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First digital edition 2017 by Anna Ruggieri
Great art Thou, O Lord, and greatly to be praised; great is Thy power, and Thy wisdom infinite. And Thee would man praise; man, but a particle of Thy creation; man, that bears about him his mortality, the witness of his sin, the witness that Thou resistest the proud: yet would man praise Thee; he, but a particle of Thy creation. Thou awakest us to delight in Thy praise; for Thou madest us for Thyself, and our heart is restless, until it repose in Thee. Grant me, Lord, to know and understand which is first, to call on Thee or to praise Thee? and, again, to know Thee or to call on Thee? for who can call on Thee, not knowing Thee? for he that knoweth Thee not, may call on Thee as other than Thou art. Or, is it rather, that we call on Thee that we may know Thee? but how shall they call on Him in whom they have not believed? or how shall they believe without a preacher? and they that seek the Lord shall praise Him: for they that seek shall find Him, and they that find shall praise Him. I will seek Thee, Lord, by calling on Thee; and will call on Thee, believing in Thee; for to us hast Thou been preached. My faith, Lord, shall call on Thee, which Thou hast given me, wherewith Thou hast inspired me, through the Incarnation of Thy Son, through the ministry of the Preacher.
And how shall I call upon my God, my God and Lord, since, when I call for Him, I shall be calling Him to myself? and what room is there within me, whither my God can come into me? whither can God come into me, God who made heaven and earth? is there, indeed, O Lord my God, aught in me that can contain Thee? do then heaven and earth, which Thou hast made, and wherein Thou hast made me, contain Thee? or, because nothing which exists could exist without Thee, doth therefore whatever exists contain Thee? Since, then, I too exist, why do I seek that Thou shouldest enter into me, who were not, wert Thou not in me? Why? because I am not gone down in hell, and yet Thou art there also. For if I go down into hell, Thou art there. I could not be then, O my God, could not be at all, wert Thou not in me; or, rather, unless I were in Thee, of whom are all things, by whom are all things, in whom are all things? Even so, Lord, even so. Whither do I call Thee, since I am in Thee? or whence canst Thou enter into me? for whither can I go beyond heaven and earth, that thence my God should come into me, who hath said, I fill the heaven and the earth.
Do the heaven and earth then contain Thee, since Thou fillest them? or dost Thou fill them and yet overflow, since they do not contain Thee? And whither, when the heaven and the earth are filled, pourest Thou forth the remainder of Thyself? or hast Thou no need that aught contain Thee, who containest all things, since what Thou fillest Thou fillest by containing it? for the vessels which Thou fillest uphold Thee not, since, though they were broken, Thou wert not poured out. And when Thou art poured out on us, Thou art not cast down, but Thou upliftest us; Thou art not dissipated, but Thou gatherest us. But Thou who fillest all things, fillest Thou them with Thy whole self? or, since all things cannot contain Thee wholly, do they contain part of Thee? and all at once the same part? or each its own part, the greater more, the smaller less? And is, then one part of Thee greater, another less? or, art Thou wholly every where, while nothing contains Thee wholly?
What art Thou then, my God? what, but the Lord God? For who is Lord but the Lord? or who is God save our God? Most highest, most good, most potent, most omnipotent; most merciful, yet most just; most hidden, yet most present; most beautiful, yet most strong, stable, yet incomprehensible; unchangeable, yet all-changing; never new, never old; all-renewing, and bringing age upon the proud, and they know it not; ever working, ever at rest; still gathering, yet nothing lacking; supporting, filling, and overspreading; creating, nourishing, and maturing; seeking, yet having all things. Thou lovest, without passion; art jealous, without anxiety; repentest, yet grievest not; art angry, yet serene; changest Thy works, Thy purpose unchanged; receivest again what Thou findest, yet didst never lose; never in need, yet rejoicing in gains; never covetous, yet exacting usury. Thou receivest over and above, that Thou mayest owe; and who hath aught that is not Thine? Thou payest debts, owing nothing; remittest debts, losing nothing. And what had I now said, my God, my life, my holy joy? or what saith any man when he speaks of Thee? Yet woe to him that speaketh not, since mute are even the most eloquent.
Oh! that I might repose on Thee! Oh! that Thou wouldest enter into my heart, and inebriate it, that I may forget my ills, and embrace Thee, my sole good! What art Thou to me? In Thy pity, teach me to utter it. Or what am I to Thee that Thou demandest my love, and, if I give it not, art wroth with me, and threatenest me with grievous woes? Is it then a slight woe to love Thee not? Oh! for Thy mercies' sake, tell me, O Lord my God, what Thou art unto me. Say unto my soul, I am thy salvation. So speak, that I may hear. Behold, Lord, my heart is before Thee; open Thou the ears thereof, and say unto my soul, I am thy salvation. After this voice let me haste, and take hold on Thee. Hide not Thy face from me. Let me die—lest I die—only let me see Thy face.
Narrow is the mansion of my soul; enlarge Thou it, that Thou mayest enter in. It is ruinous; repair Thou it. It has that within which must offend Thine eyes; I confess and know it. But who shall cleanse it? or to whom should I cry, save Thee? Lord, cleanse me from my secret faults, and spare Thy servant from the power of the enemy. I believe, and therefore do I speak. Lord, Thou knowest. Have I not confessed against myself my transgressions unto Thee, and Thou, my God, hast forgiven the iniquity of my heart? I contend not in judgment with Thee, who art the truth; I fear to deceive myself; lest mine iniquity lie unto itself. Therefore I contend not in judgment with Thee; for if Thou, Lord, shouldest mark iniquities, O Lord, who shall abide it?
Yet suffer me to speak unto Thy mercy, me, dust and ashes. Yet suffer me to speak, since I speak to Thy mercy, and not to scornful man. Thou too, perhaps, despisest me, yet wilt Thou return and have compassion upon me. For what would I say, O Lord my God, but that I know not whence I came into this dying life (shall I call it?) or living death. Then immediately did the comforts of Thy compassion take me up, as I heard (for I remember it not) from the parents of my flesh, out of whose substance Thou didst sometime fashion me. Thus there received me the comforts of woman's milk. For neither my mother nor my nurses stored their own breasts for me; but Thou didst bestow the food of my infancy through them, according to Thine ordinance, whereby Thou distributest Thy riches through the hidden springs of all things. Thou also gavest me to desire no more than Thou gavest; and to my nurses willingly to give me what Thou gavest them. For they, with a heaven-taught affection, willingly gave me what they abounded with from Thee. For this my goodfrom them, was good for them. Nor, indeed, from them was it, but through them; for from Thee, O God, are all good things, and from my God is all my health. This I since learned, Thou, through these Thy gifts, within me and without, proclaiming Thyself unto me. For then I knew but to suck; to repose in what pleased, and cry at what offended my flesh; nothing more.
Afterwards I began to smile; first in sleep, then waking: for so it was told me of myself, and I believed it; for we see the like in other infants, though of myself I remember it not. Thus, little by little, I became conscious where I was; and to have a wish to express my wishes to those who could content them, and I could not; for the wishes were within me, and they without; nor could they by any sense of theirs enter within my spirit. So I flung about at random limbs and voice, making the few signs I could, and such as I could, like, though in truth very little like, what I wished. And when I was not presently obeyed (my wishes being hurtful or unintelligible), then I was indignant with my elders for not submitting to me, with those owing me no service, for not serving me; and avenged myself on them by tears. Such have I learnt infants to be from observing them; and that I was myself such, they, all unconscious, have shown me better than my nurses who knew it.
And, lo! my infancy died long since, and I live. But Thou, Lord, who for ever livest, and in whom nothing dies: for before the foundation of the worlds, and before all that can be called "before," Thou art, and art God and Lord of all which Thou hast created: in Thee abide, fixed for ever, the first causes of all things unabiding; and of all things changeable, the springs abide in Thee unchangeable: and in Thee live the eternal reasons of all things unreasoning and temporal. Say, Lord, to me, Thy suppliant; say, all-pitying, to me, Thy pitiable one; say, did my infancy succeed another age of mine that died before it? was it that which I spent within my mother's womb? for of that I have heard somewhat, and have myself seen women with child? and what before that life again, O God my joy, was I any where or any body? For this have I none to tell me, neither father nor mother, nor experience of others, nor mine own memory. Dost Thou mock me for asking this, and bid me praise Thee and acknowledge Thee, for that I do know?
I acknowledge Thee, Lord of heaven and earth, and praise Thee for my first rudiments of being, and my infancy, whereof I remember nothing; for Thou hast appointed that man should from others guess much as to himself; and believe much on the strength of weak females. Even then I had being and life, and (at my infancy's close) I could seek for signs whereby to make known to others my sensations. Whence could such a being be, save from Thee, Lord? Shall any be his own artificer? or can there elsewhere be derived any vein, which may stream essence and life into us, save from thee, O Lord, in whom essence and life are one? for Thou Thyself art supremely Essence and Life. For Thou art most high, and art not changed, neither in Thee doth to-day come to a close; yet in Thee doth it come to a close; because all such things also are in Thee. For they had no way to pass away, unless Thou upheldest them. And since Thy years fail not, Thy years are one to-day. How many of ours and our fathers' years have flowed away through Thy "to-day," and from it received the measure and the mould of such being as they had; and still others shall flow away, and so receive the mould of their degree of being. But Thou art still the same, and all things of tomorrow, and all beyond, and all of yesterday, and all behind it, Thou hast done to-day. What is it to me, though any comprehend not this? Let him also rejoice and say, What thingis this? Let him rejoice even thus! and be content rather by not discovering to discover Thee, than by discovering not to discover Thee.
Hear, O God. Alas, for man's sin! So saith man, and Thou pitiest him; for Thou madest him, but sin in him Thou madest not. Who remindeth me of the sins of my infancy? for in Thy sight none is pure from sin, not even the infant whose life is but a day upon the earth. Who remindeth me? doth not each little infant, in whom I see what of myself I remember not? What then was my sin? was it that I hung upon the breast and cried? for should I now so do for food suitable to my age, justly should I be laughed at and reproved. What I then did was worthy reproof; but since I could not understand reproof, custom and reason forbade me to be reproved. For those habits, when grown, we root out and cast away. Now no man, though he prunes, wittingly casts away what is good. Or was it then good, even for a while, to cry for what, if given, would hurt? bitterly to resent, that persons free, and its own elders, yea, the very authors of its birth, served it not? that many besides, wiser than it, obeyed not the nod of its good pleasure? to do its best to strike and hurt, because commands were not obeyed, which had been obeyed to its hurt? The weakness then of infant limbs, not its will, is its innocence. Myself have seen and known even a baby envious; it could not speak, yet it turned pale and looked bitterly on its foster-brother. Who knows not this? Mothers and nurses tell you that they allay these things by I know not what remedies. Is that too innocence, when the fountain of milk is flowing in rich abundance, not to endure one to share it, though in extremest need, and whose very life as yet depends thereon? We bear gently with all this, not as being no or slight evils, but because they will disappear as years increase; for, though tolerated now, the very same tempers are utterly intolerable when found in riper years.
Thou, then, O Lord my God, who gavest life to this my infancy, furnishing thus with senses (as we see) the frame Thou gavest, compacting its limbs, ornamenting its proportions, and, for its general good and safety, implanting in it all vital functions, Thou commandest me to praise Thee in these things, to confess unto Thee, and sing unto Thy name, Thou most Highest. For Thou art God, Almighty and Good, even hadst Thou done nought but only this, which none could do but Thou: whose Unity is the mould of all things; who out of Thy own fairness makest all things fair; and orderest all things by Thy law. This age then, Lord, whereof I have no remembrance, which I take on others' word, and guess from other infants that I have passed, true though the guess be, I am yet loth to count in this life of mine which I live in this world. For no less than that which I spent in my mother's womb, is it hid from me in the shadows of forgetfulness. But if I was shapen in iniquity, and in sin did my mother conceive me, where, I beseech Thee, O my God, where, Lord, or when, was I Thy servant guiltless? But, lo! that period I pass by; and what have I now to do with that, of which I can recall no vestige?
Passing hence from infancy, I came to boyhood, or rather it came to me, displacing infancy. Nor did that depart,—(for whither went it?)—and yet it was no more. For I was no longer a speechless infant, but a speaking boy. This I remember; and have since observed how I learned to speak. It was not that my elders taught me words (as, soon after, other learning) in any set method; but I, longing by cries and broken accents and various motions of my limbs to express my thoughts, that so I might have my will, and yet unable to express all I willed, or to whom I willed, did myself, by the understanding which Thou, my God,gavest me, practise the sounds in my memory. When they named any thing, and as they spoke turned towards it, I saw and remembered that they called what they would point out by the name they uttered. And that they meant this thing and no other was plain from the motion of their body, the natural language, as it were, of all nations, expressed by the countenance, glances of the eye, gestures of the limbs, and tones of the voice, indicating the affections of the mind, as it pursues, possesses, rejects, or shuns. And thus by constantly hearing words, as they occurred in various sentences, I collected gradually for what they stood; and having broken in my mouth to these signs, I thereby gave utterance to my will. Thus I exchanged with those about me these current signs of our wills, and so launched deeper into the stormy intercourse of human life, yet depending on parental authority and the beck of elders.
O God my God, what miseries and mockeries did I now experience, when obedience to my teachers was proposed to me, as proper in a boy, in order that in this world I might prosper, and excel in tongue-science, which should serve to the "praise of men," and to deceitful riches. Next I was put to school to get learning, in which I (poor wretch) knew not what use there was; and yet, if idle in learning, I was beaten. For this was judged right by our forefathers; and many, passing the same course before us, framed for us weary paths, through which we were fain to pass; multiplying toil and grief upon the sons of Adam. But, Lord, we found that men called upon Thee, and we learnt from them to think of Thee (according to our powers) as of some great One, who, though hidden from our senses, couldest hear and help us. For so I began, as a boy, to pray to Thee, my aid and refuge; and broke the fetters of my tongue to call on Thee, praying Thee, though small, yet with no small earnestness, that I might not be beaten at school. And when Thou heardest me not (not thereby giving me over to folly), my elders, yea my very parents, who yet wished me no ill, mocked my stripes, my then great and grievous ill.
Is there, Lord, any of soul so great, and cleaving to Thee with so intense affection (for a sort of stupidity will in a way do it); but is there any one who, from cleaving devoutly to Thee, is endued with so great a spirit, that he can think as lightly of the racks and hooks and other torments (against which, throughout all lands, men call on Thee with extreme dread), mocking at those by whom they are feared most bitterly, as our parents mocked the torments which we suffered in boyhood from our masters? For we feared not our torments less; nor prayed we less to Thee to escape them. And yet we sinned, in writing or reading or studying less than was exacted of us. For we wanted not, O Lord, memory or capacity, whereof Thy will gave enough for our age; but our sole delight was play; and for this we were punished by those who yet themselves were doing the like. But elder folks' idleness is called "business"; that of boys, being really the same, is punished by those elders; and none commiserates either boys or men. For will any of sound discretion approve of my being beaten as a boy, because, by playing a ball, I made less progress in studies which I was to learn, only that, as a man, I might play more unbeseemingly? and what else did he who beat me? who, if worsted in some trifling discussion with his fellow-tutor, was more embittered and jealous than I when beaten at ball by a play-fellow?
And yet, I sinned herein, O Lord God, the Creator and Disposer of allthings in nature, of sin the Disposer only, O Lord my God, I sinned intransgressing the commands of my parents and those of my masters. Forwhat they, with whatever motive, would have me learn, I might afterwardshave put to good use. For I disobeyed, not from a better choice, butfrom love of play, loving the pride of victory in my contests, and tohave my ears tickled with lying fables, that they might itch the more;the same curiosity flashing from my eyes more and more, for the showsand games of my elders. Yet those who give these shows are in suchesteem, that almost all wish the same for their children, and yet arevery willing that they should be beaten, if those very games detain themfrom the studies, whereby they would have them attain to be the giversof them. Look with pity, Lord, on these things, and deliver us who callupon Thee now; deliver those too who call not on Thee yet, that they maycall on Thee, and Thou mayest deliver them. As a boy, then, I had already heard of an eternal life, promisedus through the humility of the Lord our God stooping to our pride; andeven from the womb of my mother, who greatly hoped in Thee, I was sealedwith the mark of His cross and salted with His salt. Thou sawest, Lord,how while yet a boy, being seized on a time with sudden oppression ofthe stomach, and like near to death—Thou sawest, my God (for Thou wertmy keeper), with what eagerness and what faith I sought, from the piouscare of my mother and Thy Church, the mother of us all, the baptism ofThy Christ, my God and Lord. Whereupon the mother of my flesh, beingmuch troubled (since, with a heart pure in Thy faith, she even morelovingly travailed in birth of my salvation), would in eager hastehave provided for my consecration and cleansing by the health-givingsacraments, confessing Thee, Lord Jesus, for the remission of sins,unless I had suddenly recovered. And so, as if I must needs beagain polluted should I live, my cleansing was deferred, because thedefilements of sin would, after that washing, bring greater and moreperilous guilt. I then already believed: and my mother, and the wholehousehold, except my father: yet did not he prevail over the power of mymother's piety in me, that as he did not yet believe, so neithershould I. For it was her earnest care that Thou my God, rather than he,shouldest be my father; and in this Thou didst aid her to prevail overher husband, whom she, the better, obeyed, therein also obeying Thee,who hast so commanded. I beseech Thee, my God, I would fain know, if so Thou willest, forwhat purpose my baptism was then deferred? was it for my good that therein was laid loose, as it were, upon me, for me to sin? or was it notlaid loose? If not, why does it still echo in our ears on all sides,"Let him alone, let him do as he will, for he is not yet baptised?" butas to bodily health, no one says, "Let him be worse wounded, for he isnot yet healed." How much better then, had I been at once healed; andthen, by my friends' and my own, my soul's recovered health had beenkept safe in Thy keeping who gavest it. Better truly. But how many andgreat waves of temptation seemed to hang over me after my boyhood! Thesemy mother foresaw; and preferred to expose to them the clay whence Imight afterwards be moulded, than the very cast, when made. In boyhood itself, however (so much less dreaded for me than youth),I loved not study, and hated to be forced to it. Yet I was forced; andthis was well done towards me, but I did not well; for, unless forced, Ihad not learnt. But no one doth well against his will, even though whathe doth, be well. Yet neither did they well who forced me, but what waswell came to me from Thee, my God. For they were regardless how I shouldemploy what they forced me to learn, except to satiate the insatiatedesires of a wealthy beggary, and a shameful glory. But Thou, by whomthe very hairs of our head are numbered, didst use for my good the errorof all who urged me to learn; and my own, who would not learn, Thoudidst use for my punishment—a fit penalty for one, so small a boy andso great a sinner. So by those who did not well, Thou didst well for me;and by my own sin Thou didst justly punish me. For Thou hast commanded,and so it is, that every inordinate affection should be its ownpunishment.
But why did I so much hate the Greek, which I studied as a boy? I do not yet fully know. For the Latin I loved; not what my first masters, but what the so-called grammarians taught me. For those first lessons, reading, writing and arithmetic, I thought as great a burden and penalty as any Greek. And yet whence was this too, but from the sin and vanity of this life, because I was flesh, and a breath that passeth away and cometh not again? For those first lessons were better certainly, because more certain; by them I obtained, and still retain, the power of reading what I find written, and myself writing what I will; whereas in the others, I was forced to learn the wanderings of one Aeneas, forgetful of my own, and to weep for dead Dido, because she killed herself for love; the while, with dry eyes, I endured my miserable self dying among these things, far from Thee, O God my life.
For what more miserable than a miserable being who commiserates not himself; weeping the death of Dido for love to Aeneas, but weeping not his own death for want of love to Thee, O God. Thou light of my heart, Thou bread of my inmost soul, Thou Power who givest vigour to my mind, who quickenest my thoughts, I loved Thee not. I committed fornication against Thee, and all around me thus fornicating there echoed "Well done! well done!" for the friendship of this world is fornication against Thee; and "Well done! well done!" echoes on till one is ashamed not to be thus a man. And for all this I wept not, I who wept for Dido slain, and "seeking by the sword a stroke and wound extreme," myself seeking the while a worse extreme, the extremest and lowest of Thy creatures, having forsaken Thee, earth passing into the earth. And if forbid to read all this, I was grieved that I might not read what grieved me. Madness like this is thought a higher and a richer learning, than that by which I learned to read and write.
But now, my God, cry Thou aloud in my soul; and let Thy truth tell me, "Not so, not so. Far better was that first study." For, lo, I would readily forget the wanderings of Aeneas and allthe rest, rather than how to read and write. But over the entrance of the Grammar School is a vail drawn! true; yet is this not so much an emblem of aught recondite, as a cloak of error. Let not those, whom I no longer fear, cry out against me, while I confess to Thee, my God, whatever my soul will, and acquiesce in the condemnation of my evil ways, that I may love Thy good ways. Let not either buyers or sellers of grammar-learning cry out against me. For if I question them whether it be true that Aeneas came on a time to Carthage, as the poet tells, the less learned will reply that they know not, the more learned that he never did. But should I ask with what letters the name "Aeneas" is written, every one who has learnt this will answer me aright, as to the signs which men have conventionally settled. If, again, I should ask which might be forgotten with least detriment to the concerns of life, reading and writing or these poetic fictions? who does not foresee what all must answer who have not wholly forgotten themselves? I sinned, then, when as a boy I preferred those empty to those more profitable studies, or rather loved the one and hated the other. "One and one, two"; "two and two, four"; this was to me a hateful singsong: "the wooden horse lined with armed men," and "the burning of Troy," and "Creusa's shade and sad similitude," were the choice spectacle of my vanity.
Why then did I hate the Greek classics, which have the like tales? For Homer also curiously wove the like fictions, and is most sweetly vain, yet was he bitter to my boyish taste. And so I suppose would Virgil be to Grecian children, when forced to learn him as I was Homer. Difficulty, in truth, the difficulty of a foreign tongue, dashed, as it were, with gall all the sweetness of Grecian fable. For not one word of it did I understand, and to make me understand I was urged vehemently with cruel threats and punishments. Time was also (as an infant) I knew no Latin; but this I learned without fear or suffering, by mere observation, amid the caresses of my nursery and jests of friends, smiling and sportively encouraging me. This I learned without any pressure of punishment to urge me on, for my heart urged me to give birth to its conceptions, which I could only do by learning words not of those who taught, but of those who talked with me; in whose ears also I gave birth to the thoughts, whatever I conceived. No doubt, then, that a free curiosity has more force in our learning these things, than a frightful enforcement. Only this enforcement restrains the rovings of that freedom, through Thy laws, O my God, Thy laws, from the master's cane to the martyr's trials, being able to temper for us a wholesome bitter, recalling us to Thyself from that deadly pleasure which lures us from Thee.
Hear, Lord, my prayer; let not my soul faint under Thy discipline, nor let me faint in confessing unto Thee all Thy mercies, whereby Thou hast drawn me out of all my most evil ways, that Thou mightest become a delight to me above all the allurements which I once pursued; that I may most entirely love Thee, and clasp Thy hand with all my affections, and Thou mayest yet rescue me from every temptation, even unto the end. For lo, O Lord, my King and my God, for Thy service be whatever useful thing my childhood learned; for Thy service, that I speak, write, read, reckon. For Thou didst grant me Thy discipline, while I was learning vanities; and my sin of delighting in those vanities Thou hast forgiven. In them, indeed, I learnt many a useful word, but these may as well be learned in things not vain; and that is the safe path for the steps of youth.
But woe is thee, thou torrent of human custom! Who shall stand against thee? how long shalt thou not be dried up? how long roll the sons of Eve into that huge and hideous ocean,which even they scarcely overpass who climb the cross? Did not I read in thee of Jove the thunderer and the adulterer? both, doubtless, he could not be; but so the feigned thunder might countenance and pander to real adultery. And now which of our gowned masters lends a sober ear to one who from their own school cries out, "These were Homer's fictions, transferring things human to the gods; would he had brought down things divine to us!" Yet more truly had he said, "These are indeed his fictions; but attributing a divine nature to wicked men, that crimes might be no longer crimes, and whoso commits them might seem to imitate not abandoned men, but the celestial gods."
And yet, thou hellish torrent, into thee are cast the sons of men with rich rewards, for compassing such learning; and a great solemnity is made of it, when this is going on in the forum, within sight of laws appointing a salary beside the scholar's payments; and thou lashest thy rocks and roarest, "Hence words are learnt; hence eloquence; most necessary to gain your ends, or maintain opinions." As if we should have never known such words as "golden shower," "lap," "beguile," "temples of the heavens," or others in that passage, unless Terence had brought a lewd youth upon the stage, setting up Jupiter as his example of seduction.
"Viewing a picture, where the tale was drawn, Of Jove's descending in a golden shower To Danae's lap a woman to beguile."
And then mark how he excites himself to lust as by celestial authority:
"And what God? Great Jove, Who shakes heaven's highest temples with his thunder, And I, poor mortal man, not do the same! I did it, and with all my heart I did it."
Not one whit more easily are the words learnt for all this vileness; but by their means the vileness is committed with less shame. Not that I blame the words, being, as it were, choice and precious vessels; but that wine of error which is drunk to us in them by intoxicated teachers; and if we, too, drink not, we are beaten, and have no sober judge to whom we may appeal. Yet, O my God (in whose presence I now without hurt may remember this), all this unhappily I learnt willingly with great delight, and for this was pronounced a hopeful boy.
Bear with me, my God, while I say somewhat of my wit, Thy gift, and on what dotages I wasted it. For a task was set me, troublesome enough to my soul, upon terms of praise or shame, and fear of stripes, to speak the words of Juno, as she raged and mourned that she could not
"This Trojan prince from Latinum turn."
Which words I had heard that Juno never uttered; but we were forced to go astray in the footsteps of these poetic fictions, and to say in prose much what he expressed in verse. And his speaking was most applauded, in whom the passions of rage and grief were most preeminent, and clothed in the most fitting language, maintaining the dignity of the character. What is it to me, O my true life, my God, that my declamation was applauded above so many of my own age and class? is not all this smoke and wind? and was there nothing else whereon to exercise my wit and tongue? Thy praises, Lord, Thy praises mighthave stayed the yet tender shoot of my heart by the prop of Thy Scriptures; so had it not trailed away amid these empty trifles, a defiled prey for the fowls of the air. For in more ways than one do men sacrifice to the rebellious angels.
But what marvel that I was thus carried away to vanities, and went out from Thy presence, O my God, when men were set before me as models, who, if in relating some action of theirs, in itself not ill, they committed some barbarism or solecism, being censured, were abashed; but when in rich and adorned and well-ordered discourse they related their own disordered life, being bepraised, they gloried? These things Thou seest, Lord, and holdest Thy peace; long-suffering, and plenteous in mercy and truth. Wilt Thou hold Thy peace for ever? and even now Thou drawest out of this horrible gulf the soul that seeketh Thee, that thirsteth for Thy pleasures, whose heart saith unto Thee, I have sought Thy face; Thy face, Lord, will I seek. For darkened affections is removal from Thee. For it is not by our feet, or change of place, that men leave Thee, or return unto Thee. Or did that Thy younger son look out for horses or chariots, or ships, fly with visible wings, or journey by the motion of his limbs, that he might in a far country waste in riotous living all Thou gavest at his departure? a loving Father, when Thou gavest, and more loving unto him, when he returned empty. So then in lustful, that is, in darkened affections, is the true distance from Thy face.
Behold, O Lord God, yea, behold patiently as Thou art wont how carefully the sons of men observe the covenanted rules of letters and syllables received from those who spake before them, neglecting the eternal covenant of everlasting salvation received from Thee. Insomuch, that a teacher or learner of the hereditary laws of pronunciation will more offend men by speaking without the aspirate, of a "uman being," in despite of the laws of grammar, than if he, a "human being," hate a "human being" in despite of Thine. As if any enemy could be more hurtful than the hatred with which he is incensed against him; or could wound more deeply him whom he persecutes, than he wounds his own soul by his enmity. Assuredly no science of letters can be so innate as the record of conscience, "that he is doing to another what from another he would be loth to suffer." How deep are Thy ways, O God, Thou only great, that sittest silent on high and by an unwearied law dispensing penal blindness to lawless desires. In quest of the fame of eloquence, a man standing before a human judge, surrounded by a human throng, declaiming against his enemy with fiercest hatred, will take heed most watchfully, lest, by an error of the tongue, he murder the word "human being"; but takes no heed, lest, through the fury of his spirit, he murder the real human being.
This was the world at whose gate unhappy I lay in my boyhood; this the stage where I had feared more to commit a barbarism, than having committed one, to envy those who had not. These things I speak and confess to Thee, my God; for which I had praise from them, whom I then thought it all virtue to please. For I saw not the abyss of vileness, wherein I was cast away from Thine eyes. Before them what more foul than I was already, displeasing even such as myself? with innumerable lies deceiving my tutor, my masters, my parents, from love of play, eagerness to see vain shows and restlessness to imitate them! Thefts also I committed, from my parents' cellar and table, enslaved by greediness, or that I might have to give to boys, who sold me their play, which all the while they liked no less than I. In this play, too, I often sought unfair conquests, conquered myself meanwhile byvain desire of preeminence. And what could I so ill endure, or, when I detected it, upbraided I so fiercely, as that I was doing to others? and for which if, detected, I was upbraided, I chose rather to quarrel than to yield. And is this the innocence of boyhood? Not so, Lord, not so; I cry Thy mercy, my God. For these very sins, as riper years succeed, these very sins are transferred from tutors and masters, from nuts and balls and sparrows, to magistrates and kings, to gold and manors and slaves, just as severer punishments displace the cane. It was the low stature then of childhood which Thou our King didst commend as an emblem of lowliness, when Thou saidst, Of such is the kingdom of heaven.
Yet, Lord, to Thee, the Creator and Governor of the universe, most excellent and most good, thanks were due to Thee our God, even hadst Thou destined for me boyhood only. For even then I was, I lived, and felt; and had an implanted providence over my well-being—a trace of that mysterious Unity whence I was derived; I guarded by the inward sense the entireness of my senses, and in these minute pursuits, and in my thoughts on things minute, I learnt to delight in truth, I hated to be deceived, had a vigorous memory, was gifted with speech, was soothed by friendship, avoided pain, baseness, ignorance. In so small a creature, what was not wonderful, not admirable? But all are gifts of my God: it was not I who gave them me; and good these are, and these together are myself. Good, then, is He that made me, and He is my good; and before Him will I exult for every good which of a boy I had. For it was my sin, that not in Him, but in His creatures-myself and others—I sought for pleasures, sublimities, truths, and so fell headlong into sorrows, confusions, errors. Thanks be to Thee, my joy and my glory and my confidence, my God, thanks be to Thee for Thy gifts; but do Thou preserve them to me. For so wilt Thou preserve me, and those things shall be enlarged and perfected which Thou hast given me, and I myself shall be with Thee, since even to be Thou hast given me.
I will now call to mind my past foulness, and the carnalcorruptions of my soul; not because I love them, but that I maylove Thee, O my God. For love of Thy love I do it; reviewing mymost wicked ways in the very bitterness of my remembrance, thatThou mayest grow sweet unto me (Thou sweetness never failing, Thoublissful and assured sweetness); and gathering me again out of thatmy dissipation, wherein I was torn piecemeal, while turned fromThee, the One Good, I lost myself among a multiplicity of things.For I even burnt in my youth heretofore, to be satiated in thingsbelow; and I dared to grow wild again, with these various andshadowy loves: my beauty consumed away, and I stank in Thine eyes;pleasing myself, and desirous to please in the eyes of men.
And what was it that I delighted in, but to love, and be loved?but I kept not the measure of love, of mind to mind, friendship'sbright boundary: but out of the muddy concupiscence of the flesh,and the bubblings of youth, mists fumed up which beclouded andovercast my heart, that I could not discern the clear brightness oflove from the fog of lustfulness. Both did confusedly boil in me,and hurried my unstayed youth over the precipice of unholy desires,and sunk me in a gulf of flagitiousnesses. Thy wrath had gatheredover me, and I knew it not. I was grown deaf by the clanking of thechain of my mortality, the punishment of the pride of my soul, andI strayed further from Thee, and Thou lettest me alone, and I wastossed about, and wasted, and dissipated, and I boiled over in myfornications, and Thou heldest Thy peace, O Thou my tardy joy! Thouthen heldest Thy peace, and I wandered further and further fromThee, into more and more fruitless seed-plots of sorrows, with aproud dejectedness, and a restless weariness.
Oh! that some one had then attempered my disorder, and turned toaccount the fleeting beauties of these, the extreme points of Thycreation! had put a bound to their pleasureableness, that so thetides of my youth might have cast themselves upon the marriageshore, if they could not be calmed, and kept within the object of afamily, as Thy law prescribes, O Lord: who this way formest theoffspring of this our death, being able with a gentle hand to bluntthe thorns which were excluded from Thy paradise? For Thyomnipotency is not far from us, even when we be far from Thee. Elseought I more watchfully to have heeded the voice from the clouds:Nevertheless such shall have trouble in the flesh, but I spare you.And it is good for a man not to touch a woman. And, he that isunmarried thinketh of the things of the Lord, how he may please theLord; but he that is married careth for the things of this world,how he may please his wife.
To these words I should have listened more attentively, andbeing severed for the kingdom of heaven's sake, had more happilyawaited Thy embraces; but I, poor wretch, foamed like a troubledsea, following the rushing of my own tide, forsaking Thee, andexceeded all Thy limits; yet I escaped not Thy scourges. For whatmortal can? For Thou wert ever with me mercifully rigorous, andbesprinkling with most bitter alloy all my unlawful pleasures: thatI might seek pleasures without alloy. But where to find such, Icould not discover, save in Thee, O Lord, who teachest by sorrow,and woundest us, to heal; and killest us, lest we die from Thee.Where was I, and how far was I exiled from thedelights of Thyhouse, in that sixteenth year of the age of my flesh, when themadness of lust (to which human shamelessness giveth free licence,though unlicensed by Thy laws) took the rule over me, and Iresigned myself wholly to it? My friends meanwhile took no care bymarriage to save my fall; their only care was that I should learnto speak excellently, and be a persuasive orator.
For that year were my studies intermitted: whilst after myreturn from Madaura (a neighbour city, whither I had journeyed tolearn grammar and rhetoric), the expenses for a further journey toCarthage were being provided for me; and that rather by theresolution than the means of my father, who was but a poor freemanof Thagaste. To whom tell I this? not to Thee, my God; but beforeThee to mine own kind, even to that small portion of mankind as maylight upon these writings of mine. And to what purpose? thatwhosoever reads this, may think out of what depths we are to cryunto Thee. For what is nearer to Thine ears than a confessingheart, and a life of faith? Who did not extol my father, for thatbeyond the ability of his means, he would furnish his son with allnecessaries for a far journey for his studies' sake? For many farabler citizens did no such thing for their children. But yet thissame father had no concern how I grew towards Thee, or how chaste Iwere; so that I were but copious in speech, however barren I wereto Thy culture, O God, who art the only true and good Lord of Thyfield, my heart.
But while in that my sixteenth year I lived with my parents,leaving all school for a while (a season of idleness beinginterposed through the narrowness of my parents' fortunes), thebriers of unclean desires grew rank over my head, and there was nohand to root them out. When that my father saw me at the baths, nowgrowing towards manhood, and endued with a restless youthfulness,he, as already hence anticipating his descendants, gladly told itto my mother; rejoicing in that tumult of the senses wherein theworld forgetteth Thee its Creator, and becometh enamoured of Thycreature, instead of Thyself, through the fumes of that invisiblewine of its self-will, turning aside and bowing down to the verybasest things. But in my mother's breast Thou hadst already begunThy temple, and the foundation of Thy holy habitation, whereas myfather was as yet but a Catechumen, and that but recently. She thenwas startled with a holy fear and trembling; and though I was notas yet baptised, feared for me those crooked ways in which theywalk who turn their back to Thee, and not their face.
Woe is me! and dare I say that Thou heldest Thy peace, O my God,while I wandered further from Thee? Didst Thou then indeed hold Thypeace to me? And whose but Thine were these words which by mymother, Thy faithful one, Thou sangest in my ears? Nothing whereofsunk into my heart, so as to do it. For she wished, and I rememberin private with great anxiety warned me, "not to commitfornication; but especially never to defile another man's wife."These seemed to me womanish advices, which I should blush to obey.But they were Thine, and I knew it not: and I thought Thou wertsilent and that it was she who spake; by whom Thou wert not silentunto me; and in her wast despised by me, her son, the son of Thyhandmaid, Thy servant. But I knew it not; and ran headlong withsuch blindness, that amongst my equals I was ashamed of a lessshamelessness, when I heard them boast of their flagitiousness,yea, and the more boasting, the more they were degraded: and I tookpleasure, not only in the pleasure of the deed, but in the praise.What is worthy of dispraise but vice? But I made myself worse thanI was, that I might not be dispraised; and when inany thing I hadnot sinned as the abandoned ones, I would say that I had done whatI had not done, that I might not seem contemptible in proportion asI was innocent; or of less account, the more chaste.
Behold with what companions I walked the streets of Babylon, andwallowed in the mire thereof, as if in a bed of spices and preciousointments. And that I might cleave the faster to its very centre,the invisible enemy trod me down, and seduced me, for that I waseasy to be seduced. Neither did the mother of my flesh (who had nowfled out of the centre of Babylon, yet went more slowly in theskirts thereof as she advised me to chastity, so heed what she hadheard of me from her husband, as to restrain within the bounds ofconjugal affection, if it could not be pared away to the quick)what she felt to be pestilent at present and for the futuredangerous. She heeded not this, for she feared lest a wife shouldprove a clog and hindrance to my hopes. Not those hopes of theworld to come, which my mother reposed in Thee; but the hope oflearning, which both my parents were too desirous I should attain;my father, because he had next to no thought of Thee, and of me butvain conceits; my mother, because she accounted that those usualcourses of learning would not only be no hindrance, but even somefurtherance towards attaining Thee. For thus I conjecture,recalling, as well as I may, the disposition of my parents. Thereins, meantime, were slackened to me, beyond all temper of dueseverity, to spend my time in sport, yea, even unto dissolutenessin whatsoever I affected. And in all was a mist, intercepting fromme, O my God, the brightness of Thy truth; and mine iniquity burstout as from very fatness.
Theft is punished by Thy law, O Lord, and the law written in thehearts of men, which iniquity itself effaces not. For what thiefwill abide a thief? not even a rich thief, one stealing throughwant. Yet I lusted to thieve, and did it, compelled by no hunger,nor poverty, but through a cloyedness of well-doing, and apamperedness of iniquity. For I stole that, of which I had enough,and much better. Nor cared I to enjoy what I stole, but joyed inthe theft and sin itself. A pear tree there was near our vineyard,laden with fruit, tempting neither for colour nor taste. To shakeand rob this, some lewd young fellows of us went, late one night(having according to our pestilent custom prolonged our sports inthe streets till then), and took huge loads, not for our eating,but to fling to the very hogs, having only tasted them. And this,but to do what we liked only, because it was misliked. Behold myheart, O God, behold my heart, which Thou hadst pity upon in thebottom of the bottomless pit. Now, behold, let my heart tell Theewhat it sought there, that I should be gratuitously evil, having notemptation to ill, but the ill itself. It was foul, and I loved it;I loved to perish, I loved mine own fault, not that for which I wasfaulty, but my fault itself. Foul soul, falling from Thy firmamentto utter destruction; not seeking aught through the shame, but theshame itself!
For there is an attractiveness in beautiful bodies, in gold andsilver, and all things; and in bodily touch, sympathy hath muchinfluence, and each other sense hath his proper object answerablytempered. Worldy honour hath also its grace, and the power ofovercoming, and of mastery; whence springs also the thirst ofrevenge. But yet, to obtain all these, we may not depart from Thee,O Lord, nor decline from Thy law. The life also which here we livehath its own enchantment, through a certain proportion of its own,and a correspondence with all things beautiful here below. Humanfriendship also is endeared with a sweet tie, by reason of theunity formed of many souls. Upon occasion of all these,and thelike, is sin committed, while through an immoderate inclinationtowards these goods of the lowest order, the better and higher areforsaken,—Thou, our Lord God, Thy truth, and Thy law. Forthese lower things have their delights, but not like my God, whomade all things; for in Him doth the righteous delight, and He isthe joy of the upright in heart.
When, then, we ask why a crime was done, we believe it not,unless it appear that there might have been some desire ofobtaining some of those which we called lower goods, or a fear oflosing them. For they are beautiful and comely; although comparedwith those higher and beatific goods, they be abject and low. A manhath murdered another; why? he loved his wife or his estate; orwould rob for his own livelihood; or feared to lose some suchthings by him; or, wronged, was on fire to be revenged. Would anycommit murder upon no cause, delighted simply in murdering? whowould believe it? for as for that furious and savage man, of whomit is said that he was gratuitously evil and cruel, yet is thecause assigned; "lest" (saith he) "through idleness hand or heartshould grow inactive." And to what end? that, through that practiceof guilt, he might, having taken the city, attain to honours,empire, riches, and be freed from fear of the laws, and hisembarrassments from domestic needs, and consciousness ofvillainies. So then, not even Catiline himself loved his ownvillainies, but something else, for whose sake he did them.
What then did wretched I so love in thee, thou theft of mine,thou deed of darkness, in that sixteenth year of my age? Lovelythou wert not, because thou wert theft. But art thou any thing,that thus I speak to thee? Fair were the pears we stole, becausethey were Thy creation, Thou fairest of all, Creator of all, Thougood God; God, the sovereign good and my true good. Fair were thosepears, but not them did my wretched soul desire; for I had store ofbetter, and those I gathered, only that I might steal. For, whengathered, I flung them away, my only feast therein being my ownsin, which I was pleased to enjoy. For if aught of those pears camewithin my mouth, what sweetened it was the sin. And now, O Lord myGod, I enquire what in that theft delighted me; and behold it hathno loveliness; I mean not such loveliness as in justice and wisdom;nor such as is in the mind and memory, and senses, and animal lifeof man; nor yet as the stars are glorious and beautiful in theirorbs; or the earth, or sea, full of embryo-life, replacing by itsbirth that which decayeth; nay, nor even that false and shadowybeauty which belongeth to deceiving vices.
For so doth pride imitate exaltedness; whereas Thou alone artGod exalted over all. Ambition, what seeks it, but honours andglory? whereas Thou alone art to be honoured above all, andglorious for evermore. The cruelty of the great would fain befeared; but who is to be feared but God alone, out of whose powerwhat can be wrested or withdrawn? when, or where, or whither, or bywhom? The tendernesses of the wanton would fain be counted love:yet is nothing more tender than Thy charity; nor is aught lovedmore healthfully than that Thy truth, bright and beautiful aboveall. Curiosity makes semblance of a desire of knowledge; whereasThou supremely knowest all. Yea, ignorance and foolishness itselfis cloaked under the name of simplicity and uninjuriousness;because nothing is found more single than Thee: and what lessinjurious, since they are his own works which injure the sinner?Yea, sloth would fain be at rest; but what stable rest besides theLord? Luxury affects to be called plenty and abundance; but Thouart the fulness and never-failing plenteousness of incorruptiblepleasures. Prodigality presents a shadow ofliberality: but Thou artthe most overflowing Giver of all good. Covetousness would possessmany things; and Thou possessest all things. Envy disputes forexcellency: what more excellent than Thou? Anger seeks revenge: whorevenges more justly than Thou? Fear startles at things unwontedand sudden, which endangers things beloved, and takes forethoughtfor their safety; but to Thee what unwonted or sudden, or whoseparateth from Thee what Thou lovest? Or where but with Thee isunshaken safety? Grief pines away for things lost, the delight ofits desires; because it would have nothing taken from it, asnothing can from Thee.
Thus doth the soul commit fornication, when she turns from Thee,seeking without Thee, what she findeth not pure and untainted, tillshe returns to Thee. Thus all pervertedly imitate Thee, who removefar from Thee, and lift themselves up against Thee. But even bythus imitating Thee, they imply Thee to be the Creator of allnature; whence there is no place whither altogether to retire fromThee. What then did I love in that theft? and wherein did I evencorruptly and pervertedly imitate my Lord? Did I wish even bystealth to do contrary to Thy law, because by power I could not, sothat being a prisoner, I might mimic a maimed liberty by doing withimpunity things unpermitted me, a darkened likeness of ThyOmnipotency? Behold, Thy servant, fleeing from his Lord, andobtaining a shadow. O rottenness, O monstrousness of life, anddepth of death! could I like what I might not, only because I mightnot?
What shall I render unto the Lord, that, whilst my memoryrecalls these things, my soul is not affrighted at them? I willlove Thee, O Lord, and thank Thee, and confess unto Thy name;because Thou hast forgiven me these so great and heinous deeds ofmine. To Thy grace I ascribe it, and to Thy mercy, that Thou hastmelted away my sins as it were ice. To Thy grace I ascribe alsowhatsoever I have not done of evil; for what might I not have done,who even loved a sin for its own sake? Yea, all I confess to havebeen forgiven me; both what evils I committed by my own wilfulness,and what by Thy guidance I committed not. What man is he, who,weighing his own infirmity, dares to ascribe his purity andinnocency to his own strength; that so he should love Thee theless, as if he had less needed Thy mercy, whereby Thou remittestsins to those that turn to Thee? For whosoever, called by Thee,followed Thy voice, and avoided those things which he reads merecalling and confessing of myself, let him not scorn me, who beingsick, was cured by that Physician, through whose aid it was that hewas not, or rather was less, sick: and for this let him love Theeas much, yea and more; since by whom he sees me to have beenrecovered from such deep consumption of sin, by Him he sees himselfto have been from the like consumption of sin preserved.
What fruit had I then (wretched man!) in those things, of theremembrance whereof I am now ashamed? Especially, in that theftwhich I loved for the theft's sake; and it too was nothing, andtherefore the more miserable I, who loved it. Yet alone I had notdone it: such was I then, I remember, alone I had never done it. Iloved then in it also the company of the accomplices, with whom Idid it? I did not then love nothing else but the theft, yea ratherI did love nothing else; for that circumstance of the company wasalso nothing. What is, in truth? who can teach me, save He thatenlighteneth my heart, and discovereth its dark corners? What is itwhich hath come into my mind to enquire, and discuss, and consider?For had I then loved the pears I stole, and wished to enjoy them, Imight have done it alone,had the bare commission of the theftsufficed to attain my pleasure; nor needed I have inflamed theitching of my desires by the excitement of accomplices. But sincemy pleasure was not in those pears, it was in the offence itself,which the company of fellow-sinners occasioned.
What then was this feeling? For of a truth it was too foul: andwoe was me, who had it. But yet what was it? Who can understand hiserrors? It was the sport, which as it were tickled our hearts, thatwe beguiled those who little thought what we were doing, and muchdisliked it. Why then was my delight of such sort that I did it notalone? Because none doth ordinarily laugh alone? ordinarily no one;yet laughter sometimes masters men alone and singly when no onewhatever is with them, if anything very ludicrous presents itselfto their senses or mind. Yet I had not done this alone; alone I hadnever done it. Behold my God, before Thee, the vivid remembrance ofmy soul; alone, I had never committed that theft wherein what Istole pleased me not, but that I stole; nor had it alone liked meto do it, nor had I done it. O friendship too unfriendly! thouincomprehensible inveigler of the soul, thou greediness to domischief out of mirth and wantonness, thou thirst of others' loss,without lust of my own gain or revenge: but when it is said, "Let'sgo, let's do it," we are ashamed not to be shameless.