The Learning Curve/The Learning Curve (Weird Science, 1996).iso/religion/augustine/book1

Text File | 1995-04-19 | 40KB | 595 lines

                               401 AD

                   THE CONFESSIONS OF SAINT AUGUSTINE

                   Translated by Edward Bouverie Pusey
     BOOK I

     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 good from 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
   thing is 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
   all things in nature, of sin the Disposer only, O Lord my God, I
   sinned in transgressing the commands of my parents and those of my
   masters. For what they, with whatever motive, would have me learn, I
   might afterwards have put to good use. For I disobeyed, not from a
   better choice, but from love of play, loving the pride of victory in
   my contests, and to have my ears tickled with lying fables, that
   they might itch the more; the same curiosity flashing from my eyes
   more and more, for the shows and games of my elders. Yet those who
   give these shows are in such esteem, that almost all wish the same for
   their children, and yet are very willing that they should be beaten,
   if those very games detain them from the studies, whereby they would
   have them attain to be the givers of them. Look with pity, Lord, on
   these things, and deliver us who call upon Thee now; deliver those too
   who call not on Thee yet, that they may call on Thee, and Thou
   mayest deliver them.
     As a boy, then, I had already heard of an eternal life, promised
   us through the humility of the Lord our God stooping to our pride; and
   even from the womb of my mother, who greatly hoped in Thee, I was
   sealed with 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 of the stomach, and like near to death- Thou sawest,
   my God (for Thou wert my keeper), with what eagerness and what faith I
   sought, from the pious care of my mother and Thy Church, the mother of
   us all, the baptism of Thy Christ, my God and Lord. Whereupon the
   mother my flesh, being much troubled (since, with a heart pure in
   Thy faith, she even more lovingly travailed in birth of my salvation),
   would in eager haste have provided for my consecration and cleansing
   by the health-giving sacraments, confessing Thee, Lord Jesus, for
   the remission of sins, unless I had suddenly recovered. And so, as
   if I must needs be again polluted should I live, my cleansing was
   deferred, because the defilements of sin would, after that washing,
   bring greater and more perilous guilt. I then already believed: and my
   mother, and the whole household, except my father: yet did not he
   prevail over the power of my mother's piety in me, that as he did
   not yet believe, so neither should 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 over her 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, for
   what purpose my baptism was then deferred? was it for my good that the
   rein was laid loose, as it were, upon me, for me to sin? or was it not
   laid 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?"
   but as to bodily health, no one says, "Let him be worse wounded, for
   he is not yet healed." How much better then, had I been at once
   healed; and then, by my friends' and my own, my soul's recovered
   health had been kept safe in Thy keeping who gavest it. Better
   truly. But how many and great waves of temptation seemed to hang
   over me after my boyhood! These my mother foresaw; and preferred to
   expose to them the clay whence I might 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; and
   this was well done towards me, but I did not well; for, unless forced,
   I had not learnt. But no one doth well against his will, even though
   what he doth, be well. Yet neither did they well who forced me, but
   what was well came to me from Thee, my God. For they were regardless
   how I should employ what they forced me to learn, except to satiate
   the insatiate desires of a wealthy beggary, and a shameful glory.
   But Thou, by whom the very hairs of our head are numbered, didst use
   for my good the error of all who urged me to learn; and my own, who
   would not learn, Thou didst use for my punishment- a fit penalty for
   one, so small a boy and so 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 own punishment.
     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 he 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 all the 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
   sweetlyvain, 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 might have 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 adomed 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 by
   vain 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.