文集（天主之城·論三位一體等） 第 36 章

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

and so he is prepared for either outcome, that as far as in him lies he may choose the one and avoid the other; and if that which he avoids befalls him, he therefore bears it willingly, because what he willed could not come to pass. He endures, then, lest he be crushed, but he would be unwilling to be pressed. How then does he live as he wishes? Is it because he is willingly brave to bear those things, when inflicted, which he would be unwilling to have inflicted? Therefore he wills that which he can, precisely because he cannot have what he wills. This is the whole—whether to be laughed at or rather to be pitied—blessedness of proud mortals who boast that they live as they wish because they willingly and patiently bear those things which they do not wish to befall them. For this, they say, is what Terence wisely said: 'Since that which you wish cannot come to pass, wish that which you can.' Who denies that this is aptly said?

But it is counsel given to a wretched man, lest he become more wretched. To the blessed man, however—such as all wish themselves to be—it is not rightly nor truly said, 'That which you wish cannot come to pass.' For if he is blessed, whatever he wishes can come to pass, because he does not wish what cannot come to pass. But this life is not the life of this mortality, nor shall it be until immortality also shall be. And if this could in no way be given to man, blessedness too would be sought in vain, because without immortality it cannot be. [VIII 11] Since therefore all men wish to be blessed, if they wish the truth, they assuredly wish also to be immortal; for otherwise they cannot be blessed. And indeed, when questioned about immortality just as about blessedness, all answer that they wish it.

But such blessedness as may rather be called such than truly be—that is what is sought in this life; nay rather, it is feigned, so long as immortality is despaired of, without which true blessedness cannot be. For he indeed lives blessedly—as we have already said above and sufficiently established by proof—who lives as he wishes and wishes nothing evilly. Now no one evilly wishes immortality, if human nature is capable of it by God's gift; and if it is not capable of it, then neither is it capable of blessedness. For in order that a man may live blessedly, it is necessary that he live. And if life itself deserts one who is dying, how can the blessed life remain with him? But when it deserts him, without doubt it deserts him either unwilling, or willing, or neither.

If unwilling, how is that a blessed life which is so in the will that it is not in the power? And since no one is blessed by willing something and not having it, how much less blessed is he who is deserted—not by honour, not by possession, not by any other thing, but by the blessed life itself against his will—when there shall be no life for him at all? Whence, even though no sense remains by which he may be wretched (for the blessed life departs precisely because the whole life departs), he is nonetheless wretched so long as he perceives it, because he knows that against his will there is being consumed that for the sake of which, and above all other things, he loves. A life therefore cannot both be blessed and desert one unwilling, because no one becomes blessed unwillingly; and by this, the more it makes him wretched by deserting him unwilling, seeing that if it were at hand to one unwilling it would make him wretched.

But if it deserts him willing, even so, how was that blessed which he who had it wished to perish? It remains, then, for them to say that neither is in the mind of the blessed—that is, that he is deserted by the blessed life, when through death the whole life deserts him—neither being unwilling nor willing, but that he stands prepared for both and with even heart. But neither is that a blessed life which is such that he whom it makes blessed is unworthy of its love. For how is that a blessed life which the blessed man does not love? Or how is that loved which is received with indifference, whether it flourish or perish? Unless perhaps the virtues, which we love only for the sake of blessedness, dare to persuade us not to love blessedness itself.

But if they do this, then we assuredly cease to love those very virtues, when we do not love that for the sake of which alone we loved them. Then, how will that opinion be true—so well examined, so tested, so refined, so certain—that all men wish to be blessed, if those who are already blessed neither wish nor do not wish to be blessed? Or if they do wish it, as truth cries out, as nature compels—nature into which the supremely good and immutably blessed Creator implanted this—if, I say, they wish to be blessed who are blessed, then assuredly they do not wish not to be blessed. But if they do not wish not to be blessed, then without doubt they do not wish that which they are, namely blessed, to be consumed and to perish. Nor can they be blessed except while living; therefore they do not wish to perish, that is, to cease living.

Immortal, therefore, do all wish to be, whosoever are truly blessed or desire to be blessed. But he does not live blessedly to whom that which he wishes is not present; in no way, therefore, can there be a truly blessed life unless it be everlasting. Whether human nature can attain this, which nevertheless it confesses to be desirable, is no small question. But if faith be present—that faith which is in those to whom Jesus gave power to become sons of God—there is no question. [IX] For by human argumentations, when they tried to find this out, scarcely a few, endowed with great genius, abounding in leisure, and instructed in the most subtle doctrines, were able to arrive at investigating the immortality of the soul alone. Yet even for this soul they did not find a stable, that is, a true blessed life.

For they said that the soul returns even after blessedness to the miseries of this life. And those of them who blushed at this opinion, and thought that the purified soul was to be placed in everlasting blessedness without a body, hold such views about the eternity of the world stretching backward that they themselves refute this very opinion of theirs about the soul—which it would be tedious to demonstrate here, but which in the twelfth book of The City of God has been sufficiently explained by us, as I judge. But this faith promises that the whole man, who assuredly consists of soul and body, shall be immortal, and on this account truly blessed—not by human argumentation, but by divine authority.

And therefore, when it had been said in the Gospel that Jesus gave power to become sons of God to those who received him, and when it had been briefly expounded what it is to have received him—by saying, 'to those who believe in his name'—and it had been added in what manner they became sons of God, namely, that they were born 'not of bloods, nor of the will of the flesh, nor of the will of man, but of God': lest that infirmity of men, which we see and bear about, should straightway despair of so great an excellence, there was at once annexed, 'And the Word was made flesh and dwelt among us,' so that by the contrary that might be made persuasive which seemed incredible.

For if by nature the Son of God, for the sake of the sons of men, was by mercy made the son of man (for this is what 'the Word was made flesh and dwelt among men' means), how much more credible is it that by nature the sons of men should by the grace of God be made sons of God and dwell in God, in whom alone and from whom alone they can be blessed, being made partakers of his immortality—for the persuading of which the Son of God was made partaker of our mortality? [X 13] And so those who say:

'Was God then so lacking in another way by which to free men from the misery of this mortality, that he willed his only-begotten Son, co-eternal with himself, to become man by putting on a human soul and flesh, and, having been made mortal, to endure death?'—it is too little to refute them in such a way that we merely assert this way, by which God deigns to free us through the Mediator of God and men, the man Christ Jesus, to be good and befitting the divine dignity; but we must also show that no other possible way was lacking to God, to whose power all things are equally subject, but that no other way more suitable for healing our misery either was or ought to have been.

For what was so necessary for the raising up of our hope, and for freeing from despair of immortality the minds of mortals cast down by the very condition of mortality, as that it should be demonstrated to us how much God valued us and how much he loved us?

But what could be more manifest and more illustrious a sign of this thing than that the Son of God, immutably good, remaining in himself what he was, and receiving from us for us what he was not—without any detriment to his own nature deigning to enter into fellowship with ours—should first, without any evil desert of his own, bear our evils; and so, upon those who now believe how much God loves us, and upon those who now hope for what they had despaired of, should confer his gifts with an undue bounty, without any good deserts of ours—nay, with even our evil deserts going before? For even those things which are called our merits are his gifts. For that faith may work through love, 'the charity of God is poured abroad in our hearts by the Holy Spirit who has been given to us.'

And it was then given, when Jesus was glorified by the resurrection; for then he promised that he would send him, and did send him, because then—as it is written of him and foretold beforehand—'He ascended on high, he led captivity captive, he gave gifts to men.' These gifts are our merits, by which we attain to the supreme good of immortal blessedness. 'But God,' says the Apostle, 'commends his charity toward us, in that, while we were yet sinners, Christ died for us. Much more now, being justified in his blood, shall we be saved from wrath through him.' He adds further and says: 'For if, when we were enemies, we were reconciled to God through the death of his Son, much more, being reconciled, shall we be saved in his life.'

Those whom he first called sinners, he afterward called enemies of God; and those whom he first called justified in the blood of Jesus Christ, he afterward called reconciled through the death of the Son of God; and those whom he first called saved from wrath through him, he afterward called saved in his life. Not, therefore, before this grace were we sinners in any sort of way, but we were in such sins that we were enemies of God. And a little earlier the same Apostle called us sinners and enemies of God by two names repeatedly—one, as it were, most gentle, the other plainly most terrible—saying: 'For if Christ, while we were yet weak, according to the time died for the ungodly.' Those whom he called weak, the same he named ungodly. Weakness seems something slight, but it is sometimes such that it is named ungodliness.

Yet unless it were a weakness, it would not need the physician, who in Hebrew is Jesus, in Greek Sōtēr, and in our speech Saviour. This word the Latin tongue did not have before, but it could have it, just as it was able when it willed. Now this preceding sentence of the Apostle, where he says, 'While we were yet weak, according to the time he died for the ungodly,' coheres with these two following ones, in one of which he said 'sinners,' in the other 'enemies of God,' as though he had assigned to each single term its single counterpart—'sinners' to 'weak,' and 'enemies of God' referring to 'ungodly.' [XI 15] But what is 'justified in his blood'? What, I ask, is the power of this blood, that in it believers are justified? And what is 'reconciled through the death of his Son'?

Was it truly so, that when God the Father was angry with us, he saw the death of his Son on our behalf and was appeased toward us? Was then his Son already so appeased toward us that he even deigned to die for us, while the Father was still so angry that, unless the Son died for us, he would not be appeased? And what is it that in another place the same Teacher of the nations says: 'What then shall we say to these things? If God is for us, who is against us? He who did not spare his own Son, but delivered him up for us all, how has he not also with him freely given us all things?' Would the Father, unless already appeased, deliver up his own Son for us, not sparing him? Does not this seem to be a sentence, as it were, contrary to that other?

In the one, the Son dies for us, and the Father is reconciled to us through his death; in the other, as though the Father first loved us, he himself for our sake does not spare the Son, he himself delivers him up to death for us. But I see that even beforehand the Father loved us—not only before the Son died for us, but before he founded the world—the Apostle himself bearing witness, who says: 'As he chose us in him before the foundation of the world.' Nor was the Son, when the Father did not spare him for us, as it were unwillingly delivered up, since of him too it is said: 'Who loved me and delivered himself up for me.' Therefore all things together—both the Father and the Son and the Spirit of both—work equally and harmoniously.

Nevertheless, we have been justified in the blood of Christ and reconciled to God through the death of his Son; and how this was brought about I will, as far as I am able, here also explain as far as shall seem sufficient. [XII 16] By a certain justice of God the human race was delivered into the power of the devil, the sin of the first man passing over originally into all who are born by the intercourse of both sexes, and the debt of our first parents binding all their posterity. This delivering-over was first signified in Genesis, where, when it had been said to the serpent, 'Earth shalt thou eat,' it was said to the man, 'Earth thou art, and into earth shalt thou go.' By 'into earth shalt thou go,' the death of the body was foretold, because he would not have experienced even this if he had remained upright as he was made;

but when he said to the living man, 'Earth thou art,' he showed that the whole man had been changed for the worse. For 'Earth thou art' is of the same import as that other saying: 'My spirit shall not remain in these men, because they are flesh.' Then, therefore, he showed him delivered over to the one to whom it had been said, 'Earth shalt thou eat.' But the Apostle proclaims this more openly where he says: 'And you, when you were dead in your offences and sins, in which you once walked according to the age of this world, according to the prince of the power of the air, of that spirit who now works in the sons of unbelief, among whom we all also once had our conversation in the desires of our flesh, doing the wills of the flesh and of the affections, and we were by nature children of wrath, even as the rest.'

The sons of unbelief are the unfaithful; and who is not this before he becomes faithful? Wherefore all men from their origin are under the prince of the power of the air, who works in the sons of unbelief. And what he said, 'from their origin,' is the same as what the Apostle says, 'by nature,' and that he too had been 'even as the rest'—by nature, that is, as it is depraved by sin, not as it was created upright from the beginning. But this manner in which man was delivered into the power of the devil ought not to be so understood as though God did this or commanded it to be done, but that he only permitted it, yet justly. For when he forsook the sinner, the author of sin at once invaded.

Nor indeed did God so forsake his creature that he did not show himself to it as God, creating and vivifying, and amid penal evils bestowing also many good things upon the evil; for he did not in his anger shut up his mercies. Nor did he release man from the law of his own power when he permitted him to be in the power of the devil, since not even the devil himself is estranged from the power of the Almighty, just as neither is he estranged from his goodness. For whence would even the malign angels subsist by whatever sort of life, except through him who gives life to all things? If, then, the committing of sins subjected man to the devil through the just wrath of God, assuredly the remission of sins, through the kindly reconciliation of God, rescues man from the devil. [XIII 17] But the devil was to be overcome, not by the power of God, but by his justice.

For what is more powerful than the Almighty, or what creature's power can be compared to the power of the Creator? But since the devil, by the vice of his own perversity, became a lover of power and a deserter and assailant of justice (for so also do men imitate him the more, the more, neglecting or even hating justice, they zealously pursue power and either rejoice in its attainment or are inflamed with the craving of it), it pleased God that, for the sake of rescuing man from the power of the devil, the devil should be conquered not by power but by justice; and thus also that men, imitating Christ, should seek to conquer the devil by justice, not by power. Not that power is to be shunned as though it were something evil, but that the order is to be preserved in which justice is prior.

For how great can the power of mortals be? Let mortals therefore hold fast to justice; power will be given to the immortals. Compared with which, the strength of those men, however great, who are called powerful on the earth, is found to be a laughable infirmity; and there a pit is dug for the sinner, in the very place where the wicked seem to have most power. But the just man sings and says: 'Blessed is the man whom thou shalt instruct, O Lord, and shalt teach him out of thy law, that thou mayest give him tranquillity from the days of evil, until a pit be dug for the sinner. For the Lord will not cast off his people, nor will he forsake his inheritance, until justice be turned into judgment, and they who possess it are all upright of heart.'

At this time, therefore, in which the power of the people of God is deferred, 'the Lord will not cast off his people, nor forsake his inheritance,' however bitter and unworthy the things which it humbly and weakly suffers, 'until justice'—which now the weakness of the pious possesses—'be turned into judgment,' that is, until it receive the power of judging, which is reserved for the just in the end, when power shall have followed, in its own order, the justice that goes before. For power joined to justice, or justice acceding to power, makes the judicial authority. Now justice pertains to a good will, whence it was said by the angels at the birth of Christ: 'Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace to men of good will.'

Power indeed ought to follow justice, not to go before it, and for that reason it is placed among the secondary goods, that is, among things prosperous; and 'secondary things' (secundae) are so called from 'following' (sequendo). For since, as we argued above, two things make a man blessed — to will well and to be able to do what one wills — that perversity ought not to exist which was noted in the same discussion, whereby, of the two things that make a man blessed, he should choose the being able to do what he wills and neglect the willing of what he ought, whereas he ought first to have a good will and only afterward great power. Furthermore, the good will must be purified from the vices; and if a man is overcome by these, he is overcome unto this, that he wills evil — and how then will his will still be good?

We ought therefore to desire that power be given us now, but against the vices — those vices which men are unwilling to be powerful in order to conquer, and are willing to be powerful in order to conquer other men. And to what end is this, save that, being truly conquered, they may falsely conquer, and be victors not in truth but only in men's opinion? Let a man will to be prudent, will to be brave, will to be temperate, will to be just; and that he may truly be able to attain these, let him plainly desire power, and seek to be powerful within his own self, and — in a wondrous way — against his own self, for his own self's sake. But as for the other things which he rightly wills and yet cannot attain, such as immortality and true and full felicity, let him not cease to desire them and let him patiently await them. [XIV 18] What, then, is the justice by which the devil was conquered? What, if not the justice of Jesus Christ? And how was he conquered?

Because, though the devil found in Him nothing worthy of death, he nevertheless slew Him. And it is surely just that the debtors whom he held should be set free — those who believe in the One whom, though owing no debt, the devil slew. This is what we mean when we say that we are justified in the blood of Christ. For thus was that innocent blood poured out for the remission of our sins. Hence He says in the Psalms that He is free among the dead; for He alone is dead who is free from the debt of death. Hence too He says in another Psalm: 'What I did not seize, then I was paying back,' meaning by 'seizure' sin, since it is a laying hold of what is against what is lawful. Hence also, through the mouth of His own flesh, as we read in the Gospel, He says:

'Behold, the prince of this world comes, and in Me he finds nothing' — that is, no sin — 'but that all may know,' He says, 'that I do the will of My Father, arise, let us go hence.' And from there He proceeds to His Passion, that He might pay on behalf of us debtors what He Himself did not owe. Would the devil have been conquered by that most equitable law if Christ had willed to deal with him by power and not by justice? But He set aside what He could do, that He might first do what He ought; and for this reason it was necessary that He be both man and God. For unless He were man, He could not have been slain; and unless He were also God, men would not have believed that He was unwilling to do what He could, but rather that He was unable to do what He willed; nor would we have thought that justice was preferred by Him over power, but rather that power was lacking to Him.

But now He suffered human things for us because He was man; yet if He had not willed it, He could also have not suffered even this, because He was also God. Therefore justice was rendered more pleasing in His humility, because so great was His power in His divinity that He could, had He so willed, have not endured that humility; and thus by One who died, yet was so powerful, justice was both commended to us who are mortal and powerless, and power was promised. For of these two, He accomplished the one by dying, the other by rising again. For what is more just than to advance even unto the death of the cross for justice's sake? And what is more powerful than to rise from the dead and to ascend into heaven with the very flesh in which He was slain?

Justice, then, first, and power afterward, conquered the devil: justice, indeed, because He had no sin and was most unjustly slain by him; but power, because being dead He came to life again, never afterward to die. Yet He would have conquered the devil by power even if He could not have been slain by him, although it is a matter of greater power to conquer death itself by rising than to avoid it by living. But there is another reason for which we are justified in the blood of Christ, when through the remission of sins we are rescued from the power of the devil; this belongs to the fact that the devil is conquered by Christ through justice, not through power. For it was from the weakness which He took upon Himself in mortal flesh, not from His immortal power, that Christ was crucified; yet of that weakness the Apostle says:

'The weakness of God is stronger than men.' [XV 19] It is therefore not difficult to see that the devil was conquered when He who was slain by him rose again. But this is greater, and deeper for the understanding: to see the devil conquered at the very moment when he seemed to himself to have conquered — that is, when Christ was slain. For then that blood, since it was the blood of Him who had no sin at all, was poured out for the remission of our sins; so that, because the devil justly held those whom he bound as guilty of sin under the condition of death, he should justly release them through Him whom, though guilty of no sin, he unjustly afflicted with the penalty of death.

By this justice was the strong one conquered, and by this bond was he bound, so that his vessels might be snatched away — those vessels which had been with him and his angels, vessels of wrath, and which were now turned into vessels of mercy. For these very words of the Lord Jesus Christ Himself, spoken from heaven to Paul when he was first called, the Apostle Paul relates. For among the other things which he heard, he says that this too was said to him: 'For to this end have I appeared to you, that I may appoint you a minister and a witness of the things which you see of Me, and of those in which I will appear to you; delivering you from the people and from the nations, to whom I now send you, to open the eyes of the blind, that they may be turned from darkness and from the power of Satan unto God, that they may receive remission of sins and a portion among the saints, and faith which is in Me.'

Hence the same Apostle, exhorting believers to give thanks to God the Father, says: 'Who has rescued us from the power of darkness and has transferred us into the kingdom of the Son of His love, in whom we have redemption unto the remission of sins.'

In this redemption the blood of Christ was given as a kind of price for us; and having received it, the devil was not enriched but bound, so that we might be loosed from his snares, and that he might drag none of those whom Christ, free from all debt, redeemed by shedding His own blood that was not owed — none, I say, entangled in the nets of his sins — down to the destruction of the second and everlasting death; but that they should die only insofar as they belong to the grace of Christ, being foreknown and predestined and elected before the foundation of the world, inasmuch as Christ Himself died for them, in the death of the flesh only, not of the spirit. [XVI 20] For although the death of the flesh itself came originally from the sin of the first man, nevertheless the good use of it has made the most glorious martyrs.

And therefore not only death itself, but all the evils of this present age — the sorrows and toils of men — although they come from the deserts of sins, and especially from original sin (whence this very life has been bound with the bond of death), nevertheless, even when sins are remitted, they had to remain, so that man might contend for the truth with them, and so that the virtue of the faithful might be exercised by them; that the new man, through the new covenant, amid the evils of this age, might be prepared for the new age — wisely bearing the misery which this condemned life has deserved, and prudently rejoicing because it will come to an end, but faithfully and patiently awaiting that blessedness which the future, liberated life will possess without end.

For the devil, cast out from his dominion and from the hearts of the faithful — in whose damnation and unbelief he too, though condemned, was reigning — is permitted to oppose only insofar as it is expedient for them under the condition of this mortality, of which He knows the measure. Of this the sacred Scriptures resound through the apostolic mouth: 'God is faithful, who will not permit you to be tempted above that which you are able, but will make also with the temptation a way of escape, that you may be able to endure it.' And these evils, which the faithful piously endure, are of profit either for the correcting of sins, or for the exercising and proving of justice, or for the demonstrating of this life's misery, that the other life, where blessedness will be true and perpetual, may be more ardently desired and more earnestly sought.

But these things are ordered concerning those of whom the Apostle says: 'We know that to those who love God all things work together for good, to those who are called according to His purpose. For those whom He foreknew, He also predestined to be conformed to the image of His Son, that He might be the firstborn among many brethren. And those whom He predestined, them He also called; and those whom He called, them He also justified; and those whom He justified, them He also glorified.' Of these predestined ones, none perishes with the devil; none will remain unto death under the power of the devil. Then there follows what I have already recalled above: 'What then shall we say to these things? If God is for us, who is against us?'

'He who did not spare His own Son, but delivered Him up for us all, how has He not also with Him freely given us all things?' Why, then, should the death of Christ not have taken place? Nay rather, why — passing over the other innumerable ways by which the Omnipotent could have used for our deliverance — should this above all be chosen to be done, wherein nothing of His divinity was diminished or changed, and yet from the humanity He assumed so great a benefit was conferred on men, that by the eternal Son of God, who is likewise the Son of man, a temporal death not owed should be paid, whereby He might free them from the eternal death which was owed? The devil held our sins, and through them justly fastened us in death. He who had none of His own remitted them, and by him was undeservedly led to death.

So great was the worth of that blood, that he ought to detain in the eternal death which was owed no one clothed with Christ, seeing that he slew Christ — even for a time — by a death not owed. Therefore God commends His charity toward us, in that, while we were yet sinners, Christ died for us. Much more, then, being now justified in His blood, shall we be saved from wrath through Him. 'Justified,' he says, 'in His blood' — plainly justified in this, that we are freed from all sins; but freed from all sins because for us the Son of God, who had none, was slain. We shall therefore be saved from wrath through Him — from the wrath, that is, of God, which is nothing else than just retribution.

For the wrath of God is not a perturbation of the mind, as it is in man; but it is the wrath of Him to whom holy Scripture says in another place: 'But Thou, O Lord of hosts, dost judge with tranquillity.' If, then, just divine retribution has received such a name, so also the reconciliation of God is rightly understood in no other way than as the ending of such wrath. Nor were we enemies of God except in the way that sins are enemies of justice; and when these are remitted, such enmities are ended, and those whom He Himself justifies are reconciled to the Just One. Yet even these enemies He surely loved, seeing that He did not spare His own Son, but delivered Him up for us all while we were yet enemies. Rightly, therefore, the Apostle goes on to add: