Confessions

Book Nine, Chapters One through Eight. CHAPTER ONE. O LORD, I am thy servant! I am thy servant and the son of thy handmaid. Thou hast loosed my bonds. I will offer to thee the sacrifice of thanksgiving. Let my heart and my tongue praise thee, and let all my bones say, Lord, who is like unto thee? Let them say so, and answer thou me, and say unto my soul, I am your salvation. Who am I, and what is my nature? What evil is there not in me and my deeds? Or if not in my deeds, my words? Or if not in my words, my will? But thou, O Lord, art good and merciful, and thy right hand didst reach into the depth of my death, and didst empty out the abyss of corruption from the bottom of my heart. And this was the result. Now I did not will to do what I willed, and began to will to do what thou didst will. But where was my free will during all those years, and from what deep and secret retreat was it called forth in a single moment, whereby I gave my neck to thy easy yoke, and my shoulders to thy light burden? O Christ Jesus, my strength and my Redeemer! How sweet did it suddenly become to me to be without the sweetness of trifles! And it was now a joy to put away what I formerly feared to lose. For thou didst cast them away from me, O true and highest sweetness. Thou didst cast them away, and in their place thou didst enter in thyself, sweeter than all pleasure, though not to flesh and blood, brighter than all light, but more veiled than all mystery, more exalted than all honour, though not to them that are exalted in their own eyes. Now was my soul free from the gnawing cares of seeking and getting, of wallowing in the mire and scratching the itch of lust. And I prattled like a child to thee, O Lord my God, my light, my riches, and my salvation. CHAPTER II. And it seemed right to me in thy sight not to snatch my tongue's service abruptly out of the speech market, but to withdraw quietly, so that the young men who were not concerned about thy law or thy peace, but with mendacious follies and forensic stripes, might no longer purchase from my mouth weapons for their frenzy. Fortunately there were only a few days before the vintage vacation, and I determined to endure them, so that I might resign in due form, and, now bought by thee, return for sale no more. My plan was known to thee, but, save for my own friends, it was not known to other men, for we had agreed that it should not be made public. Although in our ascent from the valley of tears, and our singing of the song of degrees, thou hast given us sharp arrows and hot burning coals to stop that deceitful tongue which opposes under the guise of good counsel, and devours what it loves as though it were food. Thou hast pierced our heart with thy love, and we carried thy words, as it were, thrust through our vitals. The examples of thy servants whom thou hast changed from black to shining white and from death to life, crowded into the bosom of our thoughts, and burned and consumed our sluggish temper, that we might not topple back into the abyss. And they fired us exceedingly, so that every breath of the deceitful tongue of our detractors might fan the flame and not blow it out. Though this vow and purpose of ours should find those who would loudly praise it for the sake of thy name which thou hast sanctified throughout the earth, it nevertheless looked like a self-vaunting not to wait until the vacation time, now so near. For if I had left such a public office ahead of time, and had made the break in the eye of the general public, all who took notice of this act of mine and observed how near was the vintage time that I wished to anticipate, would have talked about me a great deal, as if I were trying to appear a great person. And what purpose would it serve that people should consider and dispute about my conversion, so that my good should be evil spoken of? Furthermore, this same summer, my lungs had begun to be weak from too much literary labour. Breathing was difficult. The pains in my chest showed that the lungs were affected, and were soon fatigued by too loud or prolonged speaking. This had at first been a trial to me, for it would have compelled me, almost of necessity, to lay down that burden of teaching, or, if I was to be cured and become strong again, at least to take a leave for a while. But as soon as the full desire to be still that I might know that thou art the Lord, arose, and was confirmed in me, thou knowest, my God, that I began to rejoice that I had this excuse ready, and not a feigned one, either, which might somewhat temper the displeasure of those who, for their son's freedom, wished me never to have any freedom of my own. Full of joy, then, I bore it until my time ran out. It was perhaps some twenty days. Yet it was some strain to go through with it, for the greediness which helped to support the drudgery had gone, and I would have been overwhelmed had not its place been taken by patience. Some of thy servants, my brethren, may say that I sinned in this, since, having once fully and from my heart enlisted in thy service, I permitted myself to sit a single hour in the chair of falsehood. I will not dispute it. But hast thou not, O most merciful Lord, pardoned and forgiven this sin in the holy water also, along with all the others, horrible and deadly as they were? CHAPTER III. Barracundas was severely disturbed by this new happiness of mine, since he was still firmly held by his bonds, and saw that he would lose my companionship. For he was not yet a Christian, though his wife was, and, indeed, he was more firmly enchained by her than by anything else, and held back from that journey on which we had set out. Furthermore, he declared he did not wish to be a Christian on any terms except those that were impossible. However, he invited us most courteously to make use of his country house so long as we would stay there. O Lord, thou wilt recompense him for this in the resurrection of the just, seeing that thou hast already given him the lot of the righteous. For while we were absent at Rome, he was overtaken with bodily sickness, and during it he was made a Christian and departed this life as one of the faithful. Thus thou hast mercy on him, and not on him only but on us as well, lest, remembering the exceeding kindness of our friend to us, and not able to count him in thy flock, we should be tortured with intolerable grief. Thanks be to thee, our God, we are thine. Thy exhortations, consolations, and faithful promises assure us that thou wilt repay Veracundus for that country house at Kasikhyakum, where we found rest in thee from the fever of the world, with the perpetual freshness of thy paradise, in which thou hast forgiven him his earthly sins, in that mountain flowing with milk, that fruitful mountain, thy own. Thus Veracundus was full of grief, but Nibritius was joyous, for he was not yet a Christian, and had fallen into the pit of deadly error, believing that the flesh of thy son, the truth, was a phantom. Yet he had come up out of that pit, and now held the same belief that we did. And though he was not as yet initiated in any of the sacraments of thy church, he was a most earnest inquirer after truth. Not long after our conversion and regeneration by thy baptism, he also became a faithful member of the Catholic church, serving thee in perfect chastity and continence among his own people in Africa, and bringing his whole household with him to Christianity. Then thou didst release him from the flesh, and now he lives in Abraham's bosom. Whatever is signified by that term bosom, there lives my Nibritius, my sweet friend, thy son by adoption, O Lord, and not a freedman any longer. There he lives, for what other place could there be for such a soul? There he lives, in that abode about which he used to ask me so many questions, poor ignorant one that I was. Now he does not put his ear up to my mouth, but his spiritual mouth to thy fountain, and drinks wisdom as he desires, and as he is able, happy without end. But I do not believe that he is so inebriated by that draft as to forget me, since thou, O Lord, who art the draft, art mindful of us. Thus, then, we were comforting the unhappy Veracundus, our friendship untouched, reconciling him to our conversion, and exhorting him to a faith fit for his condition, that is, to his being married. We tarried for Nibritius to follow us, since he was so close, and this he was just about to do, when at last the interim ended. The days had seemed long and many because of my eagerness for leisure and liberty in which I might sing to thee from my inmost part. My heart has said to thee, I have sought thy face, thy face, O Lord, will I seek. Finally the day came on which I was actually to be relieved from the professorship of rhetoric, from which I had already been released in intention, and it was done. And thou didst deliver my tongue as thou hast already delivered my heart, and I blessed thee for it with great joy, and retired with my friends to the villa. My books testify to what I got done there in writing, which was now hopefully devoted to thy service, though in this pause it was still as if I were painting from my exertions in the school of pride. These were the books in which I engaged in dialogue with my friends, and also those in soliloquy before thee alone. And there are my letters to Nibritius, who was still absent. When would there be enough time to recount all thy great blessings which thou didst bestow on us in that time, especially as I am hastening on to still greater mercies? For my memory recalls them to me, and it is pleasant to confess them to thee, O Lord. The inward goads by which thou didst subdue me, and how thou broughtest me low, leveling the mountains and hills of my thoughts, straightening my crookedness, and smoothing my rough ways. And I remember by what means thou also didst subdue Ellipius, my heart's brother, to the name of thy only son, our Lord and Saviour, Jesus Christ, which he at first refused to have inserted in our writings. For at first he preferred that they should smell of the cedars of the schools, which the Lord hath now broken down, rather than of the wholesome herbs of the church, hostile to serpents. O my God, how did I cry to thee when I read the Psalms of David, those hymns of faith, those peons of devotion which leave no room for swelling pride! I was still a novice in thy true love, a catechumen keeping holiday at the villa with Ellipius, a catechumen like myself. My mother was also with us, in woman's garb, but with a man's faith, with the peacefulness of age and the fullness of motherly love and Christian piety. What cries I used to send up to thee in those songs, and how I was enkindled toward thee by them! I burned to sing them, if possible, throughout the whole world, against the pride of the human race, and yet indeed they are sung throughout the whole world, and none can hide himself from thy heat. With what strong and bitter regret was I indignant at the Manicheans! Yet I also pitied them, for they were ignorant of those sacraments, those medicines, and raved insanely against the cure that might have made them sane. I wished they could have been somewhere close by, and without my knowledge, could have seen my face and heard my words, when in that time of leisure I poured over the fourth psalm, and I wished they could have seen how that psalm affected me. When I called upon thee, O God of my righteousness, thou didst hear me, thou didst enlarge me when I was in distress, have mercy upon me and hear my prayer. I wished they might have heard what I said in comment on those words, without my knowing that they heard, lest they should think that I was speaking it just on their account. For indeed I should not have said quite the same things, nor quite in the same way, if I had known that I was heard and seen by them. And if I had so spoken, they would not have meant the same things to them as they did to me, when I spoke by and for myself before thee, out of the private affections of my soul. By turns I trembled with fear, and warmed with hope, and rejoiced in thy mercy, O father. All these feelings showed forth in thy eyes and voice, when thy good spirit turned to us, and said, O sons of men, how long will you be slow of heart, how long will you love vanity and seek after falsehood? For I had loved vanity, and sought after falsehood. And thou, O Lord, had already magnified thy holy one, raising him from the dead and setting him at thy right hand, that thence he should send forth from on high his promised paraclete, the spirit of truth. Already he had sent him, and I knew it not. He had sent him because he was now magnified, rising from the dead and ascending into heaven. For till then the Holy Spirit was not yet given, because Jesus was not yet glorified. And the prophet cried out, How long will you be slow of heart, how long will you love vanity and seek after falsehood? Know this, that the Lord hath magnified his holy one. He cries, How long? He cries, Know this. And I, so long loving vanity and seeking after falsehood, heard and trembled, because these words were spoken to such a one as I remember that I myself had been. For in those phantoms which I once held for truth, there was vanity and falsehood. And I spoke many things loudly and earnestly, in the contrition of my memory, which I wish they had heard, who still love vanity and seek after falsehood. Perhaps they would have been troubled and have vomited up their error, and thou wouldst have heard them when they cried to thee. For by a real death in the flesh he died for us, who now maketh intercession for us with thee. I read on further, Be angry and sin not. And how deeply was I touched, O my God! For I had now learned to be angry with myself for the things past, so that in the future I might not sin. Yes, to be angry with good cause, for it was not another nature out of the race of darkness that had sinned for me, as they affirmed who are not angry with themselves, and who store up for themselves dire wrath against the day of wrath and the revelation of thy righteous judgment. Nor were the good things I saw now outside me, nor were they to be seen with the eyes of the flesh in the light of the earthly sun. For they that have their joys from without sink easily into emptiness and are spilled out on those things that are visible and temporal. And in their starving thoughts they lick their very shadows. If only they would grow weary with their hunger and would say, Who will show us any good? And we would answer, and they would hear, O Lord, the light of thy countenance shines bright upon us. For we are not that light that enlightens every man, but we are enlightened by thee, so that we who were formerly in darkness may now be a light in thee. If only they could behold the inner light eternal which now that I had tasted it, I gnashed my teeth because I could not show it to them unless they brought me their heart in their eyes, their roving eyes, and said, Who will show us any good? But even there, in the inner chamber of my soul, where I was angry with myself, where I was inwardly pricked, where I had offered my sacrifice, slaying my old man, and hoping in thee with the new resolve of a new life with my trust laid in thee, even there thou hast begun to grow sweet to me and to put gladness in my heart. And thus, as I read all this, I cried aloud and felt its inward meaning. Nor did I wish to be increased in worldly goods which are wasted by time, for now I possessed, in thy eternal simplicity, other corn and wine and oil. And with a loud cry from my heart I read the following verse, O in peace, O in the self-same, see how he says it, I will lay me down and take my rest. For who shall withstand us when the truth of this saying that is written is made manifest? Death is swallowed up in victory. For surely thou who dost not change art the self-same, and in thee is rest and oblivion to all distress. There is none other beside thee, nor are we to toil for those many things which are not thee, for thou only, O Lord, makest me to dwell in hope. These things I read and was enkindled, but still I could not discover what to do with those deaf and dead Manichaeans to whom I myself had belonged, for I had been a bitter and blind reviler against these writings, honeyed with the honey of heaven, and luminous with thy light, and I was sorely grieved at these enemies of this scripture. When shall I call to mind all that happened during those holidays? I have not forgotten them, nor will I be silent about the severity of thy scourge, and the amazing quickness of thy mercy. During that time thou didst torture me with a toothache, and when it had become so acute that I was not able to speak, it came into my heart to urge all my friends who were present to pray for me to thee, the God of all health, and I wrote it down on the tablet and gave it to them to read. Presently, as we bowed our knees in supplication, the pain was gone. But what pain? How did it go? I confess that I was terrified, O Lord my God, because from my earliest years I had never experienced such pain, and thy purposes were profoundly impressed upon me, and rejoicing in faith I praised thy name. But that faith allowed me no rest in respect of my past sins, which were not yet forgiven me through thy baptism. V. Now that the vintage vacation was ended, I gave notice to the citizens of Milan that they might provide their scholars with another word merchant. I gave as my reasons my determination to serve thee, and also my insufficiency for the task, because of the difficulty in breathing and the pain in my chest. And by my letters I notified thy bishop, the holy man Ambrose, of my former errors and my present resolution, and I asked his advice as to which of thy books it was best for me to read, so that I might be the more ready and fit for the reception of so great a grace. He recommended Isaiah the prophet, and I believe it was because Isaiah foreshows more clearly than others the gospel and the calling of the Gentiles. But because I could not understand the first part, and because I imagined the rest to be like it, I laid it aside with the intention of taking it up again later, when better practiced in our Lord's words. VI. When the time arrived for me to give in my name, we left the country and returned to Milan. Olypius also resolved to be born again in thee at the same time. He was already clothed with the humility that befits thy sacraments, and was so brave a tamer of his body that he would walk the frozen Italian soil with his naked feet, which called for unusual fortitude. We took with us the boy Adiodatus, my son after the flesh, the offspring of my sin. Thou hadst made of him a noble lad. He was barely fifteen years old, but his intelligence excelled that of many grave and learned men. I confess to thee thy gifts, O Lord my God, Creator of all, who hast power to reform our deformities. For there was nothing of me in that boy but the sin. For it was thou who didst inspire us to foster him in thy discipline, and none other thy gifts I confess to thee. There is a book of mine entitled De Magistro. It is a dialogue between Adiodatus and me, and thou knowest that all things there put into the mouth of my interlocutor are his, though he was then only in his sixteenth year. Many other gifts, even more wonderful, I found in him. His talent was a source of awe to me, and who but thou couldst be the worker of such marvels! And thou didst quickly remove his life from the earth, and even now I recall him to mind with a sense of security, because I fear nothing for his childhood or youth, nor for his whole career. We took him for our companion, as if he were the same age in grace with ourselves, to be trained with ourselves in thy discipline. And so we were baptized, and the anxiety about our past life left us. Nor did I ever have enough in those days of the wondrous sweetness of meditating on the depth of thy counsels concerning the salvation of the human race. How freely did I weep in thy hymns and canticles! How deeply was I moved by the voices of thy sweet-speaking church! The voices flowed into my ears, and the truth was poured forth into my heart, where the tide of my devotion overflowed, and my tears ran down, and I was happy in all these things. CHAPTER VII. The church of Milan had only recently begun to employ this mode of consolation and exaltation, with all the brethren singing together with great earnestness of voice and heart. For it was only about a year, not much more, since Justina, the mother of the boy Emperor Valentinian, had persecuted thy servant Ambrose on behalf of her heresy, in which she had been seduced by the Arians. The devoted people kept guard in the church, prepared to die with their bishop, thy servant. Among them my mother, thy handmaid, taking a leading part in those anxieties and vigils, lived there in prayer. And even though we were still not wholly melted by the heat of thy spirit, we were nevertheless excited by the alarmed and disturbed city. This was the time that the custom began, after the manner of the Eastern church, that hymns and psalms should be sung, so that the people would not be worn out with the tedium of lamentation. This custom, retained from then till now, has been imitated by many, indeed by almost all thy congregations throughout the rest of the world. Then by a vision thou madest known to thy renowned bishop the spot where lay the bodies of Gervasius and Protasius, the martyrs, whom thou hadst preserved uncorrupted for so many years in thy secret storehouse, so that thou mightest produce them at a fit time to check a woman's fury, a woman indeed, but also a queen. When they were discovered and dug up and brought with due honor to the basilica of Ambrose, as they were borne along the road, many who were troubled by unclean spirits, the devils confessing themselves, were healed. And there was also a certain man, a well-known citizen of the city, blind many years, who, when he had asked and learned the reason for the people's tumultuous joy, rushed out and begged his guide to lead him to the place. When he arrived there, he begged to be permitted to touch with his handkerchief the beer of thy saints, whose death is precious in thy sight. When he had done this, and put it to his eyes, they were immediately opened. The fame of all this spread abroad, from this thy glory shone more brightly. And also from this the mind of that angry woman, though not enlarged to the sanity of a full faith, was nevertheless restrained from the fury of persecution. Thanks be to thee, O my God! Whence and whither hast thou led her memory, that I should confess such things as these to thee? For great as they were, I had forgetfully passed them over. And yet at that time, when the sweet savour of thy ointment was so fragrant, I did not run after thee. Therefore I wept more bitterly as I listened to thy hymns, having so long panted after thee. And now at length I could breathe as much as the space allows in this our straw house. VIII. Thou, O Lord, whom makest men of one mind to dwell in a single house, also broughtest Evadius to join our company. He was a young man of our city, who, while serving as a secret service agent, was converted to thee and baptized before us. He had relinquished his secular service, and prepared himself for thine. We were together, and we were resolved to live together in our devout purpose. We cast about for some place where we might be most useful in our service to thee, and had planned on going back together to Africa. And when we had got as far as Ostia on the Tiber, my mother died. VIII. I am passing over many things, for I must hasten. Receive, O God, my confessions and thanksgiving for the unnumbered things about which I am silent. But I will not omit anything my mind has brought back concerning thy handmaid who brought me forth, in her flesh that I might be born into this world's light, and in her heart that I might be born to life eternal. I will not speak of her gifts, but of thy gift in her, for she neither made herself nor trained herself. Thou didst create her, and neither her father nor her mother knew what kind of being was to come forth from them. And it was the rod of thy Christ, the discipline of thy only Son, that trained her in thy fear, in the house of one of thy faithful ones, who was a sound member of thy church. Yet my mother did not attribute this good training of hers as much to the diligence of her own mother as to that of a certain elderly maidservant who had nursed her father, carrying him around on her back as big girls carried babies. Because of her long time service, and also because of her extreme age and excellent character, she was much respected by the heads of that Christian household. The care of her master's daughters was also committed to her, and she performed her task with diligence. She was quite earnest in restraining them with a holy severity when necessary, and instructing them with a sober sagacity. Thus, except at meal-times at their parents' table, when they were fed very temperately, she would not allow them to drink even water, however parched they were with thirst. In this way she took precautions against an evil custom, and added the wholesome advice, You drink water now only because you don't control the wine. But when you are married in mistresses of pantry and cellar, you may not care for water, but the habit of drinking will be fixed. By such a method of instruction, and her authority, she restrained the longing of their tender age, and regulated even the thirst of the girls to such a decorous control, that they no longer wanted what they ought not to have. And yet, as thy handmaid related to me, her son, there had stolen upon her a love of wine. For in the ordinary course of things, when her parents sent her, as a sober maiden, to draw wine from the cask, she would hold a cup under the tap, and then, before she poured the wine into the bottle, she would wet the tips of her lips with a little of it, for more than this her taste refused. She did not do this out of any craving for drink, but out of the overflowing buoyancy of her time of life, which bubbles up with sportiveness and youthful spirits, but is usually borne down by the gravity of the old folks. And so, adding daily a little to that little, for he that condemns small things shall fall by a little here and a little there, she slipped into such a habit as to drink off eagerly her little cup nearly full of wine. Where now was that wise old woman and her strict prohibition? Could anything prevail against our secret disease if thy medicine, O Lord, did not watch over us? Though father and mother and nurturers are absent, thou art present. Thou dost create, who callest, and who also workest some good for our salvation, through those who are set over us. What didst thou do at that time, O my God? How didst thou heal her? How didst thou make her whole? Didst thou not bring forth from another woman's soul a hard and bitter insult, like a surgeon's knife from thy secret store, and with one thrust drain off all that putrefaction? For the slave girl, who used to accompany her to the cellar, fell to quarrelling with her little mistress, as it sometimes happened when she was alone with her, and cast in her teeth this vice of hers, along with a very bitter insult, calling her a drunkard. Stung by this taunt, my mother saw her own vileness, and immediately condemned and renounced it. As the flattery of friends corrupts, so often do the taunts of enemies instruct. Yet thou repayest them, not for the good thou workest through their means, but for the malice they intended. That angry slave girl wanted to infuriate her young mistress, not to cure her, and that was why she spoke up when they were alone. Or perhaps it was because their quarrel just happened to break out at that time and place. Or perhaps she was afraid of punishment, for having told of it so late. But thou, O Lord, Ruler of heaven and earth, who changest to thy purpose the deepest floods, and controls the turbulent tide of the ages, thou healest one soul by the unsoundness of another, so that no man, when he hears of such happening, should attribute it to his own power, if another person whom he wishes to reform is reformed through a word of his.