Works (City of God, On the Trinity, etc.) 36 part 1/3

[I 1] In the twelfth book of this work, above, we have sufficiently dealt with distinguishing the office of the rational mind in temporal things — where not only our cognition but also our action is engaged — from the more excellent office of the same mind which is expended in contemplating eternal things and is bounded by cognition alone. But I think it will be more convenient to insert something from the Holy Scriptures, whereby both may the more easily be told apart. The evangelist John began his Gospel thus: In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. The same was in the beginning with God. All things were made by Him, and without Him was made nothing.

That which was made was life in Him, and the life was the light of men; and the light shineth in darkness, and the darkness comprehended it not. There was a man sent from God, whose name was John. This man came for a witness, that he might bear witness of the Light, that all might believe through him. He was not that Light, but was to bear witness of the Light. That was the true Light which enlighteneth every man coming into this world. He was in the world, and the world was made by Him, and the world knew Him not. He came unto His own, and His own received Him not. But as many as received Him, to them gave He power to become the sons of God, to them that believe in His name;

who were born, not of bloods, nor of the will of the flesh, nor of the will of man, but of God. And the Word was made flesh, and dwelt among us. And we saw His glory, the glory as of the only-begotten of the Father, full of grace and truth. This whole passage which I have set down from the Gospel has, in its earlier parts, that which is immutable and everlasting, the contemplation of which makes us blessed; but in the later parts, eternal things are commemorated intermingled with temporal. And thus some things there pertain to knowledge, others to wisdom, as our distinction proceeded in the twelfth book. For: In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God; the same was in the beginning with God —

All things were made by Him, and without Him was made nothing. That which was made was life in Him, and the life was the light of men; and the light shineth in darkness, and the darkness comprehended it not — this requires the contemplative life and must be discerned with the intellectual mind. And in this matter, the more anyone advances, the wiser without doubt he shall become. But on account of that which it says, the light shineth in darkness, and the darkness comprehended it not, there was indeed need of faith, whereby that which is not seen might be believed. For by 'darkness' he meant to be understood the hearts of mortals turned away from such a light and too unfit to behold it; on account of which he adds and says: There was a man sent from God, whose name was John;

this man came for a witness, that he might bear witness of the Light, that all might believe through him. This was now done in time, and pertains to knowledge, which is contained in historical cognition. And the man John we think of in a phantasy which has been impressed upon our memory from the notion of human nature. And in this same way they think of him, both those who do not believe these things and those who do. For to both alike it is known what a man is, whose outer part, that is, the body, they have learned through the body's eyes;

but the inner part, that is, the soul, they hold as known in their own selves — because they too are men — and through human converse, so that they can think what is said, There was a man whose name was John, since they also know names by speaking and hearing. But that which is there, sent from God, they who hold it hold by faith; and they who do not hold it by faith either waver in doubt or scoff in unbelief. Yet both, if they are not of the number of those over-foolish who say in their heart, There is no God, when they hear these words think of both — both what God is and what it is to be sent by God; and if not as the things really are, yet at least as they are able.

Faith itself, moreover, which each one sees to be in his own heart if he believes, or not to be there if he does not believe, we know in another way: not as we know bodies, which we see with the body's eyes and which, through their images that we hold in memory, we think of even when they are absent; nor as those things which we have not seen and which, out of the things we have seen, we somehow form by thought and commit to memory, so that we may recur to them when we wish, in order that there we may likewise discern them by recollection — or rather, whatever images of them we have fixed there; nor as a living man, whose soul, even if we do not see it, we conjecture from our own, and from bodily motions behold a living man, even in thought, just as we learned to do by seeing.

Not so is faith seen in the heart in which it is by him whose it is; but a most certain knowledge holds it, and conscience cries it aloud. Since, therefore, we are bidden to believe for this reason — that we cannot see that which we are bidden to believe — nevertheless faith itself, when it is within us, we see within us: for faith is present even of absent things, and faith is within of things that are without, and faith is seen of things that are not seen; and yet faith itself comes to be temporally in the hearts of men; and if from faithful they become unfaithful, it perishes from them. Sometimes, too, faith is accommodated to false things; for we speak in such a way as to say:

'Faith was placed in him, and he deceived.' Such a faith — if indeed it too is to be called faith — perishes from hearts not blamably when the truth, once found, drives it out. But desirably does faith concerning true things pass over into those very things; for it is not to be said, 'It perishes,' when the things that were believed are seen. For is faith still to be called faith, when it has been defined in the Epistle to the Hebrews, and it has been said that it is the conviction of things that are not seen? Then, that which follows — this man came for a witness, that he might bear witness of the Light, that all might believe through him — is, as we have said, a temporal action. For it is temporally that witness is borne even concerning an everlasting thing, which is the intelligible light.

To bear witness of which, John came, who was not the Light, but was to bear witness of the Light. For he adds: That was the true Light which enlighteneth every man coming into this world. He was in the world, and the world was made by Him, and the world knew Him not. He came unto His own, and His own received Him not. All these words, those who know the Latin tongue understand from the things which they have known. Of which things some have become known to us through the body's senses, such as man, such as the world itself, whose so evident magnitude we perceive, such as the sounds of the very words; for hearing too is a sense of the body. But others are known through the mind's reason, such as that which is said, His own received Him not;

for it is understood as, 'they did not believe in Him,' which — what it is — we have come to know by no bodily sense but by the mind's reason. Of the words themselves, too, we have learned not the sounds but the significations, partly through the body's sense, partly through the mind's reason. Nor did we now hear these words for the first time, but we were holding in known memory those which we had already heard — and not only the words themselves but also what they signified — and here we recognized them. For this disyllabic name, when it is said, 'world' (mundus), since it is a sound, has become known as a bodily thing through the body, that is, through the ear; but also what it signifies has become known through the body, that is, through the eyes of the flesh. For the world, insofar as it is known, is known to those who see it.

But this word of four syllables which is 'crediderunt' (they believed), by its own sound, since it is a body, glides in through the ear of the flesh; but what it signifies is known by no bodily sense but by the mind's reason. For unless we knew through the mind what 'they believed' is, we should not understand what those did not do of whom it was said, and His own received Him not. The sound, then, of the word rattles outwardly upon the ears of the body and reaches that sense which is called hearing. The appearance of a man, too, is both known to us in our very selves, and is present outwardly in others to the body's senses — to the eyes when it is seen, to the ears when it is heard, to touch when it is held and touched. It has also in our memory its own image, incorporeal indeed, yet like the body.

The wondrous beauty of the world itself, finally, is present outwardly both to our gaze and to that sense which is called touch, if we touch anything of it. It too has within, in our memory, its own image, to which we recur when we think of it, whether hedged about by walls or even in darkness. But concerning these images of bodily things — incorporeal indeed, yet having likenesses of bodies and pertaining to the life of the outer man — we have already spoken sufficiently in the eleventh book. But now we are treating of the inner man and of his knowledge, which is of temporal and mutable things.

Into the attention of which, when anything is taken up even from among things pertaining to the outer man, it must be taken up to this end — that something may thereby be taught which may aid rational knowledge. And thus the rational use of the things which we have in common with the irrational animals pertains to the inner man; nor can it rightly be said to be common to us with the irrational animals.

[II 5] But faith — concerning which, by the fixed plan of our arrangement, we are compelled to dispute somewhat more at length in this book, and those who have it are called faithful, and those who have it not, unfaithful, like those who did not receive the Son of God coming unto His own — although it has come to be in us from hearing, nevertheless does not pertain to that sense of the body which is called hearing, since it is not a sound; nor to the eyes of this flesh, since it is neither color nor bodily form; nor to that which is called touch, since it has nothing of corporeal bulk; nor to any sense of the body at all, since this thing is of the heart, not of the body; nor is it outside us, but in our inmost parts; nor does any man see it in another, but each in his own self; and finally it can even be feigned by pretense and be thought to be in one in whom it is not.

Each one, therefore, sees his own faith within himself; but in another he believes it to be, he does not see it — and he believes the more firmly the more he knows the fruits which faith is wont to work through love. Wherefore, to all those concerning whom the evangelist subjoins and says: But as many as received Him, to them gave He power to become the sons of God, to them that believe in His name, who were born not of bloods, nor of the will of the flesh, nor of the will of man, but of God — this faith is common: not as some bodily form is common to be seen by the eyes of all to whom it is present (for out of that one form the gaze of all who behold is in a certain way informed), but as the human face may be said to be common to all men.

For this is so said that nevertheless individuals have their own. Out of one teaching, indeed, we most truly say that faith is impressed upon the hearts of the several believers who believe this same thing; but the things which are believed are one thing, and the faith by which they are believed is another. For the former are in things which are said either to be, or to have been, or to be about to be; but the latter is in the mind of the believer, visible to him alone whose it is, although it be also in others — not the very same, but like. For it is not one in number, but in kind; yet on account of the likeness and the absence of all diversity, we call it one rather than many. For when we see two men most alike, we call it one face, and marvel at that of both.

It is more easily said, therefore, that there were many souls — individual souls, that is, of the individuals of whom we read in the Acts of the Apostles that they had one soul — than that anyone should dare to say, where the Apostle said one faith, that there were as many faiths as there were faithful. And yet He who says, O woman, great is thy faith, and to another, O thou of little faith, wherefore didst thou doubt?, signifies that each one has his own. But the same faith of believers is said to be one in the same manner as the same will of those who will is one, even though in those very persons who will this same thing each one's own will is visible to himself but hidden from another, although he wills the same; and if by some signs it makes itself known, it is believed rather than seen.

But each one, being conscious of his own mind, does not merely believe this to be his own will, but plainly sees it through and through. [III 6] There is indeed a certain great concurrence in the same nature — that of a being living and using reason — such that, although what one wills is hidden from another, nevertheless there are some wills of all that are known even to individuals; and although each man may not know what one other man wills, in certain matters he can know what all will. Whence is celebrated the most witty urbanity of a certain mime, who, when he had promised in the theatre that at other shows he would say what all had in their minds and what they willed, and when, on the appointed day, in enormous expectation a still greater multitude flowed together, with all in suspense and silent, is reported to have said:

You wish to buy cheap and to sell dear. In which saying all, even of the most frivolous stage-folk, nevertheless found their own consciences, and applauded with marvelous favor him who spoke a truth set before the eyes of all and yet unforeseen. But why was so great an expectation aroused when he promised that he would tell the will of all, unless because the wills of other men lie hidden from a man? But surely this did not lie hidden from him? Surely it lies hidden from no one? For what cause at last, unless because there are certain things which each one may, not unfittingly, conjecture in others from himself, a common vice or nature sympathizing or concurring? But it is one thing to see one's own will, another to conjecture another's, however most certain the conjecture.

For I hold it as certain among human affairs that Rome was founded, as that Constantinople was; whereas Rome I have seen with my own eyes, but of the other I know nothing except what I have believed on the testimony of others. And that mime indeed, whether by looking upon himself or by making trial also of others, believed it to be common to all to wish to buy cheap and sell dear. But since in truth it is a vice, anyone can attain such a righteousness, or incur the wholesome contagion of some other vice which is contrary to this one, whereby he may resist and overcome it. For I myself know a man who, when a book that was for sale had been offered to him, and he perceived that the seller was ignorant of its value and was therefore asking something trifling, gave him the just price, which was much greater, to his unexpecting astonishment.

What if there be even someone possessed of such great wickedness that he sells cheap what his parents left him and buys dear what his lusts may consume? Such luxury is not, I think, incredible; and if such men be sought, they will be found — or even, perhaps unsought, they may come to hand — men who, by a wickedness greater than any theatrical proposition or theatrical pronouncement, would leap up in scorn, buying debaucheries at a great price but selling their fields for a small one. For the sake of largess, too, we have known certain men to have bought grain dearer and sold it cheaper to their fellow-citizens. That also which the old poet Ennius said:

All mortals wish themselves to be praised — assuredly both from himself and from those whom he had experienced, he conjectured in others, and he seems to have pronounced the will of all men. Finally, if that mime too had said: 'You all wish to be praised; none of you wishes to be blamed,' he would likewise have seemed to have spoken what belonged to the will of all. Yet there are those who hate their own vices, and in the things in which they displease themselves do not even wish to be praised by others, and give thanks to the benevolence of those who rebuke them, when they are blamed to this end — that they may be corrected. But if he had said: 'You all wish to be blessed; you do not wish to be wretched,' he would have said something which no one would fail to recognize in his own will.

For whatever else anyone may secretly wish, he does not depart from this will which is sufficiently known to all and in all. [IV 7] Yet it is a marvel that, since the will to attain and hold fast to blessedness is one and the same in all, there should nonetheless arise concerning that very blessedness so great a variety and diversity of wills; not that anyone is unwilling to have it, but that not all know it. For if all knew it, it would not be supposed by some to lie in virtue of soul, by others in pleasure of body, by others in both, and by yet others in this or that thing, here or there. For as each thing has most delighted men, so in that have they placed the blessed life. How then do all most ardently love what not all know?

Who can love what he does not know, as I have already argued concerning this matter in the earlier books? Why then is blessedness loved by all, yet not known by all? Or perhaps all do know what it is, but not all know where it is, and thence arises the contention? As though the question were about some place in this world where he ought to wish to live who wishes to live blessedly, and not rather that we should inquire where blessedness is just as we inquire what it is. For surely, if it lies in bodily pleasure, then he is blessed who enjoys bodily pleasure; if in virtue of soul, then he who enjoys this; if in both, then he who enjoys both. And so when one says, 'To live blessedly is to enjoy the pleasure of the body,' but another:

'To live blessedly is to enjoy virtue of soul,' do not either both fail to know what the blessed life is, or else not both know it? How then do both love it, if no one can love what he does not know? Or is it perhaps false, that which we laid down as most true and most certain, that all men wish to live blessedly? For if to live blessedly is, for the sake of example, to live according to virtue of soul, how does he wish to live blessedly who does not wish this? Would we not more truly say: 'This man does not wish to live blessedly, because he does not wish to live according to virtue, which alone is to live blessedly'? Not all, then, wish to live blessedly; rather, few wish it, if there is no living blessedly except living according to virtue of soul, which many are unwilling to do.

Will that then be false which not even Cicero himself—an Academic, for whom all things are doubtful—doubted? For when in the dialogue Hortensius he wished to take the beginning of his discussion from some certain thing about which none could dispute, he said: 'Certainly we all wish to be blessed.' Far be it that we should call this false. What then? Must we say that, even if to live blessedly is nothing else than to live according to virtue of soul, nevertheless even he who does not wish this wishes to live blessedly? This indeed seems too absurd. For it is as if we should say: 'Even he who does not wish to live blessedly wishes to live blessedly.' Who could bear to hear, who could endure such a contradiction?

And yet necessity drives us to this, if it is both true that all wish to live blessedly, and that not all wish to live in the way in which alone one lives blessedly. [V 8] Or is there perhaps this way of rescuing us from these straits: that, since we said each man has placed the blessed life in whatever most delighted him (as Epicurus placed it in pleasure, Zeno in virtue, and others in other things), we should say that to live blessedly is nothing else than to live according to one's own delight, and therefore that it is false that all wish to live blessedly, because all wish it only insofar as it delights each one? For if this too were proclaimed to the people in the theatre, all would find it in their own wills.

But Cicero too, when he had set this before himself as an objection, refuted it in such a way that those who hold this opinion must blush. For he says: 'But behold, men who are not philosophers, yet ready enough to dispute, all say that those are blessed who live as they themselves wish' (this is what we said, as it delights each one). But presently he added: 'That indeed is false. For to wish what is not fitting is itself the most wretched thing; nor is it so wretched not to obtain what you wish as it is to wish to obtain what you ought not.' Most excellently indeed and most truly said.

For who could be so blind in mind, so estranged from all the light of comeliness and so wrapped in the darkness of disgrace, as to call that man blessed—who lives wickedly and shamefully, with none forbidding, none avenging, none even daring to reprove, and moreover with very many praising him (since, as divine Scripture says, 'the sinner is praised in the desires of his soul, and he who does iniquity shall be blessed'), and who fulfils all his most criminal and most shameful wishes—as to call him blessed because he lives as he wishes, when in truth, although even so he would be wretched, he would nonetheless be less wretched if he had been able to have none of the things he had wickedly wished? For by an evil will alone is anyone made wretched, but more wretched by the power whereby the desire of the evil will is fulfilled.

Wherefore, since it is true that all men wish to be blessed, and this one thing they seek with the most ardent love, and for the sake of this all other things whatsoever that they seek; and since no one can love what he is wholly ignorant of, in kind or in quality, nor can he be ignorant of what he knows that he wills—it follows that all know the blessed life. Now all the blessed have what they wish, although not all who have what they wish are forthwith blessed; but forthwith wretched are those who either do not have what they wish, or have what they wrongly wish. He therefore is not blessed except who both has all that he wishes and wishes nothing evilly.

[VI 9] Since therefore the blessed life consists of these two things, and is known to all and dear to all, what do we suppose is the cause why, when men cannot have both of these two, they rather choose to have all that they wish than to wish all things well even if they do not have them?

Or is it the very depravity of the human race, that although it does not escape them that neither is he blessed who does not have what he wishes, nor he who has what he evilly wishes, but rather he who both has whatever good things he wishes and wishes nothing evilly—of these two things by which the blessed life is perfected, when both are not granted, that should be chosen the rather by which one recedes further from the blessed life (for whoever attains what he evilly craved is indeed further from it than he who does not attain what he craves), whereas rather a good will ought to have been chosen and preferred even unattained though it seeks what it desires? For he draws near to the blessed man who wills well whatever he wills, and which, when he has attained, he will be blessed. And surely it is not evil but good things that make one blessed, when they do so.

Of these good things he already has something, and something not to be lightly esteemed—namely, that very good will itself—who desires to rejoice in the good things of which human nature is capable, and not in the perpetration or attainment of any evil; and who with a prudent, temperate, brave, and just mind pursues such good things as can exist even in this wretched life, and, so far as it is granted, attains them, that he may be good even amid evils, and, when all evils are ended and all good things fulfilled, may be blessed. [VII 10] And on this account, in this mortal life most full of errors and hardships, faith above all is necessary, by which one believes in God.

For it cannot be found whence any good things come—especially those by which anyone is made good, and those by which he shall be made blessed—except from God into man, and to man they accrue. But when from this life one who is faithful and good amid these miseries has come to the blessed life, then that will truly be which now can in no way be: that man may live as he wishes. For in that felicity he will not wish to live evilly, nor will he wish for anything that shall be lacking, nor shall that be lacking which he shall have wished. Whatever shall be loved will be present, nor shall that be desired which is not present. Everything that will be there will be good, and the supreme God will be the supreme good, and will be at hand to be enjoyed by those who love, and—what is altogether most blessed—it will be certain that it shall ever be so.

But as it is, the philosophers have indeed made for themselves, each as it pleased him, their own blessed lives, that by their own virtue, as it were, they might attain what by the common condition of mortals they could not—namely, to live as they wished. For they perceived that no one can be blessed except by having what he wishes and suffering nothing that he does not wish. And yet who would not wish that any life whatsoever, in which he delights and which he therefore calls blessed, might be so in his own power that he could have it perpetually? And yet who is thus circumstanced? Who wishes to suffer troubles, that he may bravely endure them, however much he may be willing and able to endure them if he suffers them? Who would wish to live in torments, even one who is able to live praiseworthily in them by holding fast to justice through patience?

Those who endured these evils reckoned them as things that would pass away, whether by craving to have or by fearing to lose what they loved, whether wickedly or praiseworthily. For many have bravely striven through transitory evils toward abiding goods. These indeed are blessed in hope, even while they are in transitory evils through which they come to goods that are not transitory. But he who is blessed in hope is not yet blessed. For he awaits through patience the blessedness which he does not yet hold. But he who without any such hope, without any such reward, is tormented, however much endurance he may bring, is not truly blessed but bravely wretched. For he is not the less wretched on this account, that he would be more wretched if he bore his wretchedness impatiently.

Furthermore, if a man does not suffer those things which he would be unwilling to suffer in his own body, not even then is he to be accounted blessed, since he does not live as he wishes. For, to pass over other things which, even with the body unharmed, pertain to the offences of the mind, without which we would wish to live, and which are innumerable—he would surely, if he could, wish so to keep his body sound and whole and to suffer no troubles from it, that he might have this in his own power or in the very incorruption of the body; and because he does not have this, and it hangs in uncertainty, assuredly he does not live as he wishes. For although through fortitude he be ready to receive and to bear with an even mind whatever adversity may befall, yet he would rather it did not befall, and if he can, he brings it about;