Contents · 12 chapters
- Chapter 1. Deluded by an Insane Love, He, Though Foul and Dishonourable, Desires to Be Thought Elegant and Urbane.
- Chapter 2. In Public Spectacles He is Moved by an Empty Compassion. He is Attacked by a Troublesome Spiritual Disease.
- Chapter 3. Not Even When at Church Does He Suppress His Desires. In the School of Rhetoric He Abhors the Acts of the Subverters.
- Chapter 4. In the Nineteenth Year of His Age (His Father Having Died Two Years Before) He is Led by the Hortensius Of Cicero to Philosophy, To God, and a Better Mode of Thinking.
- Chapter 5. He Rejects the Sacred Scriptures as Too Simple, and as Not to Be Compared with the Dignity of Tully.
- Chapter 6. Deceived by His Own Fault, He Falls into the Errors of the Manichæans, Who Gloried in the True Knowledge of God and in a Thorough Examination of Things.
- Chapter 7. He Attacks the Doctrine of the Manichæans Concerning Evil, God, and the Righteousness of the Patriarchs.
- Chapter 8. He Argues Against the Same as to the Reason of Offences.
- Chapter 9. That the Judgment of God and Men as to Human Acts of Violence, is Different.
- Chapter 10. He Reproves the Triflings of the Manichæans as to the Fruits of the Earth.
- Chapter 11. He Refers to the Tears, and the Memorable Dream Concerning Her Son, Granted by God to His Mother.
- Chapter 12. The Excellent Answer of the Bishop When Referred to by His Mother as to the Conversion of Her Son.
Chapter 1. Deluded by an Insane Love, He, Though Foul and Dishonourable, Desires to Be Thought Elegant and Urbane.
I came to Carthage, where a cauldron of unholy loves boiled up all around me. I did not yet love, but I loved the idea of loving, and from a hidden need, I hated myself for not wanting anything. I searched for something to love because I was in love with loving, and I hated security and any path that had no traps. Within me there was a lack of that inward food—You, my God—though this lack caused me no hunger. I had no desire for incorruptible food, not because I was already full of it, but the emptier I was, the more I despised it. For this reason my soul was sick, and covered with sores, it miserably threw itself outward, craving to be stimulated by contact with physical things. Yet if these things had no soul, they surely would not inspire love. To love and to be loved was sweet to me, especially when I succeeded in enjoying the person I loved. So I polluted the spring of friendship with the filth of lust, and I darkened its brightness with the hell of sexual desire. And yet, though I was foul and dishonorable, I wanted, because of excessive vanity, to be thought elegant and refined. So I fell headlong into the love I longed to be trapped in. My God, my mercy, with how much bitterness did You, out of Your infinite goodness, mix into that sweetness for me! For I was both loved and secretly reached the point of enjoying that bond, and I was joyfully bound with troublesome chains, so that I might be whipped with the burning iron rods of jealousy, suspicion, fear, anger, and conflict.
1. To Carthage I came, where a cauldron of unholy loves bubbled up all around me. I loved not as yet, yet I loved to love; and with a hidden want, I abhorred myself that I wanted not. I searched about for something to love, in love with loving, and hating security, and a way not beset with snares. For within me I had a dearth of that inward food, Yourself, my God, though that dearth caused me no hunger; but I remained without all desire for incorruptible food, not because I was already filled thereby, but the more empty I was the more I loathed it. For this reason my soul was far from well, and, full of ulcers, it miserably cast itself forth, craving to be excited by contact with objects of sense. Yet, had these no soul, they would not surely inspire love. To love and to be loved was sweet to me, and all the more when I succeeded in enjoying the person I loved. I befouled, therefore, the spring of friendship with the filth of concupiscence, and I dimmed its lustre with the hell of lustfulness; and yet, foul and dishonourable as I was, I craved, through an excess of vanity, to be thought elegant and urbane. I fell precipitately, then, into the love in which I longed to be ensnared. My God, my mercy, with how much bitterness did You, out of Your infinite goodness, besprinkle for me that sweetness! For I was both beloved, and secretly arrived at the bond of enjoying; and was joyfully bound with troublesome ties, that I might be scourged with the burning iron rods of jealousy, suspicion, fear, anger, and strife.
Chapter 2. In Public Spectacles He is Moved by an Empty Compassion. He is Attacked by a Troublesome Spiritual Disease.
Stage-plays also attracted me, full of images of my miseries and fuel for my fire. Why does a person enjoy feeling sad when watching sorrowful and tragic scenes that he would never want to experience himself? Yet as a spectator, he wants to feel grief from them, and his pleasure consists in this very grief. What is this but miserable insanity? For a person is more deeply affected by these actions the less free he is from such emotions. However, when he suffers in his own life, we call it misery, but when he feels compassion for others, we call it mercy. But what kind of mercy arises from fictional and theatrical emotions? The audience member is not called to provide help, but merely invited to feel grief. And the more he grieves, the more he applauds the actor performing these fictions. And if the misfortunes of the characters—whether from ancient times or purely imaginary—are presented in a way that doesn't move the spectator's feelings, he leaves disgusted and critical. But if his feelings are moved, he stays watching attentively and sheds tears of joy.
2. Stage-plays also drew me away, full of representations of my miseries and of fuel to my fire. Why does man like to be made sad when viewing doleful and tragical scenes, which yet he himself would by no means suffer? And yet he wishes, as a spectator, to experience from them a sense of grief, and in this very grief his pleasure consists. What is this but wretched insanity? For a man is more affected with these actions, the less free he is from such affections. Howsoever, when he suffers in his own person, it is the custom to style it misery but when he compassionates others, then it is styled mercy. But what kind of mercy is it that arises from fictitious and scenic passions? The hearer is not expected to relieve, but merely invited to grieve; and the more he grieves, the more he applauds the actor of these fictions. And if the misfortunes of the characters (whether of olden times or merely imaginary) be so represented as not to touch the feelings of the spectator, he goes away disgusted and censorious; but if his feelings be touched, he sits it out attentively, and sheds tears of joy.
Do we actually love sorrows, then? Surely everyone wants to be happy? Or is it that while man wishes to be miserable, he still takes pleasure in being merciful—and because mercy cannot exist without suffering, is that the only reason we love such feelings? This also comes from that spring of friendship. But where does it go? Where does it flow? Why does it run into that stream of boiling tar, churning out those massive waves of foul desires, into which it is changed and transformed, willingly cast down and corrupted from its heavenly purity? Should mercy be rejected, then? Absolutely not. Let us therefore sometimes love sorrows. But guard against impurity, O my soul, under the protection of my God, the God of our fathers, who is to be praised and exalted above all forever—guard against impurity. For I have not now stopped having compassion, but back then in the theaters I sympathized with lovers when they sinfully enjoyed each other, even though this was merely fictional in the play. And when they lost each other, I grieved with them as if pitying them, yet I took pleasure in both situations. But nowadays I feel much more pity for the one who delights in his wickedness than for the one who is thought to be suffering hardship by failing to obtain some destructive pleasure and losing some wretched happiness. This, surely, is the truer mercy, but it takes no delight in grief. For though the one who grieves with the unhappy is commended for his work of charity, the one who has real compassion would rather there be nothing for him to grieve about. For if goodwill could be ill-willed (which it cannot), then the person who is truly and sincerely feeling compassion could wish for there to be some unhappy people so that he might feel compassion for them. Some grief may be justified, then, but none should be loved. For this is how You do it, O Lord God, who loves souls far more purely than we do and are more incorruptibly compassionate, though You are wounded by no sorrow. And who is sufficient for these things?
3. Are sorrows, then, also loved? Surely all men desire to rejoice? Or, as man wishes to be miserable, is he, nevertheless, glad to be merciful, which, because it cannot exist without passion, for this cause alone are passions loved? This also is from that vein of friendship. But where does it go? Where does it flow? Wherefore runs it into that torrent of pitch, seething forth those huge tides of loathsome lusts into which it is changed and transformed, being of its own will cast away and corrupted from its celestial clearness? Shall, then, mercy be repudiated? By no means. Let us, therefore, love sorrows sometimes. But beware of uncleanness, O my soul, under the protection of my God, the God of our fathers, who is to be praised and exalted above all for ever, beware of uncleanness. For I have not now ceased to have compassion; but then in the theatres I sympathized with lovers when they sinfully enjoyed one another, although this was done fictitiously in the play. And when they lost one another, I grieved with them, as if pitying them, and yet had delight in both. But now-a-days I feel much more pity for him that delights in his wickedness, than for him who is counted as enduring hardships by failing to obtain some pernicious pleasure, and the loss of some miserable felicity. This, surely, is the truer mercy, but grief has no delight in it. For though he that condoles with the unhappy be approved for his office of charity, yet would he who had real compassion rather there were nothing for him to grieve about. For if goodwill be ill-willed (which it cannot), then can he who is truly and sincerely commiserating wish that there should be some unhappy ones, that he might commiserate them. Some grief may then be justified, none loved. For thus do You, O Lord God, who loves souls far more purely than do we, and art more incorruptibly compassionate, although You are wounded by no sorrow. And who is sufficient for these things? 2 Corinthians 2:16
But I, wretched as I was, loved to feel grief back then, and I looked for things to grieve over. When watching a play, the actor's performance pleased me most and gripped me most powerfully when it portrayed another person's misery—even though that misery was staged and fake—and when it moved me to tears. What wonder was it that I, an unhappy sheep wandering away from Your flock and resisting Your care, became infected with a foul disease? This is where my love of griefs came from—not the kind that would cut me too deeply, for I didn't love to actually suffer the things I loved to watch. Instead, I loved griefs that would lightly touch only the surface when I heard these fictional stories. Yet even these surface scratches, like wounds from poisoned fingernails, were followed by burning, swelling, rotting, and horrible corruption. This was my life! But was it really life, O my God?
4. But I, wretched one, then loved to grieve, and sought out what to grieve at, as when, in another man's misery, though reigned and counterfeited, that delivery of the actor best pleased me, and attracted me the most powerfully, which moved me to tears. What marvel was it that an unhappy sheep, straying from Your flock, and impatient of Your care, I became infected with a foul disease? And hence came my love of griefs — not such as should probe me too deeply, for I loved not to suffer such things as I loved to look upon, but such as, when hearing their fictions, should lightly affect the surface; upon which, like as with poisoned nails, followed burning, swelling, putrefaction, and horrible corruption. Such was my life! But was it life, O my God?
Chapter 3. Not Even When at Church Does He Suppress His Desires. In the School of Rhetoric He Abhors the Acts of the Subverters.
Your faithful mercy hovered over me from afar. I wore myself out pursuing unseemly iniquities and following a sacrilegious curiosity that, having abandoned You, dragged me into the treacherous abyss and into the deceiving obedience of devils, to whom I sacrificed my wicked deeds. In all of this You punished me. I even dared, while Your solemn rites were being celebrated within the walls of Your church, to desire and to plan actions sufficient to bring me the fruits of death. For this You disciplined me with severe punishments, though they were nothing compared to my fault, O You who are my greatest mercy, my God, my refuge from those terrible dangers among which I wandered with arrogant stubbornness, moving farther away from You, loving my own ways and not Yours, loving a wandering freedom.
5. And Your faithful mercy hovered over me afar. Upon what unseemly iniquities did I wear myself out, following a sacrilegious curiosity, that, having deserted You, it might drag me into the treacherous abyss, and to the beguiling obedience of devils, unto whom I immolated my wicked deeds, and in all which You scourged me! I dared, even while Your solemn rites were being celebrated within the walls of Your church, to desire, and to plan a business sufficient to procure me the fruits of death; for which You chastised me with grievous punishments, but nothing in comparison with my fault, O Thou my greatest mercy, my God, my refuge from those terrible hurts, among which I wandered with presumptuous neck, receding farther from You, loving my own ways, and not Yours — loving a vagrant liberty.
These studies, which were considered respectable, were aimed at legal careers. The more cunning I became in them, the more praise I would receive. Such is human blindness that people even take pride in their blindness. By this time I had become head of the School of Rhetoric, which filled me with proud joy and swelled my arrogance, though I was more restrained, O Lord, as You know, and kept completely away from the disruptions caused by those subverters (for this foolish and devilish name was regarded as the very mark of sophistication). I lived among them with a brazen shame that I was not like them. I associated with them and sometimes enjoyed their friendship, yet I always despised their actions—their subverting—through which they arrogantly attacked the dignity of strangers, disturbing it with unprovoked mockery and satisfying their malicious amusement. Nothing more closely resembles the behavior of devils than this. What name could more accurately describe them than subverters, since they themselves were first subverted and completely perverted, being secretly mocked and deceived by lying spirits in the very things they delighted to mock and deceive others about.
6. Those studies, also, which were accounted honourable, were directed towards the courts of law; to excel in which, the more crafty I was, the more I should be praised. Such is the blindness of men, that they even glory in their blindness. And now I was head in the School of Rhetoric, whereat I rejoiced proudly, and became inflated with arrogance, though more sedate, O Lord, as You know, and altogether removed from the subvertings of those subverters (for this stupid and diabolical name was held to be the very brand of gallantry) among whom I lived, with an impudent shamefacedness that I was not even as they were. And with them I was, and at times I was delighted with their friendship whose acts I ever abhorred, that is, their subverting, wherewith they insolently attacked the modesty of strangers, which they disturbed by uncalled for jeers, gratifying thereby their mischievous mirth. Nothing can more nearly resemble the actions of devils than these. By what name, therefore, could they be more truly called than subverters?– being themselves subverted first, and altogether perverted — being secretly mocked at and seduced by the deceiving spirits, in what they themselves delight to jeer at and deceive others.
Chapter 4. In the Nineteenth Year of His Age (His Father Having Died Two Years Before) He is Led by the Hortensius Of Cicero to Philosophy, To God, and a Better Mode of Thinking.
During that unstable period of my life, I studied books on eloquence among people like these. I was eager to excel in this field for a damnable and inflated reason—namely, delight in human vanity. In the normal course of my studies, I came across a certain book by Cicero, whose language nearly everyone admires, though not his heart. This book contains an exhortation to philosophy and is called the Hortensius. This book truly changed my affections and turned my prayers to You, O Lord, and gave me different hopes and desires. Every vain hope suddenly became worthless to me, and with an incredible warmth of heart, I longed for an immortality of wisdom and began to arise so that I might return to You. I did not turn to that book, then, to improve my language—which I seemed to be obtaining with my mother's resources in my nineteenth year, two years after my father had died. Nor did it persuade me by its style, but by its content.
7. Among such as these, at that unstable period of my life, I studied books of eloquence, wherein I was eager to be eminent from a damnable and inflated purpose, even a delight in human vanity. In the ordinary course of study, I lighted upon a certain book of Cicero, whose language, though not his heart, almost all admire. This book of his contains an exhortation to philosophy, and is called Hortensius. This book, in truth, changed my affections, and turned my prayers to Yourself, O Lord, and made me have other hopes and desires. Worthless suddenly became every vain hope to me; and, with an incredible warmth of heart, I yearned for an immortality of wisdom, and began now to arise Luke 15:18 that I might return to You. Not, then, to improve my language — which I appeared to be purchasing with my mother's means, in that my nineteenth year, my father having died two years before — not to improve my language did I have recourse to that book; nor did it persuade me by its style, but its matter.
How eager I was then, my God, how eager to fly from earthly things to You! But I didn't know what You would do with me. For wisdom is with You. In Greek, the love of wisdom is called philosophy, and that book set me on fire with it. There are some who use philosophy to deceive people, coloring and decorating their own errors under a great, attractive, and respectable name. Almost all who did this in that time and before are criticized and identified in that book. The book also reveals that most healthy warning from Your Spirit, through Your good 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 dwells all the fullness of the Godhead bodily." And at that time—as You know, O Light of my heart—I didn't know the apostle's words. I was delighted with that exhortation only insofar as it stirred me up, kindled me, and set me on fire to love, seek, obtain, hold, and embrace not this sect or that sect, but wisdom itself, whatever it might be. And this one thing held me back in my eagerness: the name of Christ was not in it. For this name, according to Your mercy, O Lord, this name of my Savior Your Son, my tender heart had devoutly drunk in and deeply treasured even with my mother's milk. And whatever lacked that name, however learned, polished, and true it might be, did not fully take hold of me.
8. How ardent was I then, my God, how ardent to fly from earthly things to You! Nor did I know how You would deal with me. For with You is wisdom. In Greek the love of wisdom is called philosophy, with which that book inflamed me. There be some who seduce through philosophy, under a great, and alluring, and honourable name coloring and adorning their own errors. And almost all who in that and former times were such, are in that book censured and pointed out. There is also disclosed that most salutary admonition of Your Spirit, by Your good and pious 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 dwells all the fullness of the Godhead bodily. Colossians 2:8-9 And since at that time (as Thou, O Light of my heart, know) the words of the apostle were unknown to me, I was delighted with that exhortation, in so far only as I was thereby stimulated, and enkindled, and inflamed to love, seek, obtain, hold, and embrace, not this or that sect, but wisdom itself, whatever it were; and this alone checked me thus ardent, that the name of Christ was not in it. For this name, according to Your mercy, O Lord, this name of my Saviour Your Son, had my tender heart piously drunk in, deeply treasured even with my mother's milk; and whatsoever was without that name, though never so erudite, polished, and truthful, took not complete hold of me.
Chapter 5. He Rejects the Sacred Scriptures as Too Simple, and as Not to Be Compared with the Dignity of Tully.
I decided, therefore, to turn my attention to the Holy Scriptures to see what they were. And look, I perceive something not understood by the proud, not revealed to children, but humble as you come near, lofty as you go deeper, and covered in mysteries. I was not among those who could enter into it or humble myself to follow its path. For I did not feel the way I do now when I speak about it, but when I turned to those Scriptures, they seemed to me unworthy to be compared with the excellence of Cicero. My puffed-up pride rejected their style, and the keenness of my intelligence could not penetrate their inner meaning. Yet truly, they were the kind that would grow in little ones. But I refused to be a little one, and, swollen with pride, I looked upon myself as a great one.
9. I resolved, therefore, to direct my mind to the Holy Scriptures, that I might see what they were. And behold, I perceive something not comprehended by the proud, not disclosed to children, but lowly as you approach, sublime as you advance, and veiled in mysteries; and I was not of the number of those who could enter into it, or bend my neck to follow its steps. For not as when now I speak did I feel when I tuned towards those Scriptures, but they appeared to me to be unworthy to be compared with the dignity of Tully; for my inflated pride shunned their style, nor could the sharpness of my wit pierce their inner meaning. Yet, truly, were they such as would develope in little ones; but I scorned to be a little one, and, swollen with pride, I looked upon myself as a great one.
Chapter 6. Deceived by His Own Fault, He Falls into the Errors of the Manichæans, Who Gloried in the True Knowledge of God and in a Thorough Examination of Things.
Therefore I fell in with men who were arrogant and raving, very worldly-minded and full of talk. In their mouths were the devil's traps—the sticky snare made from a mixture of syllables of Your name, and of our Lord Jesus Christ, and of the Paraclete, the Holy Spirit, the Comforter. These names never left their mouths, but only as sounds and noisy chatter of the tongue, for their hearts were empty of truth. Still they cried out, "Truth, Truth," and spoke much about it to me, yet it was not in them. They spoke falsely not only about You—who truly are the Truth—but also about the elements of this world, Your creatures. And I, truly, should have ignored philosophers even when they spoke truth about these things, for love of You, my Father, supremely good, beauty of all beautiful things. O Truth, Truth! How deeply even then did the very core of my soul yearn for You, when they frequently and in many different ways and in numerous enormous books proclaimed Your name to me, though it was only a sound! And these were the dishes on which they served up to me, hungering for You, the sun and moon—Your beautiful works—but yet only Your works, not You Yourself, and not even Your first works. For before these physical works are Your spiritual ones, heavenly and radiant though they are. But I did not hunger and thirst even for those first works of Yours, but for You Yourself, the Truth, with whom there is no variation or shadow of change. Yet they still served up to me in those dishes glowing fantasies, when it would have been better to love this very sun (which at least is real to our sight) than those illusions which deceive the mind through the eye. And yet, because I thought them to be You, I fed on them—not eagerly, for You did not taste in my mouth as You truly are, for You were not these empty fictions. Neither was I nourished by them, but rather exhausted. Food in our sleep looks like our waking food, yet sleepers are not nourished by it because they are asleep. But those things were not in any way like You as You have now revealed to me, in that they were physical fantasies, false bodies, compared to which these true bodies, whether heavenly or earthly, which we perceive with our physical sight, are far more certain. These things even the beasts and birds perceive as we do, and they are more certain than when we imagine them. And again, we imagine them with more certainty than we use them to conceive of other greater and infinite bodies which do not exist. With such empty husks I was then fed, and was not fed. But You, my Love, for whom I long so that I may be strong, are not those bodies that we see, even in heaven, nor are You those which we do not see there; for You have created them, and You do not count them among Your greatest works. How far, then, are You from those fantasies of mine, fantasies of bodies which do not exist at all—compared to which the mental images of bodies that do exist are more certain, and still more certain are the bodies themselves, which yet You are not. Nor are You even the soul, which is the life of bodies. Better and more certain, then, is the life of bodies than the bodies themselves. But You are the life of souls, the life of lives, having life in Yourself; and You do not change, O Life of my soul.
10. Therefore I fell among men proudly raving, very carnal, and voluble, in whose mouths were the snares of the devil — the birdlime being composed of a mixture of the syllables of Your name, and of our Lord Jesus Christ, and of the Paraclete, the Holy Ghost, the Comforter. These names departed not out of their mouths, but so far forth as the sound only and the clatter of the tongue, for the heart was empty of truth. Still they cried, Truth, Truth, and spoke much about it to me, yet was it not in them; 1 John 2:4 but they spoke falsely not of You only — who, verily, art the Truth — but also of these elements of this world, Your creatures. And I, in truth, should have passed by philosophers, even when speaking truth concerning them, for love of You, my Father, supremely good, beauty of all things beautiful. O Truth, Truth! How inwardly even then did the marrow of my soul pant after You, when they frequently, and in a multiplicity of ways, and in numerous and huge books, sounded out Your name to me, though it was but a voice! And these were the dishes in which to me, hungering for You, they, instead of You, served up the sun and moon, Your beauteous works — but yet Your works, not Yourself, nay, nor Your first works. For before these corporeal works are Your spiritual ones, celestial and shining though they be. But I hungered and thirsted not even after those first works of Yours, but after You Yourself, the Truth, with whom is no variableness, neither shadow of turning; James 1:17 yet they still served up to me in those dishes glowing phantasies, than which better were it to love this very sun (which, at least, is true to our sight), than those illusions which deceive the mind through the eye. And yet, because I supposed them to be You, I fed upon them; not with avidity, for You did not taste to my mouth as You are, for You were not these empty fictions; neither was I nourished by them, but the rather exhausted. Food in our sleep appears like our food awake; yet the sleepers are not nourished by it, for they are asleep. But those things were not in any way like You as You have now spoken unto me, in that those were corporeal phantasies, false bodies, than which these true bodies, whether celestial or terrestrial, which we perceive with our fleshly sight, are much more certain. These things the very beasts and birds perceive as well as we, and they are more certain than when we imagine them. And again, we do with more certainty imagine them, than by them conceive of other greater and infinite bodies which have no existence. With such empty husks was I then fed, and was not fed. But You, my Love, in looking for whom I fail that I may be strong, art neither those bodies that we see, although in heaven, nor are You those which we see not there; for You have created them, nor do You reckon them among Your greatest works. How far, then, are You from those phantasies of mine, phantasies of bodies which are not at all, than which the images of those bodies which are, are more certain, and still more certain the bodies themselves, which yet You are not; nay, nor yet the soul, which is the life of the bodies. Better, then, and more certain is the life of bodies than the bodies themselves. But You are the life of souls, the life of lives, having life in Yourself; and You change not, O Life of my soul.
Where, then, were You to me, and how far away from me? I was wandering very far from You, even shut out from the husks of the pigs that I was feeding with husks. How much better are the stories of the grammarians and poets than these traps! Verses and poems, even the story of Medea flying, are truly more useful than these men's five elements, painted in various colors to correspond to the five caves of darkness—none of which actually exist, yet they kill the believer. Verses and poems I can turn into real nourishment, but though I sang about Medea flying, I did not uphold it as true, and though I heard it sung, I did not believe it. But those Manichean things I did believe. How terrible—by what steps was I dragged down to the depths of hell, laboring and struggling because I lacked the Truth! I sought after You, my God—I confess this to You, who showed me mercy even when I had not yet confessed—but I sought You not according to the understanding of the mind, in which You wanted me to surpass the animals, but according to the perception of the flesh. You were more inward to me than my innermost part, and higher than my highest point. I encountered that reckless woman who is foolish and knows nothing, the riddle from Solomon, sitting at the door of the house on a seat and saying, "Stolen waters are sweet, and bread eaten in secret is pleasant." This woman seduced me because she found my soul outside its proper dwelling, living in the eye of my flesh and thinking about the kind of food I had consumed through it.
11. Where, then, were You then to me, and how far from me? Far, indeed, was I wandering away from You, being even shut out from the very husks of the swine, whom with husks I fed. For how much better, then, are the fables of the grammarians and poets than these snares! For verses, and poems, and Medea flying, are more profitable truly than these men's five elements, variously painted, to answer to the five caves of darkness, none of which exist, and which slay the believer. For verses and poems I can turn into true food, but the Medea flying, though I sang, I maintained it not; though I heard it sung, I believed it not; but those things I did believe. Woe, woe, by what steps was I dragged down to the depths of hell! Proverbs 9:18 — toiling and turmoiling through want of Truth, when I sought after You, my God — to You I confess it, who had mercy on me when I had not yet confessed, — sought after You not according to the understanding of the mind, in which You desired that I should excel the beasts, but according to the sense of the flesh! You were more inward to me than my most inward part; and higher than my highest. I came upon that bold woman, who is simple, and knows nothing, Proverbs 9:13 the enigma of Solomon, sitting at the door of the house on a seat, and saying, Stolen waters are sweet, and bread eaten in secret is pleasant. This woman seduced me, because she found my soul beyond its portals, dwelling in the eye of my flesh, and thinking on such food as through it I had devoured.
Chapter 7. He Attacks the Doctrine of the Manichæans Concerning Evil, God, and the Righteousness of the Patriarchs.
I did not understand what truly exists, and I was almost driven to support foolish deceivers when they asked me questions like "Where does evil come from?" and "Is God limited by a physical form, and does He have hair and nails?" and "Should we consider those righteous who had many wives at the same time, who killed people, and who sacrificed living animals?" Because of my ignorance, I was deeply troubled by these questions, and while pulling away from the truth, I thought I was moving toward it. This was because I did not yet know that evil is nothing but the absence of good, which eventually ceases to exist altogether. How could I understand this when my physical eyes could see no further than physical bodies, and my mind could see no further than mental images? I did not know that God is a Spirit, not one who has parts that extend in length and width, and whose being is not physical mass. For any physical mass is smaller in its parts than in its whole, and if it were infinite, any part limited to a certain space would be smaller than its infinity, and it could not be fully present everywhere the way Spirit is, the way God is. And I had absolutely no understanding of what it was in us that made us like God and allowed Scripture to rightly say we were made in the image of God.
12. For I was ignorant as to that which really is, and was, as it were, violently moved to give my support to foolish deceivers, when they asked me, Whence is evil? — and, Is God limited by a bodily shape, and has He hairs and nails? — and, Are they to be esteemed righteous who had many wives at once and did kill men, and sacrificed living creatures? 1 Kings 18:40 At which things I, in my ignorance, was much disturbed, and, retreating from the truth, I appeared to myself to be going towards it; because as yet I knew not that evil was naught but a privation of good, until in the end it ceases altogether to be; which how should I see, the sight of whose eyes saw no further than bodies, and of my mind no further than a phantasm? And I knew not God to be a Spirit, John 4:24 not one who has parts extended in length and breadth, nor whose being was bulk; for every bulk is less in a part than in the whole, and, if it be infinite, it must be less in such part as is limited by a certain space than in its infinity; and cannot be wholly everywhere, as Spirit, as God is. And what that should be in us, by which we were like God, and might rightly in Scripture be said to be after the image of God, I was entirely ignorant.
I didn't understand that true inner righteousness, which doesn't judge according to custom but according to God Almighty's most perfect law. By this law, the customs of different places and times were adapted to those places and times, while the law itself remained always and everywhere the same—not one thing in one place and another thing in another. According to this law, Abraham, Isaac, Jacob, Moses, David, and all those commended by God were righteous, but foolish men judged them unrighteous. These foolish men judged by human standards and measured the customs of the entire human race by the narrow standard of their own customs. It's like someone in an armory who doesn't know what piece of armor fits which body part, so he puts leg armor on his head or tries to wear a helmet on his feet, and then complains that they don't fit. Or it's like someone who gets angry on a day when business is forbidden in the afternoon because he's not allowed to sell, even though it was lawful for him to do so in the morning. Or it's like someone who sees a servant in a house handle something that the butler isn't allowed to touch, or sees something done behind the stable that would be forbidden in the dining room, and then becomes indignant that the same thing isn't allowed everywhere and to everyone in one house and one family. Such are those who cannot accept that something was lawful for righteous people in former times that is not lawful now, or that God commanded one thing to them and another thing to us for certain reasons related to those times—even though both groups obeyed the same righteousness. Yet these same people can see that in one person, one day, and one house, different things are appropriate for different members, and that something formerly lawful can later become unlawful, and that something permitted or commanded in one corner may be justly forbidden and punished in another corner. Is justice, then, changeable and inconsistent? No, but the times over which she presides are not all the same, because they are times. But people whose days on earth are few cannot harmonize the circumstances of former ages and other nations—which they have not experienced—with the circumstances they do experience, even though within one body, day, or family they can easily see what is suitable for each member, season, part, and person. They object to the one but submit to the other.
13. Nor had I knowledge of that true inner righteousness, which does not judge according to custom, but out of the most perfect law of God Almighty, by which the manners of places and times were adapted to those places and times — being itself the while the same always and everywhere, not one thing in one place, and another in another; according to which Abraham, and Isaac, and Jacob, and Moses, and David, and all those commended by the mouth of God were righteous, Hebrews 11:8-40 but were judged unrighteous by foolish men, judging out of man's judgment, 1 Corinthians 4:3 and gauging by the petty standard of their own manners the manners of the whole human race. Like as if in an armoury, one knowing not what were adapted to the several members should put greaves on his head, or boot himself with a helmet, and then complain because they would not fit. Or as if, on some day when in the afternoon business was forbidden, one were to fume at not being allowed to sell as it was lawful to him in the forenoon. Or when in some house he sees a servant take something in his hand which the butler is not permitted to touch, or something done behind a stable which would be prohibited in the dining-room, and should be indignant that in one house, and one family, the same thing is not distributed everywhere to all. Such are they who cannot endure to hear something to have been lawful for righteous men in former times which is not so now; or that God, for certain temporal reasons, commanded them one thing, and these another, but both obeying the same righteousness; though they see, in one man, one day, and one house, different things to be fit for different members, and a thing which was formerly lawful after a time unlawful — that permitted or commanded in one corner, which done in another is justly prohibited and punished. Is justice, then, various and changeable? Nay, but the times over which she presides are not all alike, because they are times. But men, whose days upon the earth are few, Job 14:1 because by their own perception they cannot harmonize the causes of former ages and other nations, of which they had no experience, with these of which they have experience, though in one and the same body, day, or family, they can readily see what is suitable for each member, season, part, and person — to the one they take exception, to the other they submit.
I did not understand these things at that time, nor did I pay attention to them. They were before my eyes everywhere, yet I did not see them. When I wrote poetry, I was not allowed to place every metrical foot anywhere I wanted, but in one meter it worked one way, and in another meter a different way. Even within a single verse, the same foot could not appear in just any position. Yet the art of poetry itself, by which I composed, did not have different principles for these different situations but encompassed them all in one system. Still, I did not see how that righteousness to which good and holy people submitted was far more excellently and sublimely unified, comprehending in one all those things which God commanded. It never varied in essence, though in changing times it did not prescribe everything at once but distributed and commanded what was appropriate for each period. And I, in my blindness, criticized those faithful patriarchs not only for using things in their own time as God commanded and inspired them to do, but also for foretelling future things as God was revealing them.
14. These things I then knew not, nor observed. They met my eyes on every side, and I saw them not. I composed poems, in which it was not permitted me to place every foot everywhere, but in one metre one way, and in another, nor even in any one verse the same foot in all places. Yet the art itself by which I composed had not different principles for these different cases, but comprised all in one. Still I saw not how that righteousness, which good and holy men submitted to, far more excellently and sublimely comprehended in one all those things which God commanded, and in no part varied, though in varying times it did not prescribe all things at once, but distributed and enjoined what was proper for each. And I, being blind, blamed those pious fathers, not only for making use of present things as God commanded and inspired them to do, but also for foreshowing things to come as God was revealing them.
Chapter 8. He Argues Against the Same as to the Reason of Offences.
Can it ever, at any time or place, be an unrighteous thing for a person to love God with all his heart, with all his soul, and with all his mind, and his neighbor as himself? Therefore those offenses that are contrary to nature must be detested and punished everywhere and at all times. Such were those of the Sodomites. If all nations were to commit them, they would all be guilty of the same crime by divine law, which has not made human beings to abuse one another in that way. For even the fellowship that should exist between God and us is violated when that same nature of which He is the author is polluted by perverted lust. But those offenses that are contrary to human customs must be avoided according to the particular customs that prevail. An agreement that has been made and confirmed by the custom or law of any city or nation must not be violated by the lawless pleasure of anyone, whether citizen or stranger. For any part that is not consistent with its whole is unseemly. But when God commands something to be done that is contrary to the customs or agreements of any nation, even if it has never been done by them before, it must be done. If it has been discontinued, it must be restored, and if never established, it must be established. For if it is lawful for a king to command something in the state over which he reigns that neither he himself nor anyone before him had commanded, and if obeying him cannot be considered harmful to the public interest—indeed, it would be harmful if he were not obeyed, since obedience to princes is a general agreement of human society—how much more, then, ought we to obey God without hesitation, the Governor of all His creatures! For just as among human authorities the greater authority is obeyed before the lesser, so must God be obeyed above all.
15. Can it at any time or place be an unrighteous thing for a man to love God with all his heart, with all his soul, and with all his mind, and his neighbour as himself? Therefore those offenses which be contrary to nature are everywhere and at all times to be held in detestation and punished; such were those of the Sodomites, which should all nations commit, they should all be held guilty of the same crime by the divine law, which has not so made men that they should in that way abuse one another. For even that fellowship which should be between God and us is violated, when that same nature of which He is author is polluted by the perversity of lust. But those offenses which are contrary to the customs of men are to be avoided according to the customs severally prevailing; so that an agreement made, and confirmed by custom or law of any city or nation, may not be violated at the lawless pleasure of any, whether citizen or stranger. For any part which is not consistent with its whole is unseemly. But when God commands anything contrary to the customs or compacts of any nation to be done, though it were never done by them before, it is to be done; and if intermitted it is to be restored, and, if never established, to be established. For if it be lawful for a king, in the state over which he reigns, to command that which neither he himself nor any one before him had commanded, and to obey him cannot be held to be inimical to the public interest, — nay, it were so if he were not obeyed (for obedience to princes is a general compact of human society) — how much more, then, ought we unhesitatingly to obey God, the Governor of all His creatures! For as among the authorities of human society the greater authority is obeyed before the lesser, so must God above all.
So also with acts of violence, where there is a desire to harm, whether through insult or injury. Both of these arise either from a desire for revenge, as one enemy against another; or to gain some advantage over another, as a robber against a traveler; or to avoid some evil, as with someone who fears another; or through envy, as an unfortunate person toward one who is happy; or as someone who is prosperous in something toward a person he fears will become his equal, or whose equality he resents; or for the mere pleasure in another's suffering, as spectators of gladiators or those who ridicule and mock others. These are the main evils that spring from the lust of the flesh, of the eye, and of power, whether individually, or two combined, or all at once. And so people live in opposition to the three and seven, that ten-stringed harp, Your ten commandments, O God most high and most sweet. But what foul offenses can there be against You who cannot be defiled? Or what acts of violence against You who cannot be harmed? Yet You punish what people do against themselves, since when they sin against You, they act wickedly against their own souls. And evil contradicts itself, either by corrupting or perverting their nature, which You have made and ordered, or by using permitted things excessively, or by burning with lust for things forbidden for that use which is against nature, or when found guilty, raging with heart and voice against You, kicking against the goads, or when breaking through the boundaries of human society, they boldly take pleasure in secret alliances or divisions, depending on whether they have been pleased or offended. And these things happen whenever You are abandoned, O Fountain of Life, who are the only and true Creator and Ruler of the universe, and through self-willed pride any single false thing is chosen from it and loved. So then, through humble devotion we return to You, and You cleanse us from our evil habits, and are merciful to the sins of those who confess to You, and hear the groaning of the prisoner, and release us from those chains which we have made for ourselves, if we do not lift up against You the horns of a false freedom, losing everything through desiring more, by loving our own private good more than You, the good of all.
16. So also in deeds of violence, where there is a desire to harm, whether by contumely or injury; and both of these either by reason of revenge, as one enemy against another; or to obtain some advantage over another, as the highwayman to the traveller; or for the avoiding of some evil, as with him who is in fear of another; or through envy, as the unfortunate man to one who is happy; or as he that is prosperous in anything to him who he fears will become equal to himself, or whose equality he grieves at; or for the mere pleasure in another's pains, as the spectators of gladiators, or the deriders and mockers of others. These be the chief iniquities which spring forth from the lust of the flesh, of the eye, and of power, whether singly, or two together, or all at once. And so do men live in opposition to the three and seven, that psaltery of ten strings, Your ten commandments, O God most high and most sweet. But what foul offenses can there be against You who cannot be defiled? Or what deeds of violence against you who cannot be harmed? But You avenge that which men perpetrate against themselves, seeing also that when they sin against You, they do wickedly against their own souls; and iniquity gives itself the lie, either by corrupting or perverting their nature, which You have made and ordained, or by an immoderate use of things permitted, or in burning in things forbidden to that use which is against nature; Romans 1:24-29 or when convicted, raging with heart and voice against You, kicking against the pricks; Acts 9:5 or when, breaking through the pale of human society, they audaciously rejoice in private combinations or divisions, according as they have been pleased or offended. And these things are done whenever You are forsaken, O Fountain of Life, who art the only and true Creator and Ruler of the universe, and by a self-willed pride any one false thing is selected therefrom and loved. So, then, by a humble piety we return to You; and you purge us from our evil customs, and art merciful unto the sins of those who confess unto You, and hears the groaning of the prisoner, and loosens us from those fetters which we have forged for ourselves, if we lift not up against You the horns of a false liberty –losing all through craving more, by loving more our own private good than You, the good of all.
Chapter 9. That the Judgment of God and Men as to Human Acts of Violence, is Different.
Among these scandalous and violent offenses and many other wrongs, there are the sins of people who are generally making spiritual progress. Those who judge correctly and according to the standard of perfection criticize these sins, yet also commend them because of the hope of future growth, like the green shoots of growing grain. And there are some actions that look like scandalous or violent offenses but are not actually sins, because they neither offend you, our Lord God, nor offend social custom. For example, when resources appropriate for the circumstances are acquired for living, and we're not sure whether it comes from a lust for possessions; or when actions are punished by established authority for the purpose of correction, and we're not sure whether it comes from a lust for causing harm. Many deeds, then, that are condemned in people's sight are approved by your testimony, and many that are praised by people are condemned with you as witness. This is because often the appearance of the deed, the intention of the doer, and the hidden needs of the moment each differ from one another. But when you unexpectedly command something unusual and unexpected—indeed, even if you have previously forbidden it, and still keep the reason for your command secret for the time being, and it is even contrary to the established rules of some human society—who can doubt that it must be done, since that society is righteous only when it serves you? But blessed are those who know your commands! For everything done by those who served you was done either to demonstrate something necessary at the time or to foreshadow things to come.
17. But amidst these offenses of infamy and violence, and so many iniquities, are the sins of men who are, on the whole, making progress; which, by those who judge rightly, and after the rule of perfection, are censured, yet commended withal, upon the hope of bearing fruit, like as in the green blade of the growing grain. And there are some which resemble offenses of infamy or violence, and yet are not sins, because they neither offend You, our Lord God, nor social custom: when, for example, things suitable for the times are provided for the use of life, and we are uncertain whether it be out of a lust of having; or when acts are punished by constituted authority for the sake of correction, and we are uncertain whether it be out of a lust of hurting. Many a deed, then, which in the sight of men is disapproved, is approved by Your testimony; and many a one who is praised by men is, Thou being witness, condemned; because frequently the view of the deed, and the mind of the doer, and the hidden exigency of the period, severally vary. But when You unexpectedly command an unusual and unthought-of thing — yea, even if You have formerly forbidden it, and still for the time keep secret the reason of Your command, and it even be contrary to the ordinance of some society of men, who doubts but it is to be done, inasmuch as that society is righteous which serves You? But blessed are they who know Your commands! For all things were done by them who served You either to exhibit something necessary at the time, or to foreshow things to come.
Chapter 10. He Reproves the Triflings of the Manichæans as to the Fruits of the Earth.
I was ignorant of these things, and I mocked those holy servants and prophets of Yours. But what did I gain by mocking them except to be mocked by You? Without realizing it, I was gradually led into such foolish beliefs as thinking that a fig tree wept when it was picked, and that the mother tree shed milky tears. They taught that if some saint ate this fig—which was plucked not by his own sin but by another's wickedness—and it mixed with his insides, he would breathe out angels from it. Yes, in his prayers he would definitely groan and sigh forth particles of God. These particles of the most high and true God would have remained trapped in that fig unless they had been freed by the teeth and stomach of some chosen saint! And I, wretched as I was, believed that more mercy should be shown to the fruits of the earth than to the human beings for whom they were created. For if a hungry person—who was not a Manichean—asked for some food, the piece that would be given to him would seem as if it were being condemned to death.
18. These things being ignorant of, I derided those holy servants and prophets of Yours. And what did I gain by deriding them but to be derided by You, being insensibly, and little by little, led on to those follies, as to credit that a fig-tree wept when it was plucked, and that the mother-tree shed milky tears? Which fig notwithstanding, plucked not by his own but another's wickedness, had some saint eaten and mingled with his entrails, he should breathe out of it angels; yea, in his prayers he shall assuredly groan and sigh forth particles of God, which particles of the most high and true God should have remained bound in that fig unless they had been set free by the teeth and belly of some elect saint! And I, miserable one, believed that more mercy was to be shown to the fruits of the earth than unto men, for whom they were created; for if a hungry man — who was not a Manichæan — should beg for any, that morsel which should be given him would appear, as it were, condemned to capital punishment.
Chapter 11. He Refers to the Tears, and the Memorable Dream Concerning Her Son, Granted by God to His Mother.
You stretched out Your hand from above and pulled my soul out of that deep darkness, when my mother, Your faithful servant, wept to You for me more than mothers typically weep over the physical death of their children. She saw that I was dead through the faith and spirit she had received from You, and You heard her, O Lord. You heard her and did not despise her tears when they poured down and watered the ground beneath her eyes in every place where she prayed—yes, You heard her. Where else did that dream come from by which You comforted her, so that she allowed me to continue living with her and eating at the same table in the house, which she had started to avoid because she hated and detested the blasphemies of my errors? In the dream she saw herself standing on a wooden ruler, and a radiant young man came toward her, joyful and smiling at her, while she was grieving and bent down with sorrow. He asked her why she was sorrowful and weeping every day (wanting to teach her, as is their custom, not to be taught by her), and when she answered that she was mourning my spiritual ruin, he told her to be at peace and instructed her to look and see that where she was, I was also. When she looked, she saw me standing near her on the same ruler. Where did this come from except that Your ears were turned toward her heart? O Good Almighty One, who cares for each one of us as if You cared for him alone, and for all as if they were just one!
19. And You sent Your hand from above, and drew my soul out of that profound darkness, when my mother, Your faithful one, wept to you on my behalf more than mothers are wont to weep the bodily death of their children. For she saw that I was dead by that faith and spirit which she had from You, and You heard her, O Lord. You heard her, and despised not her tears, when, pouring down, they watered the earth under her eyes in every place where she prayed; yea, You heard her. For whence was that dream with which You consoled her, so that she permitted me to live with her, and to have my meals at the same table in the house, which she had begun to avoid, hating and detesting the blasphemies of my error? For she saw herself standing on a certain wooden rule, and a bright youth advancing towards her, joyous and smiling upon her, while she was grieving and bowed down with sorrow. But he having inquired of her the cause of her sorrow and daily weeping (he wishing to teach, as is their wont, and not to be taught), and she answering that it was my perdition she was lamenting, he bade her rest contented, and told her to behold and see that where she was, there was I also. And when she looked she saw me standing near her on the same rule. Whence was this, unless that Your ears were inclined towards her heart? O Thou Good Omnipotent, who so carest for every one of us as if You cared for him only, and so for all as if they were but one!
Why was it also that when she told me about this vision, and I tried to interpret it to mean that she should not lose hope of one day becoming what I was, she immediately replied without any hesitation, "No, because I was not told 'where he is, there you will be,' but 'where you are, there he will be'"? I confess to You, Lord, that as far as I can remember (and I have often spoken about this), Your answer through my alert mother—that she was not troubled by the plausibility of my false interpretation and saw instantly what needed to be seen, which I had not truly understood before she spoke—moved me even more than the dream itself. Through that dream, the joy destined for that devout woman, to be fulfilled so long afterward, was predicted so long in advance to ease her present distress. For nearly nine years passed during which I wallowed in the mud of that deep pit and the darkness of lies, often trying to get up but being knocked down all the harder each time. Yet that chaste, devout, and self-controlled widow (the kind You love), though now more encouraged by hope, was no less persistent in her weeping and grief. She never stopped lamenting my situation to You at every hour of her prayers. Her prayers came into Your presence, yet You still allowed me to be tangled and retangled in that darkness.
20. Whence was this, also, that when she had narrated this vision to me, and I tried to put this construction on it, That she rather should not despair of being some day what I was, she immediately, without hesitation, replied, No; for it was not told me that 'where he is, there shall you be,' but 'where you are, there shall he be'? I confess to You, O Lord, that, to the best of my remembrance (and I have oft spoken of this), Your answer through my watchful mother — that she was not disquieted by the speciousness of my false interpretation, and saw in a moment what was to be seen, and which I myself had not in truth perceived before she spoke — even then moved me more than the dream itself, by which the happiness to that pious woman, to be realized so long after, was, for the alleviation of her present anxiety, so long before predicted. For nearly nine years passed in which I wallowed in the slime of that deep pit and the darkness of falsehood, striving often to rise, but being all the more heavily dashed down. But yet that chaste, pious, and sober widow (such as You love), now more buoyed up with hope, though no whit less zealous in her weeping and mourning, desisted not, at all the hours of her supplications, to bewail my case unto You. And her prayers entered into Your presence, and yet You still allowed me to be involved and re-involved in that darkness.
Chapter 12. The Excellent Answer of the Bishop When Referred to by His Mother as to the Conversion of Her Son.
Meanwhile, you gave her another answer that I remember—though I'm leaving out much as I hurry toward the things that more strongly compel me to confess to you, and much I simply don't remember. You gave her another answer through one of your priests, a certain bishop who had been raised in your Church and was well trained in your books. When this woman begged him to agree to talk with me, correct my errors, rid me of false teachings, and instruct me in good ones—something he was accustomed to doing when he found people ready to receive it—he refused, very wisely as I later came to understand. He told her I was still unteachable because I was puffed up with the novelty of that heresy, and that I had already confused several inexperienced people with troublesome questions, as she had told him. But leave him alone for now, he said, just pray to God for him. Through reading, he will discover on his own what that error is and how great its impiety. At the same time, he revealed to her how he himself, when he was a small child, had been handed over to the Manicheans by his misguided mother, and had not only read but actually copied out almost all their books, and had come to see—without argument or proof from anyone—how much that sect should be avoided, and had avoided it. After he said this, she would not accept it but repeated her pleas more urgently, pouring out abundant tears, begging him to see me and talk with me. Somewhat annoyed by her persistence, he exclaimed, Go on your way, and God bless you, for it is impossible that the son of these tears should perish. She received this answer—as she often mentioned in her conversations with me—as if it were a voice from heaven.
21. And meanwhile You granted her another answer, which I recall; for much I pass over, hastening on to those things which the more strongly impel me to confess unto You, and much I do not remember. You granted her then another answer, by a priest of Yours, a certain bishop, reared in Your Church and well versed in Your books. He, when this woman had entreated that he would vouchsafe to have some talk with me, refute my errors, unteach me evil things, and teach me good (for this he was in the habit of doing when he found people fitted to receive it), refused, very prudently, as I afterwards came to see. For he answered that I was still unteachable, being inflated with the novelty of that heresy, and that I had already perplexed various inexperienced persons with vexatious questions, as she had informed him. But leave him alone for a time, says he, only pray God for him; he will of himself, by reading, discover what that error is, and how great its impiety. He disclosed to her at the same time how he himself, when a little one, had, by his misguided mother, been given over to the Manichæans, and had not only read, but even written out almost all their books, and had come to see (without argument or proof from any one) how much that sect was to be shunned, and had shunned it. Which when he had said, and she would not be satisfied, but repeated more earnestly her entreaties, shedding copious tears, that he would see and discourse with me, he, a little vexed at her importunity, exclaimed, Go your way, and God bless you, for it is not possible that the son of these tears should perish. Which answer (as she often mentioned in her conversations with me) she accepted as though it were a voice from heaven.