were we fallen upon our knees to our devotions but that pain vanished. But how great a pain? And how strangely ceased? I was much affraid and amazed at it, I confesse (O my Lord, my God): For from my youth never had I experienced the like; and the great power of thy beck in our profoundest misery, was, thus, shewed unto me; and, rejoycing in faith, I praised thy name. But the same faith suffered me not to rest in quiet concerning my former sins, not yet remitted unto me by thy baptism.

CHAP. V.

His acquainting S. Ambrose by Letters, with his former er∣rours and present resolutions, desiring his advice what part of Scriptures chiefly he should read, who directeth him to Esaias.

THe Vintage-vacation being ended, I gave notice to the Millanois to provide for the Schollers another Merchant of Language: both because I had designed, for the future to dedicate my self to thy service; and because by reason of the difficulty of breathing and pain of my breast, I was no longer fit for that profession. And I signi∣fied by letters to thy Prelate that H. man Ambrose my for∣mer errours, and my present resolutions and desires:† e∣questing also that he would instruct me, which of thy books especially I should read, to be the better prepared and fitted for so great a grace. And he recommended to me the Prophet Esay: I suppose, because he above the rest was a clearer forshewer of the Gospel, and of the calling of the Gentiles. But I not understanding the very first Chapter of him, and imagining all the rest sutable, laid it aside, to be re-sum'd when I was more expert in the Gospel-writings.

CHAP VI.

His return to Millain the Easter following to receive Baptism from Bishop Ambrose together with his Son Adeodat, and Alipius, who travelled thither barefoot. S. Austins ra∣vishment and melting into tears upon hearing the Church-Service and—Musick.

FRom the foresaid Villa, when the time was come for giving in our names [as Candidates of Baptism] leav∣ing the country we returned to Millain. And it seemed good to Alipius to be my associate in the same regenera∣tion in thee; he having already put on an humility suta∣ble to thy Sacraments, and being a most valiant subduer and tamer of the body, even to travell on the cold and frozen ground of Italy barefoot, no usual attempt. We joyned with us also the boy Adeodate; carnally begotten in my sin; but excellently made by thee. He was then a∣bout fifteen years of age, surpassing in wit many grave and learned men. They are thy gifts, that I here confesse un∣to thee O Lord my God, Creator of all things, and potent

to reform our deformities and amend our defects. As for my self, I own nothing in that child besides my sin; For if we took some care to nurture him in thy discipline, it was thou and none else that didst inspire this into us. Thy gifts then they are, that I confess unto thee.

There is a book of mine composed by way of Dialogue, entitled, De Magistro; where we two are made discour∣sing together; thou knowest that all those things, intro∣duced in the person of him my co-dialogist, were his own conceits, when but sixteen yeares old. I discovered in him many other things yet more admirable. That wit of his was an astonishment and a prodigy unto me, and who besides thee could be the work-master of such an admira∣ble piece?

Very soon didst thou take away his life from the earth, and I, with the more security, remember him; not dread∣ing any further thing now, for his childhood, nor his youth, nor for his mans-estate. Him we associated to be made coetaneous with us in thy Grace, and educated him in thy discipline. And we were all baptized together, and the solicitude and anguish for our former ill-led life now vanished from us. Nor was I satiated in those dayes with the wonderful sweetness I enjoyed in contempla∣ting the height of thy Counsels for the salvation of man. How much did I weep in the singing of thy Psalmes and Hymnes, being passionately moved by the melodious voi∣ces of thy Church? Those voices flowed in at my ears, and thy truth distilled into my heart, and there the affecti∣on of piety boyled o're, and thence flowed down teares, and much solace found I in them.

CHAP. VII.

The original of singing the Church-Psalmes and Hymnes at Millain after the manner of the Eastern Churches. The bodies of the Martyrs, Gervasius and Protasius, discover∣ed to S. Ambrose by divine revelation, found un-corrupted. Many miracles done by them; whereby the fury of the Arrian Empress, towards S. Ambrose, and the Catholicks, was much lenified.

THe Church of Millain had, not long before, begun to practise this way of mutual consolation and exhorta∣tion, zealously performed by the Brethren, with a joynt harmony of voices, and hearts. A year it was then, or not much more, since Justina, the Mother of Valentinian

the Emperour then a child, persecuted thy holy man Am∣brose in favour of her heresie, whereto the Arrians had se∣duced her. The devout people watched night and day in the Church, ready to die with their Bishop, thy Ser∣vant; and there thy hand-maid, my Mother, also, bearing a chief part in the troubles and vigils, lived upon her pray∣ers; we, hitherto cold and unquickened by the heat of thy Spirit, yet were not a little roused up by the amazement and perturbation of the whole City. And at this time it was first ordered, that Hymnes and Psalmes should be sung after the manner of the Eastern parts, that the people might not languish and pine away with a tedious sorrow. And from that time to this present is it retain∣ed there, very many (and almost all) thy Congregations in other parts of the world, imitating it.

Then it was, that thou, by a vision, shewedst unto thy forenamed Prelate, where the bodies of the Martyrs, Gervasius and Protasius, lay, which thou hadst so long pre∣served uncorrupted in thy secret treasury, opportunely now to bring them forth, for the suppressing of a womans, yet a Prince's, rage.

For when these, discovered and taken up from the place where they lay, were with beseeming reverence translated to Ambrose's Basilica; not only those vexed with unclean spirits, after the Devils own confessions of these Martyrs, were dispossessed of them: But also a certain Citizen, for many years blind, and very well known in the Town, when he had enquired the cause of such a confused joy of such a number of people, leaped up and desired his Guide to conduct him thitherward: where arrived, he procured admission, that he might touch with his handkerchief the ••ier of these thy dead Saints, preci∣ous in thy sight; which having done, and wiped his eyes therewith, they were presently opened. Thence the same thereof is spread abroad: thence thy praises zealously celebrated: thence the mind of that wrathful Woman, though it was not advanced to the soundness of believing, yet was it with-held from the fury of persecuting. Thanks to thee (O my God); from whence and whitherto hast thou guided my remembrance, that I might also confess these things unto thee, which, being so considerable, yet I had omitted and forgotten before. And yet even then, when the savour of thy good ointments poured forth was so fragrant abroad, we did not run after thee. And for this reason I lamented so much the more in the singing of

those thine Hymnes; of a long time before sighing after thee, and at last breathing in thee, as farr as there can be any free breathing in this narrow cottage of flesh raised up of a few turfes of Grass.

CHAP. VIII.

S. Austin's return by Rome for Africk. The death of his Mother in Italy at Ostia. A description of her pious educa∣tion and life.

THou who makest men live together unanimously in one house, didst add to our society Evodius also a young man of the same town with me. Who being of the number of those Officers in the Court, whom they call Agents in the Emperours affairs, was before us both converted unto thee and baptized, and relinquishing the secular, now embraced thy, service. All together we liv'd,‖ together, (resolved to continue in this holy devotement), we sought a place most convenient for this our design of thy service. Together we returned for Africk: and, when we came to Ostia Tiberina, my Mother died.

Much I omit, because I much hasten†. Do thou re∣ceive my confessions and thanksgivings, in privacy and si∣lence, for innumerable favours here omitted. But I will not omit, what my soul swels and labours with concerning that thy handmaid, who conceived and laboured of me both in her womb, that I might be born into this tempo∣rall light, and in her heart likewise, that I might be born again into the eternal. Nor will I here celebrate her gifts, but thine in her. For it was not she, that gave such birth, or such education; to herself; but it was thou that createdst her; neither did her parents know what a one she should be extracted from them. And it was the rod of thy Christ, and the discipline of thine only begotten Son, that educated her in thy fear, in a believeing family, and in a well governed portion of thy Church.

And, for this her good education, she was wont to ex∣toll not so much the care of her mother, as of a certain decrepit maid-servant, one that had carried her Father, when an infant, on her back, as bigger girles use to carry little children. For which reason, as likewise for her great age, and vertuous qualities, she received, in this Christian family, much respect from the Governours thereof. Therefore was the charge over her Masters daughters committed to her, and as carefully discharged by her; one, of a sober prudence in directing them, and of an holy severity (when need was,) in restraining them. For, excepting the set houres of a slender repast, which they took at their parents table, sh permitted them not, though never so dry and thirsty, to drink so much as a little water; preventing an evil custome, and adding a good advice. Ye drink water now, because wine is not in your power; but when ye come to get husbands, and are made mi∣stresses of closets and cellars; Water will grow contemptible to you, but the custom of drinking will stick by you.

With such prudence of instructing, and authority of commanding, she easily suppressed the lustings of that yet tender age, and moulded their very thirst into such a regu∣lar habit; that it was no more affected by them, what was not meet for them; and what was not decent, now was not grateful.

Yet notwithstanding this, there afterward stole upon her (as this thy hand-maid told me her son) by litle and li∣tle there stole upon her, an affection to wine. For she, as a sober Maid, being usually sent by her parents into the Cel∣lar to fetch wine, in taking it with a little scale out of the vessel, before she poured it into the flagon, used to put her lips to it, and sip but a very little, for she could do no more by the reluctance of her palat. For this was not, then at first done by her, out of any lust to wine, but out of the over-flowing excesses of that age, which boyl up to many wanton tricks and experiments, where they are not allayed in youth, by the presence and gravity of the aged. Therefore to this little she by adding daily more littles (for whoever contemneth small things, shall fall by little and by little) at length contracted such a custome, that now she would greedily drink off almost a whole one of those lit∣tle dishes.

Where now was that discreet old servant? and those her zealous admonitions? could they have had any ver∣tue upon this conceal'd disease, unless thy cure, O Lord,

also watched over us? At a time when her Father and Mother, and other Overseers were all absent, thou who art alwayes present; who createst, who convertest us, who also procurest, for the salvation of souls, some good even from those who are evil, what didst thou at that time for her, O my God? how didst thou heal her? how didst thou draw out a rude and sharp taunt from the breast of another, as it were a medicinall launcet out of thy hidden store, and, with one cut thereof, let out all this corruption? For another maid-servant that usually went with her to the cellar, on a time quarrelling with her young Mistress (as it often happens) when they two were alone, objected this thing to her; with a most bitter insulting, calling her Wine-bibber. With which reproach she being notably stung, reflected on the foulness of her fault, condemned, forsook, it. As flattering friends per∣vert, so quarrellous enemies many times amend, us. Yet wilt thou repay them not according to thine, by them, but according to their own, purposes. For this angry servant intended only her reproach, not cure; and did this secretly, only because the time and place of their brabbling happened to be such; or else, lest, speaking it openly, she should happen also to be chid for not disclo∣sing such a thing sooner. But thou, O Lord, the Guide of all Creatures in Heaven and in Earth, who turnest the streams of the strongest torrents to thy uses, and disposest the tur∣bulent flux of sins to thy designs, by the madness of one soul, soberedst another: That none well considering this, may attribute it to his own power, even when, by his words, such a one is amended, whose amendment he de∣sign'd.

CHAP. IX.

Her dutiful deportment, toward, and, at last, conversion, of, her Husband Patricius.

THe, thus chastly and soberly educated, and rather by thee rendred dutiful to her parents, than by them made so to thee, When by her years she was now com∣pleatly marriageable, being matched to an husband, served him as a master: indeavouring to gain him to thy service, and continually preaching thee to him in her excellent conditions, wherein thou madest her very beautiful; and reverently amiable and admirable, to her Husband. As for the misbehaviours & violations of the marriage-bed, she

so patiently endured them, as that she never had any con∣troversie with her Husband about such matter. For she still expected the descent of thy mercy upon him, that, being once made thy Convert, he would also become continent.

Besides this; he was, as very amorous in his af∣fection, so very hot and hasty in his anger. But well she knew to make no resistance to him when in his passion; not only in deed, but neither in word. Only when he was re-calm'd and quiet, upon an opportunity offered, she gave him an account of her action, if haply he had been without reason incensed. And, when as there were some other principal Dames who, though matched to much gentler Husbands, than hers, yet carried about sometimes upon their very disfigured faces the marks of their Hus∣bands fury; and they, (in their familiar discourse toge∣ther) would ordinarily blame the naughtiness of their Husbands, she blamed that of their own tongues; as it were in jest, soberly remembring them, * that, from the time they had first heard their matrimonial Contracts re∣cited, they were to account them as Indentures, whereby they were made servants; and so, mindful of such their condition, * that they ought not to grow haughty against their Masters. And when they, knowing what a choleri k Husband she endured, wondred, that it was never heard, or any other way appeared, that Patricius had beaten his Wife, or that any other domestical dissensions, even for one day, had happened between them; and familiarly enqui∣red the reason thereof; she acquainted them with her rule and practise set down above. And those amongst them, who observed the same, upon their own experience re∣turned many thanks; those who observed it not, kept still in slavery, suffered much misery.

Her Mother in law also, by the tales and whispers of malicious and naughty maid-servants, becoming at their first living together much incensed against her, she so over∣came her by her observance, and her perseverance in all long-suffering and meekness, that of her own accord she disclosed to her Son whose intermedling tongues they were, whereby the peace of the house between her and her daughter-in-law had been so disturbed; and desired, he would punish them. And thus after he, both in obe∣dience to his Mother, and care of the discipline of the fa∣mily, & of the amity of the members thereof, had correct∣ed those complained-of, as she desired, and she also had promised the like reward to whoever should hereafter, as

to please her, speak evill of her daughter in law, none thenceforward daring to do it; Very memorable was the sweetnesse of that perfect amity they ever after enjoyed.

Thou hadst also conferred this excellent gift on that thy good Servant, in whose womb thou wast pleased to forme me (O my God, my Mercy) that between dis-a∣greeing and dissenting parties (in all things she could) she rendred herself such a peacemaker, that when hear∣ing mutually from both of them many bitter reproachings of one another (such as a swelling and undigested choler useth to belch up, when the crudities of hatred are ex∣haled, and breathed forth in a soure discourse to som one present, whom they affect, concerning another ab∣sent, whom they disrelish) yet she never disclosed any thing of the one to the other, but only what tended to their reconcilement.

A small vertue in her would this have seemed to me, but that by sad experience I find innumerable multitudes (I know not from what horrid contagion of sin) very zealous, not only * to disclose to enemies when in anger, what is said by their enemies, in their ang r: but also, themselves * to superadd things which were not said by such enemies Whereas, for a mind endued with any humanity it is too small a kindnesse not to divulge, and exagitate others quarrellings and reproaches, or not to augment them also with their own speaking evill, unlesse they do endeavour likewise, by their own well-speaking, to abate and extinguish them. And such a one was she, being taught by thee her interiour Master in the school of her heart.

Lastly: she being such gained also her husband unto thee in the latter end of his temporal life: and now at length no more lamented those disorders in him a Christi∣an professour, which she had so long patiently tolerated in him before it.

She was also a servant of all those who were thy Ser∣vants: and there was none of them that knew her, but that much praised thee and honoured thee, and loved thee in her: because they discovered thy presence in her heart, by the testimony of the fruits of an holy conversati∣on.

For she had been the Wife of one man; had requi∣ted her parents; had piously governed her own house; was well reported of for good works: had brought up Children; so often labouring again in a new birth of

them, as she perceived them to stray from thee.

Lastly, for all us O Lord thy Servants, (since thou permittest us to call our selves what thou hast made us) who, a little before her end, lived now together, associated and co-united in thee after our receit of the grace of thy baptism, such care took she of us, as if she had been the Mother to us all; such services did she for us, as if she had been the daughter to us all.

CHAP. X

The discourses between Him and his Mother at Ostia, some few dayes before her sickness, concerning the felicities of the next life. Her desire of Death.

ANd now the day near approaching, that she was to depart out of this life (which day Thou knewest, though we were not aware of it) it came to passe (Thou through thy secret providence so ordering it) that she and I stood alone leaning on a window, that looked forth into the Garden of the house, * where we lodged in that town of Ostia upon Tiber; and * where, retired from company and noise, after the hard travell of a long journy we were repairing our Spirits for a Sea-voyage. There we were discoursing together, we two alone, very sweetly; and forgetting those things which are behind, and reaching forth unto those things which are before, we were enquiring between our selves in the presence of the Truth, (which thy self art O Lord) What thing the eternal life of the blessed hereafter shall be; Which eye hath not seen, nor ear heard, nor hath it entred into the heart of man; But yet we gasped with the mouth of our heart directed toward the celestial streams of thy Fountain, that Fountain of life, which is with thee, that, watered from thence according to our present capacity, we might in some measure contemplate so high a matter.

And after our discourse had f rst concluded thus much; that there was no delectation of the senses of our Flesh, (what, or in how great corporeal beauty, and splendour soever it might be,) that seemed worthy, I say not to be compared, but at all to be mentioned in regard of the pleasure of that life to come; elevating our selves yet higher than these, with an ardent pursuit thereof, we made a perambulation, by several ascents, through all corporeals, and through heaven it self, from whence the Sun and moon and Stars illuminate the earth. And leaving th••se,

we yet ascended more interiourly, in the sweet contem∣plation and speech of thee, and admiration of thy works, and came to consider these soules of ours; and we mount∣ed above and transcended these also, that so possibly we might at length arrive at that Country of never failing fer∣tility, where thou feedest Israel for ever with the food of Truth, and where the Life is that Wisdom, by which are made all those things both that have been and that shall be; but it self is not made; but so is, as heretofore it was, and so shall be ever; (though indeed to have been here∣tofore, or hereafter to be, agree not to it, but to Be only, because it is eternal: For to have been, or hereafter to be is not eternal.) And behold, whilst we, thus, talke and yearne after it, we got some touch of it, in a little measure, with one whole spring and beat of the heart. And we sighed! and left there the first fruits of the Spirit still fixed unto it, and so our feebleness relapsed again to our former discourse, and the exteriour noise of our mouth; where the Wo d hath its beginning, and hath its ending; and what is there in it, that bears any resem∣blance to thy Word; which perpetually endures in it self without ever becoming old, and by which all things are renewed. And we said thus to one another. If any soul could be stript and exempt from the impressions, and enjoy a perfect, * silence, of the tumults, of the flesh; could enjoy * the silence of the images and appearances of all things of the earth and of the water and of the air * the silence of the heavens, and * the silence of the soul it self to it self, so that it could passe by it self without any thought of it self; could enjoy the silence of dreams, and all imagina∣ry fancies, the silence of every language, and signe, and of whatever hath its totall being only by a passing away of its parts (if perhaps any soul can enjoy an Universal silence of them; because if any one will hearken to them, in their passing by, and away, they all speak this to him: We our selves have not made us, but he made us, who pas∣seth not away but eternally remains.) But, having only said this, if now they become silent to us, having direct∣ed our ears towards him that made them; and so he a∣lone should speak to us not by them but by himself; that so we should hear his word, not by a tongue of flesh, nor by the voice of an Angel, nor by the thunder of a cloud, nor by the Aenigma of a similitude, but should hear, * his own self, the person whom we love in all these other things, * his own self without these (as but now for a

start we enlarged our selves, and with a swift thought touched that eternal wisdom, above all, permanent for ever) if such a thing, I say, were continued unto us, and all other sights so farr unlike and inferiour to it were quite removed, and this one should totally ravish and ingulf, and overwhelme the beholder with those interior joyes, that so our life for ever should be such, as that moment of intelligence was, after which we so much languished and sighed, would not this haply be that thing in the Gospell: Enter thou into the joy of thy Lord? And when shall this be? shall it be, when we all shall rise again? But shall not we, then, be also all changed?

Such things at that time we discoursed together: and if not altogether in this manner and in such words; yet Lord thou knowest, that upon that day we argued such like things; and, whilst, amidst our talk, this World with all the allurements and delights thereof appeared unto us vile and contemptible, then she said unto me: Son: For my part I am no more taken at all with any thing in this life: What I should more do here, or why I am here, I know not, all my hopes in this world being now ended. One thing there was for which sake I was earnest to stay a little longer in it; that I might see you a Catholick Christian before I died; and my God much more abundantly hath performed this unto me in that I see you also, (this worlds felicity des∣pised) his all-devoted Servant. What make I here any longer?

CHAP. XI.

Her sickness; Death; careless of her funerall; only desiring from them a remembrance of her at the Altar of the Lord.

TO this what I answered her, I do not well remember; But scarce five dayes or little more had passed, when she fell into a Fever; and one day, being very sick, swooned away, when her company was removed a little space from her: who running to her, she soon after reco∣vered her senses, and looking up upon me and my brother† standing by her, said to us, as one ignorant. Where have I been? Then beholding us all-amazed with grief, she said: Here ye shall interr your Mother. I held my peace and refrained weeping; But my brother let fall some word, wherein he wished, as a thing more happy, that she might not die abroad, but in her own Country: which she hear∣ing,

and with an offended countenance checking him with her eyes, that he should yet relish such things, then look∣ing on me she said, hear you what he saith? and then, to us both: Lay this body any where; let the care thereof no∣thing trouble you. Only this I beg of you, that ye make re∣membrance of me at the Lords Altar, wheresoever ye be. And when she had expressed to us this her mind with ••uch words as she could, she said no more, now strugling with the pains of her disease.

And I fell into a deep meditation on thy gifts (O my God so invisible) which thou sowest in the hearts of thy faithfull, and which bring forth such admirable fruits: and much, rejoyced, and gave thanks unto thee, calling to mind, what I knew formerly, with what great care she had alwaies been perplexed concerning her place of buri∣all, which she had provided and prepared for her self near the body of her husband▪ For, because they had ever lived very peaceably together, she desired also (as hu∣mane affections are lesse capable of Divine matters) that this might be accumulated to their former felicity, and might be commemorated by posterity, that it was gran∣ted her, after her crossing the sea, and so long forreign travells, to have the same tomb and earth to cover the u∣nited ashes of her and her husband.

And at what time that vanity, out of the replenishing of thy goodnesse, ceased to be in her heart I know not; but I rejoyced and wondred at this new inclination, which she now discovered: Although by that discourse we formerly had at the window, when she said; What make I here any longer? there appeared no desire in her to die in her own Country. And I heard afterward that at Ostia, in my absence, my mother had with much con∣fidence discoursed with some friends of mine, concerning, the contempt of this life, and benefit of death. And they admiring such courage in a woman, which thou hadst be∣stowed on her, and asking whether she feared not to leave her body so far from her own City. Nothing (said she) is farr off from God; neither need I fear, that he should not know, in the end of the world, where to find that, from whence to raise me again. And so the ninth day of her sick∣ness, the fifty sixth year of her age, and the thirty third of mine, that religious and pious soul was dissolved from the body.

CHAP. XII.

S. Austin refraining from weeping, though suffering much inward grief; to which, after her buriall, he indulgeth some tears.

I Closed her eyes; and great grief presently seized my heart, and thence overflowed into tears: but at the same time I forced my eyes, by the overruling power of my soul to drink up again this their fountain even unto drynesse, whilst this inward combat was no small pain un∣to me. When also, at her last breath, my boy Adeodat burst out on crying, we all chiding him for it, he forbare, (in the same manner, as also omething childish in me tended to weeping, but, checked by a more manly voice of my heart was stilled again) For we did not think it decent to celebrate that funeral with lamentations and complaints; because these (for the most part) are used to deplore some misery of the dead, or rather their ex∣tinction. But neither miserably did she die, nor die at all: This was assured unto us both from the purity of her manners, from the sincerity of her faith, and from other reasons indubitable.

What was it therefore, that within, so much pained me, but a fresh wound given me from the custom of our conversation together (so sweet and so dear to me) now suddenly broken off? I confesse I took some solace in that testimony of hers in her last sicknesse, when speaking-fair my then-services towards her, she called me her Dutifull Son, and related, with much tendernesse of affection, that She never once heard fall from my lips, a harsh or contu∣melious speech toward her. But alas (O my God who ma∣dest us both) what comparison could there be between such honour from me given to her, and her great services done to me? And therefore now, left destitute of her so great a solace, my soul was deeply wounded, and that life rent asunder, which was now made up all one of mine and hers.

The boy stilled from crying, Euodius took up a Psalter and began to sing the Psalme. Misericordiam & judicium cantabo tibi Domine, the Responses being made by all us of the family. And many Christian brethren and religious women out of the town hearing what the matter was, came to us, and, whilst those, whose office it was, after

the usual manner took care of the corps and funerall, I, going aside, in a place where most conveniently I might, discoursed to those, who thought it not fit to leave me then alone, such things as were sutable to the occasion; and with that balme of thy truth sought to mitigate my grievous pain well known to thee, but hid from them; who diligently hearkned to what I said, and thought me to be without sense of sorrow. Whilst I O Lord, mean∣while in thy ears, where none of them could hear me, much chid the softnesse of my affection, and forced back the flux of my grief: and sometimes it yielded to me for a little, and then again with great violence reflowed up∣on me; yet not so farr, as to the bursting out of tears or changing my countenance. But very sensible I was of this pressure I suffered within. And then again, be∣cause this extreamly displeased me, that humane things should have such power upon me, which, according to the lot of our mutable condition, and the appointed method of their succession, must needs fall out, with yet another sorrow I lamented this my sorrow; and so became afflict∣ed with a double grief.

When also the Body was carried to buriall, I went, I return'd, without tears; Neither in those prayers we poured forth unto thee when the sacrifice of our ransom was offered unto thee for Her, the body being set down by the grave side, before the interrment thereof (as the cu∣stom there is) neither in those prayers (I say) shed I any tears. But all the whole day was I notwithstanding, in se∣cret, grievously sad, and with a troubled spirit, begg'd of thee to heal my sorrow; and thou wouldest not do it. I suppose to shew me, even by this one experiment, the strong bond of any thing we are long accustomed to, even against all the force of a mind, which now was no more fed with any of these deceiving consolations.

It then also seemed good unto me to go the Bath and wash my self; having heard that this name 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉 was gi∣ven it by the Greeks, from its helping to drive away the anxieties of Spirit; yet I confesse unto thee (Father of Orphans) such was I, when washed, as before; neither had the sweat of my body carried away with it the grief of my mind.

After this I slept, and awaked, and found now my sor∣rows not a little mitigated; and, as I was alone in bed I called to mind those most true verses of thy servant Am∣brose,

Tu es enim— Deus, Creator omnium Polique Rector; vestiens Diem decoro lumine; Noctem soporis gratiâ; Artus solutos ut quies Reddat laboris usui: Mentesque fessas allevet Luctusque solvat anxios.

O God, the great world's Architect; Who dost Heavens rowling Orbs direct; Cloathing the day with beautious light; And with sweet slumbers silent night; When stretch'd forth limbs new vigour gain From rest, new labours to sustain. When anxious minds dismisse their care, And gnawing griefs forgotten are.

But by and by the former remembrance returned afresh into my mind, * of this thy handmaid and * of all her con∣versation, so religious and holy towards thee, so affectio∣nate and observant toward us, of which I was now all on a sudden destitute. And I had a mind now to weep in thy sight, concerning her and for her; and concerning my self and for my self; and I gave a free course to the tears which I had suppressed, to run out as much as they plea∣sed, bathing my heart with them; and solacing my self in them, because thou only heardest, and not man, who might perhaps proudly mis-interpret those my laments.

And now (O Lord) I confesse these things unto thee in writing; Read them that will, and interpret them as he pleaseth. And if such shall discover it a fault in me, that I thus wept for my Mother, some small part of an hour; for my Mother lately dead from my sight, who wept for me so many years, that I might live in thy sight; let him not deride me for it: but rather, if he abound in charity, assist me himself with his tears, for this my sin, unto thee the common Father of us all Brethren in thy Christ.

CHAP. XIII.

His Prayer for his deceased, Mother Monica, and Father Pa∣tricius.

ANd now, O our God, I, with a heart perfectly healed of that wound, in which a carnal affection perhaps might seem too much engaged, do powre out before thee, in behalf of that thy servant another sort of tears, flow∣ing out of a troubled spirit, from the consideration of the perils of every soul, dying in Adam: although she, re∣vived in Christ, even before her releasement from this sin∣full flesh, had so lived, as that thy name was much praised both in her faith and vertues. Yet dare I not affirm, from the time that thou didst regenerate her by baptism, that no word fell from her mouth contrary to thy Com∣mands: and I find it pronounced by the Truth thy Son, If any one shall say unto his Brother, Fool, he shall be in danger of hell-fire; and woe be even to the praisable life of men, if thou shouldest examine it, with mercy laid aside.

But because thou makest not strict enquiry after sin, therefore we have a confident hope to find some place of indulgence with thee. And, on the other side: whosoe∣ver he be, that can reckon up his true merits unto thee, what accounts he unto thee but thy own gifts? Oh then, that men would know themselves; and that he that glo∣rieth, would glory in the Lord!

I therefore (O Thou my Praise and my Life, God of my heart) setting aside here her good deeds, for which, with much rejoycing, I render thee thanks, now become a petitioner to thee for the sins of that my Mother Hear thou me (I beseech thee), by that cure of our wounds that hung upon the Crosse, and that, now sitting at thy right hand, intercedeth unto thee for us. I know that she dealt mercifully, and from her heart forgave to her debt∣ers their trespasses; do thou likewise remit her debts to her; if she hath also contracted some, in those many years, which she lived after baptism, Forgive them, O Lord, forgive them I beseech thee. Enter not with her into judgement. But let thy mercy rejoice against judg∣ment; because thy words are true, and thou hast promi∣sed mercy to the merciful: and yet, that such were mer∣ciful, thou gavest it unto them; who hast mercy on whom thou wilt have mercy, and shewest compassion, on whom

thou wilt shew compassion. And I believe, thou hast al∣ready done this, which I beg of thee. But let these free∣will-offerings of my mouth (O Lord) be acceptable unto thee, Because, when the time of her dissolution drew near, she had no regard of her body, to be sumptu∣ously in••erred, or richly embalmed, or desired some choice Monument, or was solicitous for a Sepulchre in her own Country. None of these things recommended she to us: but only desired us to make remembrance of her at thy Altar; thy Altar: at which, without any one dayes in∣termission, she constantly attended; From whence she knew was dispensed the Holy Victime; ^△ by which was cancelled the hand-writing which was contrary unto us: ^△ by which was triumphed o're that enemy, who casteth up our faults, and seeks for what he may lay to our charge, and findeth nothing due, through Him, in whom we con∣quer.

For who shall refund unto him that innocent and pre∣cious blood? who repay him the price, wherewith he bought us, that so he may redeem us from him? To the Sacr ment of which price, thy Hand-maid bound-fast her soul with the line of her Faith. O let none ever break off, or ••••ver, her from thy protection. Let not that Lion and Dragon, either by strength, or subtilty, interpose him∣self. Because she will not plead, that she owes thee no∣thing, lest so she should be convicted and seized-on by her cunning accuser; but she will plead, that her debts are discharged by Him, to whom none can repay that sum, which he, owing nothing for himself, was pleased to lay down for us. Rest she therefore in peace together with her Husband; before whom, and after whom, none en∣joyed her, and whom she dutifully served; bringing forth fruit unto thee with much patience towards him, that she might also gain him unto thee. And do thou inspire, O Lord my God, do thou inspire thy Servants, my Brethren, thy Children, my Masters, whom I serve both with my heart, and my voice, and my pen, that as many of them, as shall read these things, may remember at thine Altar. Monica thine Hand-maid, and Patricius her Husband, from whose bodies thou broughtest me into this life, after what manner I know not: let them remember, with a charitable devotion, these my Parents in this secular va∣nishing life, * my Brethren under thee our Father in our Catholick Mother, * my fellow-Citizens in the Eternal Jerusalem (which place the pilgrimage of thy people so

much sigheth after, from their departure thence till their return thither) that so what my Mother made her last request to me, may be more plentifully performed to her, by the prayers of many, procured by these confessions, and prayers, of mine.

LIB. X.

CHAP. I.

In this Book S. Austin makes confession of the several lapses and infirmities of his present condition since his regeneration by Baptism.

LET me know thee O Lord, perfect knower of me; let me know thee, as also I am known by thee. Vertue of my soul, enter thou into it and pre∣pare it also for thee; that thou maist inhabit and possesse it pure, without spot and wrinckle. This is my hope at last. and hither tends my speech; and in this hope is all my joy, when I joy rightly: As for o∣ther things of this life usually joyed or greived, for, they are the more to be lamented, by how much men lament less in, or for, them, and again less to be lamented, by how much men do more lament for them. Behold, thou hast loved truth, and he that doth the truth, cometh willing∣ly to the light; I will performe the truth in this my Con∣fession, both private in my heart before thee, and publick in this my writing before many other witnesses.

CHAP. II.

The end and fruit of confessing his present condition, mentally, to God.

ANd first to thee O Lord, before whose eyes the dark abysse of mans conscience lyes naked, what then can there be concealed in me, though I refused to confesse it? for so I should only hide, not Me from Thee, but Thee

from Me; but now by these my groanes in confession testifying, how much I dislike and loath my self thou there∣by becomest so much the more splendent and beauteous and amiable unto me; so much the more loved, and long∣ed for, by me; that so I may be ashamed of my self, and throw away my self and make choice of thee, and seek neither to please thee, nor my self for mine, but only for thy sake.

Therefore O Lord, though alwaies manifest and disclo∣sed to thee I am, whatever I am: yet not without fruit do I confesse unto thee, as is shewed before; which con∣fession of mine to thee is acted not with the words of my flesh and outward sounds, but with the words of my soul and the loud cry of my thoughts, which thy ear on∣ly discerneth: where, in what thing I am evill, my con∣fession to thee is * nothing else, than to disallow and con∣demn my self; in what thing pious, * nothing else, than not to attribute and ascribe such thing to my self; be∣cause as thou O Lord approvest the just, so thou first justi∣fiest him wicked. And such my Confession O my God, is made before thee in some sort in, in some sort not in, silence: being, silent in respect of external noise, but ve∣ry clamorous in respect of internal affection. And no∣thing that is good do I say here before men, which thou Lord hast not first in secret heard from me; nor dost thou hear any such thing from me, but that thou also first hast said it unto me.

CHAP. III.

The end and fruit of his confessing his present condition publick∣ly before men.

BUt then what matters it, that men should hear my Confessions, as if they were to heal all my in∣firmities? A race curious to pry into other mens lives, carelesse to amend their own? Why seek they to hear from me what a one I am, who will not hear from thee, what a thing themselves are? And whence know they, receiving only a relation from my self concerning my self, whether I deliver truth; seeing none knows what is in man, but the spirit of man, which is in him? But, when they hear from thee concerning themselves, they cannot say: the Lord lieth. For what is it, from thee to hear of themselves, but to know themselves? And none that knows the truth of himself, can say 'tis false; unlesse he

lye unto himself.—But yet, because charity believeth all things, namely amongst those, whom by a mutuall con∣nexion it makes all one, therefore I so confesse to thee (O Lord) that men also may hear me, though I cannot demonstrate to them, that I confesse truth because they will believe me neverthelesse, whose ears charity hath set open unto me.

But yet, thou, intimate Physitian of my soul, shew me what fruit of this confession, of my present condition, I am now going about For the confessions indeed (made heretofore) of my forepast sins (which thou hast remit∣ted and covered, that thou mightest make me happy in thee, changing this my soul by faith and by thy Sacra∣ments) which read or heard, do excite the heart of those who are such like not to sleep on in despair saying: I can∣not; but to awaken themselves through a sense, of the love of thy mercy, and of the sweetness of thy grace (by which whoever is weak becomes strong, so soon as first by it he is made conscious to himself of his own weaknesse) And again good men, who are not such-like, are also de∣lighted to hear of the forepast ills of those, who are now freed from them: are delighted: not because such evills were, but because they have been only, and now are not.

But now what fruit may there be (O Lord my God, to whom my conscience maketh confession daily, much more secure in the hope of thy mercy, than in the confidence of its own innocency); What fruit, I pray thee, of this my confession also before men in this my writing, what a one for the present I am, not what a one in time past I have been? For some fruit of that, I have discovered and related. But this also, what a one I am now at this in∣stant of my writing these my confessions, many are desi∣rous to know, both of those who have been acquainted, and who have not been acquainted, with me; of those who have heard any thing from, or concerning, me, but yet their ear cannot be laid to my heart, where I am what ever I am, and therefore they desire to hear my outward confession, of what I am within, where neither their eye, nor ear, nor soul, can penetrate: And this they desire, as ready to believe, where they cannot know; because that charity, whereby themselves are honest, perswades them, also, that I am no deceiver in these things I speak of my self, and this charity in them, gives credit to me.

CHAP. IV.

BUt yet what fruit still of this their desires? Is it, be∣cause they would, * congratulate me, when they shall hear, how far I proceed towards thee, by thy Gift? And again, * pray for me, when they shall hear, how much still I am retarded in this journey, by my own weight? Sure∣ly to such will I freely reveal my self. For this is no small fruit (O Lord my God), that thanks be given to thee by many cotcerning us; and that prayer be made unto thee by many for us. Let such a brotherly affection (freely) * love in me whatever, thou instructest it, ought to be lo∣ved; and again * deplore in me what thou instructest it, is to be deplored. But let the mind of a brother do this, not of a forreigner: not that of strange children, whose mouth is talking of vanity, and whose right hand is a right hand of iniquity: but that of a brother; which, where it approves me, joyes concerning me, and where it dislikes, grieves for me; because such, whether in approving, or in disallowing, continues to love me. Willingly to such will I reveal my self. Let them utter praise, in my good things; sighs, in my evils. My good things are thy com∣mands and thy gifts; my evil things are my faults, and thy judgements. In those let them rejoyce; and let them mourn in these: and let such Hymnes and Elegies ascend up into thy sight from the censers of the hearts of those my brethren. And thou (O Lord), well-pleased with this Incense out of those thy holy Temples, have mercy on me according to thy great mercy, and for thy names sake, and, not forsaking what thou hast begun, consummate in me what is yet imperfect. This fruit then there is of the confessions not of my past but present condition, which moves me to confess the various things of it, not only * before thee, in a secret exultation with fear; and again in a secret mourning with hope; but also * in the eares of believing sons of men, companions of my joy; co-partners of my mortality; my fellow-Citizens and my fellow-pilgrims; who happen to go before, or to come behind, or to pace along with me, in the road of this life.

These are thy Servants my Brethren, whom thou wouldst have to be thy Sons, & therfore to be my Masters, whom thou hast charged me to serve in what I am able, if I would live with, and on, thee. Nor had the command of thy Word to me been sufficient, had it by speaking only

directed me; and not also, by doing, it self, gone before me. And now I also indeavour the same service, both by my deeds and by my words. I endeavour this under the shelter of thy wings in too much extremity of peril, were it not that I am sheltered under thy wings. My soul hangeth upon thee, and my weakness is known unto thee. I am but yet a little child, but my Father now and alwayes liveth, and my Governour is all-sufficient for me; for it is the same, who before begat me, and who now go∣verneth me: and it is Thou thy self, O Lord, that art all my good; thou the Omnipotent, who wer't with me also, before I was with thee. I will therefore now de∣clare to those, to whom thou commandest this my service in all things, not what I have been only, but what I now am, and what only, yet, I am.

CHAP. V.

Yet not able to see or confess all of himself which God seeth in him.

YEt do I not here undertake to judge aright concern∣ing my self: For thou, O Lord, art he, that judgeth me; For although no man knows the things of a man, but the spirit of man which is in him; yet something of a man there is, which neither that spirit of man, which is within him, knoweth. But thou knowest the total of him, thou who madest him. And I also, though I abhor my self before thy presence, and consider my self but dust and ashes, yet may say, that I know concerning thee something, which yet, concerning my self, I am ignorant of. For notwithstanding I see thee yet as through a glass, darkly, not face to face, and, so long as I sojourn here so farr from thee, I am more present to my self than to thee; yet well know I concerning thee, that thou canst by no meanes, nor from no agent, receive any hurt: but, for my self, what temptations and assaults from abroad I am able, or not able, to resist, I know not. But my hope is, that thou art faithful, and wilt not suffer us to be tempted above that we are able; but wilt with the tempation also make a way to escape, that we may sustain it. Let me confess therefore, both what of my self I know, and what things they are I yet know nor of my self; because both what, concerning my self, I know, I know from thy illu∣mination, and what I know not, I shall so long be still igno∣rant

of, till my darkness be made noon-day from the light of thy countenance.

CHAP. VI.

Description of his present condition in the state of Grace, That he now truly loveth God. Concerning whom he proceeds to examine what it is he loveth when he saith that he loveth God. That it is * no object of sense; * no part of the visible world abroad; no part, or faculty within himself;

ANd first, not with a doubting, but a certain, conscience, I may confess, (O Lord) that I do love thee. Thou hast wounded my heart with thy Word, and it is ena∣moured upon thee. Yet also, besides my heart, the Hea∣vens, and the Earth, and all the things which are in them, on every side cry out unto me, that I should love thee; neither cease they to say the same to all, that they may re∣main without excuse. But yet, in a higher way of reve∣lation, thou hast mercy on whom thou wilt have m rcy, and shewest compassion on whom thou wilt shew com∣passion; otherwise these Heavens and Earth do speak thy praises only to the deaf.

And what is it I love now, in loving thee? certainly not the beauty of bodies, nor the decent order of times; not the splendour of light, so gladsom to this corporal sight; not the melody of all sorts of song and musick; not the fragant sents of floures, oyles and spices; not delicious Manna ard honey; not fair limbs alluring to carnal embra∣ces. None of these things love I now, when I love my God: And yet I confess I love also a certain light, and me∣lody, and fragrancy, and deliciousness, and embraces, when I love my God; who is, the light, melody, fragrancy, grateful sustenance, and amorous embracements, of my inward man; where to my ravisht soul shines, what is not terminable by place, and sounds, what is not measu∣rable by time; and smells, what is not dissipable by ex∣piring; and tasts, what no edacity diminisheth; and is embraced, what no satiety separateth. Such thing is it, I love, when I love my God.

And what thing is this? I demanded it of the Earth; and it said: I am not it. And, all things in the same, they confessed likewise the same. I asked the Sea, and the A∣bysses, and the living movables therein, and they answer∣ed; We are not thy God. Seek thou higher than us. I

asked the fleeting air above: and its vast region, with all the guests thereof, replyed, Anaximenes is mistaken: I am not God. I enquired of the heavens, the Sun, the Moon and the Starrs; neither are we (said they) God, whom thou seekest.

Then I said unto all these things encamping round a∣bout my senses, (the doors of my flesh): Ye have said unto me of my God, ye are not He••. Tell me at lest some tidings of him. And they all cryed out with a loud voice. It is He, that made us. My asking was my ob∣serving of them, and their answer was, what I discovered in them.

At last I reflected my eye upon my self and said to my self; And what art thou? And I answered; a Man. And in this compound, there presented themselves unto me, a body, and a soul: the one more exteriour, the other more retired. And which of these should it rather be, where I ought to seek my God? Whom I had searched already through bodies, from the earth even to hea∣ven, so farr as the raies of my eyes, (my spies a∣broad), could make any discovery? Certainly of the two, Much the better part of man is that, which is more interi∣our. For all those corporeal Nuncio's returned their in∣telligence to this, sitting on the tribunal, and judging of all those answers from Heaven, and Earth, and from all things in them, whilst they said: We are not God but He it is, that made us. 'Tis only the Inner man, that knows these things, by the Ministry and service of the Outer. 'Tis I within only that understand these things; I the Mind, by the senses of my Body. [ ] Therefore thou art much my better part O my Soul, who dost also Vegetate the lump of thy Body, and who givest it life, which no one body can conferr on another. But yet thy God is al∣so the Life of this thy life unto thee.

CHAP. VII.

Neither the Vegetative, nor yet the Sensitive.

[—WHat therefore love I, when I love God? What is he; who is advanced so high, o∣ver the Head of my Soul? By my soul it self will I ascend and climbe up unto Him. And here I will passe beyond that Power, by which I adhere to this Body and vitally replenish the model thereof. For by this power I find

not my God. Else a Horse and a Mule, which have no understanding, would also find him; since, by the same vertue, their Bodies also live.

A second power there is in me, giveing not life, but sense, unto my flesh, which the Lord hath variously or∣ganized for me; commanding the eye not to meddle with hearing, nor the ear with seeing, but ordering the one only to see by, the other only to hear with, and so assigning their properties distinctly to the rest of my sen∣ses in their own seats and Offices: which, being very diverse, are all acted in them by me, one Soul. But this power also I will dismisse; for this also the Horse and Mule have; being sensitive Creatures no lesse than my self.

CHAP. VIII.

Nor yet the more interiour, and most admirable faculty of the memory. The many wonders of which (to the glory of the Maker thereof) he most subtilly discourseth unto the 26. Chapter.

I Will passe over this Power also of my nature, ascending by degrees to him that made, it, and me, and, next I come into the large fields and pallaces of my memory: the Treasury of numberlesse formes and images con∣veied thither from such things as are perceived by sense; as also the repository, * of all our own cogitations and fancies which augment, or diminish, or, any other way, vary the discoveries of sence; and * of what ever thing, besides these, enters in thither, which is not as yet swallowed up, and buryed, in oblivion. And, when I have recourse thither, I command to be produced whatever I please. And ^△ some things appear presently ^△ others are searched for longer, and as it were, fetcht out from some more abstruse and remote corner: ^△ some boult out of themselves, and when another thing is searched and looked for start forth unto us, as it were saying: is it us perhaps you demand? And these I put by, with the hand of my soul, from before the face of my remembrance, untill that which I desire be uncloud∣ed and come forth into my sight out of those dark and misty Cells. ^△ Other things are suggested as they are demanded in a facile and undisturbed order; what goeth before still giving place to what follows, and being re∣posed again as it thus gives place, to be forthcomming

another time, when called for, at my pleasure; which is usually done, when I repeat a thing by heart.

And there are all these things laid up distinctly, and by their several kinds; entering also in thither every one by their proper gate. Lights and colours and forms of bodies, through the glass of the eyes: and, through the vaults of the ears, all kinds of sound; all smels, by the pipe of the nostrils; and all savours by the door of the mouth; and by the sense of feeling (spread through the whole body,) all that what∣ever is extrinsecally or intrinsecally perceived, hard, or soft, hot or cold, rough or smooth, heavy or light, All these are taken (to be perused and reviewed when oc∣casion is) into that vast storehouse of the memory, and into, I know not what, secret and unexpressable folds thereof; and, every one entering in at their seve∣rall ports, are piled up, and reposited in it. Yet enter there not the things themselves, but the images of them are there ready at hand to our thought when it will re∣mind them. [ ] * There are the Heaven, and the Earth and the sea, presented to me, with all those things in them which I have ever perceived by sense, ex∣cepting such only, as I have forgotten. * There also I do meet-with, and do re-view, my self; when, and where and what, I have done, and how affected, when I did it. * There are all things formerly experienced by me, or re∣lated by others, so far as I remember them; and from the same store still other and other varyed resemblances of my said experiences, or my deductions from them, are added by me to the former; and from these I con∣ceit future actions, and events, and hopes: and on all these I meditate as if present; I will do this, or that, (say I within my self, in this great Gallery of my mind full of the images of so many and so great things) and this, or that, will follow upon it; Oh, that this or such thing might be! And God avert this or that. Such things I say with my self, and, when I say so, the images of all these are before me, out of the formentioned treasury of my Memory, neither could I have named any such things, if they had been awanting-

Great is that power of the memory, excessive great: the folds and storehouses thereof vast and infinite, who can sound the bottom therof? And yet this is a faculty of my soul, and belonging to my nature; neither am I able to comprehend all, that my self am. Therefore is the soul too narrow to receive and contain it self; so

that where it is, and what it is, it comprehendeth not. Is it without it self? or not in it self? Why then doth it not comprehend it self? Great admiration and astonishment ariseth in me concerning this matter. And men go to admire the altitude of mountains, the swelling billows of the sea, the long courses of Rivers, the vastnesse of the Ocean, the large circles of the Stars, and leave them∣selves unadmired. And yet now, when I named all these things, I saw them not with my eyes; yet should I not have named them, unlesse I had seen them in my Memo∣ry; and there too, with such great spaces as if seen a∣broad, both Mountains, and Waves, and Rivers, and Starrs, which I have seen, and the Ocean, which I be∣lieve. Yet did I not, in seeing, draw-in any of them; neither are themselves with me, but their images; and I know through what sense I received their severall im∣pressions.

CHAP. IX.

BUt, not these things alone are lodged in the great capacities of my memory. Here are laid up also all those rules of the liberal sciences, which are not for∣gotten, or as it were removed into some further corner thereof; of all which I carry about me not the images, but the things themselves: and, at what gate they en∣tered into my memory, I know not,

CHAP. X.

FOR when I learnt them I Creditted not anothers judgment, but ackowledged them in my own.—

CHAP. XII.

HEre also are laid up the innumerable forms and rules of Mathematical figures and numbers; none of which entered by sense, being things much diverse from the sound of the words by which they are signified from the lines drawn by artificers though never so small; and from all those sensible things, which by these numbers we number.

CHAP. XIII.

ALL these things I retein in memory; and retein in memory the manner how I learnt them. And many false arguings against them have I heard, and re∣tein also in memory; which although false, yet is there no error in my remembring of those errours. And my distinguishing between those truths, and these falsities which are said against them, this I also remember: and I remember also how often I have compared, and con∣sidered them; and I repose in memory my present con∣sideration of them, that I may hereafter remember it. Therefore I remember also, that I have remembred them; and if hereafter I shall call to mind, that I cannot remember them, 'tis by the same faculty of memory, I do it. The same Memory also conteins the passions of my soul; but not in the same manner as the soul hath them, when she is affected with them, but after a pro∣per way of its own, much different. For I both re∣member my former joy, not rejoycing; and call to mind forepast griefs, without sorrowing. My former fears I reflect on without any fear; and am mindful of my former desirings, without any desire. Nay some∣times, on the contrary, I remember now past sadnesses with joy, and with sadness my now past joyes.

CHAP. XVI.

WHat, when I name oblivion, and know what I name, whence knew I it, unlesse I remembred it? I mean not here the sound of the word, but the thing it signifies; which thing had I forgotten, I could not ap∣prehend, what that sound meant. Therefore when I re∣member [Memory] the Memory is by it self present to it self. But when I remember at once both [Oblivion] and [Memory] (as I can remember both these) Oblivi∣on also is present there too; [Memory] by which I re∣member, and [Oblivion] by which I do not remember; yet what is Oblivion but the privation of Memory? How then must it be present, that I may remember it, which when present, I cannot remember? Is therefore Oblivi∣on (when we remember it) in the memory not by it self, but by its image? Because, if it were present there by it self, it would make us, not to remember,

but forget? And who can find this out? Who can com∣prehend, how it is? Here (O Lord) I am at a great losse concerning my self, and am made unto My self a soil of hard labour and much sweat. Neither am I now quartering out the regions of the heavens, nor measuring the distances of Stars, nor diving into the foundations and poise of the Earth, but about my veriest self; for 'tis I that remember, I the soul. It were not so strange, if it be never so farr off from my apprehension whatever I am not: but what is nearer, than my self. to me? And behold the power of my Memory is not comprehended by Me; (whenas I cannot so much as name [my self] without it) for what shall I say, when certain, that I do remember Forgetting? Shall I say that thing is not in My Memory, which I remember? Or shall I say that this forgetting is in My Memory, that I may not forget it? Both are most absurd. [ ]

CHAP. XVII.

GReat is the power of memory, I know not what, vast, astonishable, thing (O my God;) a profound, and infinite multiplicity; and this is my soul; and this is I my self. What a thing therefore is my self? What a nature am I? A various and multiforme life, and ex∣ceedingly immense in the extent of its power. And, behold, through these innumerable fields and caves, and sellars, of My memory innumerably, full of innumerable sorts of things, by so many several wayes, conveighed in thither, through all those things, I fly, I run, I dive, this way, and that way, as farr as I am able; and no∣where can I find an end. So great is the power of Me∣mory; so great the power of this life in man, even whilst he is yet mortal.

What shall I do then (O thou my true life, My God)? I will also passe beyond this power of mine called Memo∣ry, that I may arrive yet closer unto thee, that sweet light after which I seek. Lo; I, ascending by this my soul unto thee, who remainest unto me elevated above it, I will passe beyond that My faculty called Memory (de∣sirous to attain thee so farr as thou art attainable, and to inhere in thee, so farr as I am capable of union to thee.) For a Memory I find also in the Beasts, and Fouls; Otherwise neither their former Dens, nor Nests could be repaired to; nor many other things done,

wherein we discover their constant customs: but no∣thing is accustomed to without Memory. I will there∣fore passe o're this memory, that so I may arrive at him, who hath made me otherwise then the fourfootedbeast, and wiser than the winged foul. I will leave the Memory: but then where shall I find thee, O true Good and secure pleasure, but then where shall I find thee?

CHAP. XVIII.

For if I find thee besides, or out of, My Memory, I must have forgotten thee: and how then shall I find thee, if I have no remembrance of thee? When the wo∣man had lost her groat and sought it with a candle; if she had not remembred it, how could she have found it; for when she had found it, how could she know, whether that was it, of which she had no remem∣brance. [ ]

CHAP. XXIV.

FArr have I travelled in memory seeking thee O Lord; and I have not found the at all out of it. For since I first learned thee, thou abidest in my Memory: and there I find thee, whenever I recall thee to mind, and enjoy delight in thee. In this place are those my holy pleasures which thy charity, and thy mercy hath bestow∣ed upon me, taking pity upon my poverty.

CHAP. XXV.

BUt where art thou resident in my Memory, Thou, the Lord? What lodging hast thou made, there, for thee? What Sanctuary hast thou built? I passed by the lower parts thereof common with beasts; because in My remembring thee, I found thee not there, amongst the images of corporeal things. And I came to the parts thereof, where are stored the affections of my soul; neither yet there found I thee: and I have entred into the very seat and lodging of my mind it self, which seat also is there, in my Memory, because the mind re∣members also its self; and neither wast thou there. For as thou art no image of a body, nor no affection of the Mind, so neither art thou the mind, or soul, it self; but

the Lord God of this soul Thou art. And all these things are subject to change, but thou remainest for ever un∣changeable, high above all things. And yet hast thou vouch∣safed to dwell in My Memory, since the time I have learned thee.

CHAP. XXVI.

That God (whom he loves) is * something within, but yet above, his Soul; * not confind by place, omnipresent, &c.

BUt then where found I thee that I might learn thee? For neither wast thou already in my Memory, be∣fore I learned thee.]

Where then found I thee O my Lord that I might learn thee, but in thy self above me? Yet nowhere having any place, or space between us and thee; And we go farr from thee, and come near unto thee; and yet no where hast thou any place. But thou the Truth, art, in every place, present, and giving au∣dience to all consulting thee; and, at the same time, thou givest answer unto all, consulting thee things never so many, or diverse. And clearly thou answerest unto all, but all do not clearly hear thee. All consult thee about what they please; but not alwaies hear from thee what pleaseth them. And amongst them he is thy best servant, who desires not so much to hear from thee what shall be conformable to his will, but rather to conform his Will, to whatever he shall hear from thee.

CHAP. XXVII.

That though he now truely loveth God abstracted from, and farr above, all other creatures, and olso above Himself,

TOO too late have I found and begun to love thee, O beauty so ancient and yet so new, too too late begun I to love thee! And behold, thou wast within me, and I abroad: and there I sought thee, and, so deformed a wretch, hotly courted those beauties which thou hast made. Thou wast with me; but I was not with thee. And e∣ven those things kept me a great distance from thee, which have no being, but that they have in thee.

But thou hast called, Thou hast cryed out, and peirced my deafnesse. Thou hast lightned, thou hast streamed forth and dispelled my blindnesse. Thou hast sent forth thy fragrant perfumes, and I have scented thy odours, and

do pant after thee. I have tasted thy sweets, and do hun∣ger and thirst after them. Thou hast touched me, and I am all-inflamed after thy fruition.

CHAP. XXVIII.

Yet he enjoyeth not as yet a perfect union unto him; but hath a perpetual combat with many other false joyes, and griefs, and fears:

WHen once I shall be united to thee and inhere in thee with all my self, then shall I no more suffer any sort of these greifs and labours; and then my life shall be truely alive, when totally full of thee. But now; since all that are filled with thee are also elevated by thee, therefore am I still such a burden to my self, because I am not yet full of thee. My vain joyes, to be deplored, con∣tend still, in me, with my wholesome sorrows to be much joyed in: and to what side the victory inclines, I know not. Wo is me! My Lord Have thou pitty on me. —Again, my evill sorrows contend, within me, with my holy joyes; and to which side the victory inclines, yet I know not. Wo is me my Lord, have thou pitty on me Wo is me! Behold I conceal not my wounds from thee. Thou art a Phisician, I am sick: Thou art full of mercy, I of misery; is not mans life upon the earth a continuall temptation? And who is there that can be in love with such troubles, and difficulties? Thou commandest, that they should be suffered, but not, that they should be loved. No Man loves what he suffers, though he loves to suffer. For though he joyes that he can tollerate and suffer it, yet he would chuse, there were no such thing for him to suffer.

In adversities I long for prosperity; in prosperities I apprehend and dread adversity. And what midle stati∣on can there be found between these two, where this Life may not be a Temptation to us? There is a Woe to the prosperities of this World; once and a∣gain, 1. For the many fears, in them, of adversity. 2. And, for the many miscarriages and misbehaviours in them, of our joyes. — And there is a Woe to the adversities of this World once; again; and a third time. 1. From the impatient longing we have in them after missed prosperity. 2. From the pain, and sufferings of

the adversity it self. 3. And from the frequent shipwrack (therein) of patience. Is not mans life therefore, upon Earth, a continuall Temptation without any re∣mission?

CHAP. XXIX.

Not having yet a perfect continency in respect of all other ob∣jects besides God; but extending some undue attention and affection unto them.

ANd now is all my hope no where, but in thy very great mercy, (O Lord God). Give me but grace to do what thou commandest; and command what thou wilt. Tho commandest; me continency, And I know (saith one) that no man can be continent, unlesse God giveth it; and this is also a point of Wisdom to know whose gift it is. For by this continency we are united and recollected unto that one thing [truly amiable] from which we have faultily dissipated, and spilt, our selves up∣on many things. For lesse doth he love thee, who loves any thing else with thee, which he loveth not for thee. O thou Love, that alwaies flamest, and that art never ex∣tinguisht! Charity, My God, fire me also with thy flames. Thou commandest continency and recollection towards thee. Give what thou commandest, and command what thou wilt.

CHAP. XXX.

He examineth himself, and confesseth his present infirmities in the severall branches of Concupiscence (1 John 2.16.) 1. The lust of the flesh. 2. The lust of the eyes. 3. The pride of life. And here he confesseth, 1. His remaining infirmi∣ties concerning the temptations of the lust of the flesh. And amongst these, 1. His infirmities concerning the temptati∣ons of the Touch relating to carnall concubinage.

THou commandest me Continency, Both from the Lust of the flesh, and from the lust of the eyes, and from the ambition of this life.

And first thou hast commanded me Continency from illicit carnall copulation (and also, concerning Wedlock it self thou hast counselled something better, than that which thou hast indulged) and because thou gavest, that thy Command hath been observed by me even before I I was made Priest, and a dispenser of thy Sacrament.

But yet there live still in my memory (of which I have spoken so much) the former images of such things, which my long evil custome of them hath fixed there; and these haunt me still: when I am awake, they void of strength; but, in sleep, prevailing not only even to delectation, but also even to consentment, and to fact very like unto them. And so much power hath the delusion of this image, in that inferiour part of my soul, and in my flesh, that those false visions perswade me when a sleep, to what true sights, when awake, can no way entice me. And is it not then also the same I, (O Lord my God)? And yet so much difference there is between my self, and my self, in such a moment of time, when resigned up to sleep, and when returned to Vigilancy. Where, then, is my reason, by which, when awake, my mind resisteth any such suggestions? And, though the things themselves present themselves before me, remaineth unshaken? is it (then) clasped up with my eyes? is it lull'd asleep with my corporeal senses? And whence then, in our sleep also, do we many times resist, and remembring our former resolution, and, chastly persevering therein, yield no assent to such lustful allurements? And yet when in sleep it happens otherwise, this difference there is of it from the acts of reason, that awaking we return to the peace of conscience, and, by the distance of parties, discover that we have not really done, what we lament to have been, after some sort, done in us.

Is not thy hand powerful, O God Omnipotent, to heal also these yet remaining langours of my soul? And, with a more abundant measure of thy grace, to extinguish al∣so these lascivious motions of my sleep? And thou I trust O Lord, wilt increase in me more and more thy Gifts; that my soul, utterly disingaged of the birdlime of concu∣piscence, may obediently follow me towards thee; that it may no more be such a Rebell against it self; and that, in sleep also, it shall be freed not only from acting such impurities and filthinesses (provoked by seducing phan∣cies) even in the flux of the flesh, but also from yielding any consent unto them. For that no listening, or inclina∣tion toward them, not so much as that which the least check can master, shall harbour any more in the chast af∣fections of me refreshing my self with sleep, not only in some time of this present life, but in this yet vigorous age, is no great matter to thee the Almighty, who art a∣ble to do above all that we ask or think. But here I have

related to my good Lord, what a one as yet I am in this sort of my evil: rejoycing with fear, for that, which herein thou hast given, and mourning, for that wherein I am yet imperfect, with hope, that thou wilt consummate in me thy mercies until the time of that full harmony and peace, which both my interiour and exteriour then shall enjoy with thee, when death shall be swallowed up in Victory.

CHAP. XXXI.

2. His remaining infirmities concerning the temptations of the Tast in eating and drinking.

THere is another evil of the day;† and I wish the day were sufficient for it. For here, we must, by eating and drinking, repair the daily ruines of the Body: untill the time thou shalt destroy both the meats and the belly, and shall slay this my indigency with a miraculous satiety, and shalt cloth this corruptible with an eternal incorrupti∣on. But now this my necessity is very pleasant and sweet unto me; and against this sweetnesse I now fight, that I may not be inveigled with it: and I wage a daily warr against it, bringing my body into subjection by freequent fastings: and behold these pains are removed with plea∣sure. For hunger and thirst are pains, and they burn up and kill, like a fever, unlesse cured with the phisick of our nourishment. Which cure because it is still ready at hand (from the abounding Comforts of thy Gifts with which both the land and the Water, and the air serve our infirmities) these our calamities are called by the name of dainties.

Now thou hast taught me, that I should come to re∣ceive this my food, as I do phisick. But whilst I am pas∣sing from the trouble of emptinesse to the rest of fulnesse, my concupisence layeth a snare for me. For this passage it self is a pleasure, nor is there any other way to passe to it but this, to which necessity forceth me. And thus, whereas health only is the true cause of eating and drinking yet there accompanies it, as its handmaid, a perillous jucundity and gust, which most what endeavours also to step before it; that for its sake I should do, what I pretend or also desire, to do, only for healths sake. Nor are both of these content with the same allowance; That, which is sufficient for health, beeing too little for delight

and many times it becomes uncertain, whether it is the necessary care of my body, that requires such a supply; or the voluptuous deceit of my lust, that procures such a maintenance from me, and the unhappy soul grows glad in such an uncertainty, and thence prepares the protection of an excuse: rejoycing, that it appears not what is an exact proportion for the welfare of the body, that under the cloak of health it may disguise the matter of de∣light.

These enticements, daily, I endeavour to resist, and do invoke thy right hand to save me, and to thee do relate these my anxitties, for I am to seek for Counsel in this matter. I hear the voice of my Lord commanding. Let not your hearts be overcharged with surfeiting and drunken∣nesse. As for drunkennesse, it is hitherto farr from me: shew thou mercy, that it may never approach me. But immoderate eating doth sometimes steal upon thy servant, shew thou mercy, that it may be put farr from me: For none can be continent, unlesse thou givest it. Many things thou bestowest unto our prayers, and, whatever good also we receive before we pray for it, from thee we receive it; and the knowledge also, that from thee we receive it, we receive from thee. I was never a drun∣kard, but drunkards have I known made afterwards so∣ber men by thee. Therefore from the same thee it is, that they should not be so, who never were such; * from whom it was, that they should not alwaies be so, who somtimes had been such; * from whom also it was, that both these should know, from whom it was. I heard also another voice of thine. Go not after thine own lusts, and turn away thy face from thy own pleasure. — I have heard also that speech from thy bounty (with which I am much taken). — Neither if we eat shall we abound, neither if we eat not shall we lack. (That is) neither will the one render me plentifull, nor the other deficient. — Another voice I have heard-For I have learned in whatsoever state I am there∣with to be content. I know both how to abound and how to suffer need: through Christ that strengtheneth me, I can do all things. See here a Souldier of the Celestial Host, and not such earth and dust as we are. But remember thou, O Lord, that we are but dust, and that of the dust thon mad'st Man: and he was lost, but is found. Neither was this Man able of himself to do such things, because he was the same dust, whom, by thy inspiration, saying such things, I do so dearly affect: but I (saith he) can do all

things through him who strengthen••h me. Strengthen thou me also, that I may be able Give what thou commandest, and command what thou pleasest. He also confessed, that he had received it; and what he glorifieth o•• ••e glorifieth of in the Lord. — Another I have heard asking of thee, that he might receive. Take thou f••om me (saith h••) the greedinesse of the belly: whence it appears, my holy God, that thou givest, when it is done, what thou commandest to be done.—Thou hast taught Me also, Good ••a••her— Ʋnto the pure, that all things are pure; but that it is evill to the man who eateth, with offence.— And— That every creature of thine is good and nothing to be refused, which is received with thanks giving.—And— That meat commen∣deth us not to God.—And—That no man may judge us in meat or in drink—And—That He which eateth, let him not despise him that eateth not; and let no•• him that eateth not, judge him that eateth.—These things I have learnt: Tha••ks be to thee; praises to thee, My God My Master, knock∣ing-at mine ears, enlightning My heart. Deliver thou Me from all temptations. The uncleanesse of the Meat I do not dread, but the uncleanesse of lusting. I know, that Noah was permitted all manner of flesh good for food: That Elias hungring in the desert was fed with flesh-meat. That John the Baptist, a man endued with a miraculous abstinence, received no pollution from living creatures, (1.) Locusts, made his food; And on the otherside; I know, that Esau was deceived by the lust of a few lentiles: and David censured by himself for the desire of a draught of water; and that our King was tempted not in a matter of flesh, but of bread only; and therefore also the people in the Wildernesse, not simply because they desired flesh, but because, in the desire thereof, they murmured a∣gainst the Lord, deserved to be rejected. I therefore, placed amongst the same temptations, am striving every day against this concupisence in eating and in drinking For 'tis no such thing, which I can resolve to cut off at once, and touch no more as I could do concerning concubinage. Therefore are the reins of the throat to be held with a moderate hand, between relaxation and restraint. And who is he O Lord, who is not sometimes transported be∣yond the lists of necessity? Whoever he be, a great one he is, * let him magnify thy name. But such a one I am not, for I am a Sinfull man. But I am one also, that Magnify thy name: and * let him intercede un∣to thee for these My sins, who hath so perfectly over∣come the World, reckoning Me also amongst the weaker

Members of the same body, because thy eyes also regard this my imperfect substance, and in thy book shall all thine be written.

CHAP. XXXII.

3. Concerning the temptations of the smell in sweet odours and perfumes.

FRom the allurements of sweet smels I suffer no great trouble, when absent, I do not misse them; when present, not refuse them, and am willing, for ever to be without them, Thus I appear to my self, but perhaps mistaken. For much to be lamented is the darknesse, wherein my very abilities and faculties, which are within me, lie obscured and hidden from me. So that my own mind, when questioning it self concerning its own strength, knows not well how to believe it self; because much within it lies secret and concealed from it, till experience discovers it: and no man may be secure in this life, (which is wholly called a temptation) that as he might have been made of worse, better, so he may not become, from bet∣ter worse, the only hope, the only confidence, the only secure promise, to rely on, is thy mercy, O Lord.

CHAP. XXXIII.

4. —His remaining infirmities concerning the temptations of the ears in Musick. Where, whether Musick be useful in Chur∣ches.

THe pleasures of the ear had more strongly insnared, and captiv'd me: but thou hast dissolved these bonds, and hast set Me at Liberty. I confesse, I do now still a little re∣pose and acquiesse in the melody of those sounds, which are animated with thy sacred himnes, when these are sung with a sweet & skilful voice; yet not so adhereing to them, but that I can disingage my self at pleasure. Yet these airs, by reason of the divine matter which ushers them in, and procures their admittance, do seek some respectful enter∣tainments also in My soul; and I find some difficulty to give them one, exactly sutable. For I seem to My self sometimes, to allow them more honour, than is meet, upon experience, * that our soules become more religi∣ously and fervently raised into a flame of devotion with those holy oracles, when sung in such a manner, than when not sung at all; and * that all the affections of our spirit, ac∣cording to their manifold variety, do find answerable notes in Musick, with a secret harmony and acquaintance

of which they are much excited. But yet the delight of My flesh, (to which we ought not to yield-over the soul to be effeminated) doth often deceive Me; whilst my sense doth not so wait upon reason, as patiently to follow it, for whose benefit only it is made use of, but, in seek∣ing its own contentment, strives to run before, and to lead, it. Thus in these things I offend, yet do not then, but afterward, discover my fault.

And sometimes again, immoderately aware of this falla∣cy, I err on the otherside, in too much severity (but this very seldom) so that, *I would have all the melody of those sweet Tunes, in which Davids Pralter is usually su••g, ba∣nished from my ears, and also from the Churches too; and *that course seems to me the more safe which I have often heard told of Athanasius Bishop of Alexandria, who caused the Reader to speak the Psalmes with so small a variation of tone, that it might seem nearer to pronouncing, than singing. Yet again, when I call to mind, those tears, I shed in the singing of the Church-hymnes at the first begin∣ning of My conversion to the faith, and now also * my be∣ing much more moved, not with the singing, but the things sung, when tuned with a clear voice and a most conveni∣ent note, I again acknowledg great benefit of such insti∣tution.

Thus I float between the peril of being pleased, and the experiment of being profited: and am rather inclined (yet not with an irrevocable judgment) to approve the custom of singing in the Church; that, by the delight of the ear, a weaker soul may raise it self into an affection of pie∣ty. Yet whenever so it happens, that the singing it self more moves Me, than the Matter sung, I confess I sin penally; and then had I rather hear no singing at all. Behold the present condition I am in. Weep ye with Me, and for Me weep, ye who within your selves have the like good pur∣poses with Me (from which purposing flows well-doing) as for you, who have none, such things as these trouble not you; and thou, O Lord, my God, look back upon Me, and hear, and see, and pity, and heal me; in whose sight, I am thus become a question, and a doubt unto My self; & this is My present Malady.

CHAP. XXXIV.

5.—His remaining infirmities, concerning the temptations of the eyes in splendid, fair, and well-proportioned objects.

THere remains yet the pleasure of these eyes of my flesh of which I will now make my confessions, to be heard

by the pious ears of My brethren, thy Temple, that so we may conclude the temptations of the lust of the flesh, which as yet assault Me groaning earnestly, and desiring to be cloathed upon with My house from heaven. My eyes yet love fair and varied figures, bright and clear colours; (Oh let not them possess my soul! but let God possess it, who made them very good indeed, but yet is he, my good, and not they). And these things accost me when awake all the day long, neither do I find any respit from them as I do from Musical, and sometimes from all other, sounds, as it happens in a perfect silence. For the very light it self, the Queen of colours, in its overspreading all things which we behold, pleasantly, with a various influxe, flatters and inveigles Me even when doing somthing else, and not ob∣serving it: and so strongly doth it insinuate it self, that, if suddenly withdrawn, it is straight impatiently desired, and if long missed, it contristates My spirit.

But O that light, * which Toby beheld, when, with his eyes closed, he directeth his son the way to life, and him∣self walked before him with the feet of charity, which swerved not at all from the right way! Or, * which Isaac beheld, when, his carnal sight being closed with old age, he blessed not his sons by knowing them, but, by blessing, came to know them! Or, * which Jacob beheld, △ when he also, by great age having lost his sight, with an illuminated soul viewed and foresignified the conditions of the several peoples descending from his sons; And △ when he imposed his hands, mistically crossed, upon Joseph's children, not as their Father outwardly directed, but as he inwardly di∣scerned: That is the true light, and one it is, and un∣changeable it is, and one also are all they, who see, and who love, it. But that other corporeal light (of which I have been speaking) seasoneth and relisheth this present life, to its blind lovers, with a most ensnaring, and perillous sweet∣ness. But those who know also how from it to give thee glory, O God All-Creator, spend it in thy Hymnes, and pre∣vent it in their vigilance, and such I desire to be.

These seducements of My eyes I now fight against, lest My feet, wherewith I walk in thy way should happen any way to be ensnared; and to thee I lift up My invisible eyes that thou wouldst pull My feet out of the snares; and thou art ever and anon loosing them, for often are they fettered, these nets being spread for Me on every side, but thou de∣layest not to pluck them out again, who art the keeper of Israel, that never slumberest nor sleepest. For what innume∣rable

inventions, by divers arts and Manufactures, in attires, utensiles, furnitures, buildings, and in pictures also, and several sorts of statues and images, (those surpassing all necessary or moderate use, these, any pious significatson) have Men accumulated to the former temptations of the eye? Abroad doting on what they have made; within, de∣serting him, by whom they were made; and defacing that which they were made.

But I, O My God and My Glory, concerning all these, do now sing an hymne and do sacrifice praise to thee, My san∣ctifier. For all these beautiful pieces of art, which are transferred, first from an idea in the soul, into the work of a skilful hand, are derived originally from that beauty, * which is above the soul, and *after which my soul languish∣eth day and night. And the drawers and admirers of these exteriour beauties do learn from the first beauty a wor∣thy estimation of them, but learn not from it a right use of them. And there also the true beauty is, and they see it not; that they should seek no further, but should preserve the flowre of their strength for thee, and not shed it abroad on such tiring pleasures. And behold I, even whilst I di∣scourse of, and estimate, these beauties, do a little entan∣gle My steps in them: but thou pluckest them out O Lord, thou loosest them again; because thy mercy is before My eyes. I fall into these snares through my misery and thou liftest me out again through thy Mercy, somtimes without My perceiving it, when I step only upon them, sometimes with My pain, when I stick fast in them

CHAP. XXXV.

2. His remaining infirmities, concerning the temptations of the lust of the eyes; or, curiosity of vain science.

TO this first is joined a second sort of temptation more variously perillous. For besides the lust of the flesh, which lyes in the delectation, *of all the senses, and * of those pleasures, after which they go a whoring, who are farr from thee, there dwels in the soul a certain vain and curious desire, not of delighting her self in the flesh, but of making vain experiments by the flesh through the means of the same corporeall senses, masked under the name of learning and science; which being seated in the appetite of knowing, and, amongst the senses, the eyes be∣ing the principal instruments of knowledge, is in scripture-expressions called the lust of the eyes. For though proper∣ly, seeing belongs only to the eyes, yet we apply this

word also to the other senses, when we employ them in searching after knowledge. [ ] So we say not only; See how it shineth, but see, how it soundeth; how it smelleth, or tasteth, or how hard it is And therefore the general ex∣perience of all the senses is called, the lust of the eyes.

Now what is done by our senses for pleasure, and what for curiosity, is thus evidently discerned; in that their pleasure seeks after obiects, beautiful, melodious, fragrant, sweet to tast, gentle and soft to touch: but their curiosity often tries the contraries, not for the sufferance from things so offensive, but for the lust of experiencing and knowing them. For what pleasure is there to behold, in some mangled corps, that which strikes us only with hor∣rour and trembling? And yet if such a spectacle lies any wh r••, people flock to see it, till even they grow sad, & look pale; and straight become affraid, that they shall see it again in their sleep; as if some body had forced, or any report of its beauty had invited, them, before, to look upon it when awake.—And the like it is in the other senses, too long to instance in.

From this disease of curiosity it is, that strange and wonderful sights are presented to us in publick shews and theaters. Hence men proceed to search the concealed things of nature which she hath wrought not for us, and the knowledg of which no way profits us, nor is there other design in our search, save only the knowing them. Hence come those inspections into arts Magical only for a culpa∣ble science sake: and hence, in true religion it self, is God often tempted, when signes and miracles are begg'd of him, where, not our health, or our benefit, but only the experiment, is the end of our desires.

In this so vast a wood full of snares and dangers behold O Lord how many I have already cut and shaken off from My soul, even as thou hast enabled Me to do this (O God of My salvation). Yet when dare I at any time say (so many things of this kind, on every side, daily importuning this present life) when dare I say, that no such thing at all makes me intent and earnest, * to behold it; or also, with a vain study, * to consider it. Indeed now, the theaters draw Me not unto them: I care not to know the courses of the Stars; my soul hath never sought after intelligence with ghosts, and all sacrilegious sacraments and compacts I de∣test. But O Lord My God, to whom I owe all humble and single-hearted homage, with how many devised suggesti∣ons doth the enemy deal with me, that I would seek a

sign from thee. But by our King Jesus, I beseech thee, and by our Country Jerusalem, so pure, so chast, that, as yet the consent to any such† thing is far from me, so it may alwayes be further and further. For, when I do petition thee for any ones health or safety, I have a much different intention from this, and whilst thou dost what thou wilt in it, thou givest (and I hope will ever give) unto me, most willingly to acquiesce, in what thou dost.

Neverthelesse, in how many petty and contemptible things is our curiosity daily tempted? And who can recount how often we fall; How often, when people are talking of vain discourse, at first do we tolerate them as it were so to give no offense to the weak, and then afterward, by litle and litle, yield a willing ear unto them? I do not now go to see a dog's coursing a hare when shewed in the Circus; bur yet in the field, as I casually pa••s by, such a course presented perhaps averts me from some thought of great moment, and converts me towards it, not making Me turne aside with the body of My horse, but with the inclinations of My soul. And unless thou beest pleased, by shewing presently My infirmitie, to admonish me either to ascend unto thee, by some meditation upon such a sight, or totally to contemn and neglect it, I stupidly confirme in such a diversion. What, when, at home sitting in my chamber, a Stellio catching of flies, or a spider f••t••••ring them falne into her nets, sixeth My intention upon them. Is not the same curiosity acted, because these animals are small? I proceed indeed from thence to the praising of thee, the wonderful creator and disposer of all, but my first observing of them had no such design, and it is one thing to rise up quickly, and another thing not to fall at all. And of such falls, as these, My life is full, and My only hope in thy exceeding great mercy. For, since our heart is the continuall receipt of such things as these, and bears within it whole armies of such copious vanities, hence are our very prayers also often interrupted and disturbed; and, even before thy face, and whilst the voice of our hearts is presented unto thy ears, so important an af∣fair is suddenly broken off by the rushing in (I know not from whence) of such nugatory cogitations. Have I ac∣counted this sort of temptation a contemptible matter? Or is there any thing, that, amongst such infirmities, ••evives my hope, save wholly thy mercy, because thou hast already begun to effect a change in me?

CHAP. XXXVI.

3. His remaining infi••mities concerning the temptations of the pride of life, The great danger of vain-glorying, △ in∣curred from the approbation and praise of men;

ANd thou knowest in how great a part thou hast refor∣med me, who [to come now to the third sort of tem∣ptation, the pride of life] hast long since healed me from the lust of revenging my selfe, or of vindicating my reputa∣tion and integrity. That so thou mightest forgive all the rest of mine iniquities, and mightest heal all my diseases; and mightest redeem my life from corruption; and crown me with loving kindnesse and tender mercies, and satisfy my mouth with good things, When thou hadst crushed my pride with thy fear, and tamed my neck to thy yoke. And now I bear it, and it is light unto me, because so thou hast promised, and so thou hast made it; and indeed so it was alwayes, but I Knew it not, when I was so much affraid to undergo it.

But yet (O thou Lord, who alone dost Lord it without all pride, because thou only art the Lord who hath no o∣ther Lord) hath this sort of temptation wholly ceased from me, or can it cease at all in this life? namely, to desire to be reverenced, and to be loved, by men, not for any other end save only that we may rejoyce our selves in it? Where is no cause of joy; but such a life is truely miserable, and this boasting full of shame. For from this thing chiefly ariseth their not entirely loving thee, and their not chastly-fearing thee. Therefore dost thou resist such proud, but givest grace unto the humble, and thou thunderest over the heads of the ambitious of this world, and makest the foundations of these mountains to tremble. Yet here because, for the bet∣ter performing several duties of humane society, 'tis neces∣sary both to be loved and feared of men, the adversary of our happiness presseth sore upon us in this matter, strowing on every side, upon his snares, Euge, Euge, that, greedily ga∣thering up this, we may be unawares caught by the other, and may lay aside our joy in the truth of thee, that we may place it in the falsehood of men; and may covet to be loved and feared of men, not for thy sake, but in thy stead; and so being made like unto him, he may also link us with him, not in the union of love, but in the fellowship of punishment, who strives to exalt his throne in the sides of the north, that; he imitating thee in an opposite way, his vassalls, con∣trary to the light and heat of love which thine enjoy, may serve in cold, and darknesse. But we O Lord, behold we are

thy litle flock; keep thou still the possession of us. Stretch forth thy wings over us, and let us fly under them. Be thou all our glory, let us love, and be loved, only for thy sake, and let thy word only be feared in us. He that longs to be commended by men, when thou disapprovest him, shall not be justifyed by men, when thou judgest him, nor rescu∣ed by men, when thou condemnest him, and when, not he that is a sinner, is blessed in his wickednesse which he hath done, but a man is commended for some good, which thou hast given him, and yet that man rejoyceth more within himself that he is commended, than that he hath from thee that gift for which he is so praised, he also is commended, whilst thou disallowest. And the better Man is he, that prai∣seth, than he who is praised; for the gift of God in man plea∣seth the one; but the gift of man (namely praise) delight∣eth the other, more than that of God.

CHAP. XXXVII.

Which is not avoidable, to well-doing.

ASsaulted with these temptations we are daily, O Lord; without ceasing we are assaulted. A daily furnace to try us, is Mans tongue applauding us. And thou comman∣dest us, also in this matter, continency. Give what thou commandest, and command what thou wilt. Thou knowest, what groans my heart, and what floods my eyes, concerning this thing, powre forth unto thee. For 'tis no easy thing to me to know, how much lesse or more pure I am from this plague, and I dread my inward and secret errings, which thine eye beholds, but mine do not. For, in other kinds of temptations, I have some way of try∣ing my self, but in this almost none at all. For both in the pleasures of the sense and curiosity of science, I perceive how much I have my mind wained from them, whenas I happen to be without such things; whether voluntarily, when they are absent, or upon necessitie, when they are also wanting. For, at such times I ask my self, how much greater or less trouble I have, than formerly, to be without them. And so for riches (which are coveted to this end, that we may by them serve some one of the foremention∣ed lusts, or also two, or all, of them,) if my mind cannot, in the possession of them, throughly discover, whether it con∣temns them, more fully to try it self, it may dismisse them. But to rid our selves of all praise, and so in this matter ex∣perience our ability to forego it, may we take the course of living so ill and ignominiously, that all who know, may abhor, us? what madder design, ••an such, can be named

or imagined? But if praise both useth, and ought to be the companion of a good life and of good works, no more is it, than a good life, avoideable; and yet I cannot judg what thing, contentedly, or impatienly, I forego, save when I do not enjoy it.

What shall I therefore confesse unto thee in this kind of temptation O Lord? What? But that I am pleased with the praise, but more with the truth than with it. For should it be proposed to Me, whether I had rather, being mad, or ig∣norant in all things, be commended, or being wise and most confirmed in the truth, be decryed, by all, I easily see, what I would make choise of; but yet I wish something further than this; viz. that no joy concerning any good of mine might be the least increased in Me, from anothers appro∣bation of it. But I confess, such joy is not only increased in me by their praise, but also diminished in Me by their dis∣paragement. And, when I am troubled at this My misery, I presently meet with an excuse for it; whether a iust one thou knowest O Lord, for I do suspect it. For because that thou, * hast commanded us not only continency, that is, from what things we are to withdraw our love; but also justice, that is, where we are to place it; and * willest, that not only thy self, but also our neighbour be loved by us, I often seem to My self * to be pleased with his proficiency or with the good hopes I have thereof, when I am delight∣ed with the commendations of one understanding things a right; and again * to be grieved in his behalf, when I hear one blaming, what he is ignoraat of; or what is praise wor∣thy. For indeed I find my self afflicted also with my own praises, when either such things are commended in Me, wherein I displease my self; or when small or light good things in Me are more valued, than they ought: But yet; on the other side, how know I, whether I am not thus affected, for that I would not have another entertain an opinion concering me, or concerning any thing mine, different from My own; and this, not because his good or benefit moves me thereto, but because those good things in me, which please me, please me much more, when they also please a∣nother? For in some sort, it is not I that am commended, when my judgment also concerning my self is not com∣mended, as, when those things in me are commended, which dislike me, or those things more commended which less like me. Am I not therefore, in this, ignorant of my self? In thee, O Truth, I see and learn, that, not for my own sake, but for my neighbours good, I ought to take content in

my praises; But, whether indeed it be so, I am ignorant; and less do I know of my self than of thee in this matter; there∣fore I beseech thee O my God, reveal thou my self unto me, that I may confesse my discovered wounds unto my brethren, who may pray to thee for me.

Let Me yet more diligently question my self in this mat∣ter. If it be in respect of my neighbours benefit only, that I am so touched with my own praises; why than am I lesse moved in the injurious disparagement of another, than if it were, of my self? And why am I much more netled with a contumely thrown upon My self, than when it is so upon another, in my presence, with the same injustice? Can I also plead my ignorance and uncertainty for this? Or shall I en∣deavour here also to delude my self, and nor confesse the truth before thee both in heart and tongue? Lord, such a folly put thou farr from me, and let not mine own mouth go about to anoint and perfume my head with the flatter∣ing Oyl of sinners. I am poor and needy, and the best, when with secret laments displeasing my self, and invocating thy mercy, until these my deficiencies be repaired, and per∣fected into a full repose and peace, a peace hidden from the eyes of the arrogant, and self-conceited.

CHAP. XXXVIII.

△ Incurred also from the contemning of Praise, as this also be∣ing a thing praise-worthy.

CHiefly, speech that is eloquent, and good actions that are publick and eminent, cause in us a most perillous temptation from this our love of praise; which subtility assayes to procure the applause of others to the advancing of my own private excellency, even then also, when such love of praise in me is censured by me; and for that very reason, because it is so censured; and often doth a man more vainly glory, of the very contempt of vain-glory; and therefore now in truth the contempt of vain-glory is not gloryed-of by him; For he utterly contemns it not, so long as within himself he reteins still some glorying.

CHAP. XXXIX.

Incurred also from self-love and self-conceit without regard to praise from others.

THere is yet within us another disease in the same kind of temptation, namely a vanity, in men, of self loving and plea••••ng themselves in themselves,* whether it happen that they please, or that they displease, abroad; and* where∣in they affect not the pleasing of others. But these men, whilst thus pleasing themselves, much do they displease

thee, not only in glorying in some things not good, as in good; but also in thy, good things, as if in their own; or also in glorying in them as thine, but as conferred on them for some merits of their own; or also as in thine without any their meriting, but yet not sociably joying in them, but as envying the same graces of thine to others. In all these and the like perils and travels, thou seest the fears and tremblings of my heart; and I rather perceive such wounds to be by thee continually cured within me, than not to be at all received.

CHAP. XL.

A recapitulation of the things formerly spoken in this Book. S. Austin's, sometimes, extraordinary transportments in the contemplation and love of God.

O Truth, where hast not thou walked along with me, and been instructing me, what I should avoid and what affect, when I recounted unto thee my mental disco∣veries, (such as I was able to make) and consulted thee concerning them? I surveighed the world abroad with the senses serving me for that purpose; and after this, I reflected, * upon the vegetable life of my own body, and * upon those my senses. From hence I entered further into the inner chambers of my memory, those manifold capacities filled with an innumerable store of wonderful things. I considered them, and remained amazed at them: and none of them could I discern without thee, and yet I found none of them to be thee. Neither yet wer't Thou Me, the discoverer himself, (who travelled over all these, and endeavoured to distinguish and value each one accord∣ing to their several dignity, * receiving some from the messages of my senses; * questioning about others, more intimate and not ushered in by them, whence they were; and * numbring the several messengers, whence I received them; and then, after thus having displayed in my memo∣ry all its treasure, * handling and examining some part, * laying-up-again others examined, and * drawing-out o∣thers to be perused;) Neither (I say) was I my self, who wrought all this, (that is) my faculty by which I wrought it, neither was this, Thou, my Lord: For Thou art a light alway permanent, and immutable, which light I still consulted concerning all these, whether, and what, and of what worth, they were. And I listened unto its instructing me, and commanding me; and this I still continue to con∣sult.

This is my great delight; and, so often as I can be released from other necessary affairs I repair to this plea∣sure. Neither find I, in all these things which I run through, and wherein I consult thee, any place of settle∣ment for my soul, save only in thee, whither all my dissipa∣tions finally may be recollected, and from whence nothing of me may eyer again be strayed. And sometimes thou dost admit me * into an affection, very unusual, within the innermost part of my soul, and * to I know not what sweetness, which were it once perfected in me, I know not what blisse that is, which such a life would not enjoy. But then, with certain cumbersome weights hanging up∣on me, I presently am pressed down again to these things below, and am re-ingulfed, and detained, by former cu∣stom; and much I bewail my self; and yet much still I am detained; so greatly hath the burden of a bad custome overloaded me. And in this estate I can abide still, but would not; and in the other I would willingly abide, but cannot; both wayes very miserable.

CHAP. XLI.

ANd in this condition I proceeded to consider the re∣maining languors of my sins in a threefold concu∣piscence; and have invoked the help of thy right hand to deliver me. For I beheld thy brightness with a sick and wounded spirit; and, beaten back, and dazled by it, I said: who can ever attain thither? I am utterly cast a∣way from the sight of thine eyes. Thou art the truth, who presidest above all things; And I, out of my covet∣ousness, was not willing to loose thee, but yet greedily de∣sired also to possess what was a lie together with thee; as no man desireth so to speak lies, as to be ignorant what is truth; and therefore I lost thee, because thou vouchsafest not to be enjoyed together with a lie.

CHAP. XLII.

His recourse for a remedy to all these his maladies not * to evil Angels or Demons (with the Platonists, or others, practising evil Arts) as Mediatours between God and man, because sinners like men, spirits like God.

ANd now whom could I find, who might reconcile and reduce me unto thee? Was that office to be under∣taken by some Angel for me? upon what devotions? upon

what sacraments performed unto him? Many endeavouring to return unto thee, and of themselves unable, as I hear, have attempted such wayes, and fallen into the desire of curious visions, and so deserved to be exposed to many de∣lusions. For, being high-minded, they sought thee with the pride of learning, exalting rather than beating their swol∣len breasts, and so have allured unto rhem, from the like∣ness of their affections, spirits associated with them in pride, the powers of this air; by whom, through magical operations, they might be deceived, whilst they were seek∣ing a Mediatour, by whom they might be purged. But it was none such they light on, but the Devil it was, trans∣forming himself as an Angel of light. And this much al∣lured proud flesh to repair unto him, because he had no body of flesh. For they were mortals and sinners; and thou, O Lord, with whom they sought reconciliation, wert sinless and immmortal. Now the mediating Person be∣tween God, and men, it was meet, he should have some∣thing like to God, something like to men, lest, in both like to men, he should be at too great a distance from God, or, in both like to God, he should stand too remote from men. Therefore also this conterfeit Mediatour (by whom, accor∣ding to thy secret judgement, our pride deserves to be deluded) had one thing common with men, that is, sin; and would seem to have the other thing common with God, whilst, not cloathed with the mortality of flesh, he vaunts himself as immortal. But since the certain wages of sin is death, and this sin he hath common with man, he hath, also, that common with man, to be sentenced unto death.

CHAP. XLIII.

But * to Christ, who is the only true Mediatour; mortal like man; righteous like God; through whom, (else despe∣rate,) he confidently hopes a perfect cure of all his dis∣eases.

BUt the true Mediatour, whom in thy secret mercy thou hast manifested to the humble; (and hast also sent him amongst them, that they might by his example learn humility) that Mediatour of God and men, the man Christ Jesus, between these mortal sinners, and the im∣mortal righteous one, hath appeared, mortal together with men, righteous together with God; that, because the wages of righteousness is life and peace, he by his righte∣ousness, which was allied to God, might evacuate death, to

justified sinners, which death he was pleased to have com∣mon with men. And this true Mediatour was also made known to the Saints of old; that they, by the faith of his passion to come, as we by the faith of it past, might attain salvation. And it was, as he was man, that he was Media∣tour; but as he was the Word, so he was no midling person; because equall to God, and God with God, and, together with the Holy Spirit, one God.

How far hast thou loved us (O thou good Father) who sparedst not thine only Son, but deliveredst him up for us ungodly? How far hast thou loved us? for whom he, who thought it no robbery to be equal to thee, was made sub∣ject even to death, even to the death of the cross: only he, free amongst the dead, having power to lay down his life, and power likewise to take it up again; becoming unto thee, for us, both a Victor and a Victim, and therefore a Victor, because he had been a Victim; becoming unto thee, for us, both the Priest and the Sacrifice, and therefore the Priest, because a Sacrifice; making us unto thee, of Servants, Sons, by being born thy Son, and becoming our Servant. And therefore do I justly repose strong hope in him, that thou wilt heal all my diseases, by him, who sitteth at thy right hand, and intercedeth unto thee for us. Else should I despair; for many and great are these my disea∣ses; many and great they are, but greater is the cure, which thou hast provided. And well might we have imagi∣ned thy Word to have been too remote from having any alliance with us, and so have despaired of our selves, had it not thus been made flesh and dwelt amongst us. Affrighted with these my sins, and with the load of my misery, I had once a thought and a design of retiring my self into some desert solitude; but thou didst prohibit it unto me, and confirmedst me, saying; That therefore Christ died for all, that they who live, should not henceforth live unto themselves, but unto him who died for them.

Behold, O Lord, I cast all my care upon thee: let me live, and I will consider the wonderful things of thy law. Thou knowest my ignorance, my infirmities; Teach me; Heal me: He, thy only One, in whom are hidden all the treasures of wisdom and knowledge, redeemed me with his own blood. Let not the proud [my spiritual enemies] falsly accuse me; For I meditate on this my ransom, and I eat it, and drink it, and communicate it to others, and be∣ing poor I desire to be satisfied therewith amongst those who eat and are satisfied; and they shall praise the Lord, that seek him.

CHAP. XLIV.

The end and purpose of these his Confessions.

O Lord, since thou art eternally, art thou ignorant o these things I now say unto thee? or seest thou no till a certain time, what is done in time? Why then have I ordered a narration of so many several matters unto thee? Surely, not that thou shouldest learn such things from me, but only that I might the more excite my affe∣ction, and love, towards thee, and theirs also, who rea•• these things; that we may all say together; Magnus Domi∣nus & lau••abilis valde. Great is the Lord, and greatly to be praised. I have already said it, and let me say it again Out of my love of thy love to me it is, that I do this. As also we continue to pray; nevertheless, that the truth hath said. Your heavenly Father knoweth what things y•• have need of before ye ask him. We only publish the af¦fections we have towards thee, while we confess to the•• our miseries, and thy mercies, that thou mayest complea•• our freedom, (as thou hast already begun it) and that a length we may perfectly cease to be miserable in our selves, and may arrive to beatitude in thee; because tho•• hast graciously called us, that we should be poor in spirit and meek; and mournful; and hungry and thirsty after righ∣teousness; and merciful; and pure in heart; and peace makers. See; I have rehearsed before thee a many things, such as I had ability, and such as I had also a will, to relate, because thou, first, hadst so willed, that I should confess unto thee, the Lord my God, Because that Thou ar•• good, and thy mercy endureth for ever.

FINIS

Notes

• Psal. 145.3. & 147.5.
• Jam. 4.6.
• Rom. 10.14. Psal. 22.26. Mat. 7.7.
• Psal. 139.7.
• Rom. 11.36.
• Jer. 23.24.
• Act. 2.18.
• Ps. 18.31.
• ‖

  Or; Whereln the very dumb say somthing, and such as say most, say nothing.
• Psal. 35.3. Exo. 33.20. Or; with longing to see it.
• Psal. 19.12. Psal. 116.10. Psal. 32.6. Psal. 26.12. vulg.
• Psal. 130.3.
• Gen. 18.27.
• Psal. 25.16.
• Psal. 62.1.
• Psal. 100.2.
• Ps. 83.18. Psal. 102.26.
• Psal. 102.26.
• Psal. 102.26.
• †

  That is; that thou art in∣compre∣hensible.
• Job. 25.
• Psal. 192.1.
• Psal. 51.5.
• †

  A custom in primitive times, to put salt into the mouthes of the Catechu∣meni, intimating a spiri∣tual pre-seasoning of them for the reception of the grace of Baptisme (see 3. l. Con. Carthag. 5. can.) and being a symbol of in∣corruption. See Ezek. 16.4, 5. Mark 9.49. in latter times this ceremo∣ny was used to the newly baptized.
• †

  Eucha∣rist, as well as Baptism, in those dayes gi∣ven to Infants.
• †

  Men ba∣ptized in their sick∣ness were by the Ca∣non pro∣hibited sacred Or∣ders, be¦cause their Baptisme seemed ne∣cessitated.
• Mat. 10, 3.
• Psal. 78.39.
• Jam. 4.4.
• Aeneid. 6. lib.
• Gen. 4.16
• Ps. 27.9. Vulg. Rom. 1.21.
• Luk. 15.
• Matth. 19.14.
• ‖

  2 Cor. 12. &c. Concupi∣scence.
• 1 Cor. cap. 7.
• Psal. 93.20. Vulg. T.
• Psal. 37.5. Vulg.
• †

  Many, in those dayes, whose practices were not yet sufficiently reformed, for a long time deferred Baptism: reserving it as a soveraign remedy at last for cleansing them at once from all their fore-pa••t sins.
• Psal. 116.16.
• Ps. 72.7. Vulg. T.
• Psal. 32.1.
• †

  Catiline
• Psal. 76.7.
• Psal. 116.12.
• Psal. 9.2.
• †

  Being sins com∣mitted be∣fore his Baptism.
• Rom. 6.21.
• ‖

  See L. 3. C. 7. L. 7. C. 12.
• Psal. 1.8.28. Psal. 13.9.23.
• Psal. 19.12.
• Mat. 5•• 21.
• †

  The E∣versores.
• †

  The bafling Wits of the school
• Col. 2.8.
• †

  The Mani∣chees.
• †

  Note; that all that which follows, thus mar∣ked, the Reader, if he please, may omit, as lesse pertinent to the Story.
• ‖

  Jam. 1.17▪
• Prov. 9.18.
• Prov. 9.16.17.
• †

  Suppo∣sed Ten en•• of Chri∣stianity. See Gen. 1.26, 27. Gen. 16.2 Gen. 22.10.
• 1 Cor. 4.3.
• †

  Allud∣ing to the Israelites sacrificing of Beasts, and Abraham his Son, and other ceremonies, that were typicall.
• †

  Flagi∣tia.
• †

  Faci∣nora.
• †

  Faci∣nora.
• 1 Jo. 2.1.
• Psal. 26.12. Vulg.
• †

  All, and only the Baptized were cal∣led Fide∣les.
• †

  The Ma∣nichees Sacra∣ment.
• Psal. 4.2.
• Osee. 12.1 Vulgar Ephraim pascit ventum & sequi∣tur ••stum
• Psal. 41.••
• Jo. 5.14.
• Mat. 16. Psal. 51.
• Rom. 5.5
• †

  Or reco∣vered of that fit.
• Psal. 42.11.
• ‖

  S. Austin review∣ing this work, in his Retractations 2. l. 6. c. censures this expression—quasi declamatio levis, potius quam gravis confessio.
• †

  Mani∣cheisme.
• Jer. 23.24. Ps. 119.142. Jo. 17.71.
• Ps. 80.19.
• Isa. 40.8.
• ‖

  Alioquin irent, & perirent.
• Isa. 46.8. Ʋulg.
• Ps. 19.5.
• Isa. 46.8.
• Ps. 4.4.
• Ephes. 4.14.
• Psal. 136.4.
• †

  The Ma∣nichean opinion; that souls are parti∣cles of the Di∣vine na∣ture, or of God. Psal. 18.28. Joh. 1.9, 16. Jac. 1.17.
• Psal. 78.39.
• Jo. 3.29.
• Psal. 51.8.
• Gen. 3.18.
• Luke 15.12.
• Isa. 46.3, 4.
• Psal. 35.10.
• Psa. 19.6.
• Gen. 1.4.31.
• Gen. 4.16.
• Ps. 138.6.
• Ps. 147.5. 1 Cor. 1.30.
• Mat. 17.27.
• Rev. 12.4 Rom. 1.21.
• Rom. 1.21. &c.
• 2 Cor. 6.10.
• Job 28.28.
• Psal. 37.••3.
• Ps. 142.5.
• †

  An O∣ratory de∣dicated to S. Cypri∣an where were con∣served some of his Reli∣ques.
• †

  [Nusquam in∣si;] the same as, [nusquā non] see M. Wats his anno∣tations.
• Ps. 39.1.2, 3, and Ps. 141.3.4. see the Ʋulgar.
• Ps. 139.22.
• Ps. 73.27.
• †

  The Em∣perour re∣siding much there.
• Ps. 119.155.
• Luke 7.12.
• †

  Pultes.
• †

  Such provision was car∣ried a•• an off••••ing in hon∣our of the Martyr, to be distributed to those who were present and especial∣ly to the poor.
• †

  When he was in di••g••ace, and p•• se∣cuted ••y the Em∣presse Justina.
• 2 Tim. 2.15.
• †

  Which were chiefly all manner of ra••es.
• Pro. 9.8.
• †

  See their Office in Pandect. 1. T. 12. l.
• Luke 16.10.
• Psal. 145.15.
• Wisd. 8.21. vulg.
• Isa. 28.15 Wisd. 1.16.
• †

  See more concern∣ing the mainte∣nance, &c St. Austin had from him. Con∣tra Aca∣demic. l. 2. c. 2. which books he dedicates to him.
• †

  The Em∣perour Valenti∣nian the Second, and the Empress Justina his Mo∣ther, their Court was then at Millain.
• ‖

  Psal. 33.111.
• †

  Psal. 145.16
• Ex l. 7. c. 4.
• †

  Where∣as the Mani∣chees sup∣posed the body pro∣duced by another evil prin∣ciple.
• Psal. 106.8. vulg.
• †

  See l. 4. c. 3.
• E••clus. 35.17.
• Psal. 38.9, 10. Vulgar. Ante te omne de∣siderium meum— & lumen oculorum meorum non est mecum.
• Joh. 1.1.
• Phil. 2.6.
• Rom. 5.6. Rom. 8.32. Mat. 11.25. Mat. 11.28. Psal. 25.9.
• Rom. 1.21.
• Acts 17.28.
• Psal. 39.11.
• Psal. 73.28.
• Psal. 15.2. vulg.
• Gen. 1.31.
• Psal. 148.7, &c.
• Psal. 148.1, 2, &c.
• †

  See this more co∣piously handled in his first book De libero Arbitrio; or, Unde sit malum; written at Rome in his return to A∣frick. See Confess. l. 3. c. 7.
• Wisd. 9.15.
• Rom. 1.20.
• 1 Tim. 2.5. Rom. 9.5. John 14.6.
• 1 Cor. 11 19.
• 1 Cor. 8.1.
• 1 Cor. 4.7.
• Rom. 7.
• Dan. 9.5.
• Dan. 9.5.
• Heb. 2.14.
• Prov. 8.22. John 14, 30. Col. 2.14.
• Psal. 62.1.
• †

  The ho∣ly Scri∣ptures.
• 1 Cor. 15 9.
• Psal. 35.10.
• Psal. 116.16, 17.
• 1 Cor. 13 12.
• Ps. 26.8.
• 1 Cor. 7.
• Mat. 19.12.
• Wis. 13.1
• Job 28.28. Mat. 13.45.
• †

  In his baptism: This Simplici∣anus was sent by Dama∣sus Bishop of Rome to Millain, to be an instru∣ctor, and Director of S. Ambrose then a young Bishop, and afterward succeeded him in his Bi∣shopri••k. See Aug. Re∣tract. l. 2. c. 1.
• †

  An E∣gyptian God wor∣shipped in the shape of a Dog.
• Psal. 18.9
• Psal. 29.5
• Mat. 10.33.
• ‖

  Admit∣ted a Ca¦techume∣nus.
• Psal. 112 10. Psal. 31.6
• †

  A di∣gression till the 5. Chap∣ter. Luk. 15.7
• John 1.12.
• 1 Cor. 1.27, 28, 1 Cor. 15 9. Acts 13.9.
• Mat. 12.29. 2 Tim. 2.21.
• Psal. 8.2.
• Rom. 7.20.
• Ephes. 5.14.
• Mat. 5.3.
• †

  Their office, to gather the Em∣perours Tributes, apprehend Delin∣quents, make pro∣visions for the Court, &c.
• Luk. 14.28.
• Col. 3.5.
• Psal. 79.5.8.
• Mat. 19.21.
• Rom. 13.13,
• †

  See 3. l. 11. c.
• Psal. 30.11.
• Psal. 116.16.
• Psal. 35.10.3.
• Psal. 120.3, 4.
• Rom. 14.16.
• †

  See l. 8. cap. 6.
• Psal. 68.15, 16. Vulg. in in monte incascato, monte tuo, monte ube. i.
• Psal. 27.2.
• †

  At Cassia∣cum.
• ‖

  His books written there are
• Contra Academicos. Lib. 3. De vitâ beatâ. l. 1. De Ordine. l. 2. Soliloquiorum. l. 2.
• Psa. 29.5.
• Psa. 19.6.
• Psal. 4.3. Vulgar Filii ho∣minum, us{que} quo gravi cor∣de?—Sci∣rote, quo∣niam mi∣rificavit Dominus Sanctum suum.
• †

  Joh. 7.39.
• Ver. 4.
• †

  Ver 5. I∣rascimini & nolite peccare. Rom 2.5
• ‖

  Allusion to verse 6. Quis ostendet nobis bo∣na?
• Ver 6.7. Signatū est super nos lu∣men vul∣tus tui Domine.
• ‖

  Eph. 5.8
• †

  Ver. 6.
• Ver. 4.
• △

  Vulgar ver. in cubilibus vestris compun∣gimini sacrificate sacrificiū justitiae, & spera∣te in Do∣mino. Ver. 5. Ver. ••. Dedisti haeritiam in corde meo.
• Ver. 7.
• Vulgar ver. 9. In pace, in idipsum, dormiam & requi∣escam. 1 Cor. 15 54. Vulgar ver. 10. Quoniam tu Domi∣ne singu∣lariter in spe consti∣tuisti me.
• †

  Of Bap∣tisme.
• Psal. 116.15.
• Cant. 1.2, 3.
• 1 Pet. 1.24.
• Psal. 68.6. vulg.
• ‖

  Here at Millain S. Austin writ;
• De im∣mortali∣tate Animae, 1. l. (belonging to his Soliloquies, written before in that Country.)
• De Grammaticâ; and some of the other Liberal Sciences.
• †

  In his passage from Millain to Ostia, he staid some time at Rome; where he writ,
• De Mo∣ribus Ec∣clesiae Catholi∣cae, & De moribus Manichaeorum. 2. lib.
• De quantitate animae, to shew it had no corpo∣real quantity.
• The first book De libero arbitrio: or, Unde sit malum.
• Ecclus. 19.1.
• 1 Tim. 5.4, 9, 10.
• 1 Cor. 2.9.
• See l. 7. c. 17.
• See l. 4. c. 10, 11.
• Mat. 25.23. 1 Cor. 15 51.
• †

  Navigi∣us. See his book De vitâ bea∣tâ.
• Psal. 101.
• Mat. 5.22
• 1 Cor. 1.31.
• Jam. 2.13. Mat 5.7. Rom. 9.15.
• Psal. 119 108.
• Col. 2.14
• 1 Cor. 13 12.
• John 3.21.
• 1 Cor. 2.11.
• Psal. 144.8.
• 1 Cor. 4.3
• Job. 42.6
• 1 Cor. 13 12.
• Psal 32.9
• Gen. 3.
• Job 7.1. old Vul∣gar.
• Wisd. 8 21. Vulg
• †

  Besides the for∣mer night evill. Mat. 6.34 1 Cor. 6.13. 1 Cor. 15 53. 1 Cor. 9.27.
• Luk. 21.34.
• Eccle. 16 30. 1 Cor. 8.8.
• Phil. 4.11
• Psal. 103.14. Gen. 3. Luke 15.32.
• 1 Cor. 4.•• 1 Cor. 1 31. Eccles. 23 5, 6.
• Rom. 14.20. 1 Tim. 4.4. 1 Cor. 8.8 Col. 2.16 Rom. 14.3.
• Gen. 9.3. 1 Kin. 17.6. Mat. 3.4. Gen. 25. 1 Chro 11 Mat. 4.3. Num. 11.4.
• ••sal. 136.6.
• ••ob. 8.1. Vulgar.
• Gen. 1.31
• Tob. 4.
• Gen. 27.
• Gen. 49.
• Gen. 48.
• Psal. 58.10. Vulg.
• Psal. 73.27.
• †

  Desir∣ing out of meer curi∣osity to see some mi∣racle done
• Psal. 103.3, 4, 5.
• Jam. 4.6.
• Esas. 14.13.
• Psal. 9.29 Vulg.
• Prov. 27.21.
• Psal. 19.12.
• Namely those 1 Jo 2.16. lust of the flesh, lust of the eyes, pride of life.
• Psal. 141.5.
• Eph. 2, 2.
• 2 Cor. 11 14
• Rom. 6.23.
• 1. Tim. 2.5.
• Phil. 2.6. Joh. 1.1.
• Rom. 8.52. Phil. 2.6, 8.
• John 10.18.
• 2 Cor. 5.15.
• Psal. 119.18.
• Col. 2.3.
• Mat. 6.8.
• Psal. 118.1.