1 very small and the great, see it, but they are unable to question it, because their senses are not endowed with reason to enable them to judge on what they report. But men can question it, so that "the invisible things of Him. . . are clearly seen, being understood by the things that are made;" but by loving them, they are brought into subjection to them; and subjects are not able to judge. Neither do the creatures reply to such as question them, unless they can judge; nor will they alter their voice (that is, their beauty), if so be one man only sees, another both sees and questions, so as to appear one way to this man, and another to that; but appearing the same way to both, it is mute to this, it speaks to that-yea, verily, it speaks unto all; but they only understand it who compare that voice received from without with the truth within. For the truth declareth unto me, "Neither heaven, nor earth, nor any body is thy God." This, their nature declareth unto him that beholdeth them. "They are a mass; a mass is less in part than in the whole." Now, O my soul, thou art my better part, unto thee I speak; for thou animatest the mass of thy body, giving it life, which no body furnishes to a body; but thy God is even unto thee the Life of life. CHAP. VII.-THAT GOD IS TO BE FOUND NEITHER FROM THE POWERS OF THE BODY NOR OF THE SOUL. who made me. And I enter the fields and roomy chambers of memory, where are the treasures of countless images, imported into it from all manner of things by the senses. There is treasured up whatsoever likewise we think, either by enlarging or diminishing, or by varying in any way whatever those things which the sense hath arrived at; yea, and whatever else hath been entrusted to it and stored up, which oblivion hath not yet engulfed and buried. When I am in this storehouse, I demand that what I wish should be brought forth, and some things immediately appear; others require to be longer sought after, and are dragged, as it were, out of some hidden receptacle; others, again, hurry forth in crowds, and while another thing is sought and inquired for, they leap into view, as if to say, "Is it not we, perchance?" These I drive away with the hand of my heart from before the face of my remembrance, until what I wish be discovered making its appearance out of its secret cell. Other things suggest themselves without effort, and in continuous order, just as they are called for,-those in front giving place to those that follow, and in giving place are treasured up again to be forthcoming when I wish it. All of which takes place when I repeat a thing from memory. 13. All these things, each of which entered by its own avenue, are distinctly and under general heads there laid up: as, for example, 11. What then is it that I love when I love light, and all colours and forms of bodies, by my God? Who is He that is above the head the eyes; sounds of all kinds by the ears; all of my soul? By my soul itself will I mount smells by the passage of the nostrils; all flavours up unto Him. I will soar beyond that power of by that of the mouth; and by the sensation of mine whereby I cling to the body, and fill the the whole body is brought in what is hard or whole structure of it with life. Not by that soft, hot or cold, smooth or rough, heavy or power do I find my God; for then the horse light, whether external or internal to the body.. and the mule," which have no understanding, All these doth that great receptacle of memory, might find Him, since it is the same power by with its many and indescribable departments, which their bodies also live. But there is an- receive, to be recalled and brought forth when other power, not that only by which I quicken, required; each, entering by its own door, is laid but that also by which I endow with sense my up in it. flesh, which the Lord hath made for me; bid- enter it, ding the eye not to hear, and the ear not to see; but that, for me to see by, and this, for me to hear by ; and to each of the other senses its own proper seat and office, which being different, I, the single mind, do through them govern. will soar also beyond this power of mine; for this the horse and mule possess, for they too discern through the body. POWER OF MEMORY. of And yet the things themselves do not but only the images of the things perceived are there ready at hand for thought to recall. And who can tell how these images are formed, notwithstanding that it is evident by which of the senses each has been fetched in and treasured up? For even while I live in darkness and silence, I can bring out colours in memory if I wish, and discern between black and white, and what others I wish; nor yet do sounds break in and disturb what is drawn in by CHAP. VIII.—OF THE NATURE AND THE AMAZING mine eyes, and which I am considering, seeing that they also are there, and are concealed,— laid For these too I can up, as it were, apart. summon if I please, and immediately they appear. And though my tongue be at rest, and my throat silent, yet can I sing as much as I will; and those images of colours, which not 12. I will soar, then, beyond this power my nature also, ascending by degrees unto Him 1 Rom. i. 20. 1 See note 2 to previous section. $ Ps. xxxii. 9. CHAP. IX.-NOT ONLY THINGS, BUT ALSO LITERA withstanding are there, do not interpose them- me, but their images. And I knew by what selves and interrupt when another treasure is corporeal sense each made impression on me. under consideration which flowed in through the ears. So the remaining things carried in and heaped up by the other senses, I recall at my pleasure. And I discern the scent of lilies from that of violets while smelling nothing; and I prefer honey to grape-syrup, a smooth thing to a rough, though then I neither taste nor handle, but only remember. TURE AND IMAGES, ARE TAKEN FROM THE 16. And yet are not these all that the illimitable capacity of my memory retains. Here also is all that is apprehended of the liberal sciences, and not yet forgotten-removed as it were into an inner place, which is not a place; nor are they the images which are retained, but the things themselves. For what is literature, what skill in disputation, whatsoever I know of all the many kinds of questions there are, is so the image and left the thing without, or that it in my memory, as that I have not taken in voice imprinted on the ear by that trace, whereshould have sounded and passed away like a by it might be recorded, as though it sounded when it no longer did so; or as an odour while 14. These things do I within, in that vast chamber of my memory. For there are nigh me heaven, earth, sea, and whatever I can think upon in them, besides those which I have forgotten. There also do I meet with myself, and recall myself,-what, when, or where I did a thing, and how I was affected when I did it. There are all which I remember, either by personal experience or on the faith of others. Out of the same supply do I myself with the past construct now this, now that likeness of things, which either I have experienced, or, from having experienced, have believed; and thence again future actions, events, and hopes, and it passes away, and vanishes into wind, affects upon all these again do I meditate as if they of itself into the memory, which we realize in the sense of smell, whence it conveys the image were present. "I will do this or that," say I to myself in that vast womb of my mind, filled recollecting; or like food, which assuredly in with the images of things so many and so great, kind of taste in the memory, or like anything the belly hath now no taste, and yet hath a "and this or that shall follow upon it." that this or that might come to pass! "God that is by touching felt by the body, and which even when removed from us is imagined by the memory. For these things themselves are not put into it, but the images of them only are caught up, with a marvellous quickness, and laid up, as it were, in most wonderful garners, and wonderfully brought forth when we remem "Oh avert this or that! Thus speak I to myself; and when I speak, the images of all I speak about are present, out of the same treasury of memory; nor could I say anything at all about them were the images absent. 15. Great is this power of memory, exceed ing great, O my God,- -an inner chamber large and boundless! Who has plumbed the depths thereof? Yet it is a power of mine, and appertains unto my nature; nor do I myself grasp all that I am. Therefore is the mind too narrow to contain itself. And where should that be which it doth not contain of itself? Is it outside and not in itself? How is it, then, that it doth not grasp itself? A great admiration rises upon me; astonishment seizes me. And men go forth to wonder at the heights of mountains, the huge waves of the sea, the broad flow of the rivers, the extent of the ocean, and the courses of the stars, and omit to wonder at themselves; nor do they marvel that when I spoke of all these things, I was not looking on them with my eyes, and yet could not speak of them unless those mountains, and waves, and rivers, and stars which I saw, and that ocean which I believe in, I saw inwardly in my memory, and with the same vast spaces between as when I saw them abroad. But I did not by seeing appropriate them when I looked on them with my eyes; nor are the things themselves with ber. CHAP. X.-LITERATURE IS NOT INTRODUCED TO 17. But truly when I hear that there are three kinds of questions, "Whether a thing is?what it is?-of what kind it is?" I do indeed hold fast the images of the sounds of which these words are composed, and I know that those sounds passed through the air with a noise, and now are not. But the things themselves which are signified by these sounds I never arrived at by any sense of the body, nor ever perceived them otherwise than by my mind; and in my memory have I laid up not their images, but themselves, which, how they entered into me, let them tell if they are able. For I examine all the gates of my flesh, but find not by which of them they entered. For the eyes say, "If they were coloured, we announced them." The ears say, "If they sounded, we gave notice of them." The nos CHAP. XII.-ON THE RECOLLECTION OF THINGS MATHEMATICAL. trils say, "If they smell, they passed in by us.' The sense of taste says, "If they have no flavour, ask not me." The touch says, "If it 19. The memory containeth also the reasons have not body, I handled it not, and if I never and innumerable laws of numbers and dimenhandled it, I gave no notice of it." Whence and how did these things enter into my memory? I know not how. For when I learned them, I gave not credit to the heart of another man, but perceived them in my own; and I approved them as true, and committed them to it, laying them up, as it were, whence I might fetch them when I willed. There, then, they were, even before I learned them, but were not in my memory. Where were they, then, or wherefore, when they were spoken, did I acknowledge them, and say, "So it is, it is true," unless as being already in the memory, though so put back and concealed, as it were, in more secret caverns, that had they not been drawn forth by the advice of another I would not, perchance, have been able to conceive of them? CHAP. XI.—WHAT IT IS TO LEARN AND TO THINK. 18. Wherefore we find that to learn these things, whose images we drink not in by our senses, but perceive within as they are by themselves, without images, is nothing else but by meditation as it were to concentrate, and by observing to take care that those notions which the memory did before contain scattered and confused, be laid up at hand, as it were, in that same memory, where before they lay concealed, scattered and neglected, and so the more easily present themselves to the mind well accustomed to observe them. And how many things of this sort does my memory retain which have been found out already, and, as I said, are, as it were, laid up ready to hand, which we are said to have learned and to have known; which, should we for small intervals of time cease to recall, they are again so submerged and slide back, as it were, into the more remote chambers, that they must be evolved thence again as if new (for other sphere they have none), and must be marshalled [cogenda] again that they may become known; that is to say, they must be collected [colligenda], as it were, from their dispersion; whence we have the word cogitare. For cogo [I collect] and cogito [I re-collect] have the same relation to each other as ago and agito, facio and factito. But the mind has appropriated to itself this word [cogitation], so that not that which is collected anywhere, but what is collected,' that is marshalled,' in the mind, is properly said to be "cogitated."3 1 Colligitur. sions, none of which hath any sense of the body impressed, seeing they have neither colour, nor sound, nor taste, nor smell, nor sense of touch. I have heard the sound of the words by which these things are signified when they are discussed; but the sounds are one thing, the things another. For the sounds are one thing in Greek, another in Latin; but the things themselves are neither Greek, nor Latin, nor any other language. I have seen the lines of the craftsmen, even the finest, like a spider's web; but these are of another kind, they are not the images of those which the eye of my flesh showed me; he knoweth them who, without any idea whatsoever of a body, perceives them within himself. I have also observed the numbers of the things with which we number all the senses of the body; but those by which we number are of another kind, nor are they the images of these, and therefore they certainly are. Let him who sees not these things mock me for saying them; and I will pity him, whilst he mocks me. CHAP. XIII.-MEMORY RETAINS ALL THINGS. 20. All these things I retain in my memory, and how I learnt them I retain. I retain also many things which I have heard most falsely objected against them, which though they be false, yet is it not false that I have remembered them; and I remember, too, that I have distinguished between those truths and these falsehoods uttered against them; and I now see that it is one thing to distinguish these things, another to remember that I often distinguished them, when I often reflected upon them. I both remember, then, that I have often understood these things, and what I now distinguish and comprehend I store away in my memory, that hereafter I may remember that I understood it now. Therefore also I remember that I have remembered; so that if afterwards I shall call to mind that I have been able to remember these things, it will be through the power of memory that I shall call it to mind. OF THINGS WHICH ARE ABSENT. out being sad, I call to mind my past sadness; CHAP. XV.-IN MEMORY THERE ARE ALSO IMAGES and that of which I was once afraid, I remember without fear; and without desire recall a former desire. Again, on the contrary, I at times re-well affirm? For I name a stone, I name the 23. But whether by images or no, who can member when joyous my past sadness, and when sad my joy. Which is not to be wondered at as regards the body; for the mind is one thing, the body another. If I, therefore, when happy, recall some past bodily pain, it is not so strange a thing. But now, as this very memory itself is mind (for when we give orders to have a thing kept in memory, we say, "See that you bear this in mind;" and when we forget a thing, we say, "It did not enter my mind," and, "It slipped from my mind," thus calling the memory itself mind), as this is so, how comes it to pass that when being joyful I remember my past sorrow, the mind has joy, the memory sorrow, —the mind, from the joy than is in it, is joyful, yet the memory, from the sadness that is in it, is not sad? Does not the memory perchance belong unto the mind? Who will say so? The memory doubtless is, so to say, the belly of the mind, and joy and sadness like sweet and bitter food, which, when entrusted to the memory, are, as it were, passed into the belly, where they can be reposited, but cannot taste. It is ridiculous to imagine these to be alike; and yet they are not utterly unlike. sun, and the things themselves are not present to my senses, but their images are near to my memory. I name some pain of the body, yet it is not present when there is no pain; yet if its image were not in my memory, I should be ignorant what to say concerning it, nor in arguing be able to distinguish it from pleasure. I name bodily health when sound in body; the thing itself is indeed present with me, but unless its image also were in my memory, I could by no means call to mind what the sound of this when health was named, what was said, unless name signified. Nor would sick people know, the same image were retained by the power of memory, although the thing itself were absent from the body. I name numbers whereby we enumerate; and not their images, but they themselves are in my memory. I name the image of the sun, and this, too, is in my memory. For I do not recall the image of that image, but itself, for the image itself is present when I remember it. I name memory, and I know what I name. But where do I know it, except in the memory itself? Is it also present to itself by its image, and not by itself? GETFULNESS. 22. But behold, out of my memory I educe it, when I affirm that there be four perturbations of the mind,-desire, joy, fear, sorrow; and CHAP. XVI.—THE PRIVATION OF MEMORY IS FORwhatsoever I shall be able to dispute on these, by dividing each into its peculiar species, and by defining it, there I find what I may say, and thence I educe it; yet am I not disturbed by any of these perturbations when by remembering them I call them to mind; and before I recollected and reviewed them, they were there; wherefore by remembrance could they be brought thence. Perchance, then, even as meat is in ruminating brought up out of the belly, so by calling to mind are these educed from the memory. Why, then, does not the disputant, thus recollecting, perceive in the mouth of his meditation the sweetness of joy or the bitterness of sorrow? Is the comparison unlike in this because not like in all points? For who would willingly discourse on these subjects, if, as often as we name sorrow or fear, we should be compelled to be sorrowful or fearful? And yet we could never speak of them, did we not find in our memory not merely the sounds of the names according to the images imprinted on it by the senses of the body, but the notions of the things themselves, which we never received by any door of the flesh, but which the mind itself, recognising by the experience of its own passions, entrusted to the memory, or else which the memory itself retained without their being entrusted to it. 24. When I name forgetfulness, and know, too, what I name, whence should I know it if I did not remember it? I do not say the sound of the name, but the thing which it signifies; which, had I forgotten, I could not know what that sound signified. When, therefore, I remember memory, then is memory present with itself, through itself. But when I remember forgetfulness, there are present both memory and forgetfulness,-memory, whereby I remember, forgetfulness, which I remember. But what is forgetfulness but the privation of memory? How, then, is that present for me to remember, since, when it is so, I cannot remember? But if what we remember we retain in memory, yet, unless we remembered forgetfulness, we could never at the hearing of the name know the thing meant by it, then is forgetfulness retained by memory. Present, therefore, it is, lest we should forget it; and being so, we do forget. Is it to be inferred from this that forgetfulness, when we remember it, is not present to the memory through itself, but through its image; because, were forgetfulness present through itself, it would not lead us to remember, but to forget? Who will now investigate this? Who shall understand how it is? 25. Truly, O Lord, I labour therein, and or observation, as the affections of the mind. labour in myself. I am become a troublesome are, which, even though the mind doth not soil that requires overmuch labour. For we are suffer, the memory retains, while whatsoever is not now searching out the tracts of heaven, or in the memory is also in the mind: through all measuring the distances of the stars, or inquir- these do I run to and fro, and fly; I peneing about the weight of the earth. It is I my-trate on this side and that, as far as I am able, self-I, the mind-who remember. It is not and nowhere is there an end. So great is the much to be wondered at, if what I myself am power of memory, so great the power of life in not be far from me. But what is nearer to me man, whose life is mortal. What then shall I than myself? And, behold, I am not able to do, O Thou my true life, my God? I will pass comprehend the force of my own memory, even beyond this power of mine which is called though I cannot name myself without it. For memory-I will pass beyond it, that I may what shall I say when it is plain to me that I proceed to Thee, O Thou sweet Light. What remember forgetfulness? Shall I affirm that sayest Thou to me? Behold, I am soaring by that which I remember is not in my memory? my mind towards Thee who remainest above Or shall I say that forgetfulness is in my mem- me. I will also pass beyond this power of ory with the view of my not forgetting? Both mine which is called memory, wishful to reach of these are most absurd. What third view is Thee whence Thou canst be reached, and to there? How can I assert that the image of for- cleave unto Thee whence it is possible to cleave getfulness is retained by my memory, and not unto Thee. For even beasts and birds possess forgetfulness itself, when I remember it? And memory, else could they never find their lairs how can I assert this, seeing that when the image and nests again, nor many other things to of anything is imprinted on the memory, the which they are used; neither indeed could they thing itself must of necessity be present first by become used to anything, but by their memwhich that image may be imprinted? For thus ory. I will pass, then, beyond memory also, do I remember Carthage; thus, all the places to that I may reach Him who has separated me which I have been; thus, the faces of men whom from the four-footed beasts and the fowls of I have seen, and things reported by the other the air, making me wiser than they. I will senses; thus, the health or sickness of the body. pass beyond memory also, but where shall I For when these objects were present, my mem- find Thee, O Thou truly good and assured ory received images from them, which, when sweetness? But where shall I find Thee? If they were present, I might gaze on and recon- I find Thee without memory, then am I unsider in my mind, as I remembered them when mindful of Thee. And how now shall I find they were absent. If, therefore, forgetfulness is Thee, if I do not remember Thee? retained in the memory through its image, and not through itself, then itself was once present, CHAP. XVIII.-A THING WHEN LOST COULD NOT that its image might be taken. But when it was present, how did it write its image on the memory, seeing that forgetfulness by its presence blots out even what it finds already noted? And yet, in whatever way, though it be incomprehensible and inexplicable, yet most certain I am that I remember also forgetfulness itself, whereby what we do remember is blotted out. CHAP. XVII.—GOD CANNOT BE ATTAINED UNTO BIRDS POSSESS. BE FOUND UNLESS IT WERE RETAINED IN THE 27. For the woman who lost her drachma, and searched for it with a lamp,' unless she had remembered it, would never have found it. For when it was found, whence could she know whether it were the same, had she not remembered it? I remember to have lost and found many things; and this I know thereby, that when I was searching for any of them, and was asked, "Is this it?" "Is that it?" I answered "No," until such time as that which I sought were offered to me. Which had I not remembered, 26. Great is the power of memory; very-whatever it were,-though it were offered me, wonderful is it, O my God, a profound and infinite manifoldness; and this thing is the mind, and this I myself am. What then am I, O my God? Of what nature am I? A life various and manifold, and exceeding vast. Behold, in the numberless fields, and caves, and caverns of my memory, full without number of numberless kinds of things, either through images, as all bodies are; or by the presence of the things themselves, as are the arts; or by some notion Not yet would I not find it, because I could not recognise it. And thus it is always, when we search for and find anything that is lost. withstanding, if anything be by accident lost from the sight, not from the memory,-as any visible body,-the image of it is retained within, and is searched for until it be restored to sight; and when it is found, it is recognised by 1 Luke xv. 8. |