Life and Works. The bridge between ancient and medieval thought and the founder of philosophy in the Middle Ages is St. Augustine. In his passionate pursuit of truth and happiness, Aurelius Augustine’s life spiraled through three spiritual stages: conversion, illumination, and unity.

Conversion. Augustine was worn in Tagaste (modern Souk Ahras, Tunisia), November 13, 354, of a Christian mother Monica and a pagan father Patricius. An offspring of the dying ancient civilization and the emerging Christian culture, he experienced powerful inner conflict. During his studies of literature and grammar at Madaura and his higher education in rhetoric at Carthage, he revelled in "the ways of Babylon" and enjoyed the circles of sensuality. For fifteen years he lived with a mistress by whom he had a son Adeodatus. He taught rhetoric and eloquence at Tagaste, Carthage, and Milan. Outwardly, he was pleased with the ensuing fame, but inwardly, he was discontented as his mind wandered from the materialism of Manichaeans to the skepticism of the Platonic New Academy, until he was stirred to moral purification by the spirituality of Plotinus.

Illumination. Illumined by the epistles of St. Paul and the holy life of St. Anthony of Egypt, Augustine experienced a strong desire to better his way of life. To that end he retreated for a year (386-387) with some friends to Cassiciacum outside Milan, where he wrote Against the Academics—a justification of truth and certitude—On the Happy Life, On Order, The Soliloquies—a discourse on God and the soul—On the Immortality of the Soul, and On Music. After his spiritual seclusion, Augustine and Adeodatus were baptized by St. Ambrose.

Union. While residing at Rome (387-388), Augustine composed two philosophical dialogues, On Free Choice and On the Magnitude of the Soul—on the operations of the soul. After returning to Tagaste (388), he sold all his inheritance and established a small monastic community. Not long after writing On the Teacher—a study of knowledge—he became a priest (391), and later, by popular acclaim, was consecrated Bishop of Hippo (395/396). His numerous sermons against Manichaeism, Donatism, and Pelagianism, his many theological treatises, and his letters, testify to his unceasing concern for the faith of his fellow Christians.

Notwithstanding his pressing episcopal duties, Augustine wrote three magna opera: the Confessions (400)—an autobiography of his personal relationship to God—On the Trinity (400-416), and the City of God (413-426)-a defense of Christianity and an exposition of the meaning of history. His work On the Nature of the Good responds to Manichaeism, his treatise On the Soul and Its Origin replies to Donatism. Toward the end of his life, he critically scrutinized his earlier writings in the Retractions which chronologically enumerates his ninety-four works, explaining their purpose and making revisions. Appropriately, his last complete opus was On the Gift of Perseverance (428), for his mind and heart ceaselessly sought truth and happiness which he found ultimately in union with God. Augustine died in 430 at Genseric as the Vandals laid siege to Hippo.

Philosophy. For Augustine, philosophy means love of wisdom for the attainment of happiness. The soul finds happiness in the journey of knowledge and love to God. Cognition shows itself to be sensory and intellectual. Whereas sensation grasps only what is changing and temporal and yields opinion, reason, contemplating immutable and eternal objects, achieves certitude of truths concerning one’s self-existence and mathematical statements such as seven and three are ten. The soul understands eternal truths only insofar as it is illumined by unchangeable, eternal Truth, God, the cause of all created truth, the divine archetype reflected by creatures. Forms existing as seminal reasons in matter created from nothing develop under favorable conditions into the actual beings observable in the world. The image of God, man, is an immortal, rational soul using a mortal and terrestrial body.

Augustine was also certain of ethical truths; for example, happiness consists in the possession of good. True wisdom embraces love as well as knowledge of truth. Not fully satisfied with the delights of mutable, temporal good, the soul seeks to love God above all things in order to enjoy true liberty and beatitude. Not until the soul embraces God in an unchanging, unceasing, unstinting act of contemplative love will it possess the perfect "joy of truth."

Method. Augustine disclosed the relationship of the soul to God in a religious, affective, personal, introspective, synthetic approach. First, he philosophized within a framework of faith and reason; faith seeks to understand what is revealed by God and reason finds enlightenment in believing. Second, in an affective approach love brings the understanding by faith to fulfillment in a good life. Third, Augustine expressed his philosophy in a personal way by uncovering the human condition of evil and unhappiness in order to show the soul’s need of God. Fourth, his personal reflection followed an interior route which involved a turning from the exterior sensible world to the inner intelligible realm of the soul, and an ascension from the inferior being of self to the superior truth of God. Fifth, the Augustinian mind strives to synthesize its myriad analyses of reality within a theocentric perspective. This philosophic method bears the impression of Augustine’s own distinctive personality.

Augustine is a Christian Plotinus and his philosophy a unique expression of Christian wisdom. As ancient philosophy testified to the capacity of pure human reason, so the new philosophy of Augustine bears witness to the power of faith-with-reason in discovering the meaning of human existence. His masterly synthesis of universal history in terms of God and the soul, love and freedom, established him as the founding Father of philosophical history. Four centuries later, Emperor Charlemagne probably conceived and founded his empire as the embodiment of the City of God on earth. All the great philosophers in the Middle Ages and modern thinkers from Descartes and Luther to Blondel and Husserl drew ideas from the fountain of Augustinian philosophy. His thought is ever ancient and ever new.

5. And therefore, commending that grace which is not given according to any merits but is the cause of all good merits, he says, "Not that we are sufficient to think anything as of ourselves, but our sufficiency is of God." [2 Cor. 3:5] Let them give attention to this, and well weigh these words, who think that the beginning of faith is of ourselves, and the supplement of faith is of God. For who cannot see that that thinking is prior to believing? For no one believes anything unless he has first thought that it is to be believed. For however rapidly, some thoughts fly before the will to believe, and this presently follows in such wise as to attend them, as it were, in closest conjunction, it is yet necessary that everything which is believed should be believed after thought had preceded; although even belief itself is nothing else than to think with assent. For it is not every one who thinks that believes, since many think in order that they may not believe; but everybody who believes, thinks—both thinks in believing, and believes in thinking.

4. Evodius: I grant now that God gave it. But does it not seem to you, I ask, that if it has been given for doing right, we should not be able to pervert it to a sinful use? Like justice, which too is given to man for right living—for could anyone live evilly by his own justice? So no one would be able to sin by his will, if that will had been given him to do right.

Augustine: God will grant, I hope, that I shall be able to answer you; or rather that you yourself will find the answer from that greatest teacher of all, the truth within your own heart. But I would have you tell me briefly if you have sure knowledge of what I asked you, that God gave us free will; whether or not we conclude that God should not have given that which we acknowledge that He gave. For if it is not certain that He did give it, we may rightly ask whether it was well given, so that when we find that it was well given, we will also find that it was given by Him who gave all goods to men: if on the other hand we find it not well given, we shall know that it was not given by Him whom to blame were impious. But if it is certain that He himself gave it, however it was given we must acknowledge that it neither should not have been given, nor given otherwise than as it was given. For He gave it whose act can nowise be rightly censured.

5. Evodius: Though I hold these things with unshaken faith, yet since I do not hold them by knowledge, let us inquire into them as if all were uncertain. For I see that as it is uncertain whether free will was given us for doing right, since we can also sin by it, that other question becomes also uncertain, whether it should have been given. But if it is uncertain that it was given for doing right, and also uncertain whether it should have been given, it is not certain that it was given by Him whom it were impious to believe had given anything He should not given.

Augustine: At least you are certain that God exists?

Evodius: Even that I do not hold by reason, but by steadfast faith.

Augustine: If then one of those fools of whom it is written: "The fool hath said in his heart, There is no God," [Ps. 13:1] should say this to you, and not be willing to believe what you believe, but want to know whether you were believing the truth; would you leave the man, or would you think that in some way he should be persuaded of what you so firmly believe; especially if he had the will not to oppose it obstinately, but wished eagerly to know?

Evodius: What you said last advises me well enough as to how I should answer him. For however unreasonable he might be, he would admit that nothing whatever, and least of all so great a matter, should be argued about insincerely or with obstinacy. This granted, he would first try to convince me that he was asking in good faith, and that he had no hidden guile or obstinacy about the matter.

Then I should show (as I think anyone could easily do) that since he himself was demanding that matters hidden in his own mind be believed by another who did not know them, that it would be only reasonable for him to believe that God exists, from the books of those great men who have left written testimony that they lived with the Son of God, and who have written also of things seen by them which could not possibly be if there were no God: and he would be a simple fellow indeed to criticize me for believing those men when he wanted me to believe him. But that which he could not rightly object to he could in no wise make an excuse for his unwillingness to imitate.

Augustine: If then, as to whether God exists, it is enough for you that it should not seem unreasonable to believe those great men, why, pray, do you not think we should likewise take on the authority of those same men all those other things which we subjected to inquiry as if they were unsure and not clearly known? We should then have to trouble no further to examine them.

Evodius: But that which we believe, we desire also to know and understand.

6. Augustine: You remember rightly; we cannot go back on the position we took at the beginning of our former discussion. For believing is one thing, and understanding another; and we must first believe whatever great and divine matter we desire to understand. Else would the Prophet have said in error, "Except ye believe, ye shall not understand." [Isa. 7:9, Septuagint] Then too our Lord himself, both by His words and His acts, exhorted those whom He called to salvation to first believe. But afterward, when He spoke of the gift itself that was to be given to believers, He did not say, "This moreover is eternal life, that ye believe," but "This is life eternal, that they might know thee the only true God, and Jesus Christ, whom thou hast sent." [John 17:3] Again, he says to believers, Seek and ye shall find. [Matt. 7:7] But one cannot speak of that being found which is believed without knowledge, nor does anyone become prepared to find God who does not first believe that which he is afterward to know. Wherefore, following our Lord’s precepts, let us seek earnestly. For what He himself encourages us to seek, that same shall we find by His showing, so far as such things may be found in His life, and by such as we. For it is to be believed that these things are seen more clearly and known more perfectly by those better than we, even while they live on earth, and certainly by the good and pious after this life. And so we must hope it will be with us, and despising things earthly and mortal must love and desire these things in every way.

20.43. And now—that you may grasp my whole meaning in a few words—whatever may be the nature of human wisdom, I see that I have not yet understood it. Nevertheless, although I am now in the thirty-third year of my life, I do not think that I ought to despair of understanding it some day, for I have resolved to disregard all the other things which mortals consider good, and to devote myself to an investigation of it. And, whereas the reasonings of the Academics used to deter me greatly from such an undertaking, I believe that through this disputation I am now sufficiently protected against those reasonings. Certainly, no one doubts that we are impelled toward knowledge by a twofold force: the force of authority and the force of reason. And I am resolved never to deviate in the least from the authority of Christ, for I find none more powerful. But, as to what is attainable by acute an accurate reasoning, such is my state of mind that I am impatient to grasp what truth is—to grasp it not only by belief, but also by comprehension. Meanwhile, I am confident that I shall find among the Platonists what is not in opposition to our Sacred Scriptures.

9.26. It remains for me to declare how instruction is to be imparted to the studious youths who have resolved to live after the manner described above. Likewise, with regard to the acquiring of knowledge, we are of necessity led in a twofold manner: by authority is first; in the order of reality, reason is prior. What takes precedence in operation is one thing; what is more highly prized as an object of desire is something else. Consequently, although the authority of upright men seems to be the safer guide for the uninstructed multitude, reason is better adapted for the educated. Furthermore, learned, and since no unlearned person knows in what quality he ought to present himself to instructors or by what manner of life he may become docile, it happens that for those who seek to learn great and hidden truths authority alone opens the door. But, after one has entered, then without any hesitation he begins to follow the precepts of the perfect life. When he has become docile through these precepts, then at length he will come to know: (a) how much wisdom is embodied in those very precepts that he has been observing before understanding; (b) what reason itself is, which he, now strong and capable after the cradle of authority, follows and comprehends; (c) what intellect is, in which all things are or rather, which is itself the sum total of all things; (d) and what, beyond all things, is the source of all things. To this knowledge, few are able to arrive in this life; even after this life, no one can exceed it.

As to those who are content to follow authority alone and who apply themselves constantly to right living and holy desires, while they make no account of the liberal and fine arts, or are incapable of being instructed in them I know not how I could call them happy as long as they live among men. Nevertheless, I firmly believe that, upon leaving the body, they will be liberated with greater facility or difficulty according as they have lived the more virtuously or otherwise.

27. Authority is, indeed, partly divine and partly human, but the true, solid and sovereign authority is that which is called divine. In this matter there is to be feared the wonderful deception of invisible beings that, by certain divinations and numerous powers of things pertaining to the senses, are accustomed to deceive with the utmost ease those souls that are engrossed with perishable possessions, or eagerly desirous of transitory power, or overawed by meaningless prodigies.

We must, therefore, accept as divine that Authority which not only exceeds human power in its outward manifestations, but also, in the very act of leading a man onward, shows him to what extent It has debased Itself for his sake, and bids him not to be confined to the senses, to which indeed those things seem wondrous, but to soar upward to the intellect. At the same time It shows him what great things It is able to do, and why It does them, and how little importance It attaches to them. For, it is fitting that by deeds It show Its power; by humility, Its clemency; by commandment, Its nature. And all this is being delivered to us so distinctly and steadily by the sacred rites into which we are now being initiated: therein the life of good men is most easily purified, not indeed by the circumlocution of disputation, but by the authority of the mysteries.

But human authority is very often deceiving. Yet it rightly seems to show itself at its best in those men who propose various proofs for their teachings, insofar as the mind of the unlearned can grasp them, and who do not live otherwise than how they prescribe that one ought to live. If certain goods of fortune accrue to these men, they reveal themselves great men in the use of those things, but still greater in their contempt of them; and then it is most difficult to lay blame on anyone who puts trust in those men when they enunciate principles of right living.

24.45. And so even the very medicine of the soul, which Divine Providence and ineffable Goodness administers, is perfectly beautiful in degree and distinction. For it is divided between authority and reason. Authority demands faith, and prepares man for reason. Reason leads him on to knowledge and understanding. But reason is not entirely useless to authority; it helps in considering what authority is to be accepted. Certainly the greatest authority is that of the known and clearly evident Truth Itself. But since we dwell among the temporal and are drawn by love of them from things that are eternal, some temporal medicine which calls not the learned but the believers to salvation is of primary importance, not in the order of nature or excellence, but in the order of time. For wherever you fall, there you must strive to rise. Therefore, we must strive by use of the very material forms which hold us down, in order to understand those which the body does not report. I call those forms material which our bodies can perceive, that is, those which our eyes, ears, and other bodily senses perceive. To cling eagerly to material, bodily forms of cognition is a necessity for children, a near necessity for the adolescent, but no necessity at all for adults.

10.22. We resolved to contravene, to the best of our ability, the two aphorisms of the Academics: namely, "that nothing can be perceived" and "that assent ought not to be given to anything." As regards the latter, more later, but we shall at once make a few observations on the former. Do you say that absolutely nothing can be perceived? At this point, Carneades awoke from slumber—none of those men dozed more lightly that Carneades—and carefully examined the evidence of reality. I believe that then—soliloquizing, as men sometimes do—he asked himself: "Now, Carneades, are you really going to say that you do not know whether you are a man or an insect? Or is Chrysippus going to triumph over you? Well, let us say that the things we do not know are those things which philosophers investigate, and that the other things are of no concern to us. Then, if I stumble in the ordinary everyday light, I can take refuge in that which is a region of darkness for the inerudite—a region where only certain godlike eyes can see. And, if they see me tottering and falling, they cannot reveal it to the blind—especially to the arrogant and those who are too proud to be taught anything." O, Crecian craftiness, you come forth neatly girded and equipped, but you overlook the fact that this definition is itself the invention of philosophy. And if you attempt to chop it, the double-edged axe will strike back against your shins, for, if that definition is weakened, not only can something be understood, but also—unless you venture to remove it completely—one can understand a thing that is very similar to something false. That definition is your lurking place, from which you rush forth furiously, and spring upon the unwary passerby. But, just as Hercules strangled the half-wild Cacus in the latter’s cave, and crushed him beneath its ruins, so, too, will some one strangle and crush you, while he teaches that there is in philosophy something which you cannot render doubtful by showing that it is similar to something false. Of course, I was hastening on to other points. But, whoever would urge me to do that now, would cast great reproach on you, Carneades, for he would be considering you as no more capable than a dead man against my assaults anywhere and from any angle. On the other hand, whoever does not think this is merciless, if he forces me to abandon the ramparts everywhere and to engage in combat with you on the plain. When I had begun to descend to combat, your name alone filled me with terror, and I at once retreated. But I hurled some kind of missile from the heights. Whether it reached you, or what effect is produced—that is something to be decided by those under whose scrutiny we are now contending. Yet, although I am incompetent, why should I be afraid? If I remember correctly, Carneades, you are dead. And Alypius is no longer rightfully contending as proxy for your corpse. God will readily give me aid against your ghost.

23. You say that in philosophy nothing can be understood. And, in order to spread your utterance far and wide, you ridicule the quarrels and dissensions of philosophers. And you think that those quarrels and dissensions supply you with arms against the philosophers themselves. How, for instance, are we going to adjudicate the contest between Democritus and the earlier cosmologists as to the oneness or the incalculable multiplicity of the world, inasmuch as it was impossible to preserve agreement between Democritus himself and his heir, Epicurus? That voluptuary was glad to grasp atoms in the darkness and to make those little bodies his handmaids, but he dissipated his entire patrimony through litigation when he allowed them to deviate from their respective proper courses and to diverge capriciously into one another’s paths. Of course, this is no affair of mine, but if it pertains to wisdom to know anything about those matters, a wise man cannot be unaware of that fact. I myself am as yet far from being even almost wise. Nevertheless, I know something about those matters of cosmology, for I am certain that either there is only one world or there are more worlds than one. I am likewise certain that if there are more worlds than one, their number is either finite or infinite. Carneades would teach that this notion resembles a false one. Furthermore, I know for certain that this world of ours has its present arrangement either from the nature of bodies or from a foresight of some kind. I am also certain that either it always was and always will be, or it had a beginning and will never end, or it existed before time and will have an end, or it had a beginning and will not last forever. And I have the same kind of knowledge with regard to countless cosmological problems, for those disjunctives are true, and no one can confuse them with any likeness to falsity. "Now," says the Academic, "assume the truth of either member of the disjunction." I refuse to do that, for it is the same as saying: "Quit what you know, and say what you know not." "But," says he, "your notion is now hanging in suspense." Very well: better hanging in suspense than falling to the ground. While it is hanging, it is at least in plain view, and it can be pronounced either true or false. Because I know that it is either true or false, I say that I know it as a proposition. Now, since you do not deny that these matters pertain to philosophy, and since you nevertheless maintain that nothing can be known about them, I ask you to show that I do not know them. In other words, say either that these disjunctives are false or that they have something in common with falsity—some characteristic which renders them absolutely indistinguishable from something that is false.’

11.24. ‘"But," says he, "if the senses are deceptive, how do you know that this world exists?" Your reasons will never be able to refute the testimony of the senses to such extent as to convince us that nothing is perceived by us. In fact, you have never ventured to try that, but you have strenuously exerted yourself to convince us that a thing can be something other than what it seems to be. So, by the term world, I mean this totality which surrounds us and sustains us. Whatever its nature may be, I apply the term world to that which is present to my eyes, and which I see to be holding the earth and the heavens, or the quasi earth and the quasi heavens. If you say that nothing appears to me, then I shall never be in error: the man that is in error is the man who rashly accepts as true whatever appears to him. Indeed, you yourselves say that to sentient beings a false thing can appear to them. You are anxious to gain a victory in this dispute. But, if we know nothing, and if nothing even appears to us as true, then the entire reason for our dispute will vanish. And if you maintain that what appears to me is not a world, then you are disputing about words only, for I have said that I call it a world.’

25. ‘But, you will ask me: "Is it the very same world that you are seeing, even if you are asleep?" I have already said that I am using the term world to designate whatever appears as such to me. But, if you think that the term ought to be restricted to that which appears to those who are awake and of sound mind, then contend—if you can—that sleeping men and deranged men are not in this world while they are asleep or deranged. My only assertion is that this entire mass and frame of bodies in which we exist is either a unit or not a unit, and that it is what it is,whether we be asleep or awake, deranged or of sound mind. Point out how this notion can be false. If I am now asleep, it is possible that I have said nothing at all, but if—as happens occasionally—words have escaped my lips during sleep, it is possible that I was not talking here, that I was not thus seated, and that I was not talking to these listeners. In any case, it must be true that the world is what it is. Of course, I am not saying that I perceived the same thing that I would perceive if I were awake, but you can say that what I perceive when I am awake could appear to me also when I am asleep. Therefore, it can be very similar to something false. However, if there are one world and six worlds, it is clear that there are seven worlds, no matter how I may be affected. And, with all due modesty, I maintain that I know this. Then, show that either this dilemma or the aforesaid disjunctives can be false by reason of sleep, or mental derangement, or the unreality of sense perception. And then, if I remember it when I am awakened, I shall admit that I am vanquished. But, I regard it as already sufficiently plain that the things which are seen awry through sleep or derangement are things that pertain to the bodily senses, for, even if the whole human race were fast asleep, it would still be necessarily true that three times three are nine, and that this is the square of intelligible numbers. Furthermore, I see that, on behalf of the senses, one could urge many arguments which we do not find reprehended by the Academics. In fact, I believe that the senses are not untrustworthy either because deranged persons suffer illusions, or because we see things wrongly when we are asleep. If the senses correctly intimate things to the vigilant and the sane, it is no affair of theirs what the mind of a sleeping or an insane person may fancy for itself.’

26. ‘Inquiry is still to be made as to whether the senses report the truth whenever they report anything. Well, suppose that some Epicurean would say: "I have no complaint to make about the senses, for it would be unfair to demand of them anything beyond their power. And, whatever the eyes can see, they see that which is true." Therefore, as to what they see with regard to an oar in the water—is that true? It is absolutely true. In fact, since there is a special reason for the oar’s appearing that way, I should rather accuse my eyes of deception if it appeared to be straight when it is dipped in the water, for, in that case, they would not be seeing what ought to be seen. But what is the need of many examples? The same can be said about the motion of towers, the wings of birds, and countless other things. "Nevertheless," say some one or other, "I am deceived if I give assent." Restrict your assent to the mere fact of your being convinced that it appears thus to you. Then there is no deception, for I do not see how even the Academic can refute a man who says: "I know that this appears white to me. I know that I am delighted by what I am hearing. I know that this smells pleasant to me. I know that this tastes sweet to me. I know that this feels cold to me." Tell me, rather, whether the oleaster leaves—for which a goat has a persistent appetite—are bitter per se. I, shameless man! Is not the goat more moderate? I know not how the oleaster leaves may be for flocks and herds; as to myself, they are bitter. What more do you wish to know? Perhaps there is even some man for whom they are not bitter. Are you contending for the sake of annoyance? Have I said that they are bitter for everybody? I have said that they are bitter for me, but I do not say that they will always be so. What, if at different times and for diverse reasons, something be found to taste sweet at one time, and bitter on some other occasion? This is what I say: that when a man tastes something, he can in good faith swear that it is sweet to his palate or that it is not, and that by no Greek sophistry can he be beguiled out of this knowledge. If I am relishing the taste of something, who would be so brazen as to say to me: "Perhaps you are not tasting it: it may be only a dream"? Would I discontinue? Why, that would afford me pleasure even in a dream. Wherefore, no resemblance to falsity can confuse what I have said that I know. Perhaps an Epicurean or the Cyrenaics would make far greater claims for the senses. And I have heard that nothing has been said in rebuttal by the Academics. But, what is that to me? Let the Academics refute those claims if—even with my aid—they are able and willing to do so, for their arguments against the senses do not hold against all philosophers. There are some philosophers who profess that an opinion can be engendered by what the mind receives through a bodily sense, but maintain that no certain knowledge [scientia] can be thus engendered. They hold that such knowledge is contained in the intelligence, far remote from the senses. Perhaps it is among those philosophers that we shall find the wise man we are looking for. But, we shall discuss that later.’

26. For we both are, and know that we are, and take delight in our being and knowing. Moreover, in these three things no true-seeming illusion disturbs us; for we do not come into contact with these by some bodily sense, as we perceive the things outside—colors, e.g., by seeing, sounds by hearing, smells by smelling, tastes by tasting, hard and soft objects by touching—of all which sensible objects it is the images resembling them, but not themselves, that we perceive in the mind and hold in the memory, and which excite us to desire the objects. However, without any delusive representation of images or phantasms, I am most certain that I am, that I know, and that I delight in this. On none of these points do I fear the arguments of the skeptics of the Academy who say: what if you are deceived? For if I am deceived, I am. For he who does not exist cannot be deceived; and if I am deceived, by this same token I am. And since I am if I am deceived in believing that I am? For it is certain that I am, if I am deceived. Since therefore I, the person deceived, should be, even if I were deceived, certainly I am not deceived in this knowledge that I am. Consequently, neither am I deceived in knowing that I know. For, as I know that I am, so I know this also, that I know. And when I love these two [being and knowing], I add to them a third, that is, my love, which is of equal importance. For neither am I deceived in this, that I love, since in those things which I love I am not deceived; even if these were false, it would still be true that I loved false things. For how could I justly be blamed and prohibited from loving false things, if it were false that I loved them? Since these facts are true and real, who doubts that, when these things are loved, the love of them is itself true and real?

21. First, of what sort and how great is the very knowledge itself that a man can attain, be he ever so skillful and learned, by which our thought is formed with truth, when we speak what we know? For to pass by those things that come into the mind from the bodily senses, among which so many are otherwise than they seem to be, that he who is overmuch pressed down by their resemblance to truth, seems sane to himself, but really is not sane—whence it is that the academic philosophy has so prevailed as to be still more wretchedly insane by doubting all things—passing by, then, those things that come into the mind by the bodily senses, how large a proportion is left of things which we know in such manner as we know that we live? In this, indeed, we are absolutely without any fear lest perchance we are being deceived by some resemblance of the truth; since it is certain that he too who is deceived, yet lives. And this again is not reckoned among those objects of sight that are presented from without, so that the eye may be deceived in it; in such way as it is when an oar in the water looks bent, and towers seem to move as you sail past them, and a thousand other things that are otherwise than they seem to be: for this is not a thing that is discerned by the eye of the flesh. The knowledge by which we know that we live is the most inward of all knowledge, of which even the Academic cannot insinuate. Perhaps you are asleep, and do not know it, and you see things in your sleep. For who does not know that what people see in dreams is precisely like what they see when awake? But he who is certain of the knowledge of his own life does not therein say "I know I am awake"but "I know I am alive"; therefore, whether he be asleep or awake, he is alive. Nor can he be deceived in that knowledge by dreams; since it belongs to a living man both to sleep and to see in sleep. Nor can the Academic again say, in confutation of this knowledge, "Perhaps you are mad, and do not know it": for what madmen see is precisely like what they also see who are sane; but he who is mad is alive. Nor does he answer the Academic by saying "I know I am not mad" but "I know I am alive." Therefore he who says he knows he is alive, can neither be deceived nor lie. Let a thousand kinds then of deceitful objects of sight be presented to him who says "I know I am alive"; yet he will fear none of them, for he who is deceived yet is alive. But if such things alone pertain to human knowledge, they are very few indeed; unless that they can be so multiplied in each kind, as not only not to be few, but to reach in the result of infinity. For he who says "I know I am alive" says that he knows one single thing. Further, if he says "I know that I know I am alive," now there are two; but that he knows these two is a third thing to know. And so he can add a fourth and a fifth, and innumerable others, if he holds out. But since he cannot either comprehend an innumerable number by additions of units, or say a thing innumerable times, he comprehends this at least, and with perfect certainty, viz. that this is both true, and so innumerable that he cannot truly comprehend and say its infinite number. This same thing may be noticed also in the case of a will that is certain. For it would be an impudent answer to make to any one who should say "I will to be happy" that perhaps you are deceived. And if he should say, "I know that I will this, and I know that I know it," he can add yet a third to these two, viz. that he knows these two; and a fourth, that he knows that he knows these two; and so on ad infinitum. Likewise, if any one were to say, "I will not to be mistaken," will it not be true, whether he is mistaken or whether he is not, that nevertheless he does will not to be mistaken? Would it not be most impudent to say to him "perhaps you are deceived?" when beyond doubt, whereinsoever he may be deceived, he is nevertheless not deceived in thinking that he wills not to be deceived. And if he says he knows this, he adds any number he chooses of things known, and perceives that number to be infinite. For he who says, "I will not to be deceived, and I know that I will not to be so, and I know that I know it," is able now to set forth an infinite number here also, however awkward may be the expression of it. And other things too are to be found capable of refuting the Academics, who contend that man can know nothing. But we must restrict ourselves, especially as this is not the subject we have undertaken in the present work. There are three books of ours on the subject [Against the Academics], written in the early time of our conversion, which he who can and will read, and who understands them, will doubtless not be much moved by any of the many arguments which they have found out against the discovery of truth. For whereas there are two kinds of knowable things—one, of those things which the mind perceives by the bodily senses; the other, of those which it perceives by itself—these philosophers have babbled much against the bodily senses, but have never been able to throw doubt upon those most certain perceptions of things true which the mind knows by itself, such as is that which I have mentioned, "I know that I am alive." But far be it from us to doubt the truth of what we have learned by the bodily senses; since by them we have learned to know the heaven and the earth, and those things in them which are known to us, so far as He who created both us and them has willed them to be within our knowledge. Far be it from us, too, to deny that we know what we have learned by the testimony of others: otherwise we know not that there is an ocean; we know not that the lands and cities exist which most copious report commends to us; we know not that those men were, and their works, which we have learned by reading history; we know not the news that is daily brought us from this quarter or that, and confirmed by consistent and conspiring evidence; lastly, we know not at what place or from whom we have been born: since in all these things we have believed the testimony of others. And if it is most absurd to say this, then we must confess that not only our own senses, but those of other persons also, have added very much indeed to our knowledge.

3.7. Augustine: Wherefore, in order that we may take our start from the most obvious things, I ask you whether you yourself exist, or whether you think you may be under an illusion as to that; although surely if you did not exist, you could not" possibly have an illusion.

Evodius: Go on rather to other matters.

Augustine: It is evident, then, that you exist; and since that could not be evident unless you were living, it is also evident that you live. Do you understand that these two things are very true?

Evodius: I understand thoroughly.

Augustine: Therefore this third thing is evident; you understand.

Evodius: It is evident.

Augustine: Which of these three do you think is most excellent?

Evodius: Understanding.

Augustine: Why do you think so?

Evodius: Because while there are three things: to exist, to live, to understand; even a stone exists, and a beast lives, yet I do not think that a stone lives, or that a beast understands. But he who understands assuredly both exists and lives; wherefore, I do not hesitate to judge that one more excellent, in which all three are present, than that in which two or one are lacking. For though what lives certainly also exists, it does not follow that it also understands: of such sort, I judge, is the life of the beast. If something exists, moreover, it by no means follows that it lives and understands; for I may acknowledge that a corpse exists, but no one would say that it lives. But if the thing does not live, much less does it understand.

Augustine: We see then that of these three, two are wanting to the corpse, one to the beast, and none to man.

Evodius: True.

Augustine: We also hold that to be most excellent of the three which man has with the two others; namely, understanding, whose possession implies both existence and life.

Evodius: Surely.

8. Augustine: Tell me now, whether you know that you have those everyday bodily senses: seeing, and hearing, and smelling, and tasting, and touching.

Evodius: I do.

Augustine: What do you think pertains to the sense of sight; I mean what do you think we perceive by sight?

Evodius: Anything corporeal.

Augustine: Do you think we also perceive hardness and softness by sight?

Evodius: No.

Augustine: What then properly pertains to the eyes, and is perceived by them?

Evodius: Color.

Augustine: What to the ears?

Evodius: Sound.

Augustine: What to smell?

Evodius: Odor.

Augustine: What to taste?

Evodius: Flavor.

Augustine: What to touch?

Evodius: Softness and hardness, smoothness and roughness, and many such things.

Augustine: How about the shapes of bodies: large, small, square, round, and such? Do we not perceive them both by touch and by sight, so that we cannot properly assign them either to touch or sight alone but only to both?

Evodius: That is clear.

Augustine: You see then that certain senses have individually their own proper objects about which they tell us, and that certain other have some objects in common.

Evodius: I see that too.

Augustine: Now can we by means of any of these senses distinguish what is proper to each sense, and what all or certain senses have in common?

Evodius: By no means: we judge that by a sort of interior sense.

Augustine: Is that perhaps reason itself, which the beasts have not? For it is by reason, I think, that we grasp these things, and so know that we have senses.

Evodius: I think rather that by reason we comprehend that there is a certain interior sense, to which all things are referred by the five ordinary senses. For the sense by which a beast sees is one thing; and that by which it seeks or avoids what it perceives by sight, is another; for the first sense is in the eyes, but that other is in the soul itself. By it animals seek and appropriate what they like and avoid and reject what they do not; not only what they see, but what they hear or perceive by the other senses. Nor can this sense be called sight or hearing or smell or taste or touch; it is something other that presides over all of them together. While we comprehend this by reason, as I have said, we cannot nevertheless call it reason, since the beasts also evidently have it.

9. Augustine: I recognize that, whatever it is, and do not hesitate to call it the interior sense. But unless it goes beyond what is brought to us by our bodily sense, it cannot attain to knowledge. For what we know, we hold in the grasp of reason. But, not to mention other things, we know that we cannot perceive colors by hearing nor voices by sight. And when we know this, we know it neither by our eyes nor by our ears nor by that interior sense which the beasts also have. For one cannot believe that they know that ears do not perceive light nor eyes voices, since we discern such things only by rational attention and thought.

Evodius: I cannot say that I see that clearly. For what if they do discern also by that interior sense, which you admit they have, that colors cannot be perceived by hearing nor voices by sight?

Augustine: Well, do you think that they can distinguish from one another the color that is perceived and the sense that is in the eye and that interior sense within the soul and the reason by which these are defined and enumerated one by one?

Evodius: By no means.

Augustine: Could reason, then, distinguish these four from one another and set bounds to them by definitions, if color were not referred to it by the sense of the eyes and that sensation again by the interior sense by itself, assuming that there is not yet another something interposed?

Evodius: I do not see how else it could.

Augustine: And do you see that color is perceived by the sense of the eyes, but that the sensation itself is not perceived by the same sense? For you do not see the seeing itself by the same sense by which you see color.

Evodius: Not at all.

Augustine: Try also to distinguish these; for I think you will not deny that color is one thing; and seeing color, another, and that it is yet another, when color is not present, to have the sense by which it could be seen if it were present.

Evodius: I distinguish those too and grant that they are different.

Augustine: Do you see any of these three with your eyes, except color?

Evodius: Nothing else.

Augustine: Tell me then how do you see the other two; for if you did not see them, you could not distinguish them.

Evodius: I know nothing further. I know that I do, nothing more.

Augustine: You do not know then whether this is reason itself or that life which we call the interior sense, which is superior to the bodily senses, or something else?

Evodius: No.

Augustine: You know at least that these things can be defined only by reason and that reason cannot do this unless they are presented to it for examination.

Evodius: That is true.

Augustine: Whatever, therefore, that other thing is, by means of which we perceive everything that we know, it is in the service of reason, to which it presents and reports whatever it touches, so that the things perceived may be distinguished by their properties and grasped not merely for perception but for knowledge as well.

Evodius: That is so.

Augustine: Well, how about this reason, which distinguished from one another its servants and the things they bring before it, and likewise recognizes the difference between itself and these things and assures itself of its superiority to them? Does it comprehend itself by means of anything other than itself, that is, reason? Or would you know that you had reason if you did not perceive it by reason?

Evodius: Most true.

Augustine: So then, when we perceive a color we do not likewise by the sense itself perceive that we perceive; nor when we hear a sound do we also hear our hearing; nor when we smell a rose has the smelling fragrance too; nor tasting something does the tasting itself have flavor in the mouth; nor touching a thing can we also touch the sense of touch? Therefore it is clear that those five senses cannot be perceived by any one sense among them, although by them all corporeal things are perceived.

Evodius: That is clear.

4.10. Augustine: I think it is clear that the interior sense perceives not only the things referred to it by the five senses but also the sensations themselves. For otherwise an animal would not stir, either to pursue or to run away from anything, if it did not perceive that it had the sensation not as knowledge, for that is reason’s province, but only in order to move which it certainly does not perceive by any one of those five. If this is still not clear, it will become clear by considering some one sense, say sight. For one could not open his eyes or turn his gaze upon what he seeks to see, unless when his eyes were closed, or not turned toward it, he perceived that he did not see. But if, not seeing, he perceives that he does not see, he must also perceive that he sees when he does see; for the fact that when he sees a thing he does not move his eyes in search of it shows that he perceives both. But whether this life that perceives that it perceives corporeal things perceives itself too, is not so clear; except that anyone who looks within himself finds that every living thing flees death. But since death is the opposite of life, it must be that life perceives itself, since it flees its own opposite. But if this be still not clear, let us pass it over, so that we may move on toward our goal only by evidence that is certain and manifest. For this much is clear: we perceive corporeal things by our bodily senses, but we cannot by the sense itself perceive a sense. By the interior sense we perceive both that we are perceiving corporeal things through the bodily sense and also the bodily sense itself. But by reason all those other things and also reason itself become known and are held together in knowledge. Is this clear to you?

Evodius: Perfectly clear.

Augustine: Tell me now, how did this problem arise, over which, in our search for a solution, we have tarried so long on this road?

5.11. Evodius: So far as I recall, we are still considering the first of those three questions which we proposed a little while ago in arranging the order of this discussion; namely, how can that be made evident which we must anyhow believe most firmly and steadfastly—that God exists.

Augustine: You are quite right. But I want you also to keep carefully in mind that when I asked you whether you knew that you yourself existed, not only was that clear to us but also two other propositions.

Evodius: I remember that too.

Augustine: See now to which of those three you think pertains everything that is touched by our bodily senses; that is, under which head would you put whatever reaches our senses through the eyes or through any other instrument of the body. Is it in the class which just exists or in that which also lives or in that which also understands?

Evodius: In that which just exists.

Augustine: How about the sense itself? In which class othe three do you think it is?

Evodius: In that which lives.

Augustine: Which now of these two do you judge to be the better: the sense itself or what the sense perceives?

Evodius: The sense, of course.

Augustine: Why?

Evodius: Because that which lives is better than that which merely is.

12. Augustine: How about the interior sense? It is below reason, to be sure, and our earlier investigations have shown that we share it with the beasts. But would you hesitate to rank it above the senses by which we perceive bodies and which you have just said are to be ranked above the bodies themselves?

Evodius: I should not hesitate at all.

Augustine: I should like also to hear from you why you do not hesitate. For you will not be able to say now that the interior sense should be put in that one of the three classes which also understands, but it must still go in the class that exists and lives, albeit without understanding; for the beasts, who have no understanding, have this sense. This being the case, I ask why you prefer the interior sense to the sense by which bodies are perceived, since both belong to the class that lives. For you placed the sense by which we perceive bodies above those bodies because they are in the class that merely exists, while it is in the class that also lives; so that when you find the interior sense also in that class, tell me why you think it superior. For you say it is because the one perceives the other, I do not believe you will be able to find a rule by which we can establish that everything that perceives is better than that which is perceived by it, lest perhaps we should thence be constrained to say that everything that understands is better than that which is understood by it. But this is false: because man understands wisdom, but he is not better than wisdom itself. See, therefore, for what reason it appears to you that the interior sense is to be preferred to those senses by which we perceive bodies.

Evodius: Because I perceive the former to be a sort of regulator and judge of the latter. For if anything is lacking in the performance of its office, it is demanded of it as a service owing, as was argued a little while ago. For the sense of the eyes does not see that it sees or that it does not see; and not seeing this, cannot judge what is lacking or what is sufficient. But the interior sense tells the soul of the beast when to open closed eyes, and perceives when they are supplied with what was lacking. But there is no doubt that he who judges is superior to him whom he judges.

Augustine: Do you see too that those bodily senses also judge of bodies after a fashion? For pleasure and pain are their affairs, as when they are touched gently or roughly by a body. For just as the interior sense judges what is lacking or sufficient in the sense of the eyes, so the sense itself of the eyes judges what is lacking or sufficient in colors. So too, just as the interior sense judges our hearing, whether or not it be sufficiently alert, our hearing itself judges of voices, when they breathe softly, and when they grate harshly. There is no need to run through the other bodily senses, for now you perceive, I think, what I want to say: namely, that the interior sense judges those bodily senses, approving their integrity or demanding what they owe; and in like manner the bodily senses themselves judge of bodies, appropriating their light touch and rejecting the opposite.

Evodius: I see clearly and most heartily agree.

6.13. Consider now whether reason judges the interior sense. For I do not ask whether you think it is better, because I have no doubt that you do, though for that matter I do not think it need be asked whether reason judges this sense. For in those very things that are below it, that is, in bodies and the bodily senses and in the interior sense, what indeed but reason tells us how one thing is better than another, and that it itself is superior to them; and this it certainly could not do if it did not judge them.

Evodius: That is evident.

Augustine: Since, therefore, a nature that neither lives nor understands but only is, such as a dead body, is surpassed by a nature such as the soul of a beast, which not only is but lives too, though it does not understand; and this again is surpassed by one that is and lives and understands, such as the rational mind of man; do you think you can discover in us, that is, among those things that go to make up our nature as men, anything more excellent than that which we have placed highest among these three? For it is clear that we have a body and a certain vital principle by which that body lives and grows, which two we recognize also in the beasts; and a third something which the beast’s nature has not — a sort of head or eye of the soul, not to think of a more appropriate name for reason and understanding. So pray see whether you can find anything in man’s nature higher than reason.

Evodius: I see nothing at all better.

14. Augustine: What if we could find something of which you were sure, not only that it exists, but also that it is more excellent than our reason? Would you hesitate, whatever it might be, to call it God?

Evodius: I do not see why, if I can find something that is better than what is best in my own nature, I should say that it is God: for I do not like to call that God which to my own reason is inferior, but only Him than Whom none is higher.

Augustine: Clearly so: for He himself has given to this reason of yours the power to feel thus reverently and truly about Him. But, I would ask, if you find nothing above our reason but what is eternal and changeless, would you hesitate to call that God? For you know that bodies are changeable; and clearly the very life that animates the body is subject to change with changing conditions; and reason itself, now striving to attain the truth and anon not striving, sometimes attaining it and again not attaining it, is clearly shown to be mutable. So, if without the use of any of the body’s instruments — not touch, nor taste, nor smell, nor ears, nor eyes, nor any sense inferior to it, but by itself alone — reason discovers something eternal and immutable, and sees itself as lower, it should acknowledge that to be its God.

Evodius: That one will plainly acknowledge to be God, than Whom nothing is proved to be higher.

Augustine: Well said. It will be enough then if I show that there is something of that sort, so that you will acknowledge it to be God; or if there is something higher, you will grant that that is God. So that whether there be anything higher or not, it will be proved that God exists when I shall have shown you,with His help, what I assured you was higher than reason.

Evodius: Show me then what you promise.

7.15. Augustine: I will do so. But I would first ask whether my bodily senses are the same as yours, or whether mine are in fact mine alone; and yours, yours alone; for if this were not the case I could not see anything with my eyes which you did not see.

Evodius: I concede fully that though they are the same in kind, we have each of us his own personal senses: sight, hearing, and all the others. For one man cannot only see but hear what another does not and perceive by any other sense you will what another does not perceive. Whence it is evident that your senses are yours alone, and mine are mine alone.

Augustine: Would you say the same about the interior sense too, or is there a difference?

Evodius: No difference, surely. For certainly my own interior sense perceives my sensations, and yours perceives yours; so that I am frequently asked by someone who sees something whether I too see it, because only I perceive whether I see it or not, not he who asks me.

Augustine: How about reason: has not each one of us his own? For it may happen that I understand something that you do not; and you cannot know whether I understand, but I know.

Evodius: It is evident that we have each of us individually his own rational mind.

16. Augustine: But now will you be able to say too that we have each individual suns which we see or moons or morning stars or such like things; even though it be true that each sees them through his own individual sense?

Evodius: I would never say that.

Augustine: Many of us, therefore, can see one thing at the same time, while the senses through which we perceive the one thing that we see together are separate and individual; so that while my sense is one and yours is another, it can nevertheless happen that what we see is not one mine and another yours, but a single thing, appearing to both of us and seen simultaneously by both.

Evodius: That is very evident.

Augustine: Also we may hear simultaneously some one voice; and although my hearing is one and yours another, yet the voice we hear is not one voice for me and another for you, but whatever has sounded is simultaneously present to both of us as a single and undivided thing to be heard.

Evodius: That too is evident.

17. Augustine: But now as to the other bodily senses you must note what we are saying: that in what touches this matter they neither act altogether like those two of the eyes and ears, nor altogether unlike them. For you and I can fill our nostrils from the same air and perceive its condition by its odor, and likewise can both taste of one honeycomb or any other food or drink, and perceive its condition by its flavor; and though it is one, our sensations are separate, yours for you and mine for me, so that while we both perceive the same odor or flavor, you do not perceive by my sense nor I by yours, nor by any sense that might be common to both of us; but my sense is utterly mine, and yours is yours, although one odor or one flavor is perceived by both. In this respect, therefore, these two senses are found to have something like those other two, seeing and hearing. But in what pertains to the matter in hand they differ in this: that although we both draw in one air through our nostrils or take one food in tasting, I do not nevertheless breathe that part of the air which you breathe nor take the same part of the food as you, but I take one part and you another; so that when I breathe of the whole air I draw in a part such as suffices me, and you likewise from the whole draw in another sufficiency for yourself; and though one entire repast is eaten by both of us, nevertheless it cannot be eaten entire by me and also entire by you, in the way that I hear a whole word and you the same whole word at the same time, or as what I see of any view you too see at the same time; but of food or drink one part must pass into me and another into you. But perhaps this is not clear to you!

Evodius: Nay, rather it is most clear and indubitable.

18. Augustine: Do you think now that the sense of touch is to be compared to the senses of the eyes and ears, as regards the question before us? For not only can we both perceive one body by touching it, but you too can touch the same part of the body I have touched, so that we can both perceive by our touch not only the same body but the same part of that body. For with touching it is not the case as with something edible set before us, where you and I cannot both take all when we both eat of it; but the same undivided thing that I touch you too can touch, so that we both touch not each a part but each the whole.

Evodius: I admit that in this way the sense of touch is very like those other two. But it seems unlike in this respect; namely, that both of us can at one and the same time see or hear one entire thing: we can indeed also touch at the same time one entire object but in different parts the same part, however, only at different times; for I can put my touch on no part which you are touching until you remove your hand.

19. Augustine: Carefully answered, but since, of all the things that we perceive, there are some which both, some which each one individually may perceive, you ought to see this too: our sensations themselves are indeed perceived only individually, so that neither I perceive your sensation, nor you mine. As regards those things which we perceive with our bodily senses, what we cannot perceive both, but only individually, is only that which so becomes our own that we can change it and turn it into ourselves; like food and drink, of which no part that I digest can you too digest . . . .

Other sensible things we may perceive as we will, without thereby destroying them and changing them into our bodies. There we may both perceive, either at the same time or by turns at different times, so that either the whole or the part that I perceive is perceived by you also; such are light or sound or bodies that we touch without injuring them.

Evodius: I understand.

Augustine: It is clear, then, that those things which we do not change and yet perceive by our bodily senses do not belong to the nature of our senses and hence are more our common possession, because they are not changed into something that is ours exclusively.

Evodius: I thoroughly agree.

Augustine: Therefore that is to be regarded as our own and as it were private possession which is of each one of us alone, and which he alone perceives within himself because it pertains properly to his own nature. That, however, is common and, so to speak, public, which is perceived by all percipients without any change or destruction.

Evodius: Just so.

8.20. Augustine: Consider how and tell me whether you can find anything which all men, each reasoning with his own mind and reason, may see in common; while that which they see is present to all and is not converted to the use of those to whom it is present, as are food and drink, but remains whole and uncorrupted, whether they see it or do not see it. Or would you perhaps think that there is nothing of this sort?

Evodius: On the contrary, I think there are many, of which it is enough to mention one. For the reason and truth of numbers waits upon all who reason, so that every calculator may see it, each with his own reason and endeavor to grasp it with his understanding. And one will do so easily, another with more difficulty, and yet another will be quite unable; although notwithstanding it offers itself to all who have the power to grasp it; nor is it changed and transmuted when anyone perceives it into nutriment as it were for the perceiver, nor when one makes a mistake in it is it thereby less; but while it remains true and whole, he is the more in error the less he perceives it.

21. Augustine: Quite right: but I see that you answered readily as if not unversed in these things. Nevertheless, if some one should say that these numbers are as it were certain images of visible things impressed on our mind, not by any nature of their own but by those things that are reached by the senses of the body,—what would you answer? Or do you too think that?

Evodius: I should by no means think that. For even if I have perceived numbers by a bodily sense, I cannot thereby perceive by a bodily sense the ratios of partition and combination of numbers. For by this light of the mind I refute him who gives a false result in calculation, either by addition or subtraction. And I do not know for how long will endure anything that I touch with my bodily senses, such as this sky and this earth, and whatever other bodies I perceive in them. But seven and three are ten, not only now but always; nor was there ever a time when seven and three were not ten, nor will ever be a time when seven and three will not be ten. I say, therefore, that this incorruptible truth of number is common to me and to any reasoning person whatsoever.

22. Augustine: I do not oppose you when you answer so truly and indisputably. But you may also easily see that numbers are not derived from our bodily senses, if you will consider, as to any number, that as many times as it contains one, so many is it called. For example, if it contains one twice it is called two; if thrice, three; and if it contains one ten times it is called ten; and the number of times any number whatever contains one gives it its name, and it is called so much. But anyone who considers the matter aright will certainly find that we cannot perceive one by our bodily senses. For whatever reaches us through such a sense is clearly seen to be not one but many; for it is body, and therefore has innumerable parts. For—not to trace out finer and even finer divisions—however tiny a particle that body may be, it has certainly a right part and a left part, a top and a bottom, a front and a back, or an outside and an inside; for we might acknowledge that these are present in any body, however tiny its dimensions, and hence we must concede that no body is truly and simply one; although we nevertheless could not enumerate such a many without a separate and distinct knowledge of one. For when I look for one in a body and when I have no doubt that I do not find it, I know assuredly what I seek there, and what I do not find there, and what cannot be found there, or rather what is not there at all. But whenever I know one, I certainly do not know this through my bodily senses, because by the bodily senses we know only body, which we have proved to be not one, pure and simple.

Moreover, if we do not perceive one by a sense of the body, we do not perceive any number by that sense, so far at least as concerns those numbers that we discern by our understanding. For there is no one of them that does not get its name from the number of times it contains one; and one is not perceived by the bodily sense. For the half of any particle makes up a whole of two such halves and has also its half; therefore, those two parts are in the body in such a way that they are not simply two. But on the other hand the number that we call two because it contains twice that which is simply one, its half part, is something which is itself simply one, and cannot have a half or a third or any part whatsoever, because it is simply and truly one.

23. Then again, whereas taking the numbers in order, after one we get two, which comparing with one we find to be its double; the double of two does not follow in immediate succession, but four, which is the double of two, follows after the interposition of three. And this rule extends to all the other numbers by a most certain and immutable law: that after one, that is after the first of all the numbers, itself excepted, the first is that which contains it twice; for two follows one. But after the second number, that is after two, it is the second, itself excepted, that is the double of it; for the first after two is three and the second four, the double of the second number. After the third, that is after three, it is the third, itself excepted, that is the double of it; for after the third, that is to say three, the first is four, the second five, and the third six, which is the double of three. So again after the fourth it is the fourth, itself excepted, that is its double; for after the fourth, that is four, the first is five, the second six, the third seven, and the fourth eight, which is the double of four. And so throughout all the other numbers you will find this that has been found in the first pair of numbers, that is, in one and two; that the double of any number is just as many numbers after it as that number itself is from the very beginning.

But now when we perceive this thing to be for all numbers fixed and inviolate, whence comes this perception? For no one has touched all numbers by any sense of the body, for they are innumerable. Whence then do we know this for all or by what so sure an appearance or image do we know so confidently this truth of number throughout things innumerable, if we do not perceive it by that inner light which the sense of the body knows not?

24. By this and many like proofs, those to whom God has given an inquiring mind and who are not blinded by obstinacy, are compelled to acknowledge that the reason and truth of numbers is not related to the bodily sense, and that it is established pure and unalterable for all reasoning men to see in common. Wherefore, while many other things might be thought of which are present and as it were public to reasoning men, and which remain inviolate and changeless while they are perceived by the mind and reason of each individual perceiver; I was yet by no means sorry that the reason and truth of numbers was what first came to your mind when you wished to answer my question. For not for nothing is number joined to wisdom in the Sacred Books, where it is said: "I and my heart have gone round, that I might know, and consider, and inquire the wisdom and the number." (Eccles. 7:25)

9.25. But I would like to know how you think wisdom itself is to be regarded. Do you think that individual men have each their individual wisdoms, or that one wisdom is present to all in common, and that each is wise in the measure that he partakes of it?

Evodius: I do not know what you call wisdom; for I see, forsooth, that what is said or done wisely seems different to different men. For those who go to war seem to themselves to be acting wisely; and those who, disdaining war, devote their care and labor to the cultivation of the land, praise this more highly and attribute it to wisdom; and those who are shrewd in devising ways to make money think themselves wise; and those who disregard or put from them all these and suchlike temporal things, and devote all their zeal to the investigation of truth, that they may know themselves and God, judge this to be the great reward of wisdom; and those who are loath to give themselves to this leisure of seeking and contemplating truth, but prefer to busy themselves with exacting cares and duties, that they may take counsel with men and be employed in the control and just government of human affairs, think themselves wise; and those who do both of these things and live partly in the contemplation of truth and partly in official labors, which they think they owe to human society, seem to themselves to hold the palm of wisdom. I omit innumerable sects, of which there is none that, placing its own adherents above all others, does not hold that they alone are wise. Wherefore, since the question before us demands an answer, not as to what we believe but as to what we hold with clear understanding, I shall be quite unable to reply to your question until I know also by contemplating and discerning reason that which by believing I hold wisdom to be.

Augustine: Do you think that there is any wisdom other than the truth in which the supreme good is discerned and held? For all those sectarians that you have mentioned seek the good; but they are split into different sects because different things seem good to different men. Whoever therefore seeks what he should not seek, even though he seeks what to him seems good, errs notwithstanding. But he who seeks nothing cannot err, nor can he who seeks that which he should seek. In so far, therefore, as all men seek a happy life, they do not err. But in so far as anyone does not hold to that way of life which leads to happiness, though he acknowledges and professes that he wants only to attain happiness, he errs. For it is error when we follow something which does not lead to that which we wish to attain. And the more anyone strays in the path of life, the less wise is he; for he is that much farther from the truth in which the supreme good is discerned and known. But if anyone has pursued and attained the supreme good, he is happy; which indisputably we all desire. Therefore, as it is certain that we wish to be happy, so also is it certain that we wish to be wise, because no one is happy without wisdom. But no one is happy except by the supreme good, which is discerned and known in that truth which we call wisdom. And so, just as before we are happy the notion of happiness is yet impressed on our minds, so also before we are wise we have impressed on our minds a notion of wisdom; so that each of us, if he were asked whether he wished to be wise, would reply without a shade of hesitation that he so wished.

27. Wherefore, since we are now agreed as to what wisdom is, albeit you were not able to explain it in words (for if you were quite unable to see this with your mind, you could never know both that you wish to be wise, and that you ought so to wish). I would have you tell me whether you think that like the reason and truth of numbers wisdom offers itself to all reasoning men in common; or whether, since there are as many minds as there are men, so that I perceive nothing of your mind, nor you of mine, you think there are also as many wisdoms as there are wise men.

Evodius: If the supreme good is one for all, the truth also in which it is discerned and known, that is wisdom, should be one and common for all.

Augustine: But do you doubt that the supreme good, whatever it be, is for all men one?

Evodius: I doubt it indeed; because I see different men taking delight in different things as if they were their supreme goods.

Augustine: I should have wished indeed that no one were in doubt as to the supreme good, just as no one doubts that whatever it is a man cannot be happy until he has attained it. But since this is a large question and requires perhaps a long discourse, let us assume that there are just as many supreme goods as there are different things themselves, which by different men are sought as their supreme goods; does it then follow that wisdom itself is not one to all in common, because those goods which men discern and choose in it are many and diverse? For if you think this, you may also doubt that the light of the sun is one, because the things we discern by it are many and diverse: from which things each one selects at will that which he would enjoy through his sense of sight; and one man is pleased to look upon the height of some mountain and rejoices in that sight; another, the level surface of a field; another, the slopes of the valleys; another, the greenness of the woods; another, the inconstant evenness of the sea; and another, brings together in one view all of these things, or certain of them that are fair, for the joy of regarding them. Just as, therefore, those things are many and diverse which in the light of the sun men behold and choose for their enjoyment, although that light itself is one in which the gaze of each beholder sees and dwells upon that which rejoices it; even so are the goods many and diverse from which each one chooses what he will, and seeing it and holding it for his enjoyment rightly and truly makes it his supreme good; but it may yet be that the light itself of wisdom, in which these things are seen and held, is one and common to all wise men.

Evodius: I admit that it may be, and that there is nothing to prevent there being one wisdom common to all, even though the supreme goods be many and various; but I would like to know whether it is so. For what we concede may be so, is not thereby conceded to be so.

Augustine: In the meanwhile we know that there is wisdom; but whether it be one and common to all, or whether individual wise men have their separate wisdoms, as they have their own souls and minds, we do not yet know.

Evodius: That is so.

10.28. Augustine: Where then do we see this that we know, whether it be that there is wisdom, or that there are wise men, or that all men wish to be wise and happy? For I do not doubt at all that you see it, and that it is true. Do you see this then as your own thought in such wise that if you did not tell me I should be completely ignorant of it, or so that you may understand it, and this truth may be seen by me even though you have not told it to me?

Evodius: Nay, I do not doubt that it can also be seen by you, even were I unwilling. Augustine: But then if we both see one truth with our individual minds, is not that truth common to both of us?

Evodius: Evidently.

Augustine: Again, I believe you do not deny that wisdom should be sought after and concede that this is true.

Evodius: I do not question that at all.

Augustine: Can we then deny that this is likewise true and one and to be seen in common by all who know it; although each one sees it, not with my mind nor with yours, nor with the mind of any other, but with his own mind; while what he sees is there for all to see in common?

Evodius: Surely not.

Augustine: Again, we should live justly, put worse things below better, and compare equal things with equal, and give to each man what is properly his: do you not acknowledge this to be most true, and to be present in common to me and to all who see it, as well as to you?

Evodius: I agree.

Augustine: Can you deny that an uncorrupted thing is better than a corrupted thing, an eternal thing than a temporal thing, an inviolable than a violable?

Evodius: Who can deny it?

Augustine: Can anyone then call this truth his private possession, when it is changelessly present for the contemplation of all who are able to contemplate it?

Evodius: No one can truly say that it is his exclusively, since it is as much one and common to all as it is true.

Augustine: Again, who denies that the soul should be turned away from corruption and toward incorruption; that is, that no corruption, but incorruption should be loved? Or who, when he acknowledges that this is true, does not also understand it to be immutable and see that it stands there for all minds in common that are able to contemplate it?

Evodius: Most true.

Augustine: And does anyone doubt that that life which can be shaken by no adversity in its true and honest opinions is better than that which is early ruined and broken by transient misfortune?

Evodius: Who would doubt that?

29. Augustine: I will ask no more questions of this sort now; for it is enough that you see as well as I and concede it to be most certain that these rules, and as it were lights of virtue, are true and immutable and singly or all together are present for the common contemplation of those who, each with his own mind and reason, are able to perceive them. But I do ask whether you think that these rules pertain to wisdom. For I believe that he who has attained wisdom will seem wise to you.

Evodius: He certainly will.

Augustine: Well, could he who lives justly so live if he did not see what lower things to subordinate to what higher, and what equal things to join to each other, and how to distribute to each what is properly his own?

Evodius: He could not.

Augustine: Will you then deny that he who sees this sees wisely?

Evodius: I do not deny it.

Augustine: And does not he who lives prudently choose incorruption and see that it is to be preferred to corruption?

Evodius: Clearly so.

Augustine: When, therefore, he chooses that which no one doubts should be chosen as the object toward which he should turn his soul, can it be denied that he chooses wisely?

Evodius: I should certainly not deny it.

Augustine: Therefore, when he turns his soul to that which he chooses wisely, he turns his soul wisely.

Evodius: Surely.

Augustine: And he who is not driven away by any fears or penalties from that to which he wisely turns himself, without doubt acts wisely.

Evodius: Without doubt indeed.

Augustine: It is very clear, therefore, that all these things, which we have called rules and lights of the virtues, pertain to wisdom; inasmuch as the more one uses them in the conduct of life and lives his life according to them, the more he lives and acts wisely. But what is done wisely cannot rightly be said to be separated from wisdom.

Evodius: Just so.

Augustine: Just as, therefore, there are true and immutable rules of numbers, the reason and truth of which you have said is immutably present to all perceivers in common; so there are true and immutable rules of wisdom, concerning a few of which, when you were just now asked about them one by one, you answered that they were true and manifest and conceded that they are present for the common contemplation of all who are able to regard them.

11.30. Evodius: I cannot doubt it. But I would much like to know whether these two, wisdom and number, are contained in some one genus, as you have mentioned that they are also joined together in the holy Scriptures; or whether one arises from the other or consists in the other, as number from wisdom or in wisdom. For I should not have ventured to say that wisdom arises from number or consists in number, for I know not how this could be; for wisdom strikes me as far more venerable than number, because I have known many calculators or computers, or whatever else you may call them, who reckon superbly and marvelously but of wise men only a very few or possibly none.

Augustine: You say something at which I too often wonder. For when I reflect upon the immutable truth of numbers and upon its lair, as it were, or shrine or region or whatever else we may appropriately call the dwelling place and seat as it were of numbers, I am far removed from the body; and finding maybe something which I can think, but not finding anything which I can put into words, I return as if wearied to this world of ours, so that I may speak and may talk of those things that are not set before our eyes as they are wont to be talked of. This happens to me too, when as best I can I think very carefully and intently about wisdom. And because of this I wonder much, since these two are in the most mysterious and certain truth, and the testimony of the Scriptures is added also, in which, as I have noted, they are placed together — I wonder greatly, as I have said, why to the multitude of men number is held of small account and wisdom dear.

But doubtless it is this, that there is one, and as it were the same thing; but yet, since it is nonetheless said of wisdom in the divine Books that it "reaches from the end unto the end mightily, and disposes all things sweetly" (Wisd. of Sol. 8:1), that power by which it "reaches from the end unto the end mightily" is perhaps called number, but that which "disposes all things sweetly" is wisdom strictly so called; while both are of one and the same wisdom.

31. But because God gave numbers to all things, even to the lowest, and to those placed in the end of things — for all bodies, though they are among things the meanest, have their numbers — yet to be wise He did not grant to bodies, or even to all souls, but only to rational souls, as if He placed in them a seat for Himself, from which He disposes all those lowest things to which He gave numbers. And so since we judge easily of numbers, as of the things which are ordered beneath us, on which we perceived the impressed numbers as beneath us, we therefore hold them also of less account. But when we begin to turn back, and as it were upwards, we find that they too transcend our minds and remain immutable in truth itself. And because few can be wise, whereas to count is granted even to fools, men admire wisdom and despise numbers. The learned, however, and the studious, the more remote they are from earthly blemish, the more they look upon both number and wisdom in truth itself and hold both dear; and in comparison with its truth, not for them are gold and silver and other things for which men contend, but even their own selves grow unimportant.

32. Nor should you wonder that numbers are held cheap by men and wisdom dear, because they can more easily count than be wise; when you see them hold gold dearer than the light of a lamp and laugh to see gold compared with it. But a far inferior thing is honored, because even a beggar lights himself a lamp, but few have gold: although wisdom may be lacking, so that in comparison with number it is found inferior, while it is the same, but seeks the eye by which it can be seen.

But just as brightness and heat are perceived consubstantial, so to speak, in one fire, and yet the heat reaches only those things that are brought close, while the brightness is diffused farther and more widely; in like manner by the power of understanding that is present in wisdom the nearer things, such as the rational souls, grow warm, but the more remote beings, such as bodies, are not reached by the heat of being wise, but are suffused by the light of numbers. This is perhaps obscure to you; for no visible thing can be made a perfect analogy of something invisible. Only note this, which is enough for the question in hand and which reveals itself even to humbler minds like ours; that even if it cannot be clear to us whether number is in wisdom or from wisdom, or wisdom itself is in number or from number, or whether it can be shown that they are names for one thing; it is certainly manifest that both are true and true immutably.

12.33. Wherefore you will certainly not deny that there is an immutable truth, containing all things that are immutably true, which you cannot say is yours or mine or any one man’s; but that in some wonderful way a mysterious and universal light, as it were, proffers itself to all in common. But who would say that that which is commonly present to all who reason and understand belongs properly to the nature of any one of them? For you remember, I think, what we said a little while ago about the bodily senses; namely, that those things which we perceive in common by the sense of the eyes or ears, such as colors and sounds, do not pertain to the nature of our eyes or ears but are there for all to perceive in common. So too it will not do for you to say that those things which we see in common, each with his own mind, pertain to the nature of the mind of either one of us. For what the eyes of two persons see at the same time cannot be said to be the eyes of this man or that but is some third thing to which the gaze of both is turned.

Evodius: That is manifestly true.

34. Augustine: Do you think then that this truth, which we have been discussing at such length and in which, single though it be, we have discerned so many things, is more excellent than our minds or equal to them or is it even inferior?

But if it were inferior we would judge not according to it but concerning it; just as we judge of bodies because they are below us, and say commonly not only that they are so or not so, but that they ought to be so or not so. So too of our minds we know not only that the mind is so, but frequently also that it should be so. And of bodies to be sure we judge thus when we say: this is not as white as it should be, or not as square, and many similar things. But in minds: it is less apt than it should be, or less gentle, or less vehement; according as the manner of our character shows itself. And we judge of these things according to those inner rules of truth that we discern in common; but no one judges in any way of the rules themselves. For when anyone says that eternal things are better than temporal or that seven and three are ten, no one says that it ought to be so; but knowing that it is so, he does not correct it as an examiner but rejoices in it as a discoverer

If again the truth were equal to our minds, it would be also mutable. For our minds perceive it sometimes more and sometimes less, and thereby acknowledge themselves mutable, while it, continuing in itself is neither enhanced when we see it more, nor diminished when we see it less, but whole and uncorrupted it makes glad those who turn to it and punishes with blindness those who turn away. But what then, if also we judge of those same minds according to that truth, while we can in no way judge of it? For we say of our mind: it understands less than it should or it understands as much as it should. But a mind should understand in the measure that it is able to draw near to and cleave to immutable truth. Wherefore, if that truth be neither inferior nor equal to our minds, it remains that it is higher and more excellent.

15.39. You conceded, however, that if I should show you something higher than our minds, you would confess that it is God, if there were nothing yet higher. Accepting this concession of yours I said that it would be enough if I should prove this. For if there is something yet more excellent than truth, that rather is God; but if not, then truth itself is God. Whether therefore there is this more excellent thing, or whether there is not, you cannot deny that God is, which was the question set for our discussion and treatment. For if you are disturbed by what we have received in faith from the sacred teaching of Christ, that God is the Father of Wisdom, remember that we have also accepted in faith that equal to the eternal Father is the Wisdom begotten of Him. Wherefore nothing more need be asked but only held with steadfast faith. For God is; and He is truly and supremely. This, I think, we not only hold now undoubted by faith but know also by a sure albeit still rather tenuous form of knowledge; which for the question in hand is enough to explain the other things that pertain to the matter. Unless, that is, you have something to say in objection.

Evodius: Nay, I accept these things, and am completely filled with an incredible joy, which I cannot express in words, and I cry out that they are most sure. I cry out moreover with an inner voice by which I wish to be heard by truth itself and to cleave to it, because I concede it to be not only good but the supreme good and the maker of happiness.

46.1. Plato is known as the first to have named the Ideas. Not that if this name were nonexistent before he established it, the things that he called Ideas would not have existed, or would not have been understood by anyone but they were probably called by different names by different people. It is permitted to give to any known thing that lacks an accepted name, whatever name one wishes. . . . But enough has previously been said about the name; let us examine the thing which is principally to be considered and understood, leaving each person free, as far as the terms are concerned, to give whatever name he wishes to the object of his knowledge.

2. So, in Latin we may call Ideas forms or species, to make it clear that we are translating word for word. But, if we call them "reasons," we are departing somewhat from a strict translation; reasons are called logoi in Greek and not Ideas. However, if a person chose to use this term, he would not be far from the real meaning. In fact, Ideas are the primary forms, or the permanent and immutable reasons of real things, and they are not themselves formed; so they are, as a consequence, eternal and ever the same in themselves, and they are contained in the divine intelligence. And since they never come into being or go out of it, everything that does come into being and goes out of it, may be said to be formed in accord with them.

It is denied that the soul can look upon them, unless it be rational, in that part whereby it excels, that is, in its mind and reason, as it were in its face or interior and intellectual eye. And for this vision not everyone is suitable but only that rational soul which is holy and pure, that one which keeps the eye in which such objects are seen, healthy, clear, serene and like unto those objects to which its view is directed. What religious man, infused with the true religion, even though not yet able to contemplate these objects, would nevertheless dare to deny and even refuse to confess that all things that are, that is, whatsoever things are constituted with a nature of their own in their proper kinds — were created by God as their source, so that they might exist? And that all living things are alive by virtue of the same source? And that the whole of things is preserved, and the very order in which the change, as they manifest their temporal courses according to a definite pattern, is maintained and governed, by the laws of the highest God? When this is established and admitted, who will dare to say that God established all things in an irrational manner? Now if this cannot be said or accepted in any proper sense, the conclusion remains that all things are founded by means of reason. Not that a man is based on the same reason as a horse; this would be an absurd notion. So, each one of these is created in accord with its own reason. Now, where would we think that these reasons are, if not in the mind of the Creator? For He did not look to anything placed outside Himself as a model for the construction of what he created; to think that He did would be irreligious.

Now, if these reasons for all things to be created, or already created, are contained in the divine mind, and if there can be nothing in the divine mind unless it be eternal and immutable, and if Plato called these primary reasons of things Ideas then not only do Ideas exist but they are true because they are eternal and they endure immutably in this way; and it is by participation in these that whatever exists is produced, however its way of existing may be.

8.8 Indeed, Thou, O Lord, didst make the world from formless matter and thus Thou didst make almost nothing and out of nothing, that Thou mightest make great things from it, at which we, the sons of men, wonder. . . . Now, this earth which Thou hadst made was formless material, because it was invisible and unorganized, and the darknesses were above the abyss. From this invisible and unorganized earth, from this formlessness, from this almost-nothing, Thou wert to make all things by which this mutable world subsists yet it does not really subsist in which that mutability is evident that enables periods of time to be perceived and distinguished by measurement. For periods of time come into being by means of the changes of things, as the forms, whose material is the aforementioned invisible earth, are diversified and altered.

17.32. The elements of this bodily world have their own precise force and quality, what each of them can or cannot do, what can be made from what, or cannot. From these elements, as the original principles of things, all things that are generated take their origin and development, each in its proper time; and they receive their terminations and decreases, each according to its kind. Hence it comes about that a bean does not grow from a grain of wheat, or wheat from a bean, or a man from a beast, or a beast from a man. Above this natural change and course of things, the power of the Creator keeps to Himself the ability to make out of all these things something other than what their seminal reasons, as it were, contain but not something that He did not place in them, so that He might produce it out of them or accomplish it by His own power. For He is omnipotent, not by virtue of thoughtless power but by virtue of His wisdom.

5. Notwithstanding what I have just said, I am prepared to defend the sentence in the third book of my treatise on Free Will, in which, discoursing on the rational substance, I have expressed my opinion in these words: "The soul, appointed to occupy a body inferior in nature to itself after the entrance of sin, governs its own body, not absolutely according to its free will but only insofar as the laws of the universe permit." (III, II, 34) I bespeak the particular attention of those who think that I have here fixed and defined, as ascertained concerning the human soul, either that it comes by propagation from the parents or that it has, through sins committed in a higher celestial life, incurred the penalty of being shut up in a corruptible body. Let them, I say, observe that the words in question have been carefully weighed by me, that while they hold fast what I regard as certain, namely, that after the sin of the first man, all other men have been born and continue to be born in that sinful flesh, for the healing of which "the likeness of sinful flesh" came in the person of the Lord, they are also so chosen as not to pronounce upon any one of those four opinions which I have in the sequel expounded and distinguished, not attempting to establish any one of them as preferable to the others but disposing in the meantime of the matter under discussion and reserving the consideration of these opinions, so that whichever of them may be true, praise should unhesitatingly be given to God.

6. For whether all souls are derived by propagation from the first, or are in the case of each individual specially created, or being created apart from the body are sent into it, or introduce themselves into it of their own accord, without doubt this creature endowed with reason, namely, the human soul—appointed to occupy an inferior, that is, an earthly body—after the entrance of sin, does not govern its own body absolutely according to its free will. For I did not say, "after his sin," or "after he sinned," but after the entrance of sin, that whatever might afterwards, if possible, be determined by reason as to the question whether the sin was his own or the sin of the first parent of mankind, it might be perceived that in saying that "the soul, appointed, after the entrance of sin, to occupy an inferior body, does not govern its body absolutely according to its own free will," I stated what is true; for "the flesh lusteth against the spirit, and in this we groan, being burdened," and "the corruptible body weighs down the soul." In short, who can enumerate all the evils arising from the infirmity of the flesh, which shall assuredly cease when "this corruptible shall have put on incorruption," so that "that which is mortal shall be swallowed up of life?" In that future condition, therefore, the soul shall govern its spiritual body with absolute freedom of will; but in the meantime its freedom is not absolute but conditioned by the laws of the universe, according to which it is fixed, that bodies having experienced birth experience death and having grown to maturity decline in old age. For the soul of the first man did, before the entrance of sin, govern his body with perfect freedom of will, although that body was not yet spiritual but animal; but after the entrance of sin, that is, after sin had been committed in that flesh from which sinful flesh was thenceforward to be propagated, the reasonable soul is so appointed to occupy an inferior body, that it does not govern its body with absolute freedom of will. That infant children, even before they have committed any sin of their own, are partakers of sinful flesh, is, in my opinion, proved by their requiring to have it healed in them also, by the application in their baptism of the remedy provided in Him who came in the likeness of sinful flesh. But even those who do not acquiesce in this view have no just ground for taking offence at the sentence quoted from my book; for it is certain, if I am not mistaken, that even if the infirmity be the consequence not of sin but of nature, it was at all events only after the entrance of sin that bodies having this infirmity began to be produced; for Adam was not created thus, and he did not beget any offspring before he sinned.

7. Let my critics, therefore, seek other passages to censure, not only in my other more hastily published works but also in these books of mine on Free Will. For I by no means deny that they may in this search discover opportunities of conferring a benefit on me; for if the books, having passed into so many hands, cannot now be corrected, I myself may, being still alive. Those words, however, so carefully selected by me to avoid committing myself to any one of the four opinions or theories regarding the soul’s origin, are liable to censure only from those who think that my hesitation as to any definite view in a matter so obscure is blameworthy; against whom I do not defend myself by saying that I think it right to pronounce no opinion whatever on the subject, seeing that I have no doubt either that the soul is immortal—not in the same sense in which God is immortal, who alone hath immortality, but in a certain way peculiar to itself—or that the soul is a creature and not a part of the substance of the Creator, or as to any other thing which I regard as most certain concerning its nature. But seeing that the obscurity of this most mysterious subject, the origin of the soul, compels me to do as I have done, let them rather stretch out a friendly hand to me confessing my ignorance and desiring to know whatever is the truth on the subject; and let them, if they can, teach or demonstrate to me what they may either have learned by the exercise of sound reason or have believed on indisputably plain testimony of the divine oracles. For if reason be found contradicting the authority of the Divine Scriptures, it only deceives by a semblance of truth, however acute it be, for its deductions cannot in that case be true. On the other hand, if, against the most manifest and reliable testimony of reason, anything be set up claiming to have the authority of the Holy Scriptures, he who does this does it through a misapprehension of what he has read and is setting up against the truth not the real meaning of Scripture, which he has failed to discover, but an opinion of his own; he alleges not what he has found in the Scriptures, but what he has found in himself as their interpreter.

8. Let me give an example, to which I solicit your earnest attention. In a passage near the end of Ecclesiastes, where the author is speaking of man’s dissolution through death separating the soul from the body, it is written, "Then shall the dust return to the earth as it was, and the spirit shall return unto God who gave it." A statement having the authority on which this one is based is true beyond all dispute and is not intended to deceive anyone; yet if anyone wishes to put upon it such an interpretation as may help him in attempting to support the theory of the propagation of souls, according to which all other souls are derived from that one which God gave to the first man, what is there said concerning the body under the name of "dust" (for obviously nothing else than body and soul are to be understood by "dust" and "spirit" in this passage) seems to favor his view; for he may affirm that the soul is said to return to God because of its being derived from the original stock of that soul which God gave to the first man, in the same way as the body is said to return to the dust because of its being derived from the original stock of that body which was made of dust in the first man, and therefore may argue that, from what we know perfectly as to the body, we ought to believe what is hidden from our observation as to the soul; for there is no difference of opinion as to the original stock of the body, but there is as to the original stock of the soul. In the text thus brought forward as a proof, statements are made concerning both, as if the manner of the return of each to its original was precisely similar in both—the body, on the one hand, returning to the earth as it was, for thence was it taken when the first man was formed; the soul, on the other hand, returning to God, for He gave it when He breathed into the nostrils of the man whom He had formed the breath of life, and he became a living soul, so that thenceforward the propagation of each part should go on from the corresponding part in the parent.

9. If, however, the true account of the soul’s origin be that God gives to each individual man a soul not propagated from that first soul but created in some other way, the statement that "the spirit returns to God who gave it" is equally consistent with this view. The two other opinions regarding the soul’s origin are, then, the only ones which seem to be excluded by this text. For in the first place, as to the opinion that every man’s soul is made separately within him at the time of his creation, it is supposed that, if this were the case, the soul should have been spoken of as returning not to God who gave it but to God who made it, for the word "gave" seems to imply that that which could be given had already a separate existence. The words "returneth to God" are further insisted upon by some, who say, How could it return to a place where it had never been before? Accordingly they maintain that if the soul is to be believed to have never been with God before, the words should have been "it goes" or "goes on" or "goes away," rather than it "returns" to God. In like manner, as to the opinion that each soul glides of its own accord into its body, it is not easy to explain how this theory is reconcilable with the statement that God gave it. The words of this scriptural passage are consequently somewhat adverse to these two opinions, namely, the one which supposes each soul to be created in its own body spontaneously. But there is no difficulty in showing that the words are consistent with either of the other two opinions, namely, that all souls are derived by propagation from the one first created, or that, having been created and kept in readiness with God, they are given to each body as required.

10. Nevertheless, even if the theory that each soul is created in its own body may not be wholly excluded by this text for its advocates affirm that God is here said to have given the spirit (or the soul) in the same way as He is said to have given us eyes, ears, hands, or other such members, which were not made elsewhere by Him, and kept in store that He might give them, i.e., add and join them to our bodies, but are made by Him in that body to which He is said to have given them—I do not see what could be said in reply, unless, perchance, the opinion could be refuted, either by other passages of Scripture, or by valid reasoning. In like manner, those who think that each soul flows of its own accord into its body take the words "God gave it" in the sense in which it is said, "He gave them up to uncleanness through the lusts of their own hearts." Only one word, therefore, remains apparently irreconcilable with the theory that each soul is made in its own body, namely, the word "returneth," in the expression "returneth to God," for in what sense can the soul return to Him with whom it has not formerly been? By this one word alone are the supporters of this one of the four opinions embarrassed. And yet I do not think that this opinion ought to be held as refuted by this one word, for it may be possible to show that in the ordinary style of scriptural language it may be quite correct to use the word "return," as signifying that the spirit created by God returns to Him not because of its having been with Him before its union with the body but because of its having received being from His creative power.

2.3. Evodius: For the present I accept your explanation that the soul comes from God. I shall think it over carefully and, if I have any difficulty, I shall bring it up later. Now, please explain the nature of the soul.

Augustine: It seems to me that the soul is like to God. For your question is about the human soul, if I mistake not.

Evodius: That is exactly what I should like you to explain: how the human soul is like to God. For, although we believe that God has been made by no one, you said previously that the soul is made by God Himself.

Augustine: Do you really think it difficult for God to make something like Himself, when you see from the great variety of images that such power has been granted even to us?

Evodius: But, it seems that our creations some day come to an end, whereas God made the soul immortal, as I believe, unless, possibly, you have a different view.

Augustine: Do you mean, therefore, that man’s creations should have the same quality as those of God?

Evodius: Certainly I should not say that. But just as He, being immortal, makes something immortal in His own likeness, so we, being immortal, having been made so by God, in making something in our own likeness ought to make something immortal also.

Augustine: You would be correct if you could paint a picture in the likeness of what you believe is immortal in you, but now your painting discloses the likeness of the body, which is certainly mortal.

Evodius: How, then, am I like to God, when I cannot make anything immortal, as He can?

Augustine: Just as it is impossible for an image of your body, so it should be no cause for wonder that your soul has not the same power as he in whose likeness it has been made.

13.22. Augustine: Did you ever see with the eyes of the body a point or a line or width as we have been describing it?

Evodius: Never, indeed. These things are not corporeal.

Augustine: But, if corporeal things are seen with the eyes of the body, in accordance with certain marvelous affinity of natures, should not the soul by which we see these incorporeal things be itself neither a body nor in any way like a body? Or have you a different opinion?

Evodius: Well, I admit now that the soul is not a body or anything like a body, but please tell me what it is.

Augustine: Consider, for the present, whether we have proved that it lacks entirely all quantity, for this is the question we are discussing now. For, what is the soul was the earlier topic of our discussion. That you have forgotten surprises me. You remember that you asked first: Whence is the soul? which, I recall, we handled in two ways: one, in which we inquired about its place of origin, as it were; the other, in which we considered whether it was composed of earth, or fire or any other of these elements, or of all together, or of a combination of some of them. And we agreed on this conclusion, that an answer to this question is as much beyond us as the answer to the question: Whence is earth or any other one of the elements? For, it must be understood that, although God made the soul, it has a definite substance which is neither of earth, nor of fire, nor of air, nor of water, unless, perchance, one should think that God gave to earth a nature that is exclusively its own and did not give to the soul a nature that is proper to it. If you wish a definition of what the soul is, I have a ready answer. It seems to me to be a certain kind of substance, sharing in reason, fitted to rule the body.

Subject of unchanging reason, the soul is immortal

2.2 Reason, certainly, is either the mind or it is in the mind. Our reason, to be sure, is of better quality than our body; our body, in turn, is some kind of a substance, and it is better to be a substance than nothing. Therefore, reason is not nothing. Again, whatever the harmonic structure of a body is, it is by necessity inseparably present in the body as in a subject; nothing else can be believed to be in that structure which is not with equal necessity in that respective body, in which also the structure itself is not less inseparably present. The human body, however, is subject to change, and reason is immutable. For, all is subject to change that does not exist always in the same way. It is always in the same way that two and four make six. In the same way, it is always true that four is the sum of two and two; this [four], however, is not two; and two, naturally, is not four. Such reasoning is not subject to change; therefore reason exists.

In no way, on the other hand, can that which is inseparably in a subject remain unchanged, after the subject itself is changed. The mind, in turn, is not the structure of the body. Nor can death occur to things not subject to change. The mind, therefore, always lives, whether it itself is reason, or whether reason is inseparably attached to it.

6.11. Evidently, this connection of the beholding mind and the true which it beholds is such that: either the mind is the subject and the true inherent in the subject; or contrariwise, the true is the subject and the mind is inherent in the subject; or, both are substances.

However, if of the three the first holds true, the mind is immortal as well as reason, because—according to our previous argumentation—reason can only exist in something that is alive. The same logic is also valid in the second instance. For, if that true which is called reason does not contain anything changeable, as it appears, then nothing can be changed which is contained in the true as in a subject. Thus, the entire struggle centers around the third hypothesis. For, if the mind is a substance and if reason [the true] with which the mind is connected is likewise a substance, one would not absurdly believe that reason [the true] may remain, while the mind could cease to exist. It is manifest, however, that the mind, as long as it is not separated, but connected with reason [the true], necessarily remains and lives.

By what force, then, can the mind be separated? Could it be a corporeal force whose power is weaker, whose origin is lower, and whose order is less unified? Not at all. Could it be by an animal force? But again, how could it work? Is it so that a more powerful mind cannot contemplate reason [the true] unless it has another mind separated from it? However, reason [the true] would not be wanting to a single one, even if all minds together would contemplate it. And, because nothing is more powerful than reason [the true] itself, than which nothing is less changeable, the mind not yet connected with reason [the true] can by no means be more powerful than the one already connected with it.

It remains that either reason [the true] itself separates from itself the mind, or the mind by its own volition is separated from [the true]. However, there is no trace of envy in the nature of reason [the true] to prevent it from offering itself to the enjoyment of the mind. Then, everything, to the extent of its higher level of being, is the cause of being to whatever is connected with it, which is just the opposite of destruction. But, the mind by its own will, one may say without too great absurdity, may be separated from reason [the true]—provided that an individual separation between things not contained in space is possible at all. This latter statement, indeed, can be directed against all the points above, against which we have furnished other objections.

What then? May we conclude already that the mind is immortal? Or that it can be extinguished, although it cannot be separated from [the true]? However, if this force of reason [the true], through its very connection, affects the mind—for it cannot but affect it-it affects it certainly only in such a way that it gives it its being. And reason [the true] itself is there in the highest degree where changlessness is conceived in the highest degree. Therefore, reason [the true] forces that mind somehow to be, which it, from its own being, affects. Thus, without separation from reason [the true], the mind cannot be extinguished. But, a separation is impossible, as we have reasoned above. Therefore, the mind cannot perish.

14.17 At no time, therefore, hadst Thou not made anything, because Thou hadst made time itself. And no times are co-eternal with Thee, because Thou remainest for ever; but should these continue, they would not be times. For what is time? Who can easily and briefly explain it? Who even in thought can comprehend it, even to the pronouncing of a word concerning it? But what in speaking do we refer to more familiarly and knowingly than time? And certainly we understand when we speak of it; we understand also when we hear it spoken of by another. What, then, is time? If no one ask of me, I know; if I wish to explain to him who asks, I know not. Yet I say with confidence, that I know that if nothing passed away, there would not be past time; and if nothing were coming, there would not be future time; and if nothing were, there would not be present time. Those two times, therefore, past and future, how are they, when even the past now is not, and the future is not as yet? But should the present be always present, and should it not pass into time past, time truly it could not be, but eternity. If, then, time present—if it be time—only comes into existence because it passes into time past, how do we say that even this is, whose cause of being is that it shall not be—namely, so that we cannot truly say that time is, unless because it tends not to be?

20. Behold the present time, which alone we found could be called long, is abridged to the space scarcely of one day. But let us discuss even that, for there is not one day present as a whole. For it is made up of four-and-twenty hours of night and day, whereof the first hath the rest future, the last hath them past, but any one of the intervening hath those before it past, those after it future. And that one hour passeth away in fleeting particles. Whatever of it hath flown away is past, whatever remaineth is future. If any portion of time be conceived which cannot now be divided into even the minutest particles of moments, this only is that which may be called present; which, however, flies so rapidly from future to past, that it cannot be extended by any delay. For if it be extended, it is divided into the past and future; but, the present hath no space. Where, therefore, is the time which we may call long? Is it future? Indeed we do not say, "It is long," because it is not yet, so as to be long; but we say, "It will be long." When, then, will it be? For if even then, since as yet it is future, it will not be long, because what may be long is not as yet; but it shall be long, when from the future, which as yet is not, it shall already have begun to be, and will have become present, so that there could be that which may be long; then doth the present time cry out in the words above that it cannot be long.

21. And yet, O Lord, we perceive intervals of times, and we compare them with themselves, and we say some are longer, others shorter. We even measure by how much shorter or longer this time may be than that; and we answer, "That this is double or treble, while that is but once, or only as much as that." But we measure times passing when we measure them by perceiving them; but past times, which now are not, or future times, which as yet are not, who can measure them? Unless, perchance, anyone will dare to say, that that can be measured which is not. When, therefore, time is passing, it can be perceived and measured; but when it has passed, it cannot, since it is not.

22. I ask, Father, I do not affirm. O my God, rule and guide me. "Who is there who can say to me that there are not three times (as we learned when boys, and as we have taught boys), the past, present, and future, but only present, because these two are not? Or are they also; but when from future it becometh present, cometh it forth from some secret place, and when from the present it becometh past, doth it retire into anything secret? For where have they, who have foretold future things, seen these things, if as yet they are not? For that which is not cannot be seen. And they who relate things past could not relate them as true, did they not perceive them in their mind. Which things, if they were not, they could in no wise be discerned. There are therefore things both future and past.

23. Suffer me, O Lord, to seek further; 0 my Hope, let not my purpose be confounded. For if there are times past and future, I desire to know where they are. But if as yet I do not succeed, I still know, wherever they are, that they are not there as future or past, but as present. For if there also they be future, they are not as yet there; if even there they be past, they are no longer there. Wheresoever, therefore, they are, whatsoever they are, they are only so as present. Although past things are related as true, they are drawn out from the memory,—not the things themselves, which have passed, but the words conceived from the images of the things which they have formed in the mind as footprints in their passage through the senses. My childhood, indeed, which no longer is, is in time past, which now is not; but when I call to mind its image, and speak of it, I behold it in the present, because it is as yet in my memory. Whether there be a like cause of foretelling future things, that of things which as yet are not the images may be perceived as already existing, I confess, my God, I know not. This certainly I know, that we generally think before on our future actions, and that this premeditation is present; but that the action whereon we premeditate is not yet, because it is future; which when we shall have entered upon, and have begun to do that which we were premeditating, then shall that action be, because then it is not future, but present.

24. In whatever manner, therefore, this secret preconception of future things may be, nothing can be seen, save what is. But what now is is not future, but present. When, therefore, they say that things future are seen, it is not themselves, which as yet are not (that is, which are future); but their causes or their signs perhaps are seen, they which already are. Therefore, to those already beholding them, they are not future, but present, from which future things conceived in the mind are foretold. Which conceptions again now are, and they who foretell those things behold these conceptions present before them. Let now so multitudinous a variety of things afford me some example. I behold daybreak; I foretell that the sun is about to rise. That which I behold is present; what I foretell,—not that the sun is future, which already is; but his rising, which is not yet. Yet even its rising I could not predict unless I had an image of it in my mind, as now I have while I speak. But that dawn which I see in the sky is not the rising of the sun, although it may go before it, nor that imagination in my mind; which two are seen as present, that the other which is future may be foretold. Future things, therefore, are not as yet; and if they are not as yet, they are not. And if they are not, they cannot be seen at all; but they can be foretold from things present which now are, and are seen.

25. Thou, therefore, Ruler of Thy creatures, what is the method by which Thou teachest souls those things which are future? For Thou hast taught Thy prophets. What is that way by which Thou, to whom nothing is future, dost teach present? For what is not, of a certainty cannot be taught. Too far is this way from my view; it is too mighty for me, I cannot attain unto it; but by Thee I shall be enabled, when Thou shalt have granted it, sweet light of my hidden eyes.

26. But what now is manifest and clear is, that neither are there future nor past things. Nor is it fitly said, "There are three times, past, present, and future;" but perchance it might be fitly said, "There are three times; a present of things past, a present of things present, and a present of things future." For these three do somehow exist in the soul, and otherwise I see them not: present of things past, memory; present of things present, sight; present of things future, expectation. If of these things we are permitted to speak, I see three times, and I grant there are three. It may also be said, "There are three times, past, present, and future," as usage falsely has it. See, I trouble not, nor gainsay, nor reprove; provided always that which is said may be understood, that neither the future, nor that which is past, now is. For there are but few things which we speak properly, many things improperly; but what we may wish to say is understood.

15.20 These are the two loves: the first is holy, the second foul; the first is social, the second selfish; the first consults the common welfare for the sake of a celestial society, the second grasps at a selfish control of social affairs for the sake of arrogant domination; the first is submissive to God, the second tries to rival God; the first is quiet, the second restless; the first is peaceful, the second trouble-making; the first prefers truth to the praises of those who are in error, the second is greedy for praise, however it may be obtained; the first is friendly, the second envious; the first desires for its neighbor what it wishes for itself, the second desires to subjugate its neighbor; the first rules its neighbor for the good of its neighbor, the second for its own advantage; and these two loves produce a distinction among the angels: the first love belongs to the good angels, the second to the bad angels; and they also separate the two cities founded among the race of men, under the wonderful and ineffable Providence of God, administering and ordering all things that have been created: the first city is that of the just, the second is that of the wicked. Although they are now, during the course of time, intermingled, they shall be divided at the last judgment; the first, being joined by the good angels under its King, shall attain eternal life; the second, in union with the bad angels under its king, shall be sent into eternal fire. Perhaps, we shall treat, God willing, of these two cities more fully in another place.

23. . . . And therefore, where there is not this righteousness whereby the one supreme God rules the obedient city according to His grace, so that it sacrifices to none but Him, and whereby, in all the citizens of this obedient city, the soul consequently rules the body and reason the vices in the rightful order, so that, as the individual just man, so also the community and people (populus) of the just, live by faith, which works by love, that love whereby man loves God as He ought to be loved, and his neighbor as himself—there, I say, there is not an assemblage associated by a common acknowledgment of right, and by a community of interests. But if there is not this, there is not a people, if our definition be true, and therefore there is no republic; for where there is no people there can be no republic.

24. But if we discard this definition of a people, and assuming another say that a people is an assemblage of reasonable beings bound together by a common agreement as to the objects of their love, then, in order to discover the character of any people, we have only to observe what they love. Yet whatever it loves, if only it is an assemblage of reasonable beings and not of beasts, and is bound together by an agreement as to the objects of love, it is reasonably called a people; and it will be a superior people in proportion as it is bound together by higher interests, inferior in proportion as it is bound together by lower. According to this definition of ours, the Roman people is a people, and its weal is without doubt a commonwealth or republic. But what its tastes were in its early and subsequent days, and how it declined into sanguinary seditions and then to social and civil wars, and so burst asunder or rotted off the bond of concord in which the health of a people consists, history shows, and in the preceding books I have related at large. And yet I would not on this account say either that it was not a people, or that its administration was not a republic, so long as there remains an assemblage of reasonable beings bound together by a common agreement as to the object of love. But what I say of this people and of this republic I must be understood to think and say of the Athenians or any Greek state, of the Egyptians, of the early Assyrian Babylon, and of every other nation, great or small, which had a public government. For, in general, the city of the ungodly, which did not obey the command of God that it should offer no sacrifice save to Him alone, and which, therefore, could not give to the soul its proper command over the body, nor to the reason its just authority over the vices, is void to true justice.

11. The end or supreme good of this city is either peace in eternal life, or eternal life in peace. For peace is a good so great, that even in this earthly and mortal life there is no word we hear with such pleasure, nothing we desire with such zest or find to be more thoroughly gratifying. So that if we dwell for a little longer on this subject, we shall not in my opinion be wearisome to our readers, who will attend both for the sake of understanding what is the end of this city of which we speak, and for the sake of the sweetness of peace which is dear to all.

12. Whoever gives even moderate attention to human affairs and to our common nature, will recognize that if there is no man who does not wish to be joyful, neither is there any one who does not wish to have peace. For even they who make war desire nothing by victory—desire, that is to say, to attain to peace with glory. For what else is victory than the conquest of those who resist us? and when this is done there is peace. It is therefore with the desire for peace that wars are waged, even by those who take pleasure in exercising their warlike nature in command and battle. And hence it is obvious that peace is the end sought for by war. For every man seeks peace by waging war, but no man seeks war by making peace. For even they who intentionally interrupt the peace in which they are living have no hatred of peace, but only wish it changed into a peace that suits them better. They do not, therefore, wish to have no peace, but only one more to their mind. And in the case of sedition, when men have separated themselves from the community, they yet do not effect what they wish, unless they maintain some kind of peace with their fellow-conspirators. And therefore even robbers take care to maintain peace with their comrades, that they may with greater effect and greater safety invade the peace of other men. And if an individual happen to be of such unrivaled strength, and to be so jealous of partnership that he trusts himself with no comrades but makes his own plots and commits depredations and murders on his own account, yet he maintains some shadow of peace with such persons as he is unable to kill and from whom he wishes to conceal his deeds. In his own home, too, he makes it his aim to be at peace with his wife and children and any other members of his household; for unquestionably their prompt obedience to his every look is a source of pleasure to him. And if this be not rendered, he is angry, he chides and punishes; and even by this storm he secures the calm peace of his own home as occasion demands. For he sees that peace cannot be maintained unless all the members of the same domestic circle be subject to one head, such as he himself is in his own house. And therefore if a city or nation offered to submit itself to him, to serve him in the same style as he had made his household serve him, he would no longer lurk in a brigand’s hiding places, but lift his head in open day as a king, though the same covetousness and wickedness should remain in him. And thus all men desire to have peace with their own circle whom they wish to govern as suits themselves. For even those whom they make war against they wish to make their own, and impose on them the laws of their own peace.

Kinds of peace; tranquillity of order

13. The peace of the body then consists in the duly proportioned arrangement of its parts. The peace of the irrational soul is the harmonious repose of the appetites, and that of the rational soul the harmony of knowledge and action. The peace of body and soul is the well-ordered and harmonious life and health of the living creature. Peace between man and God is the well-ordered obedience of faith to eternal law. Peace between man and man is well-ordered concord. Domestic peace is the well-ordered concord between those of the family who rule and those who obey. Civil peace is a similar concord among the citizens. The peace of the celestial city is the perfectly ordered and harmonious enjoyment of God, and of one another in God. The peace of all things is the tranquillity of order. Order is the distribution which allots things equal and unequal, each to its own place. And hence, though the miserable, in so far as they are such, do certainly not enjoy peace, but are severed from that tranquillity of order in which there is no disturbance, nevertheless, inasmuch as they are deservedly and justly miserable, they are by their very misery connected with order. They are not, indeed, conjoined with the blessed, but they are disjoined from them by the law of order. And though they are disquieted, their circumstances are notwithstanding adjusted to them, and consequently they have some tranquillity of order, and therefore some peace. But they are wretched because, although not wholly miserable, they are not in that place where any mixture of misery is impossible. They would, however, be more wretched if they had not had that peace which arises from being in harmony with the natural order of things. When they suffer, their peace is in-so-far disturbed; but their peace continues in-so-far as they do not suffer, and in-so-far as their nature continues to exist. As, then, there may be life without pain, while there cannot be pain without some kind of life, so there may be peace without war, but there cannot be war without some kind of peace, because war supposes the existence of some natures to wage it, and these natures cannot exist without peace of one kind or other.

2. And see ye the names of those two cities, Babylon and Jerusalem. Babylon is interpreted confusion, Jerusalem vision of peace. Observe now the city of confusion, in order that ye may perceive the vision of peace, that ye may endure that, sigh for this. Whereby can those two cities be distinguished? Can we any wise now separate them from each other? They are mingled, and from the very beginning of mankind, mingled they run on unto the end of the world. Jerusalem received beginning through Abel, Babylon through Cain: for the buildings of the cities were afterwards erected. That Jerusalem in the land of the Jebusites was built: for at first it used to be called Jebus; from thence the nation of the Jebusites was expelled, when the people of God was delivered from Egypt and led into the land of promise. But Babylon was built in the most interior regions of Persia, which for a long time raised its head above the rest of nations. These two cities then at particular times were built, so that there might be shown a figure of two cities begun of old, and to remain even unto the end in this world, but at the end to be severed. Whereby then can we now show them that are mingled? At that time the Lord shall show, when some He shall set on the right hand, others on the left. Jerusalem on the right hand shall be, Babylon on the left. . . . Two loves make up these cities: love of God maketh Jerusalem, love of the world maketh Babylon. Therefore let each one question himself as to what he loveth, and he shall find of which he is a citizen; and if he shall have found himself to be a citizen of Babylon, let him root out cupidity, implant charity, but if he shall have found himself a citizen of Jerusalem, let him endure captivity, hope for liberty. . . .

111. After the resurrection, however, when the final, universal judgment has been completed, there shall be two kingdoms, each with its own distinct boundaries: the one Christ’s, the other the devil’s; the one consisting of the good, the other of the bad—both, however, consisting of angels and men. The former shall have no will, the latter no power to sin, and neither shall have any power to choose death; but the former shall live truly and happily in eternal life, the latter shall drag out a miserable existence in eternal death without the power of dying; for the life and the death shall both be without end. But among the former there shall be degrees of happiness, one being more preeminently happy than another, and among the latter there shall be degrees of misery, one being more endurably miserable than another.

4. How then, according to reason, ought man to live? We all certainly desire to live happily; and there is no human being but assents to this statement almost before it is made. But the title happy cannot, in my opinion, belong either to him who has not what he loves, whatever it may be, or to him who has what he loves if it is hurtful, or to him who does not love what he has, although it is good in perfection. For one who seeks what he cannot obtain suffers torture, and one who has got what is not desirable is cheated, and one who does not seek for what is worth seeking for is diseased. Now in all these cases the mind cannot but be unhappy, and happiness and unhappiness cannot reside at the same time in one man; so in none of these cases can the man be happy. I find, then, a fourth case, where the happy life exists—when that which is man’s chief good is both loved and possessed. For what do we call enjoyment but having at hand the objects of love? And no one can be happy who does not enjoy what is man’s chief good, nor is there anyone who enjoys this who is not happy. We must then have at hand our chief good, if we think of living happily.

A perfection of the soul following God

7. Now if we ask what is the chief good of the body, reason obliges us to admit that it is that by means of which the body comes to be in its best state. But of all the things which invigorate the body, there is nothing better or greater than the soul. The chief good of the body, then, is not bodily pleasure, not absence of pain, not strength, not beauty, not swiftness, or whatever else is usually reckoned among the goods of the body, but simply the soul. For all the things mentioned the soul supplies to the body by its presence, and, what is above them all, life. Hence I conclude that the soul is not the chief good of man, whether we give the name of man to soul and body together, or to the soul alone. For as, according to reason, the chief good of the body is that which is better than the body, and from which the body receives vigor and life, so whether the soul itself is man, or soul and body both, we must discover whether there is anything which goes before the soul itself, in following which the soul comes to the perfection of good of which it is capable in its own kind. If such a thing can be found, all uncertainty must be at an end, and we must pronounce this to be really and truly the chief good of man.

If, again, the body is man, it must be admitted that the soul is the chief good of man. But clearly, when we treat of morals—when we inquire what manner of life must be held in order to obtain happiness—it is not the body of which the precepts are addressed, it is not bodily discipline which we discuss. In short, the observance of good customs belongs to that part of us which inquires and learns, which are the prerogatives of the soul; so, when we speak of attaining to virtue, the question does not regard the body. But if it follows, as it does, that the body which is ruled over by a soul possessed of virtue is ruled both better and more honorably, and is in its greatest perfection in consequence of the perfection of the soul which rightfully governs it, that which gives perfection to the soul will be man’s chief good, though we call the body man. For if my coachman, in obedience to me, feeds and drives the horses he has charge of in the most satisfactory manner, himself enjoying the more of my bounty in proportion to his good conduct, can anyone deny that the good condition of the horses, as well as that of the coachman, is due to me? So the question seems to me to be not whether soul and body is man, or the soul only, or the body only, but what gives perfection to the soul; for when this is obtained, a man cannot but be either perfect, or at least much better than in the absence of this one thing.

8. No one will question that virtue gives perfection to the soul. But it is a very proper subject of inquiry whether this virtue can exist by itself or only in the soul. Here again arises a profound discussion, needing lengthy treatment; but perhaps my summary will serve the purpose. God will, I trust, assist me, so that, notwithstanding our feebleness, we may give instruction on these great matters briefly as well as intelligibly. In either case, whether virtue can exist by itself without the soul, or can exist only in the soul, undoubtedly in the pursuit of virtue the soul follows after something, and this must be either the soul itself, or virtue, or something else. But if the soul follows after itself in the pursuit of virtue, it follows after a foolish thing; for before obtaining virtue it is foolish. Now the height of a follower’s desire is to reach that which he follows after. So the soul must either not wish to reach what it follows after, which is utterly absurd and unreasonable, or, in following after itself while foolish, it reaches the folly which it flees from. But if it follows after virtue in the desire to reach it, how can it follow what does not exist? or how can it desire to reach what it already possesses? Either, therefore, virtue exists beyond the soul, or if we are not allowed to give the name of virtue except to the habit and disposition of the wise soul, which can exist only in the soul, we must allow that the soul follows after something else in order that virtue may be produced in itself; for neither by following after nothing, nor by following after folly, can the soul, according to my reasoning, attain to wisdom.

This something else then, by following after which the soul becomes possessed of virtue and wisdom, is either a wise man or God. But we have said already that it must be something that we cannot lose against our will. No one can think it necessary to ask whether a wise man, supposing we are content to follow after him, can be taken from us in spite of our unwillingness or our persistence. God then remains, in following after whom we live well, and in reaching whom we live both will and happily. If any deny God’s existence, why should I consider the method of dealing with them, when it is doubtful whether they ought to be dealt with at all? At any rate, it would require a different investigation from what we are now engaged in. I am now addressing those who do not deny the existence of God, and who moreover allow that human affairs are not disregarded by Him. For there is no one, I suppose, who makes any profession of religion but will hold that divine Providence cares at least for our souls.

Essentially love of God

25. As to virtue leading us to a happy life, I hold virtue to be nothing else than perfect love of God. For the fourfold division of virtue I regard as taken from four forms of love. For these four virtues ... I should have no hesitation in defining them: that temperance is love giving itself entirely to that which is loved; fortitude is love readily bearing all things for the sake of the loved object; justice is love serving only the loved object, and therefore ruling rightly; prudence is love distinguishing with sagacity between what hinders it and what helps it. The object of this love is not anything, but only God, the chief good, the highest wisdom, the perfect harmony. So we may express the definition thus: that temperance is love keeping itself entire and incorrupt for God; fortitude is love bearing everything readily for the sake of God; justice is love serving God only, and therefore ruling well all else, as subject to man; prudence is love making a right distinction between what helps it towards God and what might hinder it.

6. But the character of the human will is of moment; because, if it is wrong, these motions of the soul will be wrong, but if it is right, they will be not merely blameless, but even praiseworthy. For the will is in them all; yea, none of them is anything else than will. For what are desire and joy but a volition of consent to the things we wish? And what are fear and sadness but a volition of aversion from the things which we do not wish? But when consent takes the form of seeking to possess the things we wish, this is called desire; and when consent takes the form of enjoying the things we wish, this is called joy. In like manner, when we turn with aversion from that which we do not wish to happen, this volition is termed fear; and when we turn away from that which has happened against our will, this act of will is called sorrow. And generally in respect of all that we seek or shun, as a man’s will is attracted or repelled, so it is changed and turned into these different affections. Wherefore the man who lives according to God, and not according to man, ought to be a lover of good, and therefore a hater of evil. And since no one is evil by nature, but whoever is evil is evil by vice, he who lives according to God ought to cherish towards evil men a perfect hatred, so that he shall neither hate the man because of his vice, nor love the vice because of the man, but hate the vice and love the man. For the vice being cursed, all that ought to be loved, and nothing that ought to be hated, will remain.

7. The right will is, therefore, well-directed love, and the wrong will is ill-directed love. Love, then, yearning to have what is loved, is desire; and having and enjoying it, is joy; fleeing what is opposed to it, it is fear; and feeling what is opposed to it, when it has befallen it, it is sadness. Now these motions are evil if the love is evil; good if the love is good.

Peace from love of God and neighbor

14. . . . But as this divine Master inculcates two precepts—the love of God and the love of our neighbor—and as in these precepts a man finds three things he has to love—God, himself, and his neighbor—and that he who loves God loves himself thereby, it follows that he must endeavor to get his neighbor to love God, since he is ordered to love his neighbor as himself. He ought to make this endeavor in behalf of his wife, his children, his household, all within his reach, even as he would wish his neighbor to do the same for him if he needed it; and consequently he will be at peace or in well-ordered concord with all men, as far as in him lies. And this is the order of this concord, that a man in the first place injure no one, and in the second do good to every one he can reach. Primarily, therefore, his own household are his care, for the law of nature and of society gives him readier access to them and greater opportunity of serving them. And hence the Apostle says, "Now, if any provide not for his own, and specially for those of his own house, he hath denied the faith, and is worse than an infidel." This is the origin of domestic peace, or the well-ordered concord of those in the family who rule and those who obey. For they who care for the rest rule—the husband the wife, the parents the children, the masters the servants; and they who are cared for obey—the women their husbands, the children their parents, the servants their masters. But in the family of the just man who lives by faith and is as yet a pilgrim journeying on to the celestial city, even those who rule serve those whom they seem to command; for they rule not from a love of power, but from a sense of the duty they owe to others—not because they are proud of authority, but because they love mercy.

1. Marcus Dods, trans., The Works of Aurelius Augustinus, Vol. III (Edinburgh: T. & T. Clark Co., 1876), pp. 123-124.

2. Carroll Mason Sparrow, trans., St. Augustine on Free Will. (Charlottesville: University of Virginia Studies, 1947), pp. 35-37.

3. Denis J. Kavanagh, trans., The Fathers of the Church, Vol. I (New York: CIMA Publishing Co., Inc., 1948), p. 220.

4. Robert P. Russell, trans., The Fathers of the Church, Vol. I (New York: CIMA Publishing Co., Inc., 1948), pp. 303-305.

5. Gerald R. Sheahan, trans., De vera religione (Chapters 18-38) (St. Louis: St. Louis University Master’s Thesis, 1946), pp. 27-35.

6. D.J. Kavanagh, trans., The Fathers of the Church, Vol. I (New York: CIMA Publishing Co., Inc., 1948), pp. 192-199.

7. M. Dods, trans., The Works of Aurelius Augustinus, Vol. I. (Edinburgh: T. & T. Clark Co., 1897), pp. 468-469.

8. M. Dods, trans., The Works of Aurelius Augustinus, Vol. VII (Edinburgh: T. & T. Clark Co., 1873), pp. 402-405.

9. C. M. Sparrow, trans., St. Augustine on Free Will (Charlottesville: University of Virginia Studies, 1947), pp. 38-43.

10. Vernon J. Bourke, trans., The Essential Augustine (New York: New American Library, A Mentor-Omega Book, 1964), pp. 62-63.

11. Ibid., pp. 107-108.

12. Ibid., p. 103.

13. J. G. Cunningham, trans., The Works of Aurelius Augustinus, Vol. XIII (Edinburgh: T. & T. Clark, 1875), pp. 219-225.

14. John J. McMahon, trans., The Fathers of the Church, Vol. II (New York: CIMA Publishing Co., 1947), pp. 61-62, 83.

15. Ludwig Schopp, trans., The Fathers of the Church, Vol. II (New York: CIMA Publishing Co., 1947), pp. 17-18, 28-29.

16. J. G. Pilkington, trans., M. Dods, ed., The Works of Aurelius Augustinus, Vol. XIV (Edinburgh: T. & T. Clark, 1886), pp. 301-311.

17. V. J. Bourke, trans., The Essential Augustine, p. 201.

18. M. Dods, trans., The Works of Aurelius Augustinus, Vol. I, pp. 339-340.

19. Ibid., pp. 315-320.

20. P. Schaff, ed., The Nicene and Post-Nicene Fathers, Vol. VIII (New York: The Christian Literature Co., 1888), p. 268.

21. J.F. Shaw, trans., The Works of Aurelius Augustinus, Vol. IX (Edinburgh: T. & T. Clark, 1873), p. 253.

22. R. Stothert, trans., The Works of Aurelius Augustinus, Vol. V (Edinburgh: T. & T. Clark, 1872), pp. 3-4.

23. Ibid., pp. 5-6, 17.

24. M. Dods, trans., The Works of Aurelius Augustine, Vol. II, pp. 9-11.

25. Ibid., pp. 322-323.

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