Chapter II.—That the God Whom We Invoke is in Us, and We in Him.
Chapter III.—Everywhere God Wholly Filleth All Things, But Neither Heaven Nor Earth Containeth Him.
Chapter IV.—The Majesty of God is Supreme, and His Virtues Inexplicable.
Chapter V.—He Seeks Rest in God, and Pardon of His Sins.
Chapter VI.—He Describes His Infancy, and Lauds the Protection and Eternal Providence of God.
Chapter VII.—He Shows by Example that Even Infancy is Prone to Sin.
Chapter XIV.—Why He Despised Greek Literature, and Easily Learned Latin.
Chapter XVII.—He Continues on the Unhappy Method of Training Youth in Literary Subjects.
Chapter I.—He Deplores the Wickedness of His Youth.
Chapter VIII.—In His Theft He Loved the Company of His Fellow-Sinners.
Chapter IX.—It Was a Pleasure to Him Also to Laugh When Seriously Deceiving Others.
Chapter X.—With God There is True Rest and Life Unchanging.
Chapter VIII.—He Argues Against the Same as to the Reason of Offences.
Chapter IX.—That the Judgment of God and Men as to Human Acts of Violence, is Different.
Chapter X.—He Reproves the Triflings of the Manichæans as to the Fruits of the Earth.
Chapter V.—Why Weeping is Pleasant to the Wretched.
Chapter VI.—His Friend Being Snatched Away by Death, He Imagines that He Remains Only as Half.
Chapter VII.—Troubled by Restlessness and Grief, He Leaves His Country a Second Time for Carthage.
Chapter VIII.—That His Grief Ceased by Time, and the Consolation of Friends.
Chapter XIII.—Love Originates from Grace and Beauty Enticing Us.
Chapter XIV.—Concerning the Books Which He Wrote “On the Fair and Fit,” Dedicated to Hierius.
Chapter I.—That It Becomes the Soul to Praise God, and to Confess Unto Him.
Chapter II.—On the Vanity of Those Who Wished to Escape the Omnipotent God.
Chapter VI.—Faustus Was Indeed an Elegant Speaker, But Knew Nothing of the Liberal Sciences.
Chapter VIII.—He Sets Out for Rome, His Mother in Vain Lamenting It.
Chapter IX.—Being Attacked by Fever, He is in Great Danger.
Chapter XII.—Professing Rhetoric at Rome, He Discovers the Fraud of His Scholars.
Chapter XIII.—He is Sent to Milan, that He, About to Teach Rhetoric, May Be Known by Ambrose.
Chapter II.—She, on the Prohibition of Ambrose, Abstains from Honouring the Memory of the Martyrs.
Chapter VI.—On the Source and Cause of True Joy,—The Example of the Joyous Beggar Being Adduced.
Chapter XI.—Being Troubled by His Grievous Errors, He Meditates Entering on a New Life.
Chapter XII.—Discussion with Alypius Concerning a Life of Celibacy.
Chapter XIV.—The Design of Establishing a Common Household with His Friends is Speedily Hindered.
Chapter XV.—He Dismisses One Mistress, and Chooses Another.
Chapter III.—That the Cause of Evil is the Free Judgment of the Will.
Chapter IV.—That God is Not Corruptible, Who, If He Were, Would Not Be God at All.
Chapter VI.—He Refutes the Divinations of the Astrologers, Deduced from the Constellations.
Chapter VII.—He is Severely Exercised as to the Origin of Evil.
Chapter VIII.—By God’s Assistance He by Degrees Arrives at the Truth.
Chapter XI.—That Creatures are Mutable and God Alone Immutable.
Chapter XII.—Whatever Things the Good God Has Created are Very Good.
Chapter XV.—Whatever Is, Owes Its Being to God.
Chapter XVI.—Evil Arises Not from a Substance, But from the Perversion of the Will.
Chapter XVII.—Above His Changeable Mind, He Discovers the Unchangeable Author of Truth.
Chapter XVIII.—Jesus Christ, the Mediator, is the Only Way of Safety.
Chapter XIX.—He Does Not Yet Fully Understand the Saying of John, that “The Word Was Made Flesh.”
Chapter XX.—He Rejoices that He Proceeded from Plato to the Holy Scriptures, and Not the Reverse.
Chapter XXI.—What He Found in the Sacred Books Which are Not to Be Found in Plato.
Chapter V.—Of the Causes Which Alienate Us from God.
Chapter VI.—Pontitianus’ Account of Antony, the Founder of Monachism, and of Some Who Imitated Him.
Chapter IX.—That the Mind Commandeth the Mind, But It Willeth Not Entirely.
Chapter II.—As His Lungs Were Affected, He Meditates Withdrawing Himself from Public Favour.
Chapter VI.—He is Baptized at Milan with Alypius and His Son Adeodatus. The Book “De Magistro.”
Chapter X.—A Conversation He Had with His Mother Concerning the Kingdom of Heaven.
Chapter XI.—His Mother, Attacked by Fever, Dies at Ostia.
Chapter XII.—How He Mourned His Dead Mother.
Chapter XIII.—He Entreats God for Her Sins, and Admonishes His Readers to Remember Her Piously.
Chapter I.—In God Alone is the Hope and Joy of Man.
Chapter III.—He Who Confesseth Rightly Unto God Best Knoweth Himself.
Chapter IV.—That in His Confessions He May Do Good, He Considers Others.
Chapter V.—That Man Knoweth Not Himself Wholly.
Chapter VII.—That God is to Be Found Neither from the Powers of the Body Nor of the Soul.
Chapter VIII.——Of the Nature and the Amazing Power of Memory.
Chapter XI.—What It is to Learn and to Think.
Chapter XII.—On the Recollection of Things Mathematical.
Chapter XIII.—Memory Retains All Things.
Chapter XV.—In Memory There are Also Images of Things Which are Absent.
Chapter XVI.—The Privation of Memory is Forgetfulness.
Chapter XVII.—God Cannot Be Attained Unto by the Power of Memory, Which Beasts and Birds Possess.
Chapter XVIII.—A Thing When Lost Could Not Be Found Unless It Were Retained in the Memory.
Chapter XIX.—What It is to Remember.
Chapter XX.—We Should Not Seek for God and the Happy Life Unless We Had Known It.
Chapter XXI.—How a Happy Life May Be Retained in the Memory.
Chapter XXII.—A Happy Life is to Rejoice in God, and for God.
Chapter XXIII.—All Wish to Rejoice in the Truth.
Chapter XXIV.—He Who Finds Truth, Finds God.
Chapter XXV.—He is Glad that God Dwells in His Memory.
Chapter XXVI.—God Everywhere Answers Those Who Take Counsel of Him.
Chapter XXVII.—He Grieves that He Was So Long Without God.
Chapter XXVIII.—On the Misery of Human Life.
Chapter XXIX.—All Hope is in the Mercy of God.
Chapter XXX.—Of the Perverse Images of Dreams, Which He Wishes to Have Taken Away.
Chapter XXXII.—Of the Charms of Perfumes Which are More Easily Overcome.
Chapter XXXV.—Another Kind of Temptation is Curiosity, Which is Stimulated by the Lust of the Eyes.
Chapter XXXVI.—A Third Kind is “Pride” Which is Pleasing to Man, Not to God.
Chapter XXXVII.—He is Forcibly Goaded on by the Love of Praise.
Chapter XXXVIII.—Vain-Glory is the Highest Danger.
Chapter XXXIX.—Of the Vice of Those Who, While Pleasing Themselves, Displease God.
Chapter XL.—The Only Safe Resting-Place for the Soul is to Be Found in God.
Chapter XLI.—Having Conquered His Triple Desire, He Arrives at Salvation.
Chapter XLII.—In What Manner Many Sought the Mediator.
Chapter I.—By Confession He Desires to Stimulate Towards God His Own Love and That of His Readers.
Chapter II.—He Begs of God that Through the Holy Scriptures He May Be Led to Truth.
Chapter III.—He Begins from the Creation of the World—Not Understanding the Hebrew Text.
Chapter IV.—Heaven and Earth Cry Out that They Have Been Created by God.
Chapter V.—God Created the World Not from Any Certain Matter, But in His Own Word.
Chapter VI.—He Did Not, However, Create It by a Sounding and Passing Word.
Chapter VII.—By His Co-Eternal Word He Speaks, and All Things are Done.
Chapter IX.—Wisdom and the Beginning.
Chapter X.—The Rashness of Those Who Inquire What God Did Before He Created Heaven and Earth.
Chapter XII.—What God Did Before the Creation of the World.
Chapter XIII.—Before the Times Created by God, Times Were Not.
Chapter XIV.—Neither Time Past Nor Future, But the Present Only, Really is.
Chapter XV.—There is Only a Moment of Present Time.
Chapter XVI.—Time Can Only Be Perceived or Measured While It is Passing.
Chapter XVII.—Nevertheless There is Time Past and Future.
Chapter XVIII.—Past and Future Times Cannot Be Thought of But as Present.
Chapter XIX.—We are Ignorant in What Manner God Teaches Future Things.
Chapter XX.—In What Manner Time May Properly Be Designated.
Chapter XXI.—How Time May Be Measured.
Chapter XXII.—He Prays God that He Would Explain This Most Entangled Enigma.
Chapter XXIII.—That Time is a Certain Extension.
Chapter XXIV.—That Time is Not a Motion of a Body Which We Measure by Time.
Chapter XXV.—He Calls on God to Enlighten His Mind.
Chapter XXVI.—We Measure Longer Events by Shorter in Time.
Chapter XXVII.—Times are Measured in Proportion as They Pass by.
Chapter XXVIII.—Time in the Human Mind, Which Expects, Considers, and Remembers.
Chapter XXX.—Again He Refutes the Empty Question, “What Did God Before the Creation of the World?”
Chapter XXXI.—How the Knowledge of God Differs from that of Man.
Chapter I .—The Discovery of Truth is Difficult, But God Has Promised that He Who Seeks Shall Find.
Chapter II.—Of the Double Heaven,—The Visible, and the Heaven of Heavens.
Chapter III.—Of the Darkness Upon the Deep, and of the Invisible and Formless Earth.
Chapter IV.—From the Formlessness of Matter, the Beautiful World Has Arisen.
Chapter V.—What May Have Been the Form of Matter.
Chapter VI.—He Confesses that at One Time He Himself Thought Erroneously of Matter.
Chapter VII.—Out of Nothing God Made Heaven and Earth.
Chapter XI.—What May Be Discovered to Him by God.
Chapter XII.—From the Formless Earth God Created Another Heaven and a Visible and Formed Earth.
Chapter XIV.—Of the Depth of the Sacred Scripture, and Its Enemies.
Chapter XV.—He Argues Against Adversaries Concerning the Heaven of Heavens.
Chapter XVI.—He Wishes to Have No Intercourse with Those Who Deny Divine Truth.
Chapter XVII.—He Mentions Five Explanations of the Words of Genesis I. I.
Chapter XVIII.—What Error is Harmless in Sacred Scripture.
Chapter XIX.—He Enumerates the Things Concerning Which All Agree.
Chapter XX.—Of the Words, “In the Beginning,” Variously Understood.
Chapter XXI.—Of the Explanation of the Words, “The Earth Was Invisible.”
Chapter XXIII.—Two Kinds of Disagreements in the Books to Be Explained.
Chapter XXVI.—What He Might Have Asked of God Had He Been Enjoined to Write the Book of Genesis.
Chapter XXVII.—The Style of Speaking in the Book of Genesis is Simple and Clear.
Chapter XXIX.—Concerning the Opinion of Those Who Explain It “At First He Made.”
Chapter XXX.—In the Great Diversity of Opinions, It Becomes All to Unite Charity and Divine Truth.
Chapter XXXI.—Moses is Supposed to Have Perceived Whatever of Truth Can Be Discovered in His Words.
Chapter I.—He Calls Upon God, and Proposes to Himself to Worship Him.
Chapter II.—All Creatures Subsist from the Plenitude of Divine Goodness.
Chapter III.—Genesis I. 3,—Of “Light,”—He Understands as It is Seen in the Spiritual Creature.
Chapter V.—He Recognises the Trinity in the First Two Verses of Genesis.
Chapter VI.—Why the Holy Ghost Should Have Been Mentioned After the Mention of Heaven and Earth.
Chapter VII.—That the Holy Spirit Brings Us to God.
Chapter VIII.—That Nothing Whatever, Short of God, Can Yield to the Rational Creature a Happy Rest.
Chapter IX.—Why the Holy Spirit Was Only “Borne Over” The Waters.
Chapter X.—That Nothing Arose Save by the Gift of God.
Chapter XIII.—That the Renewal of Man is Not Completed in This World.
Chapter XV.—Allegorical Explanation of the Firmament and Upper Works, Ver. 6.
Chapter XVI.—That No One But the Unchangeable Light Knows Himself.
Chapter XVII.—Allegorical Explanation of the Sea and the Fruit-Bearing Earth—Verses 9 and 11.
Chapter XVIII.—Of the Lights and Stars of Heaven—Of Day and Night, Ver. 14.
Chapter XIX.—All Men Should Become Lights in the Firmament of Heaven.
Chapter XXII.—He Explains the Divine Image (Ver. 26) of the Renewal of the Mind.
Chapter XXIII.—That to Have Power Over All Things (Ver. 26) is to Judge Spiritually of All.
Chapter XXV.—He Explains the Fruits of the Earth (Ver. 29) of Works of Mercy.
Chapter XXXI.—We Do Not See “That It Was Good” But Through the Spirit of God Which is in Us.
Chapter XXXII.—Of the Particular Works of God, More Especially of Man.
Chapter XXXIII.—The World Was Created by God Out of Nothing.
Chapter XXXV.—He Prays God for that Peace of Rest Which Hath No Evening.
Chapter XXXVII.—Of Rest in God Who Ever Worketh, and Yet is Ever at Rest.
Chapter VIII.——Of the Nature and the Amazing Power of Memory.
12. I will soar, then, beyond this power of my nature also, ascending by degrees unto Him who made me. And I enter the fields and roomy chambers of memory, where are the treasures of countless images, imported into it from all manner of things by the senses. There is treasured up whatsoever likewise we think, either by enlarging or diminishing, or by varying in any way whatever those things which the sense hath arrived at; yea, and whatever else hath been entrusted to it and stored up, which oblivion hath not yet engulfed and buried. When I am in this storehouse, I demand that what I wish should be brought forth, and some things immediately appear; others require to be longer sought after, and are dragged, as it were, out of some hidden receptacle; others, again, hurry forth in crowds, and while another thing is sought and inquired for, they leap into view, as if to say, “Is it not we, perchance?” These I drive away with the hand of my heart from before the face of my remembrance, until what I wish be discovered making its appearance out of its secret cell. Other things suggest themselves without effort, and in continuous order, just as they are called for,—those in front giving place to those that follow, and in giving place are treasured up again to be forthcoming when I wish it. All of which takes place when I repeat a thing from memory.
13. All these things, each of which entered by its own avenue, are distinctly and under general heads there laid up: as, for example, light, and all colours and forms of bodies, by the eyes; sounds of all kinds by the ears; all smells by the passage of the nostrils; all flavours by that of the mouth; and by the sensation of the whole body is brought in what is hard or soft, hot or cold, smooth or rough, heavy or light, whether external or internal to the body. All these doth that great receptacle of memory, with its many and indescribable departments, receive, to be recalled and brought forth when required; each, entering by its own door, is hid up in it. And yet the things themselves do not enter it, but only the images of the things perceived are there ready at hand for thought to recall. And who can tell how these images are formed, notwithstanding that it is evident by which of the senses each has been fetched in and treasured up? For even while I live in darkness and silence, I can bring out colours in memory if I wish, and discern between black and white, and what others I wish; nor yet do sounds break in and disturb what is drawn in by mine eyes, and which I am considering, seeing that they also are there, and are concealed, laid up, as it were, apart. For these too I can summon if I please, and immediately they appear. And though my tongue be at rest, and my throat silent, yet can I sing as much as I will; and those images of colours, which notwithstanding are there, do not interpose themselves and interrupt when another treasure is under consideration which flowed in through the ears. So the remaining things carried in and heaped up by the other senses, I recall at my pleasure. And I discern the scent of lilies from that of violets while smelling nothing; and I prefer honey to grape-syrup, a smooth thing to a rough, though then I neither taste nor handle, but only remember.
14. These things do I within, in that vast chamber of my memory. For there are nigh me heaven, earth, sea, and whatever I can think upon in them, besides those which I have forgotten. There also do I meet with myself, and recall myself,—what, when, or where I did a thing, and how I was affected when I did it. There are all which I remember, either by personal experience or on the faith of others. Out of the same supply do I myself with the past construct now this, now that likeness of things, which either I have experienced, or, from having experienced, have believed; and thence again future actions, events, and hopes, and upon all these again do I meditate as if they were present. “I will do this or that,” say I to myself in that vast womb of my mind, filled with the images of things so many and so great, “and this or that shall follow upon it.” “Oh that this or that might come to pass!” “God avert this or that!” Thus speak I to myself; and when I speak, the images of all I speak about are present, out of the same treasury of memory; nor could I say anything at all about them were the images absent.
15. Great is this power of memory, exceeding great, O my God,—an inner chamber large and boundless! Who has plumbed the depths thereof? Yet it is a power of mine, and appertains unto my nature; nor do I myself grasp all that I am. Therefore is the mind too narrow to contain itself. And where should that be which it doth not contain of itself? Is it outside and not in itself? How is it, then, that it doth not grasp itself? A great admiration rises upon me; astonishment seizes me. And men go forth to wonder at the heights of mountains, the huge waves of the sea, the broad flow of the rivers, the extent of the ocean, and the courses of the stars, and omit to wonder at themselves; nor do they marvel that when I spoke of all these things, I was not looking on them with my eyes, and yet could not speak of them unless those mountains, and waves, and rivers, and stars which I saw, and that ocean which I believe in, I saw inwardly in my memory, and with the same vast spaces between as when I saw them abroad. But I did not by seeing appropriate them when I looked on them with my eyes; nor are the things themselves with me, but their images. And I knew by what corporeal sense each made impression on me.
CAPUT VIII. Memoriae vis.
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12. Transibo ergo et istam vim naturae meae, gradibus ascendens ad eum qui fecit me; et venio in campos et lata praetoria memoriae, ubi sunt thesauri innumerabilium imaginum de cujuscemodi rebus sensis invectarum. Ibi reconditum est quidquid etiam cogitamus, vel augendo vel minuendo, vel utcumque variando ea quae sensus attigerit; et si quid aliud commendatum et repositum est, quod nondum absorbuit et sepelivit oblivio. Ibi quando sum, posco ut proferatur quidquid volo, et quaedam statim prodeunt; quaedam requiruntur diutius, et tanquam de abstrusioribus quibusdam receptaculis eruuntur; quaedam catervatim se proruunt , et dum aliud petitur et quaeritur, prosiliunt in medium quasi dicentia, Ne forte nos sumus? Et abigo ea manu cordis a facie recordationis meae, donec enubiletur quod volo, atque in conspectum prodeat ex abditis. Alia faciliter atque imperturbata serie, sicut poscuntur suggeruntur; et cedunt praecedentia consequentibus; et cedendo conduntur, iterum cum voluero processura. Quod totum fit, cum aliquid narro memoriter.
13. Ibi sunt omnia distincte generatimque servata, quae suo quaeque aditu ingesta sunt, sicut lux atque omnes colores formaeque corporum per oculos; per aures autem omnia genera sonorum; omnesque odores per aditum narium; omnes sapores per oris aditum; a sensu autem totius corporis, quid durum, quid molle, quid calidum frigidumve, lene aut asperum, grave seu leve, sive extrinsecus sive intrinsecus corpori. Haec omnia recipit recolenda cum opus est et retractanda grandis memoriae recessus, et nescio qui secreti atque ineffabiles sinus ejus; quae omnia suis quaeque foribus intrant ad eam, et reponuntur in ea. Nec ipsa tamen intrant, sed rerum sensarum imagines illic praesto 0785 sunt cogitationi reminiscenti eas. Quae quomodo fabricatae sint quis dicit, cum appareat quibus sensibus raptae sint interiusque reconditae? Nam et in tenebris atque in silentio dum habito, in memoria mea profero, si volo, colores; et discerno inter album et nigrum, et inter quos alios volo: nec incurrunt soni atque perturbant, quod per oculos haustum considero, cum et ipsi sint, et quasi seorsum repositi lateant. Nam et ipsos posco si placet, atque adsunt illico. Et quiescente lingua ac silente gutture canto quantum volo; imaginesque illae colorum quae nihilominus ibi sunt, non se interponunt neque interrumpunt, cum thesaurus alius retractatur qui influxit ab auribus. Ita caetera quae per sensus caeteros ingesta atque congesta sunt, recordor prout libet: et auram liliorum discerno a violis, nihil olfaciens; et mel defruto, lene aspero, nihil tunc gustando neque contrectando, sed reminiscendo antepono.
14. Intus haec ago, in aula ingenti memoriae meae. Ibi enim mihi coelum et terra et mare praesto sunt, cum omnibus quae in eis sentire potui, praeter illa quae oblitus sum. Ibi et ipse mihi occurro, meque recolo, quid, quando, et ubi egerim, quoque modo cum agerem affectus fuerim. Ibi sunt omnia quae sive experta a me sive credita memini. Ex eadem copia etiam similitudines rerum vel expertarum, vel ex eis quas expertus sum creditarum, alias atque alias et ipse contexo praeteritis, atque ex his etiam futuras actiones et eventa et spes, et haec omnia rursus quasi praesentia meditor. Faciam hoc aut illud, dico apud me in ipso ingenti sinu animi mei pleno tot et tantarum rerum imaginibus; et hoc aut illud sequetur. O si esset hoc aut illud! Avertat Deus hoc aut illud. Dico apud me ista: et cum dico, praesto sunt imagines omnium quae dico ex eodem thesauro memoriae, nec omnino aliquid eorum dicerem si defuissent.
15. Magna ista vis est memoriae, magna nimis, Deus meus, penetrale amplum et infinitum. Quis ad fundum ejus pervenit? Et vis est haec animi mei, atque ad meam naturam pertinet; nec ego ipse capio totum quod sum. Ergo animus ad habendum seipsum angustus est. Et ubi sit, quod sui non capit ? Numquid extra ipsum ac non in ipso? Quomodo ergo non capit? Multa mihi super hoc oboritur admiratio, stupor apprehendit me. Et eunt homines admirari alta montium, et ingentes fluctus maris, et latissimos lapsus fluminum, et Oceani ambitum, et gyros siderum, et relinquunt seipsos; nec mirantur, quod haec omnia cum dicerem, non ea videbam oculis, nec tamen dicerem nisi montes et fluctus et flumina et sidera quae vidi, et Oceanum quem credidi, intus in memoria mea viderem spatiis tam ingentibus quasi foris viderem: nec ea tamen videndo absorbui quando vidi oculis; nec ipsa sunt apud me, sed imagines eorum. 0786 Et novi quid ex quo sensu corporis impressum sit mihi.