Confessions — Book VI

O You, my hope from my youth, where were You to me, and where had You gone? For truly, had You not created me and made me different from the beasts of the field and birds of the air? You had made me wiser than they, yet I wandered about in dark and slippery places, and searched for You outside of myself, and did not find the God of my heart, and had gone into the depths of the sea, and lost trust and gave up hope of finding the truth. By this time my mother, made strong by her devotion, had come to me, following me over sea and land, feeling secure in You through all dangers. For during the dangers at sea she comforted the sailors themselves (to whom the inexperienced passengers, when frightened, would normally go for comfort), assuring them of a safe arrival, because she had been assured of this by You in a vision. She found me in serious danger, through despair of ever finding truth. But when I told her that I was no longer a Manichean, though not yet a Catholic Christian, she did not jump for joy as if this were unexpected; although she was now relieved concerning that part of my misery for which she had mourned me as one dead, but who would be raised to You, carrying me forth upon the stretcher of her thoughts, so that You might say to the widow's son, Young man, I say to you, arise, and he would come back to life and begin to speak, and You would deliver him to his mother. Her heart, then, was not stirred with any violent excitement when she heard that what she daily begged of You with tears was already accomplished in such great measure—that though I had not yet grasped the truth, I was rescued from falsehood. Yes, rather, because she was fully confident that You, who had promised the whole, would give the rest, most calmly and with a heart full of confidence, she replied to me that she believed in Christ, that before she departed this life, she would see me a Catholic believer. This much she said to me; but to You, O Fountain of mercies, she poured out more frequent prayers and tears, that You would hasten Your help and enlighten my darkness; and she hurried all the more eagerly to the church, and hung upon the words of Ambrose, praying for the fountain of water that springs up into everlasting life. For she loved that man as an angel of God, because she knew that it was by him that I had been brought, for the present, to that troubled state of agitation I was now in, through which she was fully persuaded that I would pass from sickness to health, after a crisis, as it were, of a sharper attack, which doctors call the crisis.

1. O Thou, my hope from my youth, where were Thou to me, and whither had Thou gone? For in truth, had Thou not created me, and made a difference between me and the beasts of the field and fowls of the air? You had made me wiser than they, yet did I wander about in dark and slippery places, and sought You abroad out of myself, and found not the God of my heart; and had entered the depths of the sea, and distrusted and despaired finding out the truth. By this time my mother, made strong by her piety, had come to me, following me over sea and land, in all perils feeling secure in You. For in the dangers of the sea she comforted the very sailors (to whom the inexperienced passengers, when alarmed, were wont rather to go for comfort), assuring them of a safe arrival, because she had been so assured by You in a vision. She found me in grievous danger, through despair of ever finding truth. But when I had disclosed to her that I was now no longer a Manichæan, though not yet a Catholic Christian, she did not leap for joy as at what was unexpected; although she was now reassured as to that part of my misery for which she had mourned me as one dead, but who would be raised to You, carrying me forth upon the bier of her thoughts, that You might say unto the widow's son, Young man, I say unto You, arise, and he should revive, and begin to speak, and You should deliver him to his mother. Luke 7:12-l5 Her heart, then, was not agitated with any violent exultation, when she had heard that to be already in so great a part accomplished which she daily, with tears, entreated of You might be done — that though I had not yet grasped the truth, I was rescued from falsehood. Yea, rather, for that she was fully confident that Thou, who had promised the whole, would give the rest, most calmly, and with a breast full of confidence, she replied to me, She believed in Christ, that before she departed this life, she would see me a Catholic believer. And thus much said she to me; but to You, O Fountain of mercies, poured she out more frequent prayers and tears, that You would hasten Your aid, and enlighten my darkness; and she hurried all the more assiduously to the church, and hung upon the words of Ambrose, praying for the fountain of water that springs up into everlasting life. John 4:14 For she loved that man as an angel of God, because she knew that it was by him that I had been brought, for the present, to that perplexing state of agitation I was now in, through which she was fully persuaded that I should pass from sickness unto health, after an excess, as it were, of a sharper fit, which doctors term the crisis.

When my mother came to the chapels built in memory of the saints, bringing cakes, bread, and wine as was her custom in Africa, she was stopped by the doorkeeper. As soon as she learned that the bishop himself had forbidden this practice, she accepted his decision so devoutly and obediently that I was amazed at how readily she criticized her own custom rather than question his prohibition. She was not driven by any craving for wine, nor did love of wine make her resist the truth, as it does for too many men and women who react to a message of self-control the way drunk people react to a cup of water. When she brought her basket of festive foods, which she would taste first before giving the rest away, she never allowed herself more than one small cup of wine, diluted to suit her own moderate taste, which she would sip out of courtesy. Even if there were many chapels of departed saints that should be honored in the same way, she still carried the same cup to use everywhere. This cup, which was heavily diluted with water and had also grown lukewarm from being carried around, she would distribute in small sips to those present, for she was seeking their devotion, not pleasure. Therefore, as soon as she discovered that this custom had been forbidden by that renowned preacher and most devout bishop, even for those who practiced it moderately, since it might provide an opportunity for excess to those prone to drunkenness, and because these feast-day observances in honor of the dead closely resembled the superstitions of the pagans, she most gladly gave it up. Instead of a basket filled with the fruits of the earth, she had learned to bring to the chapels of the martyrs a heart full of more purified prayers, and to give everything she could to the poor, so that the communion of the Lord's body might be properly celebrated there, where the martyrs had been sacrificed and crowned following the pattern of His passion. Yet it seems to me, O Lord my God, and my heart thinks this in your sight, that my mother would perhaps not have given up this custom so easily had it been forbidden by someone else whom she did not love as she loved Ambrose. She loved him deeply for the sake of my salvation, and he truly loved her because of her most devout way of life, by which, fervent in spirit in good works, she regularly attended church. He would often burst into praise of her when he saw me, congratulating me on having such a mother, little knowing what kind of son she had in me, who doubted all these things and could not imagine that the way of life could be discovered.

2. When, therefore, my mother had at one time — as was her custom in Africa — brought to the oratories built in the memory of the saints certain cakes, and bread, and wine, and was forbidden by the doorkeeper, so soon as she learned that it was the bishop who had forbidden it, she so piously and obediently acceded to it, that I myself marvelled how readily she could bring herself to accuse her own custom, rather than question his prohibition. For wine-bibbing did not take possession of her spirit, nor did the love of wine stimulate her to hatred of the truth, as it does too many, both male and female, who nauseate at a song of sobriety, as men well drunk at a draught of water. But she, when she had brought her basket with the festive meats, of which she would taste herself first and give the rest away, would never allow herself more than one little cup of wine, diluted according to her own temperate palate, which, out of courtesy, she would taste. And if there were many oratories of departed saints that ought to be honoured in the same way, she still carried round with her the selfsame cup, to be used everywhere; and this, which was not only very much watered, but was also very tepid with carrying about, she would distribute by small sips to those around; for she sought their devotion, not pleasure. As soon, therefore, as she found this custom to be forbidden by that famous preacher and most pious prelate, even to those who would use it with moderation, lest thereby an occasion of excess might be given to such as were drunken, and because these, so to say, festivals in honour of the dead were very like the superstition of the Gentiles, she most willingly abstained from it. And in lieu of a basket filled with fruits of the earth, she had learned to bring to the oratories of the martyrs a heart full of more purified petitions, and to give all that she could to the poor; that so the communion of the Lord's body might be rightly celebrated there, where, after the example of His passion, the martyrs had been sacrificed and crowned. But yet it seems to me, O Lord my God, and thus my heart thinks of it in your sight, that my mother perhaps would not so easily have given way to the relinquishment of this custom had it been forbidden by another whom she loved not as Ambrose, whom, out of regard for my salvation, she loved most dearly; and he loved her truly, on account of her most religious conversation, whereby, in good works so fervent in spirit, Romans 12:11 she frequented the church; so that he would often, when he saw me, burst forth into her praises, congratulating me that I had such a mother — little knowing what a son she had in me, who was in doubt as to all these things, and did not imagine the way of life could be found out.

I no longer groaned in my prayers for You to help me. Instead, my mind was entirely focused on gaining knowledge and eager to argue. I considered Ambrose a happy man by worldly standards, since such important people honored him. Only his celibacy seemed to me a difficult burden. But I could not guess what hope he held, what struggles he faced against the temptations that came with his very excellence, what comfort he found in hardships, and what delicious joys Your bread brought to the hidden mouth of his heart when he meditated on it—nor had I experienced these things myself. He did not know about my confusion or the danger I was in. I could not ask him what I wanted in the way I wanted, because I was prevented from hearing him and speaking with him by crowds of busy people whose weaknesses he served. When he was not occupied with them—which was only a short time—he was either refreshing his body with necessary food or his mind with reading. But when reading, his eyes moved over the pages and his heart searched for the meaning, but his voice and tongue were silent. Often when we came to see him—for no one was forbidden to enter, and it was not his custom to have visitors announced—we saw him reading to himself this way, and never any other way. After sitting in silence for a long time (for who would dare interrupt someone so focused?), we felt obliged to leave, concluding that in the little time he had to restore his mind, free from the noise of other people's business, he did not want to be distracted. Perhaps he was also afraid that if the author he was studying expressed something unclear, some uncertain and attentive listener might ask him to explain it or discuss some of the more difficult questions, and then, with his time taken up this way, he could not get through as many books as he wanted. Although protecting his voice, which was very easily strained, might have been the truer reason for his reading to himself. But whatever his reason for doing this, it was undoubtedly a good one in such a man.

3. Nor did I now groan in my prayers that You would help me; but my mind was wholly intent on knowledge, and eager to dispute. And Ambrose himself I esteemed a happy man, as the world counted happiness, in that such great personages held him in honour; only his celibacy appeared to me a painful thing. But what hope he cherished, what struggles he had against the temptations that beset his very excellences, what solace in adversities, and what savoury joys Your bread possessed for the hidden mouth of his heart when ruminating on it, I could neither conjecture, nor had I experienced. Nor did he know my embarrassments, nor the pit of my danger. For I could not request of him what I wished as I wished, in that I was debarred from hearing and speaking to him by crowds of busy people, whose infirmities he devoted himself to. With whom when he was not engaged (which was but a little time), he either was refreshing his body with necessary sustenance, or his mind with reading. But while reading, his eyes glanced over the pages, and his heart searched out the sense, but his voice and tongue were silent. Ofttimes, when we had come (for no one was forbidden to enter, nor was it his custom that the arrival of those who came should be announced to him), we saw him thus reading to himself, and never otherwise; and, having long sat in silence (for who dared interrupt one so intent?), we were fain to depart, inferring that in the little time he secured for the recruiting of his mind, free from the clamour of other men's business, he was unwilling to be taken off. And perchance he was fearful lest, if the author he studied should express anything vaguely, some doubtful and attentive hearer should ask him to expound it, or to discuss some of the more abstruse questions, as that, his time being thus occupied, he could not turn over as many volumes as he wished; although the preservation of his voice, which was very easily weakened, might be the truer reason for his reading to himself. But whatever was his motive in so doing, doubtless in such a man was a good one.

But I really couldn't find an opportunity to learn what I wanted from that holy oracle of Yours, his heart, unless it could be addressed briefly. However, those turmoil within me needed to find him with plenty of free time so I could pour them out to him, but I was never able to find him like that. I did hear him every Sunday, rightly dividing the word of truth among the people, and I became increasingly convinced that all those tangled knots of clever slander that those deceivers of ours had tied against the divine books could be untangled. But as soon as I understood that "man made after the image of Him that created him" was not understood by Your spiritual children (whom You had caused the Catholic mother to bear again through grace) as if they believed and imagined You to be limited by human form—though I didn't have the faintest or dimmest idea what the nature of a spiritual substance was—I rejoiced, yet felt ashamed that for so many years I had been barking not against the Catholic faith, but against the fables of fleshly imaginations. For I had been both impious and rash in this: that what I should have inquired about in order to learn, I had instead condemned by pronouncing judgment on it. For You, O Most High and most near, most hidden yet most present, who do not have limbs some larger and some smaller, but are wholly everywhere and nowhere in space, and are not of such bodily form, yet You have created man after Your own image, and behold, from head to foot he is confined by space.

4. But verily no opportunity could I find of ascertaining what I desired from that Your so holy oracle, his breast, unless the thing might be entered into briefly. But those surgings in me required to find him at full leisure, that I might pour them out to him, but never were they able to find him so; and I heard him, indeed, every Lord's day, rightly dividing the word of truth 2 Timothy 2:15 among the people; and I was all the more convinced that all those knots of crafty calumnies, which those deceivers of ours had knit against the divine books, could be unravelled. But so soon as I understood, withal, that man made after the image of Him that created him was not so understood by Your spiritual sons (whom of the Catholic mother You had begotten again through grace), as though they believed and imagined You to be bounded by human form — although what was the nature of a spiritual substance I had not the faintest or dimmest suspicion — yet rejoicing, I blushed that for so many years I had barked, not against the Catholic faith, but against the fables of carnal imaginations. For I had been both impious and rash in this, that what I ought inquiring to have learned, I had pronounced on condemning. For Thou, O most high and most near, most secret, yet most present, who hast not limbs some larger some smaller, but art wholly everywhere, and nowhere in space, nor are You of such corporeal form, yet have You created man after Your own image, and, behold, from head to foot is he confined by space.

Since I didn't know how this image of Yours could exist, I should have humbly asked the question of how it was to be believed, rather than arrogantly attacking it as if people actually believed it that way. Therefore, my anxiety about what I could hold as certain gnawed at my soul all the more sharply because I felt ashamed that, having been deceived for so long by the promise of certainties, I had childishly and stubbornly talked about so many uncertain things as if they were certain. That they were falsehoods became clear to me later. However, I was certain that they were uncertain, and that I had previously held them as certain when, in blind combativeness, I accused Your Catholic Church. Although I had not yet discovered that she taught the truth, I at least realized she did not teach what I had so fiercely accused her of teaching. In this way I was humbled and converted, and I rejoiced, O my God, that the one Church, the body of Your only Son (in which the name of Christ had been placed upon me as an infant), did not value these childish nonsense ideas, nor did she maintain, in her sound doctrine, any belief that would confine You, the Creator of all, in space—however great and wide, yet still bounded on all sides by the limits of a human form.

5. As, then, I knew not how this image of Yours should subsist, I should have knocked and propounded the doubt how it was to be believed, and not have insultingly opposed it, as if it were believed. Anxiety, therefore, as to what to retain as certain, did all the more sharply gnaw into my soul, the more shame I felt that, having been so long deluded and deceived by the promise of certainties, I had, with puerile error and petulance, prated of so many uncertainties as if they were certainties. For that they were falsehoods became apparent to me afterwards. However, I was certain that they were uncertain, and that I had formerly held them as certain when with a blind contentiousness I accused Your Catholic Church, which though I had not yet discovered to teach truly, yet not to teach that of which I had so vehemently accused her. In this manner was I confounded and converted, and I rejoiced, O my God, that the one Church, the body of Your only Son (wherein the name of Christ had been set upon me when an infant), did not appreciate these infantile trifles, nor maintained, in her sound doctrine, any tenet that would confine You, the Creator of all, in space — though ever so great and wide, yet bounded on all sides by the restraints of a human form.

I was also glad that the ancient Scriptures of the law and the prophets were now set before me to read, no longer with the attitude that had made them seem completely absurd earlier when I criticized your holy people for thinking that way—though in truth they had not thought that way at all. I listened with pleasure as Ambrose, in his sermons to the people, very carefully and often recommended this text as a rule: "The letter kills, but the Spirit gives life." Drawing back the mystical veil, he spiritually opened up passages that, when taken according to the letter, seemed to teach wrong doctrines. He taught nothing in this that offended me, even though he taught things I did not yet know to be true. During all this time I held back my heart from agreeing to anything, afraid of falling headlong into error, but by remaining in this suspended state I was actually dying more severely. For I wanted to be as certain about the things I could not see as I was that seven and three are ten. I was not so crazy as to think that even this could not be understood, but I wanted to have the same clarity about other things, whether physical things that were not present to my senses or spiritual things, which I did not know how to think about except in physical terms. If I had simply believed, I could have been healed, so that the vision of my soul, once cleared, might somehow be directed toward your truth, which always remains and never fails in anything. But just as someone who has experienced a bad doctor becomes afraid to trust even a good one, so it was with the health of my soul, which could only be healed by believing. Yet fearing it might believe falsehoods, it refused to be cured, resisting your hands—you who have prepared the medicines of faith for us, applied them to the diseases of the whole world, and given them such great authority.

6. I rejoiced also that the old Scriptures of the law and the prophets were laid before me, to be perused, not now with that eye to which they seemed most absurd before, when I censured Your holy ones for so thinking, whereas in truth they thought not so; and with delight I heard Ambrose, in his sermons to the people, oftentimes most diligently recommend this text as a rule — The letter kills, but the Spirit gives life; while, drawing aside the mystic veil, he spiritually laid open that which, accepted according to the letter, seemed to teach perverse doctrines — teaching herein nothing that offended me, though he taught such things as I knew not as yet whether they were true. For all this time I restrained my heart from assenting to anything, fearing to fall headlong; but by hanging in suspense I was the worse killed. For my desire was to be as well assured of those things that I saw not, as I was that seven and three are ten. For I was not so insane as to believe that this could not be comprehended; but I desired to have other things as clear as this, whether corporeal things, which were not present to my senses, or spiritual, whereof I knew not how to conceive except corporeally. And by believing I might have been cured, that so the sight of my soul being cleared, it might in some way be directed towards Your truth, which abides always, and fails in naught. But as it happens that he who has tried a bad physician fears to trust himself with a good one, so was it with the health of my soul, which could not be healed but by believing, and, lest it should believe falsehoods, refused to be cured — resisting Your hands, who hast prepared for us the medicaments of faith, and hast applied them to the maladies of the whole world, and hast bestowed upon them so great authority.

From this, I came to prefer the Catholic teaching. I felt that it commanded belief in things not yet demonstrated with more moderation and honesty (whether those things could be demonstrated but not to everyone, or could not be demonstrated at all) than the Manicheans did. The Manicheans mocked our trust by boldly promising knowledge, and then forced us to believe many fantastical and absurd things precisely because those things could not be demonstrated. After that, O Lord, little by little, with the gentlest and most merciful hand, You drew and calmed my heart. You persuaded me by having me consider the great number of things I had never seen nor been present for when they happened—like so many events in secular history, so many reports of places and cities I had not seen, so many friends, so many physicians, so many different people. Unless we believed these things, we would do nothing at all in this life. Finally, You had me consider with what unshakable certainty I believed who my parents were, which I could not have known except by hearsay. Taking all this into consideration, You persuaded me that those who did not believe Your books (which You have established with such great authority among nearly all nations) were to be blamed, not those who believed them. And those people should not be listened to who would say to me, "How do you know that those Scriptures were given to mankind by the Spirit of the one true and most true God?" For this very thing was most of all to be believed, since no contentious and blasphemous questions—of which I had read so many among the self-contradicting philosophers—could ever shake my belief that You exist, whatever You are (though I did not know what), or that the governing of human affairs belongs to You.

7. From this, however, being led to prefer the Catholic doctrine, I felt that it was with more moderation and honesty that it commanded things to be believed that were not demonstrated (whether it was that they could be demonstrated, but not to any one, or could not be demonstrated at all), than was the method of the Manichæans, where our credulity was mocked by audacious promise of knowledge, and then so many most fabulous and absurd things were forced upon belief because they were not capable of demonstration. After that, O Lord, You, little by little, with most gentle and most merciful hand, drawing and calming my heart, persuaded taking into consideration what a multiplicity of things which I had never seen, nor was present when they were enacted, like so many of the things in secular history, and so many accounts of places and cities which I had not seen; so many of friends, so many of physicians, so many now of these men, now of those, which unless we should believe, we should do nothing at all in this life; lastly, with how unalterable an assurance I believed of what parents I was born, which it would have been impossible for me to know otherwise than by hearsay — taking into consideration all this, You persuade me that not they who believed Your books (which, with so great authority, You have established among nearly all nations), but those who believed them not were to be blamed; and that those men were not to be listened unto who should say to me, How do you know that those Scriptures were imparted unto mankind by the Spirit of the one true and most true God? For it was the same thing that was most of all to be believed, since no wranglings of blasphemous questions, whereof I had read so many among the self-contradicting philosophers, could once wring the belief from me that You are — whatsoever You were, though what I knew not — or that the government of human affairs belongs to You.

I believed this with varying degrees of strength at different times, but I always believed both that You exist and that You care for us, even though I didn't understand what should be thought about Your substance or what path led to You or back to You. Since we were too weak to discover truth through reason alone and therefore needed the authority of holy Scripture, I had begun to believe that You would never have given such supreme authority to those Scriptures throughout all lands unless You intended to be believed in and sought through them. Those passages in Scripture that previously seemed inconsistent and troubled me I now attributed to the depth of their mysteries after hearing reasonable explanations of various texts, and Scripture's authority seemed all the more worthy of reverence and religious belief. While it was accessible for everyone to read, it reserved the majesty of its hidden meaning within its deeper significance. It accommodated itself to all people through the straightforward clarity of its language and humble style, yet it also challenged those who were serious-minded. In this way it could welcome everyone into its embrace while also drawing a few people toward You through narrow passages—yet more people than if it had not possessed such authoritative standing or drawn crowds through its holy humility. I thought about these things, and You were with me. I sighed, and You heard me. I wavered, and You guided me. I wandered along the broad way of the world, and You did not abandon me.

8. Thus much I believed, at one time more strongly than another, yet did I ever believe both that You were, and had a care of us, although I was ignorant both what was to be thought of Your substance, and what way led, or led back to You. Seeing, then, that we were too weak by unaided reason to find out the truth, and for this cause needed the authority of the holy writings, I had now begun to believe that You would by no means have given such excellency of authority to those Scriptures throughout all lands, had it not been Your will thereby to be believed in, and thereby sought. For now those things which heretofore appeared incongruous to me in the Scripture, and used to offend me, having heard various of them expounded reasonably, I referred to the depth of the mysteries, and its authority seemed to me all the more venerable and worthy of religious belief, in that, while it was visible for all to read it, it reserved the majesty of its secret within its profound significance, stooping to all in the great plainness of its language and lowliness of its style, yet exercising the application of such as are not light of heart; that it might receive all into its common bosom, and through narrow passages waft over some few towards You, yet many more than if it did not stand upon such a height of authority, nor allured multitudes within its bosom by its holy humility. These things I meditated upon, and You were with me; I sighed, and You heard me; I vacillated, and You guided me; I roamed through the broad way Matthew 7:13 of the world, and You did not desert me.

I longed for honors, wealth, and marriage, and You mocked me. In pursuing these desires I suffered the most bitter hardships, and You were more gracious to me the less You allowed anything that was not You to become sweet to me. Look at my heart, O Lord, for You wanted me to remember all this and confess to You. Now let my soul cling to You, since You have freed it from that sticky birdlime of death. How miserable my soul was! And You irritated the wound it felt, so that by abandoning everything else, it might turn to You—who are above all things, and without whom all things would be nothing—turn to You and be healed. How miserable I was at that time, and how You worked on me to make me aware of my misery on that day when I was preparing to recite a speech praising the Emperor. In that speech I was going to tell many lies, and those lies would be applauded by people who knew I was lying. My heart was pounding with these anxieties and boiling over with the fever of tormenting thoughts. While walking along one of the streets of Milan, I noticed a poor beggar—who at that moment, I think, had a full stomach—joking and happy. I sighed and spoke to the friends around me about the many sorrows that result from our madness. Through all our efforts—like the ones I was engaged in then, dragging along the burden of my own misery under the goad of desires, and by dragging it making it heavier—we were only trying to reach that very happiness which that beggar had already achieved before us, and which we might never attain! What he had obtained through a few begged coins, I was plotting to get through many miserable and twisted schemes—the joy of temporary happiness. He certainly did not possess true joy, but I, with my ambitions, was seeking one much more false. And in fact he was joyful while I was anxious; he was carefree while I was full of fears. But if anyone asked me whether I would rather be cheerful or fearful, I would answer, "Cheerful." Again, if I were asked whether I would rather be like he was or like I was then, I would choose to be myself, even though beset with cares and fears—but this choice came from perversity. Was it really true? I should not have preferred myself to him just because I happened to be more educated than he was, since I took no pleasure in that learning but only sought to please people with it—not to teach them, but only to please them. Therefore You also broke my bones with the rod of Your correction.

9. I longed for honours, gains, wedlock; and You mocked me. In these desires I underwent most bitter hardships, Thou being the more gracious the less You suffered anything which was not Thou to grow sweet to me. Behold my heart, O Lord, who wouldest that I should recall all this, and confess unto You. Now let my soul cleave to You, which You have freed from that fast-holding bird-lime of death. How wretched was it! And You irritated the feeling of its wound, that, forsaking all else, it might be converted unto You — who art above all, and without whom all things would be naught — be converted and be healed. How wretched was I at that time, and how You dealt with me, to make me sensible of my wretchedness on that day wherein I was preparing to recite a panegyric on the Emperor, wherein I was to deliver many a lie, and lying was to be applauded by those who knew I lied; and my heart panted with these cares, and boiled over with the feverishness of consuming thoughts. For, while walking along one of the streets of Milan, I observed a poor mendicant — then, I imagine, with a full belly — joking and joyous; and I sighed, and spoke to the friends around me of the many sorrows resulting from our madness, for that by all such exertions of ours — as those wherein I then laboured, dragging along, under the spur of desires, the burden of my own unhappiness, and by dragging increasing it, we yet aimed only to attain that very joyousness which that mendicant had reached before us, who, perchance, never would attain it! For what he had obtained through a few begged pence, the same was I scheming for by many a wretched and tortuous turning — the joy of a temporary felicity. For he verily possessed not true joy, but yet I, with these my ambitions, was seeking one much more untrue. And in truth he was joyous, I anxious; he free from care, I full of alarms. But should any one inquire of me whether I would rather be merry or fearful, I would reply, Merry. Again, were I asked whether I would rather be such as he was, or as I myself then was, I should elect to be myself, though beset with cares and alarms, but out of perversity; for was it so in truth? For I ought not to prefer myself to him because I happened to be more learned than he, seeing that I took no delight therein, but sought rather to please men by it; and that not to instruct, but only to please. Wherefore also Thou broke my bones with the rod of Your correction. Proverbs 22:15

Let those people be gone from my soul who say to it, "It doesn't matter where a person's joy comes from." That beggar was happy in his drunkenness; you wanted to find happiness in glory. What kind of glory, O Lord? The kind that is not found in You. Just as his joy was not true joy, my glory was not true glory, and it damaged my soul even more. He would sleep off his drunkenness that same night, but I had slept many nights with mine and woken up with it, and would sleep again and wake with it again—I don't know how many times. It really does matter where a person's joy comes from. I know this is true, and the joy of faithful hope is incomparably superior to such emptiness. Yes, and at that time he was better off than me, for he truly was the happier man. Not only because he was completely soaked in cheerfulness while I was torn apart with worries, but also because by wishing people well he had obtained wine, while I, through lying, was chasing after pride. I said much like this to my close friends at the time, and I often noticed in them how things were going with me. I found that things were going badly for me, and I worried about it, which only made that bad situation worse. And if any good fortune came my way, I was reluctant to take hold of it, because it would fly away almost before I could grasp it.

10. Away with those, then, from my soul, who say unto it, It makes a difference from whence a man's joy is derived. That mendicant rejoiced in drunkenness; you longed to rejoice in glory. What glory, O Lord? That which is not in You. For even as his was no true joy, so was mine no true glory; and it subverted my soul more. He would digest his drunkenness that same night, but many a night had I slept with mine, and risen again with it, and was to sleep again and again to rise with it, I know not how oft. It does indeed make a difference whence a man's joy is derived. I know it is so, and that the joy of a faithful hope is incomparably beyond such vanity. Yea, and at that time was he beyond me, for he truly was the happier man; not only for that he was thoroughly steeped in mirth, I torn to pieces with cares, but he, by giving good wishes, had gotten wine, I, by lying, was following after pride. Much to this effect said I then to my dear friends, and I often marked in them how it fared with me; and I found that it went ill with me, and fretted, and doubled that very ill. And if any prosperity smiled upon me, I loathed to seize it, for almost before I could grasp it flew away.

We who lived together as friends all lamented these things, but I discussed them especially and most intimately with Alypius and Nebridius. Alypius was born in the same town as I was, from parents of the highest rank there, though he was younger than me. He had been my student, first when I taught in our hometown and later at Carthage, and he held me in high regard because I seemed to him good and learned. I valued him for his natural love of virtue, which was remarkably strong for someone his age. However, the whirlpool of Carthaginian customs—where these frivolous spectacles are enthusiastically pursued—had drawn him into the madness of the Circensian games. While he was wretchedly caught up in this, I was teaching rhetoric there and had a public school. He did not yet listen to my teaching because of some bad feeling that had developed between his father and me. I had discovered how dangerously obsessed he was with the circus, and I was deeply troubled that he seemed likely to waste his great potential—if he had not already done so. Yet I had no way to advise him or restrain him and bring him back, either through the kindness of a friend or the authority of a teacher. I assumed his feelings toward me were the same as his father's, but this was not the case. Ignoring his father's wishes in this matter, he began to greet me and came into my lecture hall to listen for a short time before leaving.

11. These things we, who lived like friends together, jointly deplored, but chiefly and most familiarly did I discuss them with Alypius and Nebridius, of whom Alypius was born in the same town as myself, his parents being of the highest rank there, but he being younger than I. For he had studied under me, first, when I taught in our own town, and afterwards at Carthage, and esteemed me highly, because I appeared to him good and learned; and I esteemed him for his innate love of virtue, which, in one of no great age, was sufficiently eminent. But the vortex of Carthaginian customs (among whom these frivolous spectacles are hotly followed) had inveigled him into the madness of the Circensian games. But while he was miserably tossed about therein, I was professing rhetoric there, and had a public school. As yet he did not give ear to my teaching, on account of some ill-feeling that had arisen between me and his father. I had then found how fatally he doted upon the circus, and was deeply grieved that he seemed likely — if, indeed, he had not already done so — to cast away his so great promise. Yet had I no means of advising, or by a sort of restraint reclaiming him, either by the kindness of a friend or by the authority of a master. For I imagined that his sentiments towards me were the same as his father's; but he was not such. Disregarding, therefore, his father's will in that matter, he commenced to salute me, and, coming into my lecture-room, to listen for a little and depart.

But I forgot to address this issue with him, so that he would not ruin such a brilliant mind through a blind and reckless craving for worthless entertainment. But You, O Lord, who steer everything You have created, had not forgotten him, since he was destined one day to be among Your children, a leader in Your sacrament. And so that his reform would clearly be credited to You, You brought it about through me, though I knew nothing of it. For one day, when I was sitting in my usual place with my students before me, he came in, greeted me, sat down, and focused his attention on the subject I was teaching. It happened that I was working through a passage, and while I was explaining it, a comparison drawn from the chariot races came to mind, which seemed likely to make what I wanted to say more enjoyable and clearer, mixed with a sharp criticism of those enslaved by that madness. You know, O our God, that I had no intention at that time of curing Alypius of that plague. But he applied it to himself and thought that I would not have said it except for his sake. And what any other person would have used as a reason to be angry with me, this admirable young man took as a reason to be angry with himself and to love me more deeply. For You said it long ago and wrote it in Your book: "Rebuke a wise man, and he will love you" (Proverbs 9:8). But I had not rebuked him—rather You, who use everyone consciously or unconsciously according to the order You know (and that order is right), drew from my heart and tongue burning coals by which You might ignite and heal the promising mind that was wasting away. Let whoever does not reflect on Your mercies be silent in praising You—mercies which I confess to You from my deepest being. For at that speech he leaped out from that deep pit into which he had willingly plunged himself and was blinded by its wretched pastimes. He stirred his mind with firm self-control, and all the filth of the chariot-racing pastimes fell away from him, and he went to them no more. After this, he persuaded his reluctant father to let him be my student. His father yielded and agreed. And Alypius, beginning again to hear me, became involved in the same superstition as I was, loving in the Manicheans that show of self-restraint which he believed to be true and genuine. It was, however, a foolish and deceptive self-restraint, trapping precious souls who were not yet able to reach the height of virtue and were easily deceived by the surface appearance of what was only a shadowy and false virtue.

12. But it slipped my memory to deal with him, so that he should not, through a blind and headstrong desire of empty pastimes, undo so great a wit. But You, O Lord, who governest the helm of all You have created, had not forgotten him, who was one day to be among Your sons, the President of Your sacrament; and that his amendment might plainly be attributed to Yourself, You brought it about through me, but I knowing nothing of it. For one day, when I was sitting in my accustomed place, with my scholars before me, he came in, saluted me, sat himself down, and fixed his attention on the subject I was then handling. It so happened that I had a passage in hand, which while I was explaining, a simile borrowed from the Circensian games occurred to me, as likely to make what I wished to convey pleasanter and plainer, imbued with a biting jibe at those whom that madness had enthralled. You know, O our God, that I had no thought at that time of curing Alypius of that plague. But he took it to himself, and thought that I would not have said it but for his sake. And what any other man would have made a ground of offense against me, this worthy young man took as a reason for being offended at himself, and for loving me more fervently. For You have said it long ago, and written in Your book, Rebuke a wise man, and he will love you. Proverbs 9:8 But I had not rebuked him, but Thou, who makest use of all consciously or unconsciously, in that order which Yourself know (and that order is right), wroughtest out of my heart and tongue burning coals, by which You might set on fire and cure the hopeful mind thus languishing. Let him be silent in Your praises who meditates not on Your mercies, which from my inmost parts confess unto You. For he upon that speech rushed out from that so deep pit, wherein he was wilfully plunged, and was blinded by its miserable pastimes; and he roused his mind with a resolute moderation; whereupon all the filth of the Circensian pastimes flew off from him, and he did not approach them further. Upon this, he prevailed with his reluctant father to let him be my pupil. He gave in and consented. And Alypius, beginning again to hear me, was involved in the same superstition as I was, loving in the Manichæans that ostentation of continency which he believed to be true and unfeigned. It was, however, a senseless and seducing continency, ensnaring precious souls, not able as yet to reach the height of virtue, and easily beguiled with the veneer of what was but a shadowy and feigned virtue.

He did not give up the worldly path that his parents had charmed him into following, and had gone ahead of me to Rome to study law. There he was swept away in an extraordinary manner by an incredible passion for the gladiatorial shows. Though he was completely opposed to and hated such spectacles, one day he happened to meet some of his friends and fellow students who were returning from dinner. They dragged him, despite his strong objections and resistance, into the amphitheatre on a day when these cruel and deadly shows were taking place. He protested, saying: Even if you drag my body to that place and put me there, can you force me to give my mind and turn my eyes to these shows? I will be absent while present, and so I will overcome both you and them. Despite hearing this, they dragged him along anyway, perhaps wanting to see whether he could do what he said. When they arrived and took whatever seats they could find, the whole place was stirred up by the inhuman games. But he shut the doors of his eyes and forbade his mind to wander toward such wickedness—if only he had shut his ears too! When someone fell in the fight, a great cry from the whole crowd strongly stirred him. Overcome by curiosity and ready to despise and rise above it, whatever it was, he opened his eyes and was struck with a deeper wound in his soul than the gladiator he wanted to see had received in his body. He fell more miserably than the one whose fall had raised that great clamor, which entered through his ears and unlocked his eyes, making way for the striking and beating down of his soul. His soul had been bold rather than truly strong until then, and was weaker because it presumed on itself when it should have depended on You. As soon as he saw that blood, he absorbed a kind of savageness. He did not turn away but fixed his gaze, unconsciously drinking in madness. He was delighted with the guilty contest and drunk with the bloody entertainment. He was no longer the same person who had entered, but was now one of the crowd he had joined, a true companion of those who had brought him there. Why say more? He watched, shouted, grew excited, and carried away with him the madness that would drive him to return, not only with those who first enticed him, but even before them, and to draw in others as well. From all this You plucked him with a most powerful and most merciful hand, and taught him not to place confidence in himself but in You—though not until long afterward.

13. He, not relinquishing that worldly way which his parents had bewitched him to pursue, had gone before me to Rome, to study law, and there he was carried away in an extraordinary manner with an incredible eagerness after the gladiatorial shows. For, being utterly opposed to and detesting such spectacles, he was one day met by chance by various of his acquaintance and fellow-students returning from dinner, and they with a friendly violence drew him, vehemently objecting and resisting, into the amphitheatre, on a day of these cruel and deadly shows, he thus protesting: Though you drag my body to that place, and there place me, can you force me to give my mind and lend my eyes to these shows? Thus shall I be absent while present, and so shall overcome both you and them. They hearing this, dragged him on nevertheless, desirous, perchance, to see whether he could do as he said. When they had arrived there, and had taken their places as they could, the whole place became excited with the inhuman sports. But he, shutting up the doors of his eyes, forbade his mind to roam abroad after such naughtiness; and would that he had shut his ears also! For, upon the fall of one in the fight, a mighty cry from the whole audience stirring him strongly, he, overcome by curiosity, and prepared as it were to despise and rise superior to it, no matter what it were, opened his eyes, and was struck with a deeper wound in his soul than the other, whom he desired to see, was in his body; and he fell more miserably than he on whose fall that mighty clamour was raised, which entered through his ears, and unlocked his eyes, to make way for the striking and beating down of his soul, which was bold rather than valiant hitherto; and so much the weaker in that it presumed on itself, which ought to have depended on You. For, directly he saw that blood, he therewith imbibed a sort of savageness; nor did he turn away, but fixed his eye, drinking in madness unconsciously, and was delighted with the guilty contest, and drunken with the bloody pastime. Nor was he now the same he came in, but was one of the throng he came unto, and a true companion of those who had brought him there. Why need I say more? He looked, shouted, was excited, carried away with him the madness which would stimulate him to return, not only with those who first enticed him, but also before them, yea, and to draw in others. And from all this did Thou, with a most powerful and most merciful hand, pluck him, and taughtest him not to repose confidence in himself, but in You — but not till long after.

But all of this was being stored up in his memory as medicine for the future. The same was true of what happened when he was still studying under me at Carthage and was reviewing at midday in the marketplace what he had to recite (as students are accustomed to practice). You allowed him to be arrested as a thief by the market officials. I believe, O our God, that You allowed this for no other reason than that he who would prove to be so great a man in the future should now begin to learn that in judging cases, one person should not rashly condemn another person with reckless credulity. For as he was walking back and forth alone before the judgment seat with his writing tablets and pen, a young man, one of the students and the real thief, secretly bringing a hatchet, entered without Alypius seeing him and went as far as the lead bars that protect the silversmiths' shops, and began to cut away the lead. But when the noise of the hatchet was heard, the silversmiths below began to stir and sent people to arrest whoever they might find. The thief, hearing their voices, ran away and left his hatchet, fearing to be caught with it. Now Alypius, who had not seen him enter, caught sight of him as he left and noticed how quickly he fled. Being curious to know the reasons, he entered the place, where he found the hatchet and stood wondering and thinking, when suddenly those who had been sent found him alone, hatchet in hand, the noise of which had alarmed them and brought them there. They seized him and dragged him away, and gathering the shopkeepers of the marketplace around them, boasted of having caught a notorious thief, and then he was being led away to appear before the judge.

14. But this was all being stored up in his memory for a medicine hereafter. As was that also, that when he was yet studying under me at Carthage, and was meditating at noonday in the market-place upon what he had to recite (as scholars are wont to be exercised), You suffered him to be apprehended as a thief by the officers of the market-place. For no other reason, I apprehend, did Thou, O our God, suffer it, but that he who was in the future to prove so great a man should now begin to learn that, in judging of causes, man should not with a reckless credulity readily be condemned by man. For as he was walking up and down alone before the judgment-seat with his tablets and pen, lo, a young man, one of the scholars, the real thief, privily bringing a hatchet, got in without Alypius' seeing him as far as the leaden bars which protect the silversmiths' shops, and began to cut away the lead. But the noise of the hatchet being heard, the silversmiths below began to make a stir, and sent to take in custody whomsoever they should find. But the thief, hearing their voices, ran away, leaving his hatchet, fearing to be taken with it. Now Alypius, who had not seen him come in, caught sight of him as he went out, and noted with what speed he made off. And, being curious to know the reasons, he entered the place, where, finding the hatchet, he stood wondering and pondering, when behold, those that were sent caught him alone, hatchet in hand, the noise whereof had startled them and brought them there. They lay hold of him and drag him away, and, gathering the tenants of the market-place about them, boast of having taken a notorious thief, and thereupon he was being led away to apppear before the judge.

But this was how he was to be taught. For immediately, O Lord, You came to help his innocence, of which You alone were witness. For as he was being led either to prison or to punishment, they were met by a certain architect who had chief responsibility for the public buildings. The men were especially glad to run into him, since he usually suspected them of stealing the goods that went missing from the marketplace—as if now he would finally learn who was actually committing these thefts. However, this architect had seen Alypius at various times at the house of a certain senator, whom Alypius regularly visited to pay his respects. Recognizing him at once, the architect took him aside by the hand and asked him the reason for such great misfortune, heard the whole story, and ordered all the noisy and threatening crowd that was present to come with him. They came to the house of the young man who had actually committed the deed. There, in front of the door, was a boy so young that he could not keep himself from revealing everything out of fear of harming his master, for he had followed his master to the marketplace. As soon as Alypius recognized him, he pointed him out to the architect. The architect showed the hatchet to the boy and asked whose it was. Ours, he said immediately. When questioned further, he disclosed everything. Thus, with the crime now traced back to that house and the rabble put to shame—the same rabble that had begun to gloat over Alypius—he, the future dispenser of Your word and examiner of numerous cases in Your Church, went away better experienced and instructed.

15. But thus far was he to be instructed. For immediately, O Lord, You came to the succour of his innocency, whereof You were the sole witness. For, as he was being led either to prison or to punishment, they were met by a certain architect, who had the chief charge of the public buildings. They were specially glad to come across him, by whom they used to be suspected of stealing the goods lost out of the market-place, as though at last to convince him by whom these thefts were committed. He, however, had at various times seen Alypius at the house of a certain senator, whom he was wont to visit to pay his respects; and, recognising him at once, he took him aside by the hand, and inquiring of him the cause of so great a misfortune, heard the whole affair, and commanded all the rabble then present (who were very uproarious and full of threatenings) to go with him. And they came to the house of the young man who had committed the deed. There, before the door, was a lad so young as not to refrain from disclosing the whole through the fear of injuring his master. For he had followed his master to the market-place. Whom, so soon as Alypius recognised, he intimated it to the architect; and he, showing the hatchet to the lad, asked him to whom it belonged. To us, quoth he immediately; and on being further interrogated, he disclosed everything. Thus, the crime being transferred to that house, and the rabble shamed, which had begun to triumph over Alypius, he, the future dispenser of Your word, and an examiner of numerous causes in Your Church, went away better experienced and instructed.

I had met him in Rome, and he attached himself to me with a very strong bond and came with me to Milan. He came both to stay with me and to practice some of the law he had studied, more to please his parents than himself. There he had served three times as a legal assessor with an incorruptibility that amazed others, though he was more amazed at those who could value gold above integrity. His character was tested not only by the temptation of greed but also by the pressure of fear. In Rome, he was assessor to the Count of the Italian Treasury. At that time there was a very powerful senator to whom many people owed favors and whom many also feared. This senator wanted to use his usual power to obtain something that was forbidden by law. Alypius opposed him. A bribe was offered, but he rejected it wholeheartedly. Threats were made, but he trampled them underfoot—everyone was astonished at such an unusual character, who neither desired the friendship nor feared the hostility of a man so powerful and so famous for his countless ways of doing good or harm. Even the judge for whom Alypius served as advisor, although he also did not want to grant the request, did not openly refuse it but shifted the matter onto Alypius, claiming that Alypius would not allow him to do it. In truth, if the judge had done it, Alypius would have made a different decision. In one matter related to his studies, he was almost led astray—he could have had books copied for himself at praetorian prices. But after considering what was just, he changed his mind for the better, judging that fairness, which prevented him from doing this, was more valuable than the privilege that would have allowed it. These are small matters, but he who is faithful in the least is also faithful in much. Nor can what comes from the mouth of Your Truth be empty. If you have not been faithful in unrighteous mammon, who will entrust to you the true riches? And if you have not been faithful in what belongs to another, who will give you what is your own? Being such a person, he stayed close to me at that time and wavered in his decision, as I did, about what course of life to pursue.

16. Him, therefore, had I lighted upon at Rome, and he clung to me by a most strong tie, and accompanied me to Milan, both that he might not leave me, and that he might practise something of the law he had studied, more with a view of pleasing his parents than himself. There had he thrice sat as assessor with an uncorruptness wondered at by others, he rather wondering at those who could prefer gold to integrity. His character was tested, also, not only by the bait of covetousness, but by the spur of fear. At Rome, he was assessor to the Count of the Italian Treasury. There was at that time a most potent senator, to whose favours many were indebted, of whom also many stood in fear. He would fain, by his usual power, have a thing granted him which was forbidden by the laws. This Alypius resisted; a bribe was promised, he scorned it with all his heart; threats were employed, he trampled them under foot — all men being astonished at so rare a spirit, which neither coveted the friendship nor feared the enmity of a man at once so powerful and so greatly famed for his innumerable means of doing good or ill. Even the judge whose councillor Alypius was, although also unwilling that it should be done, yet did not openly refuse it, but put the matter off upon Alypius, alleging that it was he who would not permit him to do it; for verily, had the judge done it, Alypius would have decided otherwise. With this one thing in the way of learning was he very nearly led away — that he might have books copied for him at prætorian prices. But, consulting justice, he changed his mind for the better, esteeming equity, whereby he was hindered, more gainful than the power whereby he was permitted. These are little things, but He that is faithful in that which is least, is faithful also in much. Luke 16:10 Nor can that possibly be void which proceeds out of the mouth of Your Truth. If, therefore, you have not been faithful in the unrighteous mammon, who will commit to your trust the true riches? And if you have not been faithful in that which is another man's, who shall give you that which is your own? Luke 16:11-12 He, being such, did at that time cling to me, and wavered in purpose, as I did, what course of life was to be taken.

Nebridius had also left his homeland near Carthage, and Carthage itself where he normally lived, leaving behind his beautiful family estate, his house, and his mother who did not plan to follow him. He had come to Milan for only one reason: to live with me in an intense search for truth and wisdom. Like me he longed deeply, like me he was uncertain, a passionate seeker of true life and a very sharp investigator of the most difficult questions. So there were three hungry mouths, expressing their needs to one another and waiting on You to give them their food at the right time. And in all the bitterness that followed our worldly activities through Your mercy, as we thought about the purpose—why we should suffer these things—darkness came over us, and we turned away groaning and crying out, "How long will these things continue?" We said this often, and yet we did not give up our worldly pursuits, because we had not yet discovered anything certain that we could turn to instead when we abandoned them.

17. Nebridius also, who had left his native country near Carthage, and Carthage itself, where he had usually lived, leaving behind his fine paternal estate, his house, and his mother, who intended not to follow him, had come to Milan, for no other reason than that he might live with me in a most ardent search after truth and wisdom. Like me he sighed, like me he wavered, an ardent seeker after true life, and a most acute examiner of the most abstruse questions. So were there three begging mouths, sighing out their wants one to the other, and waiting upon You, that You might give them their meat in due season. And in all the bitterness which by Your mercy followed our worldly pursuits, as we contemplated the end, why this suffering should be ours, darkness came upon us; and we turned away groaning and exclaiming, How long shall these things be? And this we often said; and saying so, we did not relinquish them, for as yet we had discovered nothing certain to which, when relinquished, we might betake ourselves.

As I thought over and examined all these things, I was most amazed at how much time had passed since my nineteenth year, when I first began to burn with desire for wisdom, resolving that once I found her, I would abandon all the empty hopes and lying madness of vain desires. And now I was approaching my thirtieth year, still stuck in the same mud, eager to enjoy present things that slip away and destroy me, while I kept saying, "Tomorrow I will discover it; it will appear clearly, and I will grasp it; Faustus will come and explain everything!" O you great men, you Academicians, is it really true that nothing certain can be found for ordering one's life! No, let us search more carefully and not give up. Look, the things in the church's books that seemed absurd to us before don't seem so now, and can be interpreted differently and honestly. I will plant my feet on that step where my parents placed me as a child, until the clear truth is discovered. But where and when should it be sought? Ambrose has no free time—we have no free time to read. Where can we find the books? How or when can we get them? From whom can we borrow them? Let specific times be set, and certain hours be devoted to the health of the soul. Great hope has risen in us, the Catholic faith does not teach what we imagined and falsely accused it of teaching. Its learned teachers consider it an abomination to believe that God is limited by the form of a human body. And should we hesitate to knock, so that the rest may be opened? The mornings are taken up by our students; how do we use the rest of the day? Why don't we pursue this? But when, then, do we pay our respects to our important friends, whose favors we need? When do we prepare what our students purchase from us? When do we refresh ourselves, relaxing our minds from the strain of worry?

18. And I, puzzling over and reviewing these things, most marvelled at the length of time from that my nineteenth year, wherein I began to be inflamed with the desire of wisdom, resolving, when I had found her, to forsake all the empty hopes and lying insanities of vain desires. And behold, I was now getting on to my thirtieth year, sticking in the same mire, eager for the enjoyment of things present, which fly away and destroy me, while I say, Tomorrow I shall discover it; behold, it will appear plainly, and I shall seize it; behold, Faustus will come and explain everything! O you great men, you Academicians, it is then true that nothing certain for the ordering of life can be attained! Nay, let us search the more diligently, and let us not despair. Lo, the things in the ecclesiastical books, which appeared to us absurd aforetime, do not appear so now, and may be otherwise and honestly interpreted. I will set my feet upon that step, where, as a child, my parents placed me, until the clear truth be discovered. But where and when shall it be sought? Ambrose has no leisure — we have no leisure to read. Where are we to find the books? Whence or when procure them? From whom borrow them? Let set times be appointed, and certain hours be set apart for the health of the soul. Great hope has risen upon us, the Catholic faith does not teach what we conceived, and vainly accused it of. Her learned ones hold it as an abomination to believe that God is limited by the form of a human body. And do we doubt to 'knock,' in order that the rest may be 'opened'? Matthew 7:7 The mornings are taken up by our scholars; how do we employ the rest of the day? Why do we not set about this? But when, then, pay our respects to our great friends, of whose favours we stand in need? When prepare what our scholars buy from us? When recreate ourselves, relaxing our minds from the pressure of care?

Let everything else perish, and let us put aside these empty vanities and devote ourselves entirely to the search for truth! Life is miserable, death uncertain. If death comes upon us suddenly, in what state will we leave this world, and where will we learn what we have neglected here? Or rather, won't we suffer punishment for this negligence? What if death itself cuts off and ends all consciousness and feeling? This too must be investigated. But God forbid that it should be so. It is not without reason, it is not an empty thing, that the towering authority of the Christian faith has spread throughout the entire world. Such great things would never be done for us if the life of the soul were destroyed by the death of the body. Why, then, do we delay abandoning our worldly hopes and giving ourselves completely to seeking God and the blessed life? But wait! Even those worldly things are enjoyable, and they have considerable sweetness. We shouldn't give them up lightly, since it would be shameful to return to them later. Look, it's no small matter to obtain an honorable position! And what more could we want? We have many influential friends, even if we have nothing else, and if we act quickly a governorship might be offered to us, and a wife with some money so she doesn't add to our expenses—and this would be the height of our ambition. Many men who are great and worthy of imitation have devoted themselves to the study of wisdom while married.

19. Perish everything, and let us dismiss these empty vanities, and betake ourselves solely to the search after truth! Life is miserable, death uncertain. If it creeps upon us suddenly, in what state shall we depart hence, and where shall we learn what we have neglected here? Or rather shall we not suffer the punishment of this negligence? What if death itself should cut off and put an end to all care and feeling? This also, then, must be inquired into. But God forbid that it should be so. It is not without reason, it is no empty thing, that the so eminent height of the authority of the Christian faith is diffused throughout the entire world. Never would such and so great things be wrought for us, if, by the death of the body, the life of the soul were destroyed. Why, therefore, do we delay to abandon our hopes of this world, and give ourselves wholly to seek after God and the blessed life? But stay! Even those things are enjoyable; and they possess some and no little sweetness. We must not abandon them lightly, for it would be a shame to return to them again. Behold, now is it a great matter to obtain some post of honour! And what more could we desire? We have crowds of influential friends, though we have nothing else, and if we make haste a presidentship may be offered us; and a wife with some money, that she increase not our expenses; and this shall be the height of desire. Many men, who are great and worthy of imitation, have applied themselves to the study of wisdom in the marriage state.

While I spoke of these things, and these winds blew and drove my heart back and forth, time passed on. But I was slow to turn to the Lord, and day after day I delayed living in You, yet I did not delay dying to myself each day. Though I loved the idea of a happy life, I feared it in its true dwelling place, and while running from it, I sought after it. I thought I would be too miserable if I were deprived of a woman's embraces, and I did not think about Your merciful medicine to heal that weakness, never having tried it. As for continence, I imagined it was under the power of our own strength (though I did not find it in myself), being foolish enough not to know what is written—that no one can be continent unless You give it—and that You would give it if with heartfelt groaning I should knock at Your ears and with firm faith cast my burden upon You.

20. Whilst I talked of these things, and these winds veered about and tossed my heart hither and there, the time passed on; but I was slow to turn to the Lord, and from day to day deferred to live in You, and deferred not daily to die in myself. Being enamoured of a happy life, I yet feared it in its own abode, and, fleeing from it, sought after it. I conceived that I should be too unhappy were I deprived of the embracements of a woman; and of Your merciful medicine to cure that infirmity I thought not, not having tried it. As regards continency, I imagined it to be under the control of our own strength (though in myself I found it not), being so foolish as not to know what is written, that none can be continent unless Thou give it; and that You would give it, if with heartfelt groaning I should knock at Your ears, and should with firm faith cast my care upon You.

It was actually Alypius who kept me from getting married, arguing that if I did, we would never be able to live together and enjoy the uninterrupted free time for the love of wisdom that we had long wanted. He himself was remarkably chaste in this area—especially considering that in his early youth he had tried sex but hadn't continued with it. Instead, feeling regret and revulsion afterward, he had lived completely abstinent from that time until now. But I countered him with examples of married men who had loved wisdom, pleased God, and maintained faithful and loving friendships. I fell far short of their greatness of spirit, and being enslaved by my bodily lust and its fatal pleasure, I dragged my chain along, afraid to be set free. As if his words were touching a wound, I rejected his well-meaning warnings as though they were the hand of someone trying to remove my chains. What's more, the serpent spoke through me to Alypius himself, using my tongue to weave and place pleasant traps in his path that might entangle his honorable and free feet.

21. It was in truth Alypius who prevented me from marrying, alleging that thus we could by no means live together, having so much undistracted leisure in the love of wisdom, as we had long desired. For he himself was so chaste in this matter that it was wonderful — all the more, too, that in his early youth he had entered upon that path, but had not clung to it; rather had he, feeling sorrow and disgust at it, lived from that time to the present most continently. But I opposed him with the examples of those who as married men had loved wisdom, found favour with God, and walked faithfully and lovingly with their friends. From the greatness of whose spirit I fell far short, and, enthralled with the disease of the flesh and its deadly sweetness, dragged my chain along, fearing to be loosed; and, as if it pressed my wound, rejected his kind expostulations, as it were the hand of one who would unchain me. Moreover, it was by me that the serpent spoke unto Alypius himself, weaving and laying in his path, by my tongue, pleasant snares, wherein his honourable and free feet might be entangled.

When Alypius wondered why I, whom he greatly respected, was so trapped in the sticky snare of that pleasure that I insisted whenever we discussed it that living a celibate life would be impossible for me, and when I defended myself by pointing out that there was a huge difference between his own brief, furtive experiences (which he now barely remembered and could therefore easily dismiss without regret) and my long-standing involvement with it—to which only the honorable name of marriage needed to be added—he stopped being surprised at my inability to reject that way of life. Then he too began to want to get married, not because he was overcome by desire for such pleasure, but out of curiosity. He said he wanted to know what this thing could be, without which my life—which seemed so good to him—appeared to me not to be life at all but a punishment. His mind, free from that chain, was amazed at my slavery, and through that amazement he began to desire to try it himself, and from that desire to actually try it, and from there he might have fallen into the very bondage that amazed him so much, since he was ready to enter into a covenant with death, and he that loves danger shall fall into it. Whatever honor there is in marriage regarding the proper ordering of married life and raising children influenced us very little. What mostly tormented me, already enslaved to it, was the habit of satisfying an insatiable lust; him, about to be enslaved, an admiring curiosity was drawing on. This is where we were, until You, O Most High, not abandoning our lowliness, taking pity on our misery, came to our rescue by wonderful and secret ways.

22. For when he wondered that I, for whom he had no slight esteem, stuck so fast in the bird-lime of that pleasure as to affirm whenever we discussed the matter that it would be impossible for me to lead a single life, and urged in my defense when I saw him wonder that there was a vast difference between the life that he had tried by stealth and snatches (of which he had now but a faint recollection, and might therefore, without regret, easily despise), and my sustained acquaintance with it, whereto if but the honourable name of marriage were added, he would not then be astonished at my inability to contemn that course — then began he also to wish to be married, not as if overpowered by the lust of such pleasure, but from curiosity. For, as he said, he was anxious to know what that could be without which my life, which was so pleasing to him, seemed to me not life but a penalty. For his mind, free from that chain, was astounded at my slavery, and through that astonishment was going on to a desire of trying it, and from it to the trial itself, and thence, perchance, to fall into that bondage whereat he was so astonished, seeing he was ready to enter into a covenant with death; Isaiah 28:15 and he that loves danger shall fall into it. Sirach 3:27 For whatever the conjugal honour be in the office of well-ordering a married life, and sustaining children, influenced us but slightly. But that which did for the most part afflict me, already made a slave to it, was the habit of satisfying an insatiable lust; him about to be enslaved did an admiring wonder draw on. In this state were we, until Thou, O most High, not forsaking our lowliness, commiserating our misery, came to our rescue by wonderful and secret ways.

Active efforts were made to get me a wife. I courted a woman and became engaged, with my mother working very hard on this matter. She hoped that once I was married, the health-giving baptism might cleanse me. She was happy to see that I was becoming ready for this day by day, and she noted that her prayers and Your promises were being fulfilled in my faith. At that time, both at my request and from her own longing, we begged You daily with strong cries from the heart that You would reveal to her through a vision something about my future marriage, but You would not. She did see certain empty and imaginary things—the kind that the intensity of a human mind focused on something can produce—and she told me about these, but not with the usual confidence she had when You had shown her something. Instead, she dismissed them. She said she could tell the difference between Your revelations and the dreams of her own spirit through a certain sense that she could not put into words. Still, the marriage plans continued to move forward, and a girl was chosen who was two years younger than the legal age for marriage. Since she was pleasing, we waited for her.

23. Active efforts were made to get me a wife. I wooed, I was engaged, my mother taking the greatest pains in the matter, that when I was once married, the health-giving baptism might cleanse me; for which she rejoiced that I was being daily fitted, remarking that her desires and Your promises were being fulfilled in my faith. At which time, verily, both at my request and her own desire, with strong heartfelt cries did we daily beg of You that You would by a vision disclose unto her something concerning my future marriage; but You would not. She saw indeed certain vain and fantastic things, such as the earnestness of a human spirit, bent thereon, conjured up; and these she told me of, not with her usual confidence when You had shown her anything, but slighting them. For she could, she declared, through some feeling which she could not express in words, discern the difference between Your revelations and the dreams of her own spirit. Yet the affair was pressed on, and a maiden sued who wanted two years of the marriageable age; and, as she was pleasing, she was waited for.

Many of us friends, after discussing together how much we hated the chaotic troubles of human life, had thought about and nearly decided to live peacefully, away from the noise and activity of society. This is how we planned to do it: each of us would contribute whatever we could acquire, and we would create a shared household where, because of our genuine friendship, nothing would belong more to one person than another. Instead, everything we brought together would belong to each person individually and to all of us collectively. We thought this community could include about ten people, some of whom were very wealthy, especially Romanianus, a fellow citizen and close friend of mine since childhood. Serious business matters had brought him to court at that time, and he was the most enthusiastic among us about this plan. His support carried great influence in recommending it because his wealth was far greater than everyone else's. We had also arranged that two members would be chosen each year to handle providing all necessary supplies, leaving the others free from these concerns. But when we started considering whether the wives that some of us already had, and others hoped to have, would allow this arrangement, our entire plan, which had been taking shape so well, fell apart in our hands and was completely destroyed and abandoned. After that, we returned to sighing and grieving, and followed the broad and well-traveled paths of the world. For many thoughts were in our hearts, but Your counsel stands forever. Out of that counsel, You laughed at ours and prepared Your own, intending to give us food at the right time, to open Your hand, and to fill our souls with blessing.

24. And many of us friends, consulting on and abhorring the turbulent vexations of human life, had considered and now almost determined upon living at ease and separate from the turmoil of men. And this was to be obtained in this way; we were to bring whatever we could severally procure, and make a common household, so that, through the sincerity of our friendship, nothing should belong more to one than the other; but the whole, being derived from all, should as a whole belong to each, and the whole unto all. It seemed to us that this society might consist of ten persons, some of whom were very rich, especially Romanianus, our townsman, an intimate friend of mine from his childhood, whom grave business matters had then brought up to Court; who was the most earnest of us all for this project, and whose voice was of great weight in commending it, because his estate was far more ample than that of the rest. We had arranged, too, that two officers should be chosen yearly, for the providing of all necessary things, while the rest were left undisturbed. But when we began to reflect whether the wives which some of us had already, and others hoped to have, would permit this, all that plan, which was being so well framed, broke to pieces in our hands, and was utterly wrecked and cast aside. Thence we fell again to sighs and groans, and our steps to follow the broad and beaten ways Matthew 7:13 of the world; for many thoughts were in our heart, but Your counsel stands forever. Out of which counsel You mocked ours, and prepared Your own, purposing to give us meat in due season, and to open Your hand, and to fill our souls with blessing.

Meanwhile my sins were multiplying. My mistress was torn from my side because she was an obstacle to my marriage, and my heart, which was attached to her, was torn apart, wounded, and bleeding. She returned to Africa, making a vow to You never to be with another man, leaving with me the son I had fathered with her. But I, wretched man, could not imitate a woman's resolve. Impatient with the delay, since I would not obtain the woman I sought for two years, and being not so much a lover of marriage as a slave to lust, I took another woman (though not as a wife). In this way, through the bondage of a continuing habit, the disease of my soul might be fed and maintained in its strength, or even increased, all the way into the state of marriage. Nor was my wound from separating from my former mistress healed yet. After the initial inflammation and most severe pain, it became infected, and the pain grew numb but more hopeless.

25. Meanwhile my sins were being multiplied, and my mistress being torn from my side as an impediment to my marriage, my heart, which clave to her, was racked, and wounded, and bleeding. And she went back to Africa, making a vow unto You never to know another man, leaving with me my natural son by her. But I, unhappy one, who could not imitate a woman, impatient of delay, since it was not until two years' time I was to obtain her I sought — being not so much a lover of marriage as a slave to lust — procured another (not a wife, though), that so by the bondage of a lasting habit the disease of my soul might be nursed up, and kept up in its vigour, or even increased, into the kingdom of marriage. Nor was that wound of mine as yet cured which had been caused by the separation from my former mistress, but after inflammation and most acute anguish it mortified, and the pain became numbed, but more desperate.

Praise to You, glory to You, O Fountain of mercies! I became more wretched, and You drew nearer. Your right hand was always ready to pull me out of the mud and to wash me clean, but I did not know it. Nothing called me back from an even deeper pit of bodily pleasures except the fear of death and of Your coming judgment, which never left my heart despite all my changing opinions. When I debated with my friends, Alypius and Nebridius, about the nature of good and evil, I believed that Epicurus had won the argument, except that I believed something Epicurus did not: that after death the soul continues to live and there are places of reward or punishment. I asked, If we are immortal and live in continual bodily pleasure forever, without any fear of losing it, why would we not be happy, or why would we need to look for anything else? I did not realize that this very question was part of my great misery, that being so sunken and blinded, I could not see that light of honor and beauty that should be embraced for its own sake, which the eye of the flesh cannot see because it is visible only to the inner person. Miserable as I was, I did not consider what source it came from, that I enjoyed discussing even these disgusting things with my friends. And I could not make myself happy, even by my own standards of happiness at that time, without friends, no matter how much bodily pleasure I had. I truly loved these friends for their own sake, and I knew they loved me for my own sake in return. O twisted paths! Woe to the reckless soul that hoped to find something better by abandoning You! It turned and turned again, on back, sides, and belly, and everything was hard, and You alone are rest. And look, You are near, and You rescue us from our miserable wandering, and You set us on Your path, and You comfort us, and say, Run; I will carry you, yes, I will lead you, and there I will carry you as well.

26. Unto You be praise, unto You be glory, O Fountain of mercies! I became more wretched, and Thou nearer. Your right hand was ever ready to pluck me out of the mire, and to cleanse me, but I was ignorant of it. Nor did anything recall me from a yet deeper abyss of carnal pleasures, but the fear of death and of Your future judgment, which, amid all my fluctuations of opinion, never left my breast. And in disputing with my friends, Alypius and Nebridius, concerning the nature of good and evil, I held that Epicurus had, in my judgment, won the palm, had I not believed that after death there remained a life for the soul, and places of recompense, which Epicurus would not believe. And I demanded, Supposing us to be immortal, and to be living in the enjoyment of perpetual bodily pleasure, and that without any fear of losing it, why, then, should we not be happy, or why should we search for anything else? — not knowing that even this very thing was a part of my great misery, that, being thus sunk and blinded, I could not discern that light of honour and beauty to be embraced for its own sake, which cannot be seen by the eye of the flesh, it being visible only to the inner man. Nor did I, unhappy one, consider out of what vein it emanated, that even these things, loathsome as they were, I with pleasure discussed with my friends. Nor could I, even in accordance with my then notions of happiness, make myself happy without friends, amid no matter how great abundance of carnal pleasures. And these friends assuredly I loved for their own sakes, and I knew myself to be loved of them again for my own sake. O crooked ways! Woe to the audacious soul which hoped that, if it forsook You, it would find some better thing! It has turned and returned, on hack, sides, and belly, and all was hard, and Thou alone rest. And behold, You are near, and deliver us from our wretched wanderings, and establish us in Your way, and comfort us, and say, Run; I will carry you, yes, I will lead you, and there also will I carry you.