Augustine: Earlier Writings
20. R.—Literary study is true inasmuch as it is a school discipline. Discipline derives its name from discere [to learn]. No one who has learnt and who retains what he has learnt can be said not to know, and no one can know what is false. Therefore, every school discipline is true. A.— I see no rashness in accepting that reasoning. I do, however, wonder whether any one will think that the fables are true, for we learn and memorize them.
R.—Surely our teacher did not want us to believe what he taught us as well as to know it? A.—Oh no. What he insisted on was that we should know it. R,—He never insisted that we should be Heve the tale of Daedalus flying? A.—Never. But if we did not hold the tale in memory he made our hands unable to hold anything! R.—You do agree that there is such a fable and that such is reported of Daedalus? A.—Certainly that is true. R.—Then you learned a truth when you learned that fable. If on the contrary it were true that Daedalus had wings, and boys accepted and repeated it as merely a fictitious fable, their conception of the tale would be false for the very reason that the story they were repeating was true. Here is an example of what astonished us a moment ago. There could not truly be a fable about the flight of Daedalus unless it were false that Daedalus had actually flown in the air. A,—Now I understand. But where are we to go from that point? R.—We have shown that the reasoning was not false by which we proved that a school discipline can be such only if it teach what is true. A.—What has that got to do with our problem? R,—Tell me, please, why literature is a school discipline, for that will be the answer to the question why it is true. A.—I do not know the answer. R.—Don't you think it could not be a discip Hne if there were no definitions in it, no distinctions and distributions into classes and parts? A,—Now I know what you mean. I cannot imagine a discipline in which there are no definitions, divisions and reasonings, where the nature of each thing is not set forth, where each part does not receive its due attention without confusion, where anything relevant is omitted and anything irrelevant is admitted. All this is the function of a so-called discipline. R.—And because it performs all these functions it is said to be true. A,—I see that follows.
21. R.—Now to what discipline belongs a reasoned account of definitions, divisions and distinctions of parts? A.—As was said before, all that is contained in the rules of dialectic. R.— Therefore, Hterature as a true discip Hne is created by the same art as you have just defended against the charge of falsehood.
THE SOLILOQUIES co And I may draw this conclusion not only in the case of literature but of all the disciplines. For you truly said that you could think of no discipline which did not exercise the function of definition and distribution, for this function was the essence of a discip Hne. But if the discip Hnes are true by their very nature, will anyone deny that it is by truth itself that all disciplines are true? A,—You have almost my entire assent. But I have this difficulty. We have counted dialectic among the disciplines. Now I think, rather, that it is itself the Truth whence reason derives truth. R.—Most excellently said and most acutely. But you do not deny, I suppose, that as a discip Hne it is true? A.—Oh no; that is my point. I know that it is a discip Hne and therefore true. R.—It could not be a discip Hne unless there were definition and distribution of its subject matter? A.—Exactly. R.—But if, besides, to it belongs the task of defining and distributing universally it would be the souce of truth in all the discip Hnes. Who wiH think it surprising if that by which aU things are true is in and by itself the very Truth? A.—I have no difficulty in immediately accepting that statement. xii, 22. R.—Then little remains to be said, so listen. A.—Go on, and provided I can understand, I shall gladly agree. R.— We quite understand that one thing can be said to be in another in two ways: first, in such a way that it can be separated and put elsewhere, e.g., this piece of wood in this place, or the sun in the East; and second, in such a way that it cannot be separated, e.g., the form and appearance which we see in this piece of wood, or light in the sun, or heat in fire, or learning in a mind and such like. Do you agree? A.—That is an old old story to me. I had it drilled into me at the beginning of my adolescence. So I can agree without a moment's deliberation. R.— Then that which exists inseparably in a subject cannot continue to exist if the subject itself is destroyed? A,—That must be true; for anyone who diligently considers the matter knows that even when the subject remains, that which is in it may not remain. The colour of the body may be changed by reason of ill-health or age though the body itself has not perished. This is not equally true in all cases, but only in those cases in which the quality is not essential to the existence of the subject. That waU is not a wall by reason of the colour we see now. It would remain a waU even if by any chance it became black or white or otherwise changed its colour. On the other hand, if fire ceased to be hot, it would not be fire, and we cannot think of snow without whiteness. xiii, 23. But to go back to your question. Who could allow or admit as a possibility that what exists in a subject could continue to exist when the subject itself has ceased to exist? It is quite absurd and quite untrue that a thing, A, which can only exist in another thing, B, can continue to exist when B has ceased to exist. R.—Then we have found what we were seeking.
A.—What is that you tell me? R.—Exactly as you heard. A,—Is it, then, cr\stal-clear that the soul is immortal? R.—Absolutely clear, if all that you have admitted is true. Unless, of course, you can say that the soul exists after it is dead. A,—I could not say that. I should say that by the ver\' fact of its d}dng the soul has ceased to exist. Nor is my opinion weakened by the statement of certain great philosophers that that which confers Hfe by its presence cannot admit of death. No doubt a Ught causes light wherever it shines and cannot admit of darkness, according to the celebrated principle of contraries. Nevertheless, it can be extinguished and, thereby, the place becomes dark. That which resists darkness, and can in no way admit of darkness, nevertheless gives place to darkness by being extinguished or removed. My fear is lest in the same way death comes to the body by the removal or extinguishing of the soul. So I cannot be quite sure about every kind of death. There might be a preferable kind, in which the soul was safely removed from the body and brought to a place, if there is such a place, where it would not be extinguished. If this is not possible, and the soul is like a light kindled in the body and cannot continue anyvhere else, and death is the extinction of soul and life in the body, then a man must choose as far as he may to live his present hfe in security and tranquillirv'; and yet I do not know how that is to be done if the soul is mortal. Happy are those who know by themselves or from some other source that death is not to be feared even if the soul too dies. Unhappily no reasons or books have availed to persuade me of this.
24. R.—Don't lament. The human soul is immortal. A.— How do you prove it? R.—From what you have already admitted after most careful consideration. A.—I certainly do not remember admitting anything carelessly. But, pray, sum it all up now and let us see where we have arrived by all these roundabout ways. I don't want to be asked any more questions. If you will now briefly outline our agreements, there \\ill be no need for me to reply. Why should you delay my rejoicing if indeed we have reached a good result? R.— I shall do as I see you wish, but hsten diligently. A.—Speak now. I am hstening. Why