Confessions — Book V

Accept the sacrifice of my confessions through my tongue, which You have formed and given life, so that it may confess to Your name. Heal all my bones, and let them say, Lord, who is like You? For the person who confesses to You does not teach You what is happening within him, because a closed heart does not shut out Your eye, nor does human hardness of heart push away Your hand. Instead, You dissolve it when You choose, either in mercy or in judgment, and no one can hide himself from Your heart. But let my soul praise You, so that it may love You, and let it confess Your mercies to You, so that it may praise You. Your whole creation does not stop or fall silent in praising You—neither the human spirit, through words directed to You, nor animals or physical things, through the words of those who reflect on them. In this way our souls may rise from their weariness toward You, leaning on those things which You have made and moving on to You, who have made them wonderfully, and there is refreshment and true strength.

1. Accept the sacrifice of my confessions by the agency of my tongue, which You have formed and quickened, that it may confess to Your name; and heal Thou all my bones, and let them say, Lord, who is like You? For neither does he who confesses to You teach You what may be passing within him, because a closed heart does not exclude Your eye, nor does man's hardness of heart repulse Your hand, but You dissolve it when You will, either in pity or in vengeance, and there is no One who can hide himself from Your heart. But let my soul praise You, that it may love You; and let it confess Your own mercies to You, that it may praise You. Your whole creation ceases not, nor is it silent in Your praises — neither the spirit of man, by the voice directed unto You, nor animal nor corporeal things, by the voice of those meditating thereon; so that our souls may from their weariness arise towards You, leaning on those things which You have made, and passing on to You, who hast made them wonderfully and there is there refreshment and true strength.

Let the restless and unjust depart and flee from You. You still see them and can distinguish them even in the shadows. Look! Everything around them is beautiful, yet they themselves are corrupt. How have they harmed You? How have they brought disgrace to Your government, which is just and perfect from heaven down to the lowest parts of the earth? Where did they flee when they ran from Your presence? Is there anywhere You cannot find them? They fled so they would not see You seeing them, and in their blindness they stumbled against You. You abandon nothing You have made, so the unjust stumble against You and are justly hurt. They withdraw from Your gentleness, stumble against Your righteousness, and fall upon their own harshness. They do not know that You are everywhere, that no place can contain You, and that You alone remain close even to those who distance themselves from You. Let them turn back and seek You, because You have not abandoned Your creature as they have abandoned their Creator. Let them turn back and seek You, and there You are in their hearts—in the hearts of those who confess to You, throw themselves upon You, and weep on Your chest after their stubborn ways. You gently wipe away their tears, and they weep even more and find joy in weeping, because You, Lord—not a human being of flesh and blood, but You, Lord, who made them—remake and comfort them. Where was I when I was searching for You? You were right in front of me, but I had gone away even from myself. I could not find myself, much less You.

2. Let the restless and the unjust depart and flee from You. You both see them and distinguish the shadows. And lo! All things with them are fair, yet they themselves are foul. And how have they injured You? Or in what have they disgraced Your government, which is just and perfect from heaven even to the lowest parts of the earth. For whither fled they when they fled from Your presence? Or where do You not find them? But they fled that they might not see You seeing them, and blinded might stumble against You; Genesis 16:13-14 since You forsake nothing that You have made — that the unjust might stumble against You, and justly be hurt, withdrawing themselves from Your gentleness, and stumbling against Your uprightness, and falling upon their own roughness. Forsooth, they know not that You are everywhere whom no place encompasses, and that You alone are near even to those that remove far from You. Let them, then, be converted and seek You; because not as they have forsaken their Creator have You forsaken Your creature. Let them be converted and seek You; and behold, You are there in their hearts, in the hearts of those who confess to You, and cast themselves upon You, and weep on Your bosom after their obdurate ways, even Thou gently wiping away their tears. And they weep the more, and rejoice in weeping, since Thou, O Lord, not man, flesh and blood, but Thou, Lord, who made, remakest and comfortest them. And where was I when I was seeking You? And You were before me, but I had gone away even from myself; nor did I find myself, much less You!

Let me lay open before my God that twenty-ninth year of my life. At this time there had come to Carthage a certain bishop of the Manichæans named Faustus, a great trap of the devil, and many were caught by him through the appeal of his smooth way of speaking. Though I praised his eloquence, I could still separate it from the truth of the things I was eager to learn. I did not value the attractive display of his rhetoric as much as the actual knowledge that this highly praised Faustus set before me to consume. His reputation had reached me beforehand as someone highly skilled in all respectable learning and especially skilled in the liberal arts. Because I had read and memorized many teachings of the philosophers, I used to compare some of their doctrines with those long myths of the Manichæans. The philosophers' teachings, which could only go so far as to understand this lower world while they could by no means discover its Lord, seemed to me more likely to be true. For You are great, O Lord, and You pay attention to the humble, but You know the proud from far away. You do not draw near except to the broken heart, and You are not found by the proud—not even if they could count by clever skill the stars and the sand, measure the heavenly regions, and chart the paths of the planets.

3. Let me lay bare before my God that twenty-ninth year of my age. There had at this time come to Carthage a certain bishop of the Manichæans, by name Faustus, a great snare of the devil, and in any were entangled by him through the allurement of his smooth speech; the which, although I did commend, yet could I separate from the truth of those things which I was eager to learn. Nor did I esteem the small dish of oratory so much as the science, which this their so praised Faustus placed before me to feed upon. Fame, indeed, had before spoken of him to me, as most skilled in all becoming learning, and pre-eminently skilled in the liberal sciences. And as I had read and retained in memory many injunctions of the philosophers, I used to compare some teachings of theirs with those long fables of the Manichæans and the former things which they declared, who could only prevail so far as to estimate this lower world, while its lord they could by no means find out, Wisdom 13:9 seemed to me the more probable. For You are great, O Lord, and hast respect unto the lowly, but the proud You know afar off. Nor do You draw near but to the contrite heart, nor are You found by the proud, — not even could they number by cunning skill the stars and the sand, and measure the starry regions, and trace the courses of the planets.

Using the understanding and ability that You have given them, they investigate these things. They have discovered much and have accurately predicted many years in advance the eclipses of the sun and moon—on what day, at what hour, and to what degree they would occur. Their calculations have not failed them, and events happened just as they predicted. They recorded the principles they discovered, which are still read today. From these, others predict in what year, what month, what day, what hour, and to what extent the moon or sun will be eclipsed, and it happens just as foretold. People who don't understand these things are filled with wonder and amazement, while those who do understand them take pride and exalt themselves. Through impious pride, they depart from You and abandon Your light. They can predict a solar eclipse long in advance, but they cannot see their own present darkness. They do not seek in a religious spirit to understand where they got the ability to investigate these things. When they discover that You made them, they do not give themselves to You so that You may preserve what You have made. Nor do they sacrifice to You what they have made themselves to be. They do not put to death their own pride, like the birds of the air, nor their own curiosities, through which (like the fish of the sea) they wander the unknown paths of the deep, nor their own extravagance, like the beasts of the field, so that You, Lord, a consuming fire, might burn up their dead concerns and renew them for immortality.

4. For with their understanding and the capacity which You have bestowed upon them they search out these things; and much have they found out, and foretold many years before — the eclipses of those luminaries, the sun and moon, on what day, at what hour, and from how many particular points they were likely to come. Nor did their calculation fail them; and it came to pass even as they foretold. And they wrote down the rules found out, which are read at this day; and from these others foretell in what year and in what month of the year, and on what day of the month, and at what hour of the day, and at what quarter of its light, either moon or sun is to be eclipsed, and thus it shall be even as it is foretold. And men who are ignorant of these things marvel and are amazed, and they that know them exult and are exalted; and by an impious pride, departing from You, and forsaking Your light, they foretell a failure of the sun's light which is likely to occur so long before, but see not their own, which is now present. For they seek not religiously whence they have the ability where-with they seek out these things. And finding that You have made them, they give not themselves up to You, that You may preserve what You have made, nor sacrifice themselves to You, even such as they have made themselves to be; nor do they slay their own pride, as fowls of the air, nor their own curiosities, by which (like the fishes of the sea) they wander over the unknown paths of the abyss, nor their own extravagance, as the beasts of the field, that Thou, Lord, a consuming fire, Deuteronomy 4:24 may burn up their lifeless cares and renew them immortally.

But they did not know the way—Your Word, by whom You made these things that they count, and the people who do the counting, and the sense by which they perceive what they count, and the understanding from which they count. They did not know that of Your wisdom there is no number. But the Only-begotten has been made unto us wisdom, and righteousness, and sanctification, and has been numbered among us, and paid tribute to Caesar. They did not know this way by which they might descend from themselves to Him, nor that through Him they might ascend to Him. They did not know this way, and they think themselves lifted up with the stars and shining, but look—they fell to the earth, and their foolish heart was darkened. They say many true things about the creation, but they do not seek with devotion the Truth who is the Maker of creation, and therefore they do not find Him. Or if they do find Him, knowing that He is God, they do not glorify Him as God, neither are they thankful, but become empty in their reasoning, and claim that they themselves are wise, attributing to themselves what is Yours. And by this, with deeply twisted blindness, they want to blame You for what is their own, inventing lies against You who are the Truth, and exchanging the glory of the incorruptible God for an image made like corruptible man, and like birds, and four-footed animals, and creeping things—exchanging Your truth for a lie, and worshiping and serving the creature rather than the Creator.

5. But the way — Your Word, John 1:3 by whom Thou made these things which they number, and themselves who number, and the sense by which they perceive what they number, and the judgment out of which they number — they knew not, and that of Your wisdom there is no number. But the Only-begotten has been made unto us wisdom, and righteousness, and sanctification, 1 Corinthians 1:30 and has been numbered among us, and paid tribute to Cæsar. Matthew 17:27 This way, by which they might descend to Him from themselves, they knew not; nor that through Him they might ascend unto Him. This way they knew not, and they think themselves exalted with the stars Isaiah 14:13 and shining, and lo! They fell upon the earth, Revelation 12:4 and their foolish heart was darkened. Romans 1:21 They say many true things concerning the creature; but Truth, the Artificer of the creature, they seek not with devotion, and hence they find Him not. Or if they find Him, knowing that He is God, they glorify Him not as God, neither are they thankful, Romans 1:21 but become vain in their imaginations, and say that they themselves are wise, Romans 1:22 attributing to themselves what is Yours; and by this, with most perverse blindness, they desire to impute to You what is their own, forging lies against You who art the Truth, and changing the glory of the incorruptible God into an image made like corruptible man, and to birds, and four-footed beasts, and creeping things, Romans 1:23 — changing Your truth into a lie, and worshipping and serving the creature more than the Creator. Romans 1:25

I retained many truths about the created world from these men, and the explanations became clear to me through mathematical calculations, the sequence of the seasons, and the visible evidence of the stars. I compared these with the writings of Mani, who in his madness wrote very extensively on these subjects, but I found no proper explanation of the solstices, the equinoxes, the eclipses of the heavenly bodies, or anything of the sort that I had learned in books of secular philosophy. Yet in his writings I was commanded to believe, even though what he said did not match the principles confirmed by calculation and my own observation, but was completely different.

6. Many truths, however, concerning the creature did I retain from these men, and the cause appeared to me from calculations, the succession of seasons, and the visible manifestations of the stars; and I compared them with the sayings of Manichæus, who in his frenzy has written most extensively on these subjects, but discovered not any account either of the solstices, or the equinoxes, the eclipses of the luminaries, or anything of the kind I had learned in the books of secular philosophy. But therein I was ordered to believe, and yet it corresponded not with those rules acknowledged by calculation and my own sight, but was far different.

Lord God of truth, does knowing those things make someone pleasing to You? A person who knows all those things but does not know You is unhappy. But a person who knows You is happy, even if he does not know those things. Someone who knows both You and those things is not happier because of them, but is happy because of You alone—if, knowing You, he glorifies You as God, gives thanks, and does not become vain in his thoughts. In the same way, a person who knows how to possess a tree and gives You thanks for its use is happier than someone who measures its height in cubits and counts all its branches but does not own it, know its Creator, or love Him—even though the latter knows more about the tree. Similarly, a just man to whom the entire world of wealth belongs, and who, though having nothing, possesses all things by clinging to You (to whom all things are subject)—even if he does not know the circles of the Great Bear—is surely better than someone who can measure the heavens, number the stars, and weigh the elements, yet forgets You, who have arranged all things in number, weight, and measure. It would be foolish to doubt this.

7. Does, then, O Lord God of truth, whosoever knows those things therefore please You? For unhappy is the man who knows all those things, but knows You not; but happy is he who knows You, though these he may not know. But he who knows both You and them is not the happier on account of them, but is happy on account of You only, if knowing You he glorify You as God, and gives thanks, and becomes not vain in his thoughts. Romans 1:21 But as he is happier who knows how to possess a tree, and for the use thereof renders thanks to You, although he may not know how many cubits high it is, or how wide it spreads, than he that measures it and counts all its branches, and neither owns it nor knows or loves its Creator; so a just man, whose is the entire world of wealth, and who, as having nothing, yet possesses all things 2 Corinthians 6:10 by cleaving unto You, to whom all things are subservient, though he know not even the circles of the Great Bear, yet it is foolish to doubt but that he may verily be better than he who can measure the heavens, and number the stars, and weigh the elements, but is forgetful of You, who hast set in order all things in number, weight, and measure. Wisdom 11:20

But who told Manichaeus to write about these subjects as well, when skill in them was not necessary for godliness? For You have told humanity to behold piety and wisdom, which a person might lack even while having complete knowledge of these other matters. But since he did not know these things, yet still most shamelessly dared to teach them, it is clear that he was not acquainted with piety. For even when we do know these worldly subjects, it is foolish to make a show of them, but confessing You is piety. Therefore this wandering man spoke much about these matters with the intent that, when exposed by those who had truly learned them, the understanding he really had in those more difficult subjects might be revealed. For he did not want to be regarded as insignificant, but went about trying to persuade people that the Holy Spirit, the Comforter and Enricher of Your faithful ones, personally dwelt in him with full authority. When it was discovered, therefore, that his teaching about the heavens and stars and the movements of the sun and moon was false, even though these things do not belong to the doctrine of religion, his sacrilegious arrogance became sufficiently obvious, since he not only affirmed things he did not know, but also twisted them, and with such extreme vanity and pride sought to claim them for himself as if he were a divine being.

8. But yet who was it that ordered Manichæus to write on these things likewise, skill in which was not necessary to piety? For You have told man to behold piety and wisdom, of which he might be in ignorance although having a complete knowledge of these other things; but since, knowing not these things, he yet most impudently dared to teach them, it is clear that he had no acquaintance with piety. For even when we have a knowledge of these worldly matters, it is folly to make a profession of them; but confession to You is piety. It was therefore with this view that this straying one spoke much of these matters, that, standing convicted by those who had in truth learned them, the understanding that he really had in those more difficult things might be made plain. For he wished not to be lightly esteemed, but went about trying to persuade men that the Holy Ghost, the Comforter and Enricher of Your faithful ones, was with full authority personally resident in him. When, therefore, it was discovered that his teaching concerning the heavens and stars, and the motions of sun and moon, was false, though these things do not relate to the doctrine of religion, yet his sacrilegious arrogance would become sufficiently evident, seeing that not only did he affirm things of which he knew nothing, but also perverted them, and with such egregious vanity of pride as to seek to attribute them to himself as to a divine being.

When I hear a Christian brother who is ignorant about these matters or mistaken about them, I can patiently tolerate that person holding those opinions. I cannot see how any lack of knowledge about the location or nature of this material creation can harm him, as long as he does not believe anything unworthy of You, O Lord, the Creator of all. But if he thinks such knowledge belongs to the essence of religious doctrine, and stubbornly insists with great certainty on things he does not know, that is where the harm lies. Yet even this kind of weakness at the beginning of faith is carried by our Mother Charity, until the new person may grow up into a mature person and not be tossed around by every wind of doctrine. But in someone who presumed to be at the same time the teacher, author, head, and leader of all those he could persuade to believe this—so that everyone who followed him believed they were following not merely a human being, but Your Holy Spirit—who would not judge that such enormous insanity, once convicted of teaching falsehood, ought to be detested and completely rejected? But I had not yet clearly determined whether the variations in the length of days and nights, day and night itself, the eclipses of the sun and moon, and whatever similar things I had read about in other books could be explained in a way consistent with his teachings. Even if I had been able to do so, there would still have been doubt in my mind whether it was true or not, though I might have based my faith on his authority because of his supposed holiness.

9. For when I hear a Christian brother ignorant of these things, or in error concerning them, I can bear with patience to see that man hold to his opinions; nor can I apprehend that any want of knowledge as to the situation or nature of this material creation can be injurious to him, so long as he does not entertain belief in anything unworthy of You, O Lord, the Creator of all. But if he conceives it to pertain to the form of the doctrine of piety, and presumes to affirm with great obstinacy that whereof he is ignorant, therein lies the injury. And yet even a weakness such as this in the dawn of faith is borne by our Mother Charity, till the new man may grow up unto a perfect man, and not be carried about with every wind of doctrine. Ephesians 4:13-14 But in him who thus presumed to be at once the teacher, author, head, and leader of all whom he could induce to believe this, so that all who followed him believed that they were following not a simple man only, but Your Holy Spirit, who would not judge that such great insanity, when once it stood convicted of false teaching, should be abhorred and utterly cast off? But I had not yet clearly ascertained whether the changes of longer and shorter days and nights, and day and night itself, with the eclipses of the greater lights, and whatever of the like kind I had read in other books, could be expounded consistently with his words. Should I have found myself able to do so, there would still have remained a doubt in my mind whether it were so or no, although I might, on the strength of his reputed godliness, rest my faith on his authority.

For nearly all of those nine years when I followed them with a wavering mind, I had been eagerly awaiting the arrival of this same Faustus. Whenever other members of the sect I had encountered couldn't answer my questions, they would tell me to wait for his coming. They promised that when I could talk with him, these problems and even greater ones, if I had them, would be easily and fully resolved. When he finally arrived, I found him to be a man who spoke pleasantly and discussed the very same things the others did, though more fluently and in better language. But what good was it to me that my cup-bearer was elegant, when he didn't offer me the more precious drink I thirsted for? My ears were already filled with similar things, and these ideas didn't seem more convincing to me just because they were better expressed, nor true because they were delivered with fine oratory, nor did a wise spirit necessarily follow from a handsome face and eloquent language. Those who praised him to me were not qualified judges; therefore, because he possessed smooth speech, he seemed to them prudent and wise. However, I was aware that another sort of person distrusts even truth itself when it is presented in polished and flowing language. But You, O my God, had already taught me through wonderful and mysterious ways, and I believe You taught me because it is truth; and there is no other teacher of truth—wherever or however it may shine upon us—but You. From You, therefore, I had now learned that just because something is eloquently expressed, it shouldn't necessarily seem true; nor should it be false just because it's spoken with stammering lips; nor, on the other hand, automatically true because it's delivered skillfully, nor false just because the language is fine. Rather, wisdom and folly are like wholesome and unwholesome food, and refined or simple words are like city-made or country-made dishes—and both kinds of food can be served in either kind of dish.

10. And for nearly the whole of those nine years during which, with unstable mind, I had been their follower, I had been looking forward with but too great eagerness for the arrival of this same Faustus. For the other members of the sect whom I had chanced to light upon, when unable to answer the questions I raised, always bade me look forward to his coming, when, by discoursing with him, these, and greater difficulties if I had them, would be most easily and amply cleared away. When at last he did come, I found him to be a man of pleasant speech, who spoke of the very same things as they themselves did, although more fluently, and in better language. But of what profit to me was the elegance of my cup-bearer, since he offered me not the more precious draught for which I thirsted? My ears were already satiated with similar things; neither did they appear to me more conclusive, because better expressed; nor true, because oratorical; nor the spirit necessarily wise, because the face was comely and the language eloquent. But they who extolled him to me were not competent judges; and therefore, as he was possessed of suavity of speech, he appeared to them to be prudent and wise. Another sort of persons, however, was, I was aware, suspicious even of truth itself, if enunciated in smooth and flowing language. But me, O my God, You had already instructed by wonderful and mysterious ways, and therefore I believe that You instructed me because it is truth; nor of truth is there any other teacher — where or whencesoever it may shine upon us — but You. From You, therefore, I had now learned, that because a thing is eloquently expressed, it should not of necessity seem to be true; nor, because uttered with stammering lips, should it be false nor, again, perforce true, because unskilfully delivered; nor consequently untrue, because the language is fine; but that wisdom and folly are as food both wholesome and unwholesome, and courtly or simple words as town-made or rustic vessels — and both kinds of food may be served in either kind of dish.

The eagerness with which I had waited so long for this man was truly delighted by his manner and passion when debating, and by the smooth and well-chosen words he used to express his ideas. I was therefore filled with joy and joined with others—even surpassing them—in praising and exalting him. However, it was a source of frustration to me that I was not allowed in those gatherings of his listeners to bring up and discuss any of the questions that troubled me through direct conversation with him. When I was able to speak, and began, together with my friends, to get his attention at times when it seemed appropriate for him to have a discussion with me, and had raised the questions that puzzled me, I discovered that he actually knew nothing about the liberal sciences except grammar, and even that only in an average way. He had, however, read some of Cicero's speeches, a very few books by Seneca and some of the poets, and a few volumes from his own sect that were written coherently in Latin. Through daily practice in speaking, he acquired a kind of eloquence that proved all the more delightful and attractive because it was guided by quick wit and a sort of natural charm. Is it not just as I remember, O Lord my God, You judge of my conscience? My heart and my memory lie open before You, who at that time guided me through the hidden mystery of Your providence, and placed before my eyes those shameful errors of mine, so that I might see them and hate them.

11. That eagerness, therefore, with which I had so long waited for this man was in truth delighted with his action and feeling when disputing, and the fluent and apt words with which he clothed his ideas. I was therefore filled with joy, and joined with others (and even exceeded them) in exalting and praising him. It was, however, a source of annoyance to me that I was not allowed at those meetings of his auditors to introduce and impart any of those questions that troubled me in familiar exchange of arguments with him. When I might speak, and began, in conjunction with my friends, to engage his attention at such times as it was not unseeming for him to enter into a discussion with me, and had mooted such questions as perplexed me, I discovered him first to know nothing of the liberal sciences save grammar, and that only in an ordinary way. Having, however, read some of Tully's Orations, a very few books of Seneca and some of the poets, and such few volumes of his own sect as were written coherently in Latin, and being day by day practised in speaking, he so acquired a sort of eloquence, which proved the more delightful and enticing in that it was under the control of ready tact, and a sort of native grace. Is it not even as I recall, O Lord my God, Thou judge of my conscience? My heart and my memory are laid before You, who at that time directed me by the inscrutable mystery of Your Providence, and set before my face those vile errors of mine, in order that I might see and loathe them.

When it became clear to me that he was ignorant of those subjects in which I had believed him to excel, I began to lose hope that he could clear up and explain all the difficulties that troubled me. Even though he was ignorant of these things, he might still have held the truth of true religion if he had not been a Manichæan. Their books are filled with lengthy myths about the heaven and stars, the sun and moon, and I had stopped thinking he could settle in a satisfactory way what I eagerly wanted to know—whether, when comparing these things with the calculations I had read elsewhere, the explanations in the works of Manichæus were better, or at least equally reliable. But when I suggested that these subjects should be carefully discussed and reasoned through, he very modestly did not dare to take on the challenge. He knew that he had no knowledge of these things, and he was not ashamed to admit it. He was not like those talkative people, many of whom had troubled me, who promised to teach me these things but said nothing worthwhile. Instead, this man had a heart that, though not right toward You, was not entirely false toward himself. He was not completely unaware of his own ignorance, and he would not be trapped without careful thought in a debate from which he could neither retreat nor escape honorably. For this reason I was even more pleased with him, because the humility of an honest mind is more beautiful than acquiring the knowledge I desired—and I found him to be this way in all the more complex and subtle questions.

12. For when it became plain to me that he was ignorant of those arts in which I had believed him to excel, I began to despair of his clearing up and explaining all the perplexities which harassed me: though ignorant of these, however, he might still have held the truth of piety, had he not been a Manichæan. For their books are full of lengthy fables concerning the heaven and stars, the sun and moon, and I had ceased to think him able to decide in a satisfactory manner what I ardently desired — whether, on comparing these things with the calculations I had read elsewhere, the explanations contained in the works of Manichæus were preferable, or at any rate equally sound? But when I proposed that these subjects should be deliberated upon and reasoned out, he very modestly did not dare to endure the burden. For he was aware that he had no knowledge of these things, and was not ashamed to confess it. For he was not one of those loquacious persons, many of whom I had been troubled with, who covenanted to teach me these things, and said nothing; but this man possessed a heart, which, though not right towards You, yet was not altogether false towards himself. For he was not altogether ignorant of his own ignorance, nor would he without due consideration be inveigled in a controversy, from which he could neither draw back nor extricate himself fairly. And for that I was even more pleased with him, for more beautiful is the modesty of an ingenuous mind than the acquisition of the knowledge I desired — and such I found him to be in all the more abstruse and subtle questions.

My enthusiasm for the writings of Mani was now held back, and I despaired even more of their other teachers—since this famous man among them had proven inadequate when it came to the various matters that troubled me. I began to spend time with him studying literature that he also loved, and which I, as a Professor of Rhetoric, was then teaching to the young students of Carthage. I would read with him either what he wanted to hear or what I thought suited his interests. But all my efforts to advance in that sect through association with him came completely to an end—not that I separated myself entirely from them, but as someone who could find nothing better, I decided for the time being to content myself with what I had somehow stumbled upon, unless by chance something more desirable should appear. Thus this Faustus, who had trapped so many to their death—neither intending nor knowing it—now began to loosen the snare in which I had been caught. For Your hands, O my God, in the hidden design of Your Providence, did not abandon my soul. From the blood of my mother's heart, through the tears she poured out day and night, a sacrifice was offered to You for me, and in marvelous ways You dealt with me. It was You, O my God, who did this, for the steps of a man are ordered by the Lord, and He shall direct his way. How else can we obtain salvation except from Your hand, remaking what it has made?

13. My eagerness after the writings of Manichæus having thus received a check, and despairing even more of their other teachers — seeing that in sundry things which puzzled me, he, so famous among them, had thus turned out — I began to occupy myself with him in the study of that literature which he also much affected, and which I, as Professor of Rhetoric, was then engaged in teaching the young Carthaginian students, and in reading with him either what he expressed a wish to hear, or I deemed suited to his bent of mind. But all my endeavours by which I had concluded to improve in that sect, by acquaintance with that man, came completely to an end: not that I separated myself altogether from them, but, as one who could find nothing better, I determined in the meantime upon contenting myself with what I had in any way lighted upon, unless, by chance, something more desirable should present itself. Thus that Faustus, who had entrapped so many to their death — neither willing nor witting it — now began to loosen the snare in which I had been taken. For Your hands, O my God, in the hidden design of Your Providence, did not desert my soul; and out of the blood of my mother's heart, through the tears that she poured out by day and by night, was a sacrifice offered unto You for me; and by marvellous ways did Thou deal with me. Joel 2:26 It was Thou, O my God, who did it, for the steps of a man are ordered by the Lord, and He shall dispose his way. Or how can we procure salvation but from Your hand, remaking what it has made?

You dealt with me, therefore, so that I would be persuaded to go to Rome and teach there what I was then teaching at Carthage. I will not fail to confess to You how I was persuaded to do this, for in this also the deepest workings of Your wisdom and Your ever-present mercy toward us must be reflected on and declared. It was not that I wanted to go to Rome because greater advantages and honors were guaranteed to me by the friends who persuaded me to do this—though even at this time I was influenced by these considerations—but my principal and almost sole reason was that I had been told that students there studied more quietly and were kept in line by stricter discipline, so that they did not capriciously and rudely break into the classroom of a teacher who was not their own, which they were forbidden to enter without his consent. At Carthage, on the contrary, there was among the students a shameful and uncontrolled lawlessness. They burst in rudely and, with almost violent gestures, disrupt whatever system anyone may have established for the good of his students. They commit many outrages with shocking indifference, which would be punishable by law if they were not sustained by custom—that custom showing them to be even more worthless, in that they now do, as if legally, what by Your unchangeable law will never be lawful. And they think they do it with impunity, whereas the very blindness with which they do it is their punishment, and they suffer far greater things than what they inflict. The behavior, then, which as a student I would not adopt, I was forced as a teacher to endure from others, and so I was very glad to go where everyone who knew anything about it assured me that such things did not happen. But You, my refuge and my portion in the land of the living, while at Carthage prodded me so that I might be withdrawn from it and exchange my worldly dwelling for the preservation of my soul, while at Rome You offered me enticements to attract me there, using people enchanted with this dying life—the one group doing insane actions and the other making promises of empty things—and in order to correct my steps, You secretly employed both their perversity and mine. For both those who disturbed my peace were blinded by shameful madness, and those who lured me elsewhere had the taste of earthly things. And I, who hated real misery here, sought imaginary happiness there.

14. You dealt with me, therefore, that I should be persuaded to go to Rome, and teach there rather what I was then teaching at Carthage. And how I was persuaded to do this, I will not fail to confess unto You; for in this also the profoundest workings of Your wisdom, and Your ever present mercy to usward, must be pondered and avowed. It was not my desire to go to Rome because greater advantages and dignities were guaranteed me by the friends who persuaded me into this — although even at this period I was influenced by these considerations — but my principal and almost sole motive was, that I had been informed that the youths studied more quietly there, and were kept under by the control of more rigid discipline, so that they did not capriciously and impudently rush into the school of a master not their own, into whose presence they were forbidden to enter unless with his consent. At Carthage, on the contrary, there was among the scholars a shameful and intemperate license. They burst in rudely, and, with almost furious gesticulations, interrupt the system which any one may have instituted for the good of his pupils. Many outrages they perpetrate with astounding phlegm, which would be punishable by law were they not sustained by custom; that custom showing them to be the more worthless, in that they now do, as according to law, what by Your unchangeable law will never be lawful. And they fancy they do it with impunity, whereas the very blindness whereby they do it is their punishment, and they suffer far greater things than they do. The manners, then, which as a student I would not adopt, I was compelled as a teacher to submit to from others; and so I was too glad to go where all who knew anything about it assured me that similar things were not done. But You, my refuge and my portion in the land of the living, while at Carthage goaded me, so that I might thereby be withdrawn from it, and exchange my worldly habitation for the preservation of my soul; while at Rome You offered me enticements by which to attract me there, by men enchanted with this dying life — the one doing insane actions, and the other making assurances of vain things; and, in order to correct my footsteps, secretly employed their and my perversity. For both they who disturbed my tranquillity were blinded by a shameful madness, and they who allured me elsewhere smacked of the earth. And I, who hated real misery here, sought fictitious happiness there.

But the reason I was leaving there and going to Rome—You knew, O God, yet You revealed it neither to me nor to my mother, who deeply grieved over my journey and accompanied me as far as the sea. I deceived her when she desperately tried either to keep me back or to come with me, and I pretended that I had a friend I couldn't leave until he had a favorable wind to sail. I lied to my mother—and such a mother!—and escaped. Yet even this You have mercifully pardoned me, saving me, filled as I was with abominable defilements, from the waters of the sea, for the water of Your grace, by which, when I was cleansed, the fountain of my mother's eyes would be dried—those eyes from which she daily watered the ground beneath her face for my sake. Yet she refused to go back without me, and only with difficulty did I persuade her to stay that night in a place very near our ship, where there was a chapel in memory of the blessed Cyprian. That night I secretly departed, but she was constant in prayers and weeping. And what was she asking of You, O Lord, with such an abundance of tears, except that You would not allow me to sail? But You, mysteriously planning and hearing the real purpose of her desire, did not grant what she then asked, in order to make me what she was always asking for. The wind blew and filled our sails and took the shore from our sight; and she, wild with grief, was there the next morning, filling Your ears with complaints and groans, which You disregarded, while through my own desires You were hurrying me toward the end of all desire, and the carnal part of her love for me was beaten out by the just whip of sorrow. But like all mothers—though even more than others—she loved having me with her, and did not know what joy You were preparing for her through my absence. Not knowing this, she wept and mourned, and in her agony could be seen the inheritance of Eve—seeking in sorrow what in sorrow she had brought forth. And yet, after accusing my treachery and cruelty, she again continued her prayers for me to You, returned to her usual place, and I went on to Rome.

15. But the cause of my going thence and going there, You, O God, knew, yet revealed it not, either to me or to my mother, who grievously lamented my journey, and went with me as far as the sea. But I deceived her, when she violently restrained me either that she might retain me or accompany me, and I pretended that I had a friend whom I could not quit until he had a favourable wind to set sail. And I lied to my mother — and such a mother!– and got away. For this also You have in mercy pardoned me, saving me, thus replete with abominable pollutions, from the waters of the sea, for the water of Your grace, whereby, when I was purified, the fountains of my mother's eyes should be dried, from which for me she day by day watered the ground under her face. And yet, refusing to go back without me, it was with difficulty I persuaded her to remain that night in a place quite close to our ship, where there was an oratory in memory of the blessed Cyprian. That night I secretly left, but she was not backward in prayers and weeping. And what was it, O Lord, that she, with such an abundance of tears, was asking of You, but that You would not permit me to sail? But You, mysteriously counselling and hearing the real purpose of her desire, granted not what she then asked, in order to make me what she was ever asking. The wind blew and filled our sails, and withdrew the shore from our sight; and she, wild with grief, was there on the morrow, and filled Your ears with complaints and groans, which You disregarded; while, by the means of my longings, You were hastening me on to the cessation of all longing, and the gross part of her love to me was whipped out by the just lash of sorrow. But, like all mothers — though even more than others — she loved to have me with her, and knew not what joy You were preparing for her by my absence. Being ignorant of this, she did weep and mourn, and in her agony was seen the inheritance of Eve, — seeking in sorrow what in sorrow she had brought forth. And yet, after accusing my perfidy and cruelty, she again continued her intercessions for me with You, returned to her accustomed place, and I to Rome.

And so, there I was, struck down by the scourge of bodily sickness, descending into hell weighed down with all the sins I had committed—sins against You, against myself, and against others, many and serious, in addition to that bond of original sin by which we all die in Adam. For You had forgiven me none of these things in Christ, nor had He abolished through His cross the hostility I had brought upon myself with You through my sins. For how could He do so by the crucifixion of a phantom, which is what I believed Him to be? So then, my soul's death was as real as His bodily death seemed to me to be unreal; and His bodily death was as real as the life of my soul, which did not believe this, was false. As the fever grew worse, I was now passing away and dying. For if I had died at that moment, where would I have gone except into the fiery punishments deserved for my evil deeds, according to the truth of Your decree? My mother knew nothing of this, yet while absent, she prayed for me. But You, present everywhere, listened to her where she was and had mercy on me where I was, so that I regained my bodily health, though my sacrilegious heart was still deranged. For even all that danger did not make me want to be baptized, and I was in better condition when, as a boy, I begged for it from my mother's devotion, as I have already described and confessed. But I had grown up to my own shame, and I madly scorned all the remedies of Your healing, You who would not allow me, being such a person, to die a double death. If my mother's heart had been struck with this wound, it could never have been healed. For I cannot adequately express the love she had for me, nor how she now labored for me in the spirit with a far sharper anguish than when she bore me in the flesh.

16. And behold, there was I received by the scourge of bodily sickness, and I was descending into hell burdened with all the sins that I had committed, both against You, myself, and others, many and grievous, over and above that bond of original sin whereby we all die in Adam. 1 Corinthians 15:22 For none of these things had Thou forgiven me in Christ, neither had He abolished by His cross the enmity which, by my sins, I had incurred with You. For how could He, by the crucifixion of a phantasm, which I supposed Him to be? As true, then, was the death of my soul, as that of His flesh appeared to me to be untrue; and as true the death of His flesh as the life of my soul, which believed it not, was false. The fever increasing, I was now passing away and perishing. For had I then gone hence, whither should I have gone but into the fiery torments meet for my misdeeds, in the truth of Your ordinance? She was ignorant of this, yet, while absent, prayed for me. But You, everywhere present, hearkened to her where she was, and had pity upon me where I was, that I should regain my bodily health, although still frenzied in my sacrilegious heart. For all that peril did not make me wish to be baptized, and I was better when, as a lad, I entreated it of my mother's piety, as I have already related and confessed. But I had grown up to my own dishonour, and all the purposes of Your medicine I madly derided, who would not suffer me, though such a one, to die a double death. Had my mother's heart been smitten with this wound, it never could have been cured. For I cannot sufficiently express the love she had for me, nor how she now travailed for me in the spirit with a far keener anguish than when she bore me in the flesh.

I cannot understand, then, how she could have been healed if my death had pierced the depths of her love. Where would her earnest, frequent, and constant prayers to You alone have been then? But could You, most merciful God, despise the contrite and humble heart of that pure and wise widow, who was so faithful in giving to the poor, so kind and attentive to Your saints, not letting one day pass without making an offering at Your altar? Twice a day, morning and evening, she came to Your church without fail—not for empty gossip or old wives' tales, but to listen to You in Your sermons and for You to listen to her in her prayers. Could You—You who gave her such grace—despise and ignore without helping the tears of such a woman, who begged You not for gold or silver, nor for any changing or temporary good, but for the salvation of her son's soul? Certainly not, Lord. You were surely near, hearing and acting in the way You had already determined it should happen. It would be completely unlike You to deceive her in those visions and answers she received from You—some of which I have mentioned and others I have not—which she treasured in her faithful heart and constantly brought before You in prayer as if they were Your signed promise. For You, because Your mercy endures forever, condescend to those whose debts You have forgiven to become a debtor Yourself by Your promises.

17. I cannot conceive, therefore, how she could have been healed if such a death of mine had transfixed the bowels of her love. Where then would have been her so earnest, frequent, and unintermitted prayers to You alone? But could Thou, most merciful God, despise the contrite and humble heart of that pure and prudent widow, so constant in almsdeeds, so gracious and attentive to Your saints, not permitting one day to pass without oblation at Your altar, twice a day, at morning and even-tide, coming to Your church without intermission — not for vain gossiping, nor old wives' fables, 1 Timothy 5:10 but in order that she might listen to You in Your sermons, and Thou to her in her prayers? Could You– You by whose gift she was such — despise and disregard without succouring the tears of such a one, wherewith she entreated You not for gold or silver, nor for any changing or fleeting good, but for the salvation of the soul of her son? By no means, Lord. Assuredly You were near, and were hearing and doing in that method in which You had predetermined that it should be done. Far be it from You that Thou should delude her in those visions and the answers she had from You — some of which I have spoken of, and others not, — which she kept Luke 2:19 in her faithful breast, and, always petitioning, pressed upon You as Your autograph. For Thou, because Your mercy endures for ever, condescendest to those whose debts You have pardoned, to become likewise a debtor by Your promises.

God restored me from that illness and healed the son of Your handmaid in body so that he might live for You and receive a higher and more lasting health. Even then in Rome, I joined those deceiving and deceived saints—not only their hearers, among whom was the man in whose house I had fallen sick and recovered, but also those they call "The Elect." I still believed that it was not we who sin, but that some other nature I could not identify sinned in us. It pleased my pride to be free from blame, and when I committed any fault, I refused to admit I had done anything wrong—so that You might heal my soul because it had sinned against You. Instead, I loved to excuse myself and accuse something else, some unknown thing that was with me but was not I. Yet truly it was entirely I, and my wickedness had divided me against myself. That sin was all the more incurable because I did not consider myself a sinner. What detestable wickedness it was, O almighty God, that I preferred You to be defeated in me for my destruction rather than myself to be defeated by You for my salvation. You had not yet set a watch before my mouth and guarded the door of my lips so that my heart would not turn to wicked words, making excuses for sins with those who work evil—and therefore I was still joined with their Elect.

18. You restored me then from that illness, and made sound the son of Your hand-maid meanwhile in body, that he might live for You, to endow him with a higher and more enduring health. And even then at Rome I joined those deluding and deluded saints; not their hearers only — of the number of whom was he in whose house I had fallen ill, and had recovered — but those also whom they designate The Elect. For it still seemed to me that it was not we that sin, but that I know not what other nature sinned in us. And it gratified my pride to be free from blame and, after I had committed any fault, not to acknowledge that I had done any — that You might heal my soul because it had sinned against You; but I loved to excuse it, and to accuse something else (I know not what) which was with me, but was not I. But assuredly it was wholly I, and my impiety had divided me against myself; and that sin was all the more incurable in that I did not deem myself a sinner. And execrable iniquity it was, O God omnipotent, that I would rather have You to be overcome in me to my destruction, than myself of You to salvation! Not yet, therefore, had Thou set a watch before my mouth, and kept the door of my lips, that my heart might not incline to wicked speeches, to make excuses of sins, with men that work iniquity — and, therefore, was I still united with their Elect.

I had now lost all hope of making progress in that false teaching. Even the beliefs I had decided to settle for—if I couldn't find anything better—I now held more loosely and carelessly. I was half inclined to think that the philosophers called Academics were wiser than the others, since they taught that we should doubt everything and concluded that humans cannot grasp any truth. Not yet understanding what they really meant, I was completely convinced they thought exactly what people commonly suppose they do. I freely tried to shake my host's confidence in those fantasies that fill the writings of Mani. Nevertheless, I remained on closer terms of friendship with them than with others outside this heresy. I no longer defended it with my former passion, but my familiarity with that group (many of whom were hiding in Rome) made me slower to search for another path—especially since I had lost hope of finding truth in your Church, O Lord of heaven and earth, Creator of all things visible and invisible, from which they had led me away. It seemed utterly inappropriate to me to believe that you had the form of human flesh and were confined by the bodily outlines of our limbs. Because when I wanted to think about my God, I couldn't conceive of anything except a mass of bodies (since whatever wasn't like that didn't seem real to me), this was the greatest and nearly the only cause of my unavoidable error.

19. But now, hopeless of making proficiency in that false doctrine, even those things with which I had decided upon contenting myself, providing that I could find nothing better, I now held more loosely and negligently. For I was half inclined to believe that those philosophers whom they call Academics were more sagacious than the rest, in that they held that we ought to doubt everything, and ruled that man had not the power of comprehending any truth; for so, not yet realizing their meaning, I also was fully persuaded that they thought just as they are commonly held to do. And I did not fail frankly to restrain in my host that assurance which I observed him to have in those fictions of which the works of Manichæus are full. Notwithstanding, I was on terms of more intimate friendship with them than with others who were not of this heresy. Nor did I defend it with my former ardour; still my familiarity with that sect (many of them being concealed in Rome) made me slower to seek any other way — particularly since I was hopeless of finding the truth, from which in Your Church, O Lord of heaven and earth, Creator of all things visible and invisible, they had turned me aside — and it seemed to me most unbecoming to believe You to have the form of human flesh, and to be bounded by the bodily lineaments of our members. And because, when I desired to meditate on my God, I knew not what to think of but a mass of bodies (for what was not such did not seem to me to be), this was the greatest and almost sole cause of my inevitable error.

From this starting point, I also believed that evil was a similar kind of substance, possessing its own foul and misshapen mass—either dense, which they called earth, or thin and subtle, like the body of air, which they imagined as some malignant spirit crawling through that earth. And because a sense of piety—such as it was—compelled me to believe that the good God never created any evil nature, I conceived of two masses opposed to each other, both infinite, but the evil one more contracted and the good one more expansive. And from this harmful beginning, other profanities followed for me. For when my mind tried to return to the Catholic faith, I was pushed back, since what I had thought was the Catholic faith was not actually so. And it seemed to me more devout to regard You, my God—to whom I confess Your mercies—as infinite, at least on other sides, although on the side where the mass of evil opposed You I was forced to confess You were finite, rather than to conceive of You as confined on every side by the form of a human body. And it seemed better to me to believe that no evil had been created by You—which in my ignorance appeared to me not only as some substance, but as a bodily one, because I had no conception of mind except as a subtle body diffused through local spaces—than to believe that anything of the sort I considered the nature of evil to be could come forth from You. And I believed that our very Savior Himself, Your Only-begotten, had been reached forth, as it were, for our salvation out of the lump of Your most brilliant mass, so that I believed nothing about Him except what I was able to imagine in my vanity. I thought, then, that such a nature could not be born of the Virgin Mary without being mingled with the flesh; and I did not see how what I had pictured to myself could be mingled without being contaminated. I was afraid, therefore, to believe He was born in the flesh, lest I be forced to believe Him contaminated by the flesh. Now Your spiritual ones will smile at me gently and lovingly if they read these confessions of mine; yet such was I.

20. For hence I also believed evil to be a similar sort of substance, and to be possessed of its own foul and misshapen mass — whether dense, which they denominated earth, or thin and subtle, as is the body of the air, which they fancy some malignant spirit crawling through that earth. And because a piety — such as it was — compelled me to believe that the good God never created any evil nature, I conceived two masses, the one opposed to the other, both infinite, but the evil the more contracted, the good the more expansive. And from this mischievous commencement the other profanities followed on me. For when my mind tried to revert to the Catholic faith, I was cast back, since what I had held to be the Catholic faith was not so. And it appeared to me more devout to look upon You, my God — to whom I make confession of Your mercies — as infinite, at least, on other sides, although on that side where the mass of evil was in opposition to You I was compelled to confess You finite, that if on every side I should conceive You to be confined by the form of a human body. And better did it seem to me to believe that no evil had been created by You — which to me in my ignorance appeared not only some substance, but a bodily one, because I had no conception of the mind excepting as a subtle body, and that diffused in local spaces — than to believe that anything could emanate from You of such a kind as I considered the nature of evil to be. And our very Saviour Himself, also, Your only-begotten, I believed to have been reached forth, as it were, for our salvation out of the lump of Your most effulgent mass, so as to believe nothing of Him but what I was able to imagine in my vanity. Such a nature, then, I thought could not be born of the Virgin Mary without being mingled with the flesh; and how that which I had thus figured to myself could be mingled without being contaminated, I saw not. I was afraid, therefore, to believe Him to be born in the flesh, lest I should be compelled to believe Him contaminated by the flesh. Now will Your spiritual ones blandly and lovingly smile at me if they shall read these my confessions; yet such was I.

Furthermore, I thought that whatever they had criticized in Your Scriptures could not be defended. Yet sometimes I wanted to discuss these various points with someone well educated in those books and see what he thought about them. For at that time, the words of a man named Helpidius, who was speaking and debating face to face against these Manichæans, had begun to influence me even while I was in Carthage, because he brought forth things from the Scriptures that were not easily opposed, and their response seemed weak to me. They did not give this answer publicly, but only to us in private—when they claimed that the writings of the New Testament had been corrupted by certain unknown persons who wanted to graft the Jewish law onto the Christian faith. But they themselves did not produce any uncorrupted copies. However, I was thinking in terms of corporeal things, very much trapped and to some extent suffocated, and was weighed down by those masses. Gasping beneath them for the breath of Your Truth, I was unable to breathe it pure and undefiled.

21. Furthermore, whatever they had censured in Your Scriptures I thought impossible to be defended; and yet sometimes, indeed, I desired to confer on these several points with some one well learned in those books, and to try what he thought of them. For at this time the words of one Helpidius, speaking and disputing face to face against the said Manichæans, had begun to move me even at Carthage, in that he brought forth things from the Scriptures not easily withstood, to which their answer appeared to me feeble. And this answer they did not give forth publicly, but only to us in private — when they said that the writings of the New Testament had been tampered with by I know not whom, who were desirous of ingrafting the Jewish law upon the Christian faith; but they themselves did not bring forward any uncorrupted copies. But I, thinking of corporeal things, very much ensnared and in a measure stifled, was oppressed by those masses; panting under which for the breath of Your Truth, I was not able to breathe it pure and undefiled.

Then I eagerly began to practice the work I had come to Rome for—teaching rhetoric. I first gathered some students at my home, and through them I started to become known. But then I discovered that other offenses were committed in Rome that I hadn't experienced in Africa. The disruptions caused by unruly young men didn't happen here, as I had been told. Instead, many students would suddenly conspire together to avoid paying their teacher's fees and transfer to another teacher—breaking their word and caring little for justice because of their love of money. My heart hated them too, though not with a perfect hatred. Perhaps I hated them more because I would suffer from their actions than because of the wrong they were actually doing. Such people are truly base, and they are unfaithful to You, loving these passing mockeries of temporary things and worthless gain that stains the hand that grasps it. They embrace the fleeting world and scorn You, who remain constant, who call them to return, and who pardon the corrupted human soul when it turns back to You. Now I hate such crooked and perverted people, though I still love them if they can be corrected to value the learning they receive above money, and to value above learning You, O God, the truth and fullness of assured good and most pure peace. But at that time, my desire not to suffer harm from them for my own sake was stronger than my desire that they should become good for Your sake.

22. Then began I assiduously to practise that for which I came to Rome — the teaching of rhetoric; and first to bring together at my home some to whom, and through whom, I had begun to be known; when, behold, I learned that other offenses were committed in Rome which I had not to bear in Africa. For those subvertings by abandoned young men were not practised here, as I had been informed; yet, suddenly, said they, to evade paying their master's fees, many of the youths conspire together, and remove themselves to another — breakers of faith, who, for the love of money, set a small value on justice. These also my heart hated, though not with a perfect hatred; for, perhaps, I hated them more in that I was to suffer by them, than for the illicit acts they committed. Such of a truth are base persons, and they are unfaithful to You, loving these transitory mockeries of temporal things, and vile gain, which begrimes the hand that lays hold on it; and embracing the fleeting world, and scorning You, who abides, and invites to return, and pardons the prostituted human soul when it returns to You. And now I hate such crooked and perverse men, although I love them if they are to be corrected so as to prefer the learning they obtain to money, and to learning You, O God, the truth and fullness of certain good and most chaste peace. But then was the wish stronger in me for my own sake not to suffer them evil, than was the wish that they should become good for Yours.

When the people of Milan sent a request to Rome asking the city prefect to provide them with a rhetoric teacher for their city and to send him at public expense, I applied for the position through those same people who were intoxicated with Manichæan foolishness—the very foolishness I was going away to escape, though neither they nor I realized this at the time. Symmachus, who was then prefect, tested me by assigning me a topic to speak on, and then sent me. So I came to Milan, to Ambrose the bishop, known throughout the world as among the best of men, Your devout servant, whose eloquent preaching at that time powerfully distributed to Your people the flour of Your wheat, the gladness of Your oil, and the sober intoxication of Your wine. I was unknowingly led to him by You, so that through him I might knowingly be led to You. That man of God received me like a father and showed a kind and fatherly episcopal concern for my move. I began to love him, though not at first as a teacher of the truth—for I had completely given up hope of finding that in Your Church—but simply as a person who was friendly toward me. I listened carefully to him preaching to the people, but not with the right motive. Instead, I was testing whether his eloquence lived up to its reputation, or whether it was greater or less than reported. I paid close attention to his words, but I was merely a careless and scornful observer of the content. I enjoyed the pleasantness of his discourse, which was more learned but less cheerful and soothing in style than that of Faustus. As for the content, however, there was no comparison, because Faustus was wandering in Manichæan deceptions, while Ambrose was teaching salvation most soundly. But salvation is far from the wicked, which is what I was when I stood before him. Yet I was drawing nearer, gradually and unconsciously.

23. When, therefore, they of Milan had sent to Rome to the prefect of the city, to provide them with a teacher of rhetoric for their city, and to dispatch him at the public expense, I made interest through those identical persons, drunk with Manichæan vanities, to be freed from whom I was going away — neither of us, however, being aware of it — that Symmachus, the then prefect, having proved me by proposing a subject, would send me. And to Milan I came, unto Ambrose the bishop, known to the whole world as among the best of men, Your devout servant; whose eloquent discourse did at that time strenuously dispense unto Your people the flour of Your wheat, the gladness of Your oil, and the sober intoxication of Your wine. To him was I unknowingly led by You, that by him I might knowingly be led to You. That man of God received me like a father, and looked with a benevolent and episcopal kindliness on my change of abode. And I began to love him, not at first, indeed, as a teacher of the truth — which I entirely despaired of in Your Church, — but as a man friendly to myself. And I studiously hearkened to him preaching to the people, not with the motive I should, but, as it were, trying to discover whether his eloquence came up to the fame thereof, or flowed fuller or lower than was asserted; and I hung on his words intently, but of the matter I was but as a careless and contemptuous spectator; and I was delighted with the pleasantness of his speech, more erudite, yet less cheerful and soothing in manner, than that of Faustus. Of the matter, however, there could be no comparison; for the latter was straying amid Manichæan deceptions, while the former was teaching salvation most soundly. But salvation is far from the wicked, such as I then stood before him; and yet I was drawing nearer gradually and unconsciously.

For although I made no effort to learn what he was saying, but only to hear how he was saying it (since that empty concern alone remained to me, having lost hope of finding a path accessible for human beings to reach You), yet together with the words whose delivery I valued, the actual content that I had disregarded also entered my mind; for I could not separate them. And while I opened my heart to receive how skillfully he spoke, there also entered along with it, though gradually, how truthfully he spoke! For these things too had begun to seem defensible to me; and the Catholic faith, against which I had thought nothing could be said in reply to the Manichaean attacks, I now understood could be maintained without arrogance; especially after I had heard one or two passages of the Old Testament explained, often allegorically—which when I had understood literally, killed me spiritually. Many passages of those books having now been explained to me, I blamed my earlier despair in having believed that no answer could be given to those who hated and mocked the Law and the Prophets. Yet I did not then conclude that the Catholic way should therefore be embraced because it had learned defenders who could respond at length and not unreasonably to objections; nor that what I held should therefore be condemned because both sides were equally defensible. For the Catholic way did not appear to me to be defeated; but neither did it yet seem to me to be victorious.

24. For although I took no trouble to learn what he spoke, but only to hear how he spoke (for that empty care alone remained to me, despairing of a way accessible for man to You), yet, together with the words which I prized, there came into my mind also the things about which I was careless; for I could not separate them. And while I opened my heart to admit how skilfully he spoke, there also entered with it, but gradually, and how truly he spoke! For first, these things also had begun to appear to me to be defensible; and the Catholic faith, for which I had fancied nothing could be said against the attacks of the Manichæans, I now conceived might be maintained without presumption; especially after I had heard one or two parts of the Old Testament explained, and often allegorically — which when I accepted literally, I was killed spiritually. Many places, then, of those books having been expounded to me, I now blamed my despair in having believed that no reply could be made to those who hated and derided the Law and the Prophets. Yet I did not then see that for that reason the Catholic way was to be held because it had its learned advocates, who could at length, and not irrationally, answer objections; nor that what I held ought therefore to be condemned because both sides were equally defensible. For that way did not appear to me to be vanquished; nor yet did it seem to me to be victorious.

I now urgently turned my attention to see if I could somehow prove the Manicheans wrong. If I could have grasped what a spiritual substance actually was, all their positions would have collapsed and been completely thrown out of my mind—but I couldn't. Nevertheless, regarding the physical world and all of nature that our bodily senses can reach, I found myself increasingly thinking and comparing, and I concluded that most of the philosophers held far more reasonable views. So then, following the approach of the Academics (as they're understood), doubting everything and wavering between all positions, I decided to abandon the Manicheans. I judged that even in this state of doubt, I couldn't stay in a group I considered inferior to some of the philosophers. Yet because those philosophers lacked the saving name of Christ, I absolutely refused to hand over the care of my struggling soul to them. I therefore decided to become a catechumen in the Catholic Church, which my parents had recommended to me, until something definite should reveal itself to show me where I ought to direct my path.

25. Hereupon did I earnestly bend my mind to see if in any way I could possibly prove the Manichæans guilty of falsehood. Could I have realized a spiritual substance, all their strongholds would have been beaten down, and cast utterly out of my mind; but I could not. But yet, concerning the body of this world, and the whole of nature, which the senses of the flesh can attain unto, I, now more and more considering and comparing things, judged that the greater part of the philosophers held much the more probable opinions. So, then, after the manner of the Academics (as they are supposed), doubting of everything and fluctuating between all, I decided that the Manichæans were to be abandoned; judging that, even while in that period of doubt, I could not remain in a sect to which I preferred some of the philosophers; to which philosophers, however, because they were without the saving name of Christ, I utterly refused to commit the cure of my fainting soul. I resolved, therefore, to be a catechumen in the Catholic Church, which my parents had commended to me, until something settled should manifest itself to me whither I might steer my course.