{"collection":"scripture-revelation","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_9069/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_9069","id":"gutenberg_9069","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/9069","summary":null,"tags":["Augustine, of Hippo, Saint, 354-430","Biographies","Category: Biographies","Category: French Literature","Category: Religion/Spirituality","Christian saints -- Algeria -- Hippo (Extinct city) -- Biography"],"text":"Produced by Charles Aldorondo, Tiffany Vergon, William\nFlis, and Distributed Proofreaders\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nSAINT AUGUSTIN\n\nBY\n\nLOUIS BERTRAND\n\n\nTRANSLATED BY VINCENT O'SULLIVAN\n\n\n\n\nTRANSLATOR'S NOTE\n\n\nThe quotations from Saint Augustin's _Confessions_ are taken from Canon\nBigg's scholarly version, which seems to me the best in English. But there\nare places where M. Bertrand's reading of the original text differs from\nDr. Bigg's, and in such cases I have felt myself obliged to follow the\nauthor of this book. These differences never seriously affect the meaning\nof a passage; sometimes it is a mere matter of choice, as with the word\n_collactaneum_ (i, 7) which Dr. Bigg translates \"twin,\" and M. Bertrand,\nlike Pusey, _fr\u00e8re de lait_, or \"foster-brother.\" As a rule, Dr. Bigg\nchooses the quietest terms, and M. Bertrand the most forcible. Those\ncurious in such matters may like to see an instance.\n\nThe original text runs:--\n\n    Avulsa a latere meo tanquam impedimento conjugii, cum qu\u00e2 cubare\n    solitus eram, cor ubi adhaerebat, concisum et vulneratum mihi erat, et\n    trahebat sanguinem.\n\n    (_Confessiones_, vi, 15.)\n\nM. Bertrand translates:--\n\n    Quand on arracha de mes flancs, sous pr\u00e9texte qu'elle emp\u00eachait mon\n    mariage, celle avec qui j'avais coutume de dormir, depuis si longtemps,\n    l\u00e0 o\u00f9 mon coeur \u00e9tait attach\u00e9 au sien, il se d\u00e9chira, et je tra\u00eenais\n    mon sang avec ma blessure.\n\nCanon Bigg's version is:--\n\n    My mistress was torn from my side as an obstacle to my marriage, and my\n    heart, which clung to her, was torn and wounded till it bled.\n\nIn this place, it will be observed that Dr. Bigg does not emphasize the\nword _ubi_ which, as the reader will find on turning to page 185 of this\nvolume, M. Bertrand thinks so significant.\n\nThe remaining English versions of the writings of Saint Augustin and of the\nother Latin authors quoted are my own, except the passages from _The City\nof God_, including the verse translation of Persius, which are taken,\nwith some necessary alterations, from the Seventeenth century translation\nascribed to John Healey.\n\nV. O'S.\n\n\n\n\nCONTENTS\n\n\nCHAPTER\n\n      PROLOGUE\n\n\n      THE FIRST PART\n\n      DAYS OF CHILDHOOD\n\n   I. AN AFRICAN FREE-TOWN SUBJECT TO ROME\n\n  II. THE FAMILY OF A SAINT\n\n III. THE COMFORT OF THE MILK\n\n  IV. THE FIRST GAMES\n\n   V. THE SCHOOLBOY OF MADAURA\n\n  VI. THE HOLIDAYS AT THAGASTE\n\n\n      THE SECOND PART\n\n      THE ENCHANTMENT OF CARTHAGE\n\n   I. CARTHAGO VENERIS\n\n  II. THE AFRICAN ROME\n\n III. THE CARTHAGE STUDENT\n\n  IV. THE SWEETNESS OF TEARS\n\n   V. THE SILENCE OF GOD\n\n\n      THE THIRD PART\n\n      THE RETURN\n\n   I. THE CITY OF GOLD\n\n  II. THE FINAL DISILLUSION\n\n III. THE MEETING BETWEEN AMBROSE AND AUGUSTIN\n\n  IV. PLANS OF MARRIAGE\n\n   V. THE CHRIST IN THE GARDEN\n\n\n      THE FOURTH PART\n\n      THE HIDDEN LIFE\n\n   I. THE LAST SMILE OF THE MUSE\n\n  II. THE ECSTASY OF SAINT MONNICA\n\n III. THE MONK OF THAGASTE\n\n  IV. AUGUSTIN A PRIEST\n\n\n      THE FIFTH PART\n\n      THE APOSTLE OF PEACE AND OF CATHOLIC UNITY\n\n   I. THE BISHOP OF HIPPO\n\n  II. WHAT WAS HEARD IN THE BASILICA OF PEACE\n\n III. THE BISHOP'S BURTHEN\n\n  IV. AGAINST \"THE ROARING LIONS\"\n\n\n      THE SIXTH PART\n\n      FACE TO FACE WITH THE BARBARIANS\n\n   I. THE SACK OF ROME\n\n  II. THE CITY OF GOD\n\n III. THE BARBARIAN DESOLATION\n\n  IV. SAINT AUGUSTIN\n\n\n      INDEX\n\n\n\n\nSAINT AUGUSTIN\n\n\n\n\nPROLOGUE\n\n\n  Inquietum est cor nostrum donec requiescat in te.\n  \"Our heart finds no rest until it rests in Thee.\"\n\n  _Confessions_, I, i.\n\n\nSaint Augustin is now little more than a celebrated name. Outside of\nlearned or theological circles people no longer read him. Such is true\nrenown: we admire the saints, as we do great men, on trust. Even his\n_Confessions_ are generally spoken of only from hearsay. By this neglect,\nis he atoning for the renewal of glory in which he shone during the\nseventeenth century, when the Jansenists, in their inveterate obstinacy,\nidentified him with the defence of their cause? The reputation of sour\nausterity and of argumentative and tiresome prolixity which attaches to\nthe remembrance of all the writers of Port-Royal, save Pascal--has that\naffected too the work of Augustin, enlisted in spite of himself in the\nranks of these pious schismatics? And yet, if there have ever been any\nbeings who do not resemble Augustin, and whom probably he would have\nattacked with all his eloquence and all the force of his dialectic, they\nare the Jansenists. Doubtless he would have said with contempt: \"The party\nof Jansen,\" even as in his own day, with his devotion to Catholic unity, he\nsaid: \"The party of Donatus.\"\n\nIt must be acknowledged also that the very sight of his works is\nterrifying, whether we take the enormous folios in two columns of the\nBenedictine edition, or the volumes, almost as compact, and much more\nnumerous, of recent editions. Behind such a rampart of printed matter he is\nwell defended against profane curiosity. It needs courage and perseverance\nto penetrate into this labyrinth of text, all bristling with theology and\nexegesis and metaphysics. But only cross the threshold of the repellent\nenclosure, grow used to the order and shape of the building, and it will\nnot be long ere you are overcome by a warm sympathy, and then by a steadily\nincreasing admiration for the host who dwells there. The hieratic face\nof the old bishop lights up, becomes strangely living, almost modern, in\nexpression. You discover under the text one of the most passionate lives,\nmost busy and richest in instruction, that history has to shew. What it\nteaches is applicable to ourselves, answers to our interests of yesterday\nand to-day. This existence, and the century in which it was passed, recall\nour own century and ourselves. The return of similar circumstances has\nbrought similar situations and characters; it is almost our portrait. And\nwe feel half ready to conclude that at the present moment there is no\nsubject more actual than St. Augustin.\n\nAt least he is one of the most interesting. What, indeed, is more romantic\nthan this wandering life of rhetorician and student that the youthful\nAugustin led, from Thagaste to Carthage, from Carthage to Milan and to\nRome--begun in the pleasures and tumult of great cities, and ending in the\npenitence, the silence, and recollection of a monastery? And again, what\ndrama is more full of colour and more profitable to consider than that last\nagony of the Empire, of which Augustin was a spectator, and, with all his\nheart faithful to Rome, would have prevented if he could? And then, what\ntragedy more stirring and painful than the crisis of soul and conscience\nwhich tore his life? Well may it be said that, regarded as a whole, the\nlife of Augustin was but a continual spiritual struggle, a battle of the\nsoul. It is the battle of every moment, the never-ceasing combat of body\nand spirit, which the poets of that time dramatized, and which is the\nhistory of the Christian of all times. The stake of the battle is a soul.\nThe upshot is the final triumph, the redemption of a soul.\n\nWhat makes the life of Augustin so complete and so truly typical is that\nhe fought the good fight, not only against himself, but against all the\nenemies of the Church and the Empire. If he was a doctor and a saint, so\nwas he too the type of the man of action in one of the most disheartened\nperiods. That he triumphed over his passions--this, in truth, concerns only\nGod and himself. That he preached, wrote, shook crowds, disturbed minds,\nmay seem without importance to those who reject his doctrine. But that\nacross the centuries his soul, afire with charity, continues to warm our\nown; that without our knowledge he still shapes us; and that, in a way\nmore or less remote, he is still the master of our hearts, and, in certain\naspects, of our minds--there is what touches each and all of us, without\ndistinction. Not only has Augustin always his great place in the living\ncommunion of all christened people, but the Western soul is marked with the\nstamp of his soul.\n\nFirst of all, his fate is confused with that of the dying Empire. He\nwitnessed, if not the utter disappearance, at least the gradual swooning\naway of that admirable thing called the Roman Empire, image of Catholic\nunity. Well, we are the wreckage of the Empire. Usually, we turn away with\ncontempt from those wretched centuries which underwent the descents of the\nBarbarians. For us, that is the Lower-Empire, a time of shameful decadence\nwhich deserves nothing but our scorn. However, it is out of this chaos\nand this degradation that we have arisen. The wars of the Roman republic\nconcern us less than the outlawry of the Barbarian chiefs who separated our\nGaul from the Empire, and without knowing it, prepared the dawn of France.\nAfter all, what are the rivalries of Marius and Sylla to us? The victory of\nA\u00ebtius over the Huns in the plains of Chalons concerns us a good deal more.\nFurther, it is unfair to the Lower-Empire to view it only as a time of\nfeebleness and cowardice and corruption. It was also an epoch of immense\nactivity, prolific of daring and high-flying adventurers, some of them\nheroic. Even the most degenerate of the last Emperors never lost the\nconviction of Roman majesty and grandeur. Unto the very end, they employed\nall the ruses of their diplomacy to prevent the Barbarian chiefs from\nimagining themselves anything else but vassals of the Empire. Honorius, at\nbay in Ravenna, persisted in refusing Alaric the title of commander of the\n_Cohortes Urban\u00e6_, even though his refusal were to lead to the sack of Rome\nand imperil his own life.\n\nSimply by his fidelity to the Empire, Augustin shews himself one like\nourselves--a Latin of Occitania. But still closer resemblances draw him\nnear to us. His time was very like our own time. Upon even a slight\nfamiliarity with his books we recognize in him a brother-soul who has\nsuffered, felt, thought, pretty nearly like us. He came into an ending\nworld, on the eve of the great cataclysm which was going to carry away an\nentire civilization--a tragic turning-point of history, a time troubled and\noften very grievous, which was hard to live in for all, and to even the\nmost determined minds must have appeared desperate. The peace of the Church\nwas not yet settled; consciences were divided. People hesitated between the\nbelief of yesterday and the belief of to-morrow. Augustin was among those\nwho had the courage to choose, and who, having once chosen their faith,\nproclaimed it without weakening. The belief of a thousand years was dying\nout, quenched by a young belief to which was promised an eternal duration.\nHow many delicate souls must have suffered from this division, which cut\nthem off from their traditions and obliged them, as they thought, to be\nfalse to their dead along with the religion of their ancestors! All the\nirritations which the fanatics of to-day inflict upon believing souls, many\nmust have had to suffer then. The sceptics were infused by the intolerance\nof the others. But the worst (even as it is to-day) was to watch the\ntorrent of foolishness which, under cover of religion, philosophy, or\nmiracle-working, pretended to the conquest of mind and will. Amid this mass\nof wildest doctrines and heresies, in this orgy of vapid intellectualism,\nthey had indeed solid heads who were able to resist the general\nintoxication. And among all these people talking nonsense, Augustin appears\nadmirable with his good sense.\n\nThis \"intellectual,\" this mystic, was not only a man of prayer and\nmeditation. The prudence of the man of action and the administrator\nbalanced his outbursts of dialectical subtility, often carried too far. He\nhad that sense of realities such as we flatter ourselves that we have; he\nhad a knowledge of life and passion. Compared to the experience of, say,\nBossuet, how much wider was Augustin's! And with all that, a quivering\nsensitiveness which is again like our own--the sensitiveness of times of\nintense culture, wherein the abuse of thought has multiplied the ways of\nsuffering in exasperating the desire for pleasure. \"The soul of antiquity\nwas rude and vain.\" It was, above all, limited. The soul of Augustin is\ntender and serious, eager for certainties and those enjoyments which do\nnot betray. It is vast and sonorous; let it be stirred ever so little, and\nfrom it go forth deep vibrations which render the sound of the infinite.\nAugustin, before his conversion, had the apprehensions of our Romantics,\nthe causeless melancholy and sadness, the immense yearnings for \"anywhere\nbut here,\" which overwhelmed our fathers. He is really very close to us.\n\nHe has broadened our Latin souls by reconciling us with the Barbarian. The\nLatin, like the Greek, only understood himself. The Barbarian had not the\nright to express himself in the language of the Empire. The world was split\ninto two parts which endeavoured to ignore each other, Augustin has made us\nconscious of the nameless regions, the vague countries of the soul, which\nhitherto had lain shrouded in the darkness of barbarism. By him the union\nof the Semitic and the Occidental genius is consummated. He has acted as\nour interpreter for the Bible. The harsh Hebraic words become soft to our\nears by their passage through the cultivated mouth of the rhetorician. He\nhas subjugated us with the word of God. He is a Latin who speaks to us of\nJehovah.\n\nOthers, no doubt, had done it before him. But none had found a similar\nemotion, a note of tenderness so moving. The gentle violence of his charity\nwins the adherence of hearts. He breathes only charity. After St. John, it\nis he who is the Apostle of Love.\n\nHis tireless voice dominated the whole of the West. The Middle Ages still\nheard it. For centuries his sermons and treatises were copied over and\nover again; they were repeated in cathedrals, commented in abstracts of\ntheology. People came to accept even his theory of the fine arts. All that\nwe have inherited from the ancients reaches us through Augustin. He is the\ngreat teacher. In his hands the doctrinal demonstration of the Catholic\nreligion takes firm shape. To indicate the three great stages of the onward\nmarch of the truth, one may say: Jesus Christ, St. Paul, St. Augustin.\nNearest to our weakness is the last. He is truly our spiritual father. He\nhas taught us the language of prayer. The words of Augustin's prayers are\nstill upon the lips of the devout.\n\nThis universal genius, who during forty years was the speaking-trumpet of\nChristendom, was also the man of one special century and country. Augustin\nof Thagaste is the great African.\n\nWell may we be proud of him and adopt him as one of our glories--we who\nhave kept up, for now almost a century, a struggle like to that which\nhe maintained for the unity of the Roman Empire, we who consider Africa\nas an extension of France. More than any other writer, he has expressed\nthe temperament and the genius of his country. This motley Africa, with\nits eternal mixture of races at odds with one another, its jealous\nsectarianism, the variety of its scenery and climate, the violence\nof its sensations and passions, its seriousness of character and its\nquick-changing humour, its mind at once practical and frivolous, its\nmaterialism and its mysticism, its austerity and its luxury, its\nresignation to servitude and its instincts of independence, its hunger\nto rule--all that comes out with singularly vivid touches in the work of\nAugustin. Not only was he his country's voice, but, as far as he could, he\nrealized its old dream of dominion. The supremacy in spiritual matters that\nCarthage disputed so long and bitterly with Rome, it ended by obtaining,\nthanks to Augustin. As long as he lived, the African Church was the\nmistress of the Churches of the West.\n\nAs for me--if I may venture to refer to myself in such a matter--I have had\nthe joy to recognize in him, besides the Saint and Teacher whom I revere,\nthe ideal type of the Latin of Africa. The image of which I descried the\noutline long ago through the mirages of the South in following the waggons\nof my rugged heroes, I have seen at last become definite, grow clear, wax\nnoble and increase to the very heaven, in following the traces of Augustin.\n\nAnd even supposing that the life of this child of Thagaste, the son of\nMonnica, were not intermingled so deeply with ours, though he were for us\nonly a foreigner born in a far-off land, nevertheless he would still remain\none of the most fascinating and luminous souls who have shone amid our\ndarkness and warmed our sadness--one of the most human and most divine\ncreatures who have trod our highways.\n\n\n\n\nTHE FIRST PART\n\nDAYS OF CHILDHOOD\n\n  Sed delectabat ludere.\n  \"Only, I liked to play.\"\n\n  _Confessions_, I, 9.\n\n\n\n\nI\n\nAN AFRICAN FREE-TOWN SUBJECT TO ROME\n\n\nLittle streets, quite white, which climb up to clay-formed hills deeply\nfurrowed by the heavy winter rains; between the double row of houses,\nbrilliant in the morning sun, glimpses of sky of a very tender blue; here\nand there, in the strip of deep shade which lies along the thresholds,\nwhite figures crouched upon rush-mats--indolent outlines, draped with\nbright colours, or muffled in rough and sombre wool-stuffs; a horseman who\npasses, bent almost in two in his saddle, the big hat of the South flung\nback over his shoulders, and encouraging with his heel the graceful trot of\nhis horse--such is Thagaste as we see it to-day, and such undoubtedly it\nappeared to the traveller in the days of Augustin.\n\nLike the French town built upon its ruins, the African free-city lay in a\nsort of plain taken between three round hills. One of them, the highest\none, which is now protected by a _bordj_, must have been defended in old\ndays by a _castellum_. Full-flowing waters moisten the land. To those\ncoming from the stony regions about Constantine and Setif, or the vast bare\nplain of the Medjerda, Thagaste gives an impression of freshness and cool.\nIt is a laughing place, full of greenery and running water. To the Africans\nit offers a picture of those northern countries which they have never seen,\nwith its wooded mountains covered by pines and cork trees and ilex. It\npresents itself as a land of mountain and forest--especially forest. It is\na hunter's country. Game is plentiful there--boar, hare, redwing, quail,\npartridge. In Augustin's time, wild beasts were apparently more numerous in\nthe district than they are to-day. When he compares his adversaries, the\nDonatists, to roaring lions, he speaks like a man who knows what a lion is.\n\nTo the east and west, wide stretches of woodland, rounded hill-summits,\nstreams and torrents which pour through the valleys and glens--there\nyou have Thagaste and the country round about--the world, in fact, as\nit revealed itself to the eyes of the child Augustin. But towards the\nsouth the verdure grows sparse; arid mountain-tops appear, crushed down\nas blunted cones, or jutted in slim Tables of the Law; the sterility\nof the desert becomes perceptible amid the wealth of vegetation. This\nfull-foliaged land has its harsh and stern localities. The African light,\nhowever, softens all that. The deep green of the oaks and pines runs into\nwaves of warm and ever-altering tints which are a caress and a delight for\nthe eye. A man has it thoroughly brought home to him that he is in a land\nof the sun.\n\nTo say the least, it is a country of strongly marked features which affords\nthe strangest contrast with the surrounding districts. This wooded Numidia,\nwith its flowing brooks, its fields where the cattle graze, differs in the\nhighest degree from the Numidia towards Setif--a wide, desolate plain,\nwhere the stubble of the wheat-fields, the sandy _steppes_, roll away in\nmonotonous undulations to the cloudy barrier of Mount Atlas which closes\nthe horizon. And this rough and melancholy plain in its turn offers a\nstriking contrast with the coast region of Boujeiah and Hippo, which is not\nunlike the Italian Campania in its mellowness and gaiety. Such clear-cut\ndifferences between the various parts of the same province doubtless\nexplain the essential peculiarities of the Numidian character. The bishop\nAugustin, who carried his pastoral cross from one end to the other of this\ncountry, and was its acting and thinking soul, may perhaps have owed to it\nthe contrasts and many-sidedness of his own rich nature.\n\nOf course, Thagaste did not pretend to be a capital. It was a free-town of\nthe second or third order; but its distance from the great centres gave it\na certain importance. The neighbouring free-towns, Thubursicum, Thagura,\nwere small. Madaura and Theveste, rather larger, had not perhaps the same\ncommercial importance. Thagaste was placed at the junction of many Roman\nroads. There the little Augustin, with other children of his age, would\nhave a chance to admire the out-riders and equipages of the Imperial\nMail, halted before the inns of the town. What we can be sure of is that\nThagaste, then as now, was a town of passage and of traffic, a half-way\nstopping-place for the southern and coast towns, as well as for those of\nthe Proconsulate and Numidia. And like the present Souk-Ahras, Thagaste\nmust have been above all a market. Bread-stuffs and Numidian wines were\nbartered for the flocks of the Aures, leather, dates, and the esparto\nbasket-work of the regions of Sahara. The marbles of Simitthu, the\ncitron-wood of which they made precious tables, were doubtless handled\nthere. The neighbouring forests could furnish building materials to the\nwhole country. Thagaste was the great mart of woodland Numidia, the\nwarehouse and the bazaar, where to this day the nomad comes to lay in a\nstock of provisions, and stares with childish delight at the fine things\nproduced by the inventive talent of the workers who live in towns.\n\nThus images of plenty and joy surrounded the cradle of Augustin. The smile\nof Latin beauty welcomed him also from his earliest steps. It is true that\nThagaste was not what is called a fine city. The fragments of antiquity\nwhich have been unearthed there are of rather inferior workmanship. But how\nlittle is needed to give wings to the imagination of an intelligent child!\nAt all events, Thagaste had a bathing-hall paved with mosaics and perhaps\nornamented with statues; Augustin used to bathe there with his father.\nAnd again, it is probable that, like the neighbouring Thubursicum and\nother free-cities of the same level, it had its theatre, its forum, its\nnymph-fountains, perhaps even its amphitheatre. Of all that nothing\nhas been found. Certain inscribed stone tablets, capitals and shafts\nof columns, a stone with an inscription which belonged to a Catholic\nchurch--that is all which has been discovered up to this present time.\n\nLet us not ask for the impossible. Thagaste had columns--nay, perhaps a\nwhole street between a double range of columns, as at Thimgad. That would\nbe quite enough to delight the eyes of a little wondering boy. A column,\neven injured, or scarcely cleansed from wrack and rubbish, has about it\nsomething impressive. It is like a free melody singing among the heavy\nmasses of the building. To this hour, in our Algerian villages, the mere\nsight of a broken column entrances and cheers us--a white ghost of beauty\nstreaming up from the ruins among the modern hovels.\n\nThere were columns at Thagaste.\n\n\n\n\nII\n\nTHE FAMILY OF A SAINT\n\n\nIt was in this pleasant little town, shaded and beautified for many years\nnow by the arts of Rome, that the parents of Augustin lived.\n\nHis father, Patricius, affords us a good enough type of the Romanized\nAfrican. He belonged to the order of _Decuriones_, to the \"very brilliant\nurban council of Thagaste\" (_splendidissimus ordo Thagastensis_), as an\ninscription at Souk-Ahras puts it. Although these strong epithets may be\nsaid to be part of the ordinary official phraseology, they indicate, just\nthe same, the importance which went with such a position. In his township,\nPatricius was a kind of personage. His son assures us that he was poor, but\nwe may suspect the holy bishop of exaggerating through Christian humility.\nPatricius must certainly have owned more than twenty-five acres of land,\nfor this was made a condition of being elected to the _curia_. He had\nvineyards and orchards, of which Augustin later on recalled the plentiful\nand sweet-tasting fruits. In short, he lived in considerable style. It\nis true that in Africa household expenses have never at any time been a\ngreat extravagance. Still, the sons of Patricius had a pedagogue, a slave\nspecially engaged to keep them under his eye, like all the children of\nfamilies comfortably off.\n\nIt has been said that as Augustin's father was a member of the _curia_,\nhe must have been a ruined man. The Decurions, who levied taxes and made\nthemselves responsible for their collection, were obliged to supply any\ndeficiency in the revenue out of their own money. Patricius, it is thought,\nmust have been one of the numerous victims of this disastrous system. But\nno doubt there were a good many exceptions. Besides, there is nothing in\nAugustin's reminiscences which authorizes us to believe that his father\never knew embarrassment, to say nothing of actual poverty. What seems by\nfar the most probable is that he lived as well as he could upon the income\nof his estate as a small country landowner. In Africa people are satisfied\nwith very little. Save for an unusually bad year following a time of long\ndrought, or a descent of locusts, the land always gives forth enough to\nfeed its master.\n\nTo hunt, to ride horseback, now and then to go on parade, to look after\nhis small-holders and agricultural slaves, to drive one of those bargains\nin which African cunning triumphs--such were the employments of Patricius.\nIn short, he drifted through life on his little demesne. Sometimes this\nindolent man was overcome by a sudden passion for work; or again he was\nseized by furious rages. He was violent and brutal. At such moments he\nstruck out right and left. He would even have hit his wife or flogged the\nskin off her back if the quietude of this woman, her dignity and Christian\nmildness, had not overawed him. Let us not judge this kind of conduct by\nour own; we shall never understand it. The ancient customs, especially the\nAfrican customs, were a disconcerting mixture of intense refinement and\nheedless brutality.\n\nThat is why it will not do to exaggerate the outbursts of Patricius, which\nhis son mentions discreetly. Although he may not have been very faithful to\nhis wife, that was in those days, more than in ours, a venial sin in the\neyes of the world. At heart the African has always longed for a harem in\nhis house; he inclines naturally to the polygamy of Muslemism. In Carthage,\nand elsewhere, public opinion was full of indulgence for the husband who\nallowed himself liberties with the serving-women. People laughed at it, and\nexcused the man. It is true they were rather harder on the matron who took\nthe same kind of liberty with her men-slaves. However, that went on too.\nThe Bishop of Hippo, in his sermons, strongly rebuked the Christian married\ncouples for these frequent adulteries which were scarcely regarded as\nerrors.\n\nPatricius was a pagan, and this partly explains his laxity. It would\ndoubtless be going too far to say that he remained faithful to paganism\nall his life. It is not likely that this urban councillor of Thagaste was\na particularly assured pagan. Speculative and intellectual considerations\nmade a very moderate appeal to him. He was not an arguer like his son. He\nwas pagan from habit, from that instinctive conservatism of the citizen\nand landowner who sticks obstinately to his class and family traditions.\nPrudence and diplomacy had also something to do with it. Many great\nlandlords continued to defend and practise paganism, probably from motives\nsimilar to those of Patricius himself. As for him, he had no desire to get\nwrong with the important and influential people of the country; he might\nhave need of their protection to save his small property from the ravenous\npublic treasury. Moreover, the best-paid posts were still controlled by the\npagan priesthood. And so Augustin's father thought himself very wise in\ndealing cautiously with a religion which was always so powerful, and\nrewarded its adherents so well.\n\nBut for all that, it is undeniable that paganism about this time was in an\nawkward position from a political point of view. The Government eyed it\nwith disapproval. Since the death of Constantine, the \"accursed emperors\"\nhad waged against it a furious war. In 353, just before the birth of\nAugustin, Constantius promulgated an edict renewing the order for the\nclosing of the temples and the abolition of sacrifices--and that too under\npain of death and confiscation. But in distant provinces, such as Numidia,\nthe action of the central power was slow and irregular. It was often\nrepresented by officials who were hostile or indifferent to Christianity.\nThe local aristocracy and their following scoffed at it more or less\nopenly. In their immense villas, behind the walls of their parks, the rich\nlandowners offered sacrifices and organized processions and feasts as\nif there were no law at all. Patricius knew all that. And, on the other\nside, he could take note of the encroachments of the new religion. During\nthe first half of the fourth century Thagaste had been conquered by the\nDonatists. Since the edict of Constans against these schismatics, the\ninhabitants of the little city had come back to Catholicism out of fear of\nthe severity of the imperial government. But the settlement was far from\nbeing complete and final. As a consequence of the edict, the whole region\nof the Aures had been in revolution. The Bishop of Bagai, fortified in\nhis episcopal city and basilica, had stood an actual siege from the Roman\ntroops. Almost everywhere the struggle between Donatists and Catholics\nstill went on below the surface. There cannot be the least doubt that\nThagaste took its share in these quarrels. To those who urged him to be\nbaptized, the father of Augustin might well answer with ironic politeness:\n\"I am only waiting till you agree among yourselves, to see where the truth\nlies.\" In his heart this rather lukewarm pagan had no inveterate dislike to\nChristianity.\n\nWhat proves it at once is that he married a Christian.\n\nHow did Monnica become the wife of Patricius? How did these two beings, so\nlittle alike, between whom there was such a great difference of age, not to\nmention all the rest, come to join their fate? Those are questions which\nit would never have occurred to the people of Thagaste to ask. Patricius\nmarried to be like everybody else--and also because he was well over forty,\nand his mother an old woman who would soon be no longer able to run his\nhouse.\n\nMonnica also had her mother. The two old women had a meeting, with many\npolitenesses and ceremonious bowings, and because the thing appeared to\nthem reasonable and most suitable, they settled the marriage. Had Patricius\never seen the girl that he was going to take, according to custom, so as to\nhave a child-bearer and housewife? It is quite likely he had not. Was she\npretty, rich, or poor? He considered such matters as secondary, since the\nmarriage was not a love-match but a traditional duty to fulfil. If the\nunion was respectable, that was quite enough. But however the matter fell\nout, what is certain is that Monnica was very young. She was twenty-two\nwhen Augustin was born, and he was probably not her first child. We know\nthat she was hardly marriageable when she was handed over, as Arab parents\ndo to-day with their adolescent or little girls, to the man who was going\nto marry her. Now in Africa girls become marriageable at a very early age.\nThey are married at fourteen, sometimes even at twelve. Perhaps she was\nseventeen or eighteen at most when she married Patricius. She must have had\nfirst a son, Navigius, whom we shall meet later on at Milan, and also a\ndaughter, of whom we do not even know the name, but who became a nun, and\nsuperior of a convent in the diocese of Hippo. For us the features of these\ntwo other children of Monnica and Patricius are obliterated. They are\nconcealed by the radiance of their illustrious great brother.\n\nMonnica was fond of telling stories of her girlhood to her son. He has\nhanded down some of them to us.\n\nShe was brought up strictly, according to the system of that time. Both her\nparents came of families which had been Christian, and Catholic-Christian,\nfor many generations. They had never been carried away by the Donatist\nschism; they were people very obstinate in their convictions--a character\nquite as frequent in Africa as its opposite, the kind of Numidian or Moor,\nwho is versatile and flighty. It is not unimportant that Augustin came from\nthis hard-headed race, for this it was, with the aid of God's grace, that\nsaved him--the energetic temper of his will.\n\nStill, if the faith of the young Monnica was confirmed from her earliest\nyears, it is not so much to the lessons of her mother that she owed it,\nas to the training of an old woman-servant of whom she always spoke with\ngratitude. In the family of her master, this old woman had a place like the\none which to-day in a Turkish family is held by the nurse, the _dada_, who\nis respected by all the harem and all the household. Doubtless she herself\nwas born in the house and had seen all the children born. She had carried\nMonnica's father on her back when he was little, just as the Kabylian\nwomen or the Bedouin nomads carry their babies still. She was a devoted\nslave, just a bit unreasonable--a veritable housedog who in the zeal of\nguardianship barks more than is necessary at the stranger who passes. She\nwas like the negress in the Arab houses to-day, who is often a better\nMuslem, more hostile to the Christian, than her employers. The old woman\nin Monnica's family had witnessed the last persecutions; she had perhaps\nvisited the confessors in prison; perhaps she had seen flow the blood of\nthe martyrs. These exciting and terrible scenes would have been graven on\nher memory. What inflamed stories the old servant must have told her young\nmistresses, what vital lessons of constancy and heroism! Monnica listened\nto them eagerly.\n\nBecause of her great faith, this simple slave was revered as a saint by\nher owners, who entrusted her with the supervision of their daughters. She\nproved a stern governess, who would stand no trifling with her rules. She\nprevented these girls from drinking even water except at meals. Cruel\nsuffering for little Africans! Thagaste is not far from the country of\nthirst. But the old woman said to them:\n\n\"You drink water now because you can't get at the wine. In time to come,\nwhen you are married and have bins and cellars of your own, you'll turn up\nyour nose at water, and your habit of drinking will be too much for you.\"\n\nMonnica came near fulfilling the prophecy of the honest woman. It was\nbefore she was married. As she was very well-behaved and very temperate,\nshe used to be sent to the cellar to draw the wine from the cask. Before\npouring it into the flagon she would sip just a little. Being unaccustomed\nto wine, she was not able to drink more; it was too strong for her gullet.\nShe did this, not because she liked the wine, but from naughtiness, to play\na trick on her parents who trusted her, and also, of course, because it was\nprohibited. Each time she swallowed a little more, and so it went on till\nshe ended by finding it rather nice, and came to drinking greedily one\ncup after another. One day a slave-girl, who went with her to the cellar,\nbegan to grumble. Monnica gave her a sharp answer. Upon this the girl\ncalled Monnica a drunkard.... Drunkard! This bitter taunt so humiliated the\nself-respect of the future saint, that she got the better of her taste for\ndrink. Augustin does not say it was through piety she did this, but because\nshe felt the ugliness of such a vice.\n\nThere is a certain roughness in this story of childhood, the roughness of\nancient customs, with which is always mingled some decency or dignity.\nChristianity did the work of polishing the soul of Monnica. At the time we\nare dealing with, if she was already a very devout young girl, she was far\nas yet from being the grand Christian that she became afterwards.\n\nWhen she married Patricius she was a girl very reserved and cold to all\nappearances (in reality, she was very passionate), precise in attending to\nher religious duties, even a little strict, with her exaggeration of the\nChristian austerity in her hate of all the brutalities and all the careless\nmorals that paganism condoned. Nevertheless, this rigid soul knew how to\nbend when it was necessary. Monnica had tact, suppleness, and, when it\nwas needed, a very acute and very reasonable practical sense of which she\ngave many a proof in the bringing up and management of her son Augustin.\nThis soul, hard for herself, veiled her uncompromising religion under an\nunchangeable sweetness which was in her rather the work of grace than a\nnatural gift.\n\nThere can be little doubt that her behaviour and character greatly\ndisturbed Patricius at the beginning of their married life. Perhaps he\nregretted the marriage. What use had he for this nun alongside of him!\nBoth of them must have suffered the usual annoyances which always appeared\nbefore long in unions of this kind between pagan and Christian. True, it\nwas no longer the time of Tertullian, the heroic century of persecutions,\nwhen the Christian women glided into the prisons to kiss the shackles of\nthe martyrs. (What a revenge did woman take then for her long and enforced\nconfinement to the women's apartments! And how outrageous such conduct must\nhave seemed to a husband brought up in the Roman way!) But the practices\nof the Christian life established a kind of intermittent divorce between\nhusbands and wives of different religion. Monnica often went out, either\nalone, or accompanied by a faithful bondwoman. She had to attend the\nservices of the Church, to go about the town visiting the poor and giving\nalms. And there were the fast-days which occurred two or three times a\nweek, and especially the long fast of Lent--a grievous nuisance when the\nhusband wanted to give a dinner-party just on those particular days! On\nthe vigil of festivals, Monnica would spend a good part of the night in\nthe Basilica. Regularly, doubtless on Sundays, she betook herself to the\ncemetery, or to some chapel raised to the memory of a martyr who was often\nburied there--in fact, they called these chapels \"Memorials\" (_memori\u00e6_).\n\nThere were many of these chapels--even too many in the opinion of austere\nChristians. Monnica went from one to another carrying in a large basket\nmade of willow branches some pieces of minced meat, bread, and wine mixed\nwith water. She met her friends in these places. They would sit down around\nthe tombs, of which some were shaped like tables, unpack the provisions,\nand eat and drink piously in honour of the martyr. This was a residue\nof pagan superstition among the Christians. These pious _agap\u00e6_, or\nlove-feasts, often turned into disgusting orgies. When Augustin became\nBishop of Hippo he had considerable trouble to get his people out of the\nhabit of them. Notwithstanding his efforts, the tradition still lasts.\nEvery Friday the Muslem women keep up the custom of visiting the cemeteries\nand the marabouts. Just as in the time of St. Monnica, they sit around the\ntombs, so cool with their casing of painted tiles, in the shade of the\ncypress and eucalyptus. They gobble sweetmeats, they gossip, they laugh,\nthey enjoy themselves--the husbands are not there.\n\nMonnica made these visits in a really pious state of mind, and was far\nfrom trying to find in them opportunities for lewdness or carouse. She was\ncontent to drink a little wine very carefully--she always bore in mind her\nyouthful sin. Besides, this wine weakened with water that she brought from\nthe house, was tepid by the time she reached the cemetery; it would be a\ndrink of very moderate relish, little likely to stimulate the senses. She\ndistributed what was left of it among the needy, together with the contents\nof her basket, and came back modestly to her house.\n\nBut however staid and reserved she might be, still these outings gave rise\nto scandalous talk. They annoyed a suspicious husband. All the Africans are\nthat. Marital jealousy was not invented by Islam. Moreover, in Monnica's\ntime men and women took part in these funeral love-feasts and mingled\ntogether disturbingly. Patricius got cross about it, and about a good many\nother things too. His old mother chafed his suspicions by carrying to\nhim the ugly gossip and even the lies of the servants about his wife. By\ndint of patience and mildness and attentions, Monnica ended by disarming\nher mother-in-law and making it clear that her conduct was perfect. The\nold woman flew into a rage with the servants who had lied to her, and\ndenounced them to her son. Patricius, like a good head of a household, had\nthem whipped to teach them not to lie any more. Thanks to this exemplary\npunishment, and the good sense of the young wife, peace reigned once more\nin the family.\n\nWomen, friends of Monnica, were amazed that the good understanding was\nnot oftener upset, at least in an open manner, between husband and wife.\nEverybody in Thagaste knew the quick-tempered and violent character of\nPatricius. And yet there were no signs that he beat his wife. Nor did\nany one say he did. Other women who had less passionate husbands were\nnevertheless beaten by them. When they came to Monnica's house they shewed\nher the marks of the whacks they had got, their faces swollen from blows,\nand they burst out in abuse of men, clamouring against their lechery,\nwhich, said these matrons, was the cause of the ill-treatment they had to\nendure.\n\n\"Blame your own tongue,\" retorted Monnica.\n\nAccording to her, women should close their eyes to the infidelities of\ntheir husbands and avoid arguing with them when they were angry. Silence,\nsubmissiveness, were the all-powerful arms. And since, as a young woman,\nshe had a certain natural merriment, she added, laughing:\n\n\"Remember what was read to you on your wedding-day. You were told that you\nare the handmaids of your husbands. Don't rebel against your masters!...\"\n\nPossibly this was a keen criticism of the pagan code, so hard in its rules.\nStill, in this matter, the Roman law was in agreement with the Gospel.\nSincere Christian as she was, the wife of Patricius never had any quarrel\nwith him on account of his infidelities. So much kindness and resignation\ntouched the dissolute and brutal husband, who besides was an excellent\nman and warm-hearted. The modesty of his wife, after a while, made her\nattractive in his eyes. He loved her, so to speak, on the strength of\nhis respect and admiration for her. He would indeed have been a churl to\nfind fault with a wife who interfered with him so little and who was a\nperfect housekeeper, as we shall see later on when we come to her life at\nCassicium. In one point, where even she did not intend it, she forwarded\nthe interests of her husband by gaining him the good-will of the Christians\nin Thagaste; while he, on his side, could say to the pagans who looked\naskance at his marriage: \"Am I not one of yourselves?\"\n\nIn spite of all the differences between him and Monnica, Patricius was a\ncontented husband.\n\n\n\n\nIII\n\nTHE COMFORT OF THE MILK\n\n\nAugustin came into this world the thirteenth of November of the year of\nChrist 354.\n\nIt was just one little child more in this sensual and pleasure-loving\nAfrica, land of sin and of carnal productiveness, where children are\nborn and die like the leaves. But the son of Monnica and Patricius was\npredestined: he was not to die in the cradle like so many other tiny\nAfricans.\n\nEven if he had not been intended for great things, if he had been only a\nhead in the crowd, the arrival of this baby ought, all the same, to affect\nus, for to the Christian, the destiny of the obscurest and humblest of\nsouls is a matter of importance. Forty years afterwards, Augustin, in his\n_Confessions_, pondered this slight ordinary fact of his birth, which\nhappened almost unnoticed by the inhabitants of Thagaste, and in truth it\nseems to him a great event, not because it concerns himself, bishop and\nFather of the Church, but because it is a soul which at this imperceptible\npoint of time comes into the world.\n\nLet us clearly understand Augustin's thought. Souls have been ransomed by a\nVictim of infinite value. They have themselves an infinite value. Nothing\nwhich goes on in them can be ignored. Their most trifling sins, their\nfeeblest stirrings towards virtue, are vital for the eternity of their lot.\nAll shall be attributed to them by the just Judge. The theft of an apple\nwill weigh perhaps as heavily in the scales as the seizure of a province\nor a kingdom. The evil of sin is in the evil intention. Now the fate\nof a soul, created by God, on Him depends. Hence everything in a human\nlife assumes an extreme seriousness and importance. In the history of a\ncreature, all is worthy of being examined, weighed, studied, and perhaps\nalso, for the edification of others, told.\n\nHere is an altogether new way of regarding life, and, proceeding from that,\nof understanding art. Even as the slaves, thanks to Christianity, came into\nthe spiritual city, so the most minute realities by this outlook are to be\nincluded in literature. The _Confessions_ will be the first model of the\nart of the new era. A deep and magnificent realism, because it goes even\nto the very depths of the divine--utterly distinct, at any rate, from\nour surface realism of mere amusement--is about to arise from this new\nconception. Without doubt, in Augustin's eyes, beauty dwells in all things,\nin so far forth as beauty is a reflection of the order and the thought\nof the Word. But it has also a more essential character--it has a moral\nsignification and value. Everything, in a word, can be the instrument of\nthe loss or the redemption of a soul. The most insignificant of our actions\nreverberates to infinitude on our fate. Regarded from this point, both\nthings and beings commence to live a life more closely leagued together and\nat the same time more private; more individual and more general. All is in\nthe lump, and nevertheless all is separate. Our salvation concerns only\nourselves, and yet through charity it becomes involved with the salvation\nof our fellows.\n\nIn this spirit let us look at the cradle of Augustin. Let us look at it\nwith the eyes of Augustin himself, and also, perchance, of Monnica. Bending\nover the frail body of the little child he once was, he puts to himself\nall the great desperate questions which have shaken humanity for thousands\nof years. The mystery of life and death rises before him, formidable. It\ntortures him to the point of anguish, of confusion: \"Yet suffer me to speak\nbefore Thy mercy, me who am but dust and ashes. Yea, suffer me to speak,\nfor, behold, I speak not to man who scorns me, but to Thy mercy. Even Thou\nperhaps dost scorn me, but Thou wilt turn and have pity. For what is it\nthat I would say, O Lord my God, save that I know not whence I came hither\ninto this dying life, shall I call it, or living death?... And, lo, my\ninfancy has long been dead, and I live. But Thou, O Lord, who ever livest\nand in whom nothing ever dies--tell me, I beseech Thee, O God, and have\nmercy on my misery, tell me whether another life of mine died before my\ninfancy began.\"\n\nOne is reminded here of Pascal's famous prosopopoeia: \"I know not who\nhas put me into the world, nor what the world is, nor myself. I am in a\nterrible ignorance about everything.... All I know is that I must soon die,\nbut what I know least of all is this very death which I cannot escape.\"\n\nThe phrases of the _Pens\u00e9es_ are only the echo of the phrases of the\n_Confessions_. But how different is the tone! Pascal's charge against human\nignorance is merciless. The God of Port-Royal has the hard and motionless\nface of the ancient Destiny: He withdraws into the clouds, and only shews\nHimself at the end to raise up His poor creature. In Augustin the accent\nis tender, trusting, really like a son, and though he be harassed, one can\ndiscern the thrill of an unconquerable hope. Instead of crushing man under\nthe iron hand of the Justice-dealer, he makes him feel the kindness of the\nFather who has got all ready, long before its birth, for the feeble little\nchild: \"The comforts of Thy pity received me, as I have heard from the\nfather and mother of my flesh.... And so the comfort of woman's milk was\nready for me. For my mother and my nurses did not fill their own bosoms,\nbut Thou, O Lord, by their means gavest me the food of infancy, according\nto Thy ordinance....\"\n\nAnd see! his heart overflows at this remembrance of his mother's milk. The\ngreat doctor humbles his style, makes it simple and familiar, to tell us of\nhis first mewlings, and of his baby angers and joys. He too was a father;\nhe knew what is a new-born child, and a young mother who gives it suck,\nbecause he had seen that with his own eyes close beside him. All the small\nbothers which mingle with the pleasures of fatherhood he had experienced\nhimself. In his own son he studied himself.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThis child, born of a Christian mother, and who was to become the great\ndefender of the faith, was not christened at his birth. In the early\nChurch, and especially in the African Church, it was not usual to do so.\nThe baptismal day was put as far off as possible, from the conviction that\nthe sins committed after the sacrament were much more serious than those\nwhich went before. The Africans, very practical folk, clearly foresaw that\nthey would sin again even after baptism, but they wanted to sin at a better\nrate, and lessen the inflictions of penance. This penance in Augustin's\ntime was far from being as hard as in the century before. Nevertheless, the\nremembrance of the old severity always remained, and the habit was taken to\nput off baptism so as not to discourage sinners overmuch.\n\nMonnica, always sedulous to conform with the customs of her country and\nthe traditions of her Church, fell in with this practice. Perhaps she may\nhave had also the opposition of her husband to face, for he being a pagan\nwould not have cared to give too many pledges to the Christians, nor to\ncompromise himself in the eyes of his fellow-pagans by shewing that he\nwas so far under the control of Christian zealots as to have his child\nbaptized out of the ordinary way. There was a middle course, and this was\nto inscribe the child among the catechumens. According to the rite of the\nfirst admission to the lowest order of catechumens, the sign of the cross\nwas made on Augustin's forehead, and the symbolic salt placed between his\nlips. And so they did not baptize him. Possibly this affected his whole\nlife. He lacked the baptismal modesty. Even when he was become a bishop, he\nnever quite cast off the old man that had splashed through all the pagan\nuncleannesses. Some of his words are painfully broad for chaste ears. The\ninfluence of African conditions does not altogether account for this. It is\nonly too plain that the son of Patricius had never known entire virginity\nof soul.\n\nThey named him Aurelius Augustinus. Was Aurelius his family name? We cannot\ntell. The Africans always applied very fantastically the rules of Roman\nnomenclature. Anyhow, this name was common enough in Africa. The Bishop of\nCarthage, primate of the province and a friend of Augustin, was also called\nAurelius. Pious commentators have sought to find in this name an omen of\nAugustin's future renown as an orator. They have remarked that the word\n_aurum_, gold, is contained in Aurelius--a prophetic indication of the\ngolden mouth of the great preacher of Hippo.\n\nMeanwhile, he was a baby like any other baby, who only knew, as he tells\nus, how to take his mother's breast. However, he speaks of nurses who\nsuckled him; no doubt these were servants or slaves of the household.\nThey gave him their milk, like those Algerian women who, to-day, if their\nneighbour is called away, take her child and feed it. Besides, with them\nchildren are weaned much later than with us. You can see mothers sitting at\ntheir doors put down their work and call to a child of two or three playing\nin the street for him to come and take the breast. Did Augustin remember\nthese things? At least he recalled his nurses' games, and the efforts they\nmade to appease him, and the childish words they taught him to stammer.\nThe first Latin words he repeated, he picked up from his mother and the\nservants, who must also have spoken Punic, the ordinary tongue of the\npopulace and small trader class. He learned Punic without thinking about\nit, in playing with other children of Thagaste, just as the sons of our\ncolonists learn Arab in playing with little boys who wear chechias on their\nheads.\n\nHe is a Christian, a bishop, already a venerated Father, consulted by the\nwhole Catholic world, and he tells us all that. He tells it in a serious\nand contrite way, with a manifest anxiety to attribute to God, as the sole\ncause, all the benefits which embellished his childhood, as well as to\ndeplore his faults and wretchedness, fatal consequence of the original\nFall. And still, we can make out clearly that these suave and far-off\nmemories have a charm for him which he cannot quite guard himself against.\nThe attitude of the author of the _Confessions_ is ambiguous and a little\nconstrained. The father who has loved his child, who has joined in his\ngames, struggles in him against the theologian who later on was to uphold\nthe doctrine of Grace against the heretics. He feels that he must shew, not\nonly that Grace is necessary for salvation and that little children ought\nto be baptized, but that they are capable of sinning. Yes, the children sin\neven at nurse. And Augustin relates this story of a baby that he had seen:\n\"I know, because I have seen, jealousy in a babe. It could not speak, yet\nit eyed its foster-brother _with pale cheeks and looks of hate_.\" Children\nare already men. The egoism and greediness of the grown man may be already\ndescried in the newly born.\n\nHowever, the theologian of Grace was not able to drive from his mind\nthis verse of the Gospel: _Sinite ad me parvulos venire_--\"Suffer little\nchildren to come unto Me.\" But he interprets this in a very narrow sense,\nluring it into an argument which furthers his case. For him, the small\nheight of children is a symbol of the humility without which no one can\nenter God's kingdom. The Master, according to him, never intended us to\ntake children as an example. They are but flesh of sin. He only drew from\ntheir littleness one of those similitudes which He, with His fondness for\nsymbols, favoured.\n\nWell, let us dare to say it: Augustin goes wrong here. Such is the penalty\nof human thought, which in its justest statements always wounds some\ntruth less clear or mutilates some tender sentiment. Radically, Augustin\nis right. The child is wicked as man is. We know it. But against the\nrelentlessness of the theologian we place the divine gentleness of Christ:\n\"Suffer little children to come unto Me, for of such is the Kingdom of\nGod.\"\n\n\n\n\nIV\n\nTHE FIRST GAMES\n\n\n\"I loved to play,\" Augustin says, in telling us of those far-off years.\n\nIs it surprising if this quick and supple intelligence, who mastered\nwithout effort, and as if by instinct, the encyclop\u00e6dic knowledge of his\nage, who found himself at his ease amidst the deepest abstractions, did, at\nthe beginning, take life as a game?\n\nThe amusements of the little Africans of to-day are not very many, nor very\nvarious either. They have no inventive imagination. In this matter their\nFrench playfellows have taught them a good deal. If they play marbles, or\nhopscotch, or rounders, it is in imitation of the _Roumis_. And yet they\nare great little players. Games of chance attract them above all. At these\nthey spend hour after hour, stretched out flat on their stomachs in some\nshady corner, and they play with an astonishing intensity of passion. All\ntheir attention is absorbed in what they are about; they employ on the game\nall the cunning of their wits, precociously developed, and so soon stuck\nfast in material things.\n\nWhen Augustin recalls the games of his childhood, he only mentions \"nuts,\"\nhandball, and birds. To capture a bird, that winged, light, and brilliant\nthing, is what all children long to do in every country on earth. But in\nAfrica, where there are plenty of birds, big people as well as little\nlove them. In the Moorish caf\u00e9s, in the wretchedest _gourbis_, cages made\nof reeds are hung on the walls, all rustling with trills and fluttering\nof wings. Quail, thrushes, nightingales are imprisoned in them. The\nnightingale, the singing-bird beyond all others, so difficult to tame, is\nthe honoured guest, the privileged dweller in these rustic cages. With\nthe rose, he is an essential part of Arab poetry. The woods round about\nThagaste were full of nightingales. Not the least doubt that the child\nAugustin had felt the little musical throats of these singing-birds throb\nbetween his hands. His sermons, his heaviest treatises, have a recollection\nof them. He draws from them an evidence in favour of the creating Word who\nhas put beauty and harmony everywhere. In the song of the nightingale he\nfinds, as it were, an echo of the music of the spheres.\n\nIf he loved birds, as a poet who knows not that he is a poet, did he love\nas well to play at \"nuts\"? \"Nuts,\" or thimble-rigging, is only a graceful\nand crafty game, too crafty for a dreaming and careless little boy. It\ncalls for watchfulness and presence of mind. Grown men play at it as well\nas children. A step of a staircase is used as a table by the players, or\nthe pavement of a courtyard. Three shells are laid on the stone and a\ndried pea. Then, with rapid baffling movements, hands brown and alert fly\nfrom one shell to another, shuffle them, mix them up, juggle the dried\npea sometimes under this shell, sometimes under that,--and the point is\nto guess which shell the pea has got under. By means of certain astute\nmethods, an artful player can make the pea stick to his fingers, or to the\ninside of the shell, and the opponent loses every time. They cheat with a\ncalm shamelessness. Augustin cheated too--which did not prevent him from\nbitterly denouncing the cheating of his fellow-players.\n\nThe truth is, that he would not have quite belonged to his country if he\nhad not lied and stolen now and then. He lied to his tutor and to his\nschoolmasters. He stole at his parents' table, in the kitchen, and in the\ncellar. But he stole like a man of quality, to make presents and to win\nover his playfellows: he ruled the other boys by his presents--a noteworthy\ncharacteristic in this future ruler of souls. Morals like these, a little\nrough, shape free and bold natures. Those African children were much less\ncoddled, much less scolded, than to-day. Monnica had something else to do\nthan to look after the boys. So for them it was a continual life in the\nopen air, which makes the body strong and hard. Augustin and his companions\nshould be pictured as young wild-cats.\n\nThis roughness came out strong at games of ball, and generally at all\nthe games in which there are two sides, conquerors and prisoners, or\nfights with sticks and stones. Stone-throwing is an incurable habit\namong the little Africans. Even now in the towns our police are obliged\nto take measures against these ferocious children. In Augustin's time,\nat Cherchell, which is the ancient _C\u00e6sarea Mauretani\u00e6_, the childish\npopulation was split into two hostile camps which stoned each other. On\ncertain holidays the fathers and big brothers joined the children; blood\nflowed, and there were deaths.\n\nThe bishop Augustin recalls with severity the \"superb victories\" he won in\njousts of this kind. But I find it hard to believe that such a delicate\nchild (he was sickly almost all his life) could have got much pleasure out\nof these brutal sports. If he was drawn into them by the example of others,\nit must have been through the imagination they appealed to him. In these\nbattles, wherein sides took the field as Romans against Carthaginians,\nGreeks against Trojans, he believed himself Scipio or Hannibal, Achilles\nor Hector. He experienced beforehand, as a rhetorician, the intoxication\nof a triumph which playfellows who were stronger and better provided with\nmuscles gave him a hard fight for. He did not always get the upper hand,\nexcept perhaps when he bribed the enemy. But an eager young soul, such\nas he was, can hardly be content with half-victories; he wants to excel.\nAccordingly, he sought his revenge in those games wherein the mind has the\nchief part. He listened to stories with delight, and in his turn repeated\nthem to his little friends, thus trying upon an audience of boys that charm\nof speech by which later he was to subdue crowds. They also played at\nacting, at gladiators, at drivers and horses. Some of Augustin's companions\nwere sons of wealthy citizens who gave splendid entertainments to their\nfellow-countrymen. As these dramatic representations, or games of the\narena or circus, drew near, the little child-world was overcome by a\nfever of imitation. All the children of Thagaste imitated the actors, the\n_mirmillones_, or the horsemen in the amphitheatre, just as the young\nSpaniards of to-day imitate the _toreros_.\n\nIn the midst of these amusements Augustin fell ill; he had fever and\nviolent pains in the stomach. They thought he was going to die. It appears\nthat it was himself who in this extreme situation asked for baptism.\nMonnica was making all haste to have the sacrament administered, when\nsuddenly, against all expectation, the child recovered. Again was baptism\npostponed, and from the same reason: to lessen the gravity of the sins\nwhich young Augustin was bound to commit. His mother, who no doubt foresaw\nsome of them, again fell in with the custom.\n\nIt is possible that Patricius interfered this time in a more decided way.\nJust at this period Catholicism was in an unfavourable situation. The\nshort reign of Julian had started a violent pagan reaction. Everywhere\nthe temples were reopening, the sacrifices beginning again. Moreover,\nthe Donatists secretly aided the pagans. Their _Seids_, more or less\nacknowledged, the Circoncelliones, bands of fanatical peasants, scoured\nthrough the Numidian country, attacking the Catholics, ravaging and\npillaging, and burning their farms and villas. Was this a good time to\nmake a noisy profession of faith, to be enrolled among the ranks of the\nconquered party?\n\nLittle Augustin knew nothing of all these calculations of motherly prudence\nand fatherly diplomacy: he begged for baptism, so he tells us. This seems\nvery remarkable in so young a child. But he lived in a house where all the\nservice was done by Christians. He heard the talk of Monnica's friends;\nperhaps, too, of his grandparents, who were Catholics faithful and austere.\nAnd then, his soul was naturally religious. That explains everything:\nhe asked for baptism to be like grown-up people, and because he was\npredestined. Among children, the chosen have these sudden flashes of light.\nAt certain moments they feel what one day they shall be. Anyhow, Monnica\nmust have seen this sign with joy.\n\nHe got well, and took up again his little boy's life, divided between play,\nand dawdling, and school.\n\nSchool! painful memory for Augustin! They sent him to the _primus\nmagister_, the elementary teacher, a real terror, armed with a long switch\nwhich came down without pity on idle boys. Seated on benches around him, or\ncrouched on mats, the boys sang out all together: \"One and one are two, two\nand two are four\"--horrible refrain which deafened the whole neighbourhood.\nThe school was often a mere shed, or a _pergola_ in the fields which was\nprotected fairly well from sun and rain by cloths stretched overhead--a hut\nrented for a trifle, wide open to the winds, with a mosquito-net stretched\nout before the entrance. All who were there must have frozen in winter\nand broiled in summer. Augustin remembered it as a slaves' chain-prison\n(_ergastulum_) of boyhood.\n\nHe hated school and what they taught there--the alphabet, counting, and\nthe rudiments of Latin and Greek grammar. He had a perfect horror of\nlessons--of Greek above all. This schoolboy, who became, when his turn\ncame, a master, objected to the methods of school. His mind, which grasped\nthings instinctively at a single bound, could not stand the gradual\nprocedure of the teaching faculty. He either mastered difficulties at\nonce, or gave them up. Augustin was one of the numerous victims of the\neverlasting mistake of schoolmasters, who do not know how to arrange\ntheir lessons to accord with various kinds of mind. Like most of those\nwho eventually become great men, he was no good as a pupil. He was often\npunished, thrashed--and cruelly thrashed. The master's scourge filled\nhim with an unspeakable terror. When he was smarting all over from cuts\nand came to complain to his parents, they laughed at him or made fun of\nhim--yes, even the pious Monnica. Then the poor lad, not knowing whom to\nturn to, remembered hearing his mother and the servants talk of a Being,\nvery powerful and very good, who defends the orphan and the oppressed. And\nhe said from the depths of his heart:\n\n\"O my God, please grant that I am not whipped at school.\"\n\nBut God did not hear his prayer because he was not a good boy. Augustin was\nin despair.\n\nIt is evident that these punishments were cruel, because forty years\nafterwards he denounces them with horror. In his mind, they are tortures\ncomparable to the wooden horse or the iron pincers. Nothing is small\nfor children, especially for a sensitive child like Augustin. Their\nsensitiveness and their imagination exaggerate all things out of due\nmeasure. In this matter, also, schoolmasters often go wrong. They do not\nknow how to handle delicate organizations. They strike fiercely, when a\nfew words said at the right moment would have much more effect on the\nculprit.... Monnica's son suffered as much from the rod as he took pride\nin his successes at games. If, as Scipio, he was filled with a sensation\nof glory in his battles against other boys, no doubt he pictured himself\na martyr, a St. Laurence or St. Sebastian, when he was swished. He never\npardoned--save as a Christian--his schoolmasters for having brutalized him.\n\nNevertheless, despite his hatred for ill-ordered lessons, his precocious\nintelligence was remarked by everybody. It was clear that such lucky gifts\nshould not be neglected. Monnica, no doubt, was the first to get this into\nher head, and she advised Patricius to make Augustin read for a learned\nprofession.\n\nThe business of the _curia_ was not exactly brilliant, and so he may have\nperceived that his son might raise their fortunes if he had definite\nemployment. Augustin, a professor of eloquence or a celebrated pleader,\nmight be the saviour and the benefactor of his family. The town councils,\nand even the Imperial treasury, paid large salaries to rhetoricians. In\nthose days, rhetoric led to everything. Some of the professors who went\nfrom town to town giving lectures made considerable fortunes. At Thagaste\nthey pointed with admiration to the example of the rhetorician Victorinus,\nan African, a fellow-countryman, who had made a big reputation over-seas,\nand had his statue in the Roman Forum. And many years before, had not M.\nCornelius Fronto, of Cirta, another African, become the tutor of Marcus\nAurelius, who covered him with honours and wealth and finally raised him to\nthe Consulship? Pertinax himself, did he not begin as a simple teacher of\ngrammar, and become Proconsul of Africa and then Emperor of Rome? How many\nstimulants for provincial ambition!...\n\nAugustin's parents reasoned as the middle-class parents of to-day. They\ndiscounted the future, and however hard up they were, they resolved to\nmake sacrifices for his education. And as the schools of Thagaste were\ninadequate, it was decided to send this very promising boy to Madaura.\n\n\n\n\nV\n\nTHE SCHOOLBOY OF MADAURA\n\n\nA new world opened before Augustin. It was perhaps the first time he had\never gone away from Thagaste.\n\nOf course, Madaura is not very far off; there are about thirty miles at\nmost between the two towns. But there are no short journeys for children.\nThis one lay along the military road which ran from Hippo to Theveste--a\ngreat Roman causeway paved with large flags on the outskirts of towns, and\ncarefully pebbled over all the rest of the distance. Erect upon the high\nsaddle of his horse, Augustin, who was to become a tireless traveller\nand move about ceaselessly over African roads during all his episcopal\nlife--Augustin got his first glimpse of the poetry of the open road, a\npoetry which we have lost for ever.\n\nHow amusing they were, the African roads of those days, how full of sights!\nPauses were made at inns with walls thick as the ramparts of citadels,\ntheir interiors bordered by stables built in arcades, heaped up with\ntravellers' packs and harness. In the centre were the trough and cistern;\nand to the little rooms opening in a circle on to the balcony, drifted up\na smell of oil and fodder, and the noise of men and of beasts of burthen,\nand of the camels as they entered majestically, curving their long necks\nunder the lintel of the door. Then there was talk with the merchants, just\narrived from the south, who brought news of the nomad countries, and had\nstories to tell. And then, without hurrying, a start was made again for the\nnext stage. Long files of chariots were encountered carrying provisions to\nsoldiers garrisoned on the frontier, or the State-distributed corn of the\nRoman people to the sea-ports; or again, from time to time, the _lectica_,\nbrought along by slaves or mules, of a bishop on a visitation; and then the\nlitter, with close-drawn curtains, of a matron or some great personage. Of\na sudden all pulled sharp to one side; the vehicles lined up on the edge of\nthe road; and there passed at full speed, in a cloud of dust, a messenger\nof the Imperial Post....\n\nCertainly this road from Hippo to Theveste was one of the busiest and most\npicturesque in the province: it was one of its main arteries.\n\nAt first the look of the country is rather like the neighbourhood of\nThagaste. The wooded and mountainous landscape still spreads out its\nlittle breast-shaped hills and its sheets of verdure. Here and there the\nroad skirts the deeply-ravined valley of the Medjerda. At the foot of the\nprecipitous slopes, the river can be heard brawling in a torrent over its\nstony bed, and there are sharp descents among thickets of juniper and the\nfringed roots of the dwarf-pines. Then, as the descent continues, the land\nbecomes thinner and spaces bare of vegetation appear oftener. At last, upon\na piece of tableland, Madaura comes into view, all white in the midst of\nthe vast tawny plain, where to-day nothing is to be seen but a mausoleum\nin ruins, the remains of a Byzantine fortress, and vague traces vanishing\naway.\n\nThis is the first rise of the great plain which declines towards Theveste\nand the group of the Aures Mountains. Coming from the woodland country of\nThagaste, the nakedness of it is startling. Here and there, thin cows crop\nstarveling shrubs which have grown on the bank of some _oued_ run dry.\nLittle asses, turned loose, save themselves at a gallop towards the tents\nof the nomads, spread out, black and hairy, like immense bats on the\nwhiteness of the land. Nearer, a woman's red _haick_ interposes, the single\nstain of bright colour breaking the indefinite brown and grey of the plain.\nHere is felt the harshness of Numidia; it is almost the stark spaces of\nthe desert world. But on the side towards the east, the architecture of\nmountains, wildly sculptured, stands against the level reaches of the\nhorizon. Upon the clear background of the sky, shew, distinctly, lateral\nspurs and a cone like to the mystic representation of Tanit. Towards the\nsouth, crumbling isolated crags appear, scattered about like gigantic\npedestals uncrowned of their statues, or like the pipes of an organ raised\nthere to capture and attune the cry of the great winds of the _steppe_.\n\nThis country is characterized by a different kind of energy from Thagaste.\nThere is more air and light and space. If the plantation is sparse, the\nbeautiful shape of the land may be observed all the better. Nothing breaks\nor lessens the grand effects of the light.... And let no one say that\nAugustin's eyes cared not for all that, he who wrote after his conversion,\nand in all the austerity of his repentance: \"If sentient things had not a\nsoul, we should not love them so much.\"\n\nIt is here, between Madaura and Thagaste, during the eager years of youth,\nthat he gathered together the seeds of sensations and images which,\nlater on, were to burst forth into fiery and boiling metaphors in the\n_Confessions_, and in his homilies and paraphrases of Holy Scripture. Later\non, he will not have the time to observe, or he will have lost the power.\nRhetoric will stretch its commonplace veil between him and the unceasing\nspringtide of the earth. Ambition will turn him away from those sights\nwhich reveal themselves only to hearts unselfish and indifferent. Then,\nlater on, Faith will seize hold of him to the exclusion of all else. He\nwill no longer perceive the creation save at odd moments in a kind of\nmetaphysical dream, and, so to speak, across the glory of the Creator.\nBut in these youthful years all things burst upon him with extraordinary\nviolence and ecstasy. His undulled senses swallowed greedily the whole\nbanquet offered by this wide world to his hunger for pleasure. The fugitive\nbeauty of things and beings, with all their charms, revealed itself to\nhim in its newness: _novissimarum rerum fugaces pulchritudines, earumque\nsuavitates_. This craving for sensation will still exist in the great\nChristian teacher, and betray itself in the warm and coloured figures\nof his style. Of course, he was not as a worldly describer, who studies\nto produce phrases which present an image, or arranges glittering\npictures--all such endeavours he knew nothing about. But by instinct, and\nthanks to his warm African temperament, he was a kind of impressionist and\nmetaphysical poet.\n\nIf the rural landscape of Thagaste is reflected in certain passages--the\npleasantest and most well known--of the _Confessions_, all the intellectual\npart of Augustin's work finds its symbolical commentary here in this arid\nand light-splashed plain of Madaura. Like it, the thought of Augustin has\nno shadows. Like it too, it is lightened by strange and splendid tints\nwhich seem to come from far off, from a focal fire invisible to human eyes.\nNo modern writer has better praised the light--not only the immortal light\nof the blessed, but that light which rests on the African fields, and\nis on land and sea; and nobody has spoken of it with more amplitude and\nwonder. The truth is, that in no country in the world, not even in Egypt,\nin the rose-coloured lands of Karnak and Luxor, is the light more pure and\nadmirable than in these great bare plains of Numidia and the region of the\nSahara. Is there not enchantment for the eyes of the metaphysician in this\nplay of light, these nameless interfulgent colours which appear flimsy as\nthe play of thought? For the glowing floating haze is made of nothing--of\nlines, of gleam, of unregulated splendour. And all this triumph of\nfluctuating light and elusive colour is quenched with the sun, smoulders\ninto darkness, even as ideas in the obscure depths of the intelligence\nwhich reposes....\n\nNot less than this land, stern even to sadness, but hot and sumptuous, the\ntown of Madaura must have impressed Augustin.\n\nIt was an old Numidian city, proud of its antiquity. Long before the Roman\nconquest, it had been a fortress of King Syphax. Afterwards, the conquerors\nsettled there, and in the second century of our era, Apuleius, the most\nfamous of its children, could state before a proconsul, not without pride,\nthat Madaura was a very prosperous colony. It is probable that this old\ntown was not so much Romanized as its neighbours, Thimgad and Lambesa,\nwhich were of recent foundation and had been built all at once by decree of\nthe Government. But it may well have been as Roman as Theveste, a no less\nancient city, where the population was probably just as mixed. Madaura,\nlike Theveste, had its temples with pillars and Corinthian porticoes, its\ntriumphal arches (these were run up everywhere), its forum surrounded by a\ncovered gallery and peopled with statues. Statues also were very liberally\ndistributed in those days. We know of at least three at Madaura which\nAugustin mentions in one of his letters: A god Mars in his heroic\nnakedness, and another Mars armed from head to foot; opposite, the statue\nof a man, in realistic style, stretching out three fingers to neutralize\nthe evil eye. These familiar figures remained very clear in the\nrecollection of Augustin. In the evening, or at the hour of the siesta, he\nhad stretched himself under their pedestals and played at dice or bones in\nthe cool shade of the god Mars, or of the Man with outstretched fingers.\nThe slabs of marble of the portico made a good place to play or sleep.\n\nAmong these statues, there was one perhaps which interested the lad and\nstimulated all his early ambitions--that of Apuleius, the great man of\nMadaura, the orator, philosopher, sorcerer, who was spoken of from one end\nto the other of Africa. By dint of gazing at this, and listening to the\npraises of the great local author, did the young scholar become aware of\nhis vocation? Did he have from this time a confused sort of wish to become\none day another Apuleius, a Christian Apuleius--to surpass the reputation\nof this celebrated pagan? These impressions and admirations of youth have\nalways a more or less direct influence upon what use a boy makes of his\ntalents.\n\nBe that as it will, Augustin could not take a step in Madaura without\nrunning against the legend of Apuleius, who was become almost a divinity\nfor his fellow-countrymen. He was looked upon not only as a sage, but as\na most wily nigromancer. The pagans compared him to Christ--nay, put him\nhigher than Christ. In their view he had worked much more astonishing\nmiracles than those of Jesus or of Apollonius of Tyana. And people told the\nextravagant stories out of his _Metamorphoses_ as real, as having actually\nhappened. Nothing was seen on all sides but wizards, men changed into\nanimals, animals, or men and women, under some spell. In the inns, a man\nwatched with a suspicious look the ways of the maidservant who poured out\nhis drink or handed him a dish. Perhaps some magic potion was mingled with\nthe cheese or bread that she was laying on the table. It was an atmosphere\nof feverish and delirious credulity. The pagan madness got the better of\nthe Christians themselves. Augustin, who had lived in this atmosphere, will\nlater find considerable trouble in maintaining his strong common sense amid\nsuch an overflow of marvels.\n\nFor the moment, the fantasy of tales filled him with at least as much\nenthusiasm as the supernatural. At Madaura he lived in a miraculous world,\nwhere everything charmed his senses and his mind, and everything stimulated\nhis precocious instinct for Beauty.\n\nMore than Thagaste, no doubt, Madaura bore the marks of the building\ngenius of the Romans. Even to-day their descendants, the Italians, are the\nmasons of the world, after having been the architects. The Romans were the\nbuilding nation above all others. They it was who raised and established\ntowns upon the same model and according to the same ideal as an oration\nor a poem. They really invented the house, _mansio_, not only the shelter\nwhere one lives, but the building which itself lives, which triumphs over\nyears and centuries, a huge construction ornamental and sightly, existing\nas much--and perhaps more--for the delight of the eyes as for usefulness.\nThe house, the _Town-with-deep-streets_, perfectly ordered, were a great\nmatter of amazement for the African nomad--he who passes and never settles\ndown anywhere. He hated them, doubtless, as the haunts of the soldier and\nthe publican, his oppressors, but he also regarded them with admiration\nmixed with jealousy as the true expression of a race which, when it entered\na country, planted itself for eternity, and claimed to join magnificence\nand beauty to the manifestation of its strength. The Roman ruins which\nare scattered over modern Algeria humiliate ourselves by their pomp--us\nwho flatter ourselves that we are resuming the work of the Empire and\ncontinuing its tradition. They are a permanent reproach to our mediocrity,\na continual incitement to grandeur and beauty. Of course, the Roman\narchitecture could not have had on Augustin, this still unformed young\nAfrican, the same effect as it has to-day on a Frenchman or a man from\nNorthern Europe. But it is certain that it formed, without his knowledge,\nhis thought and his power of sensation, and extended for him the lessons of\nthe Latin rhetoricians and grammarians.\n\nAll that was not exactly very Christian. But from these early school years\nAugustin got further and further away from Christianity, and the examples\nhe had under his eyes, at Madaura were hardly likely to strengthen him\nin his faith. It was hardly an edifying atmosphere there for a Catholic\nyouth who had a lively imagination, a pleasure-loving temperament, and who\nliked pagan literature. The greatest part of the population were pagans,\nespecially among the aristocrats. The Decurions continued to preside at\nfestivals in honour of the old idols.\n\nThese festivals were frequent. The least excuse was taken to engarland\npiously the doors of houses with branches, to bleed the sacrificial pig,\nor slaughter the lamb. In the evening, squares and street corners were\nilluminated. Little candles burned on all the thresholds. During the\nmysteries of Bacchus, the town councillors themselves headed the popular\nrejoicings. It was an African carnival, brutal and full of colour. People\ngot tipsy, pretended they were mad. For the sport of the thing, they\nassaulted the passers and robbed them. The dull blows on tambourines, the\nhysterical and nasal preludes of the flutes, excited an immense elation, at\nonce sensual and mystic. And all quieted down among the cups and leather\nflagons of wine, the grease and meats of banquets in the open air. Even in\na country as sober as Africa, the pagan feasts were never much else than\nexcuses for gorging and orgies. Augustin, who after his conversion had only\nsarcasms for the carnival of Madaura, doubtless went with the crowd, like\nmany other Christians. Rich and influential people gave the example. There\nwas danger of annoying them by making a group apart. And then, there was no\nresisting the agreeableness of such festivals.\n\nPerhaps he was even brought to these love-feasts by those in whose charge\nhe was. For, in fact, to whom had he been entrusted? Doubtless to some\nhost of Patricius, a pagan like himself. Or did he lodge with his master,\na grammarian, who kept a boarding-house for the boys? Almost all these\nschoolmasters were pagan too. Is it wonderful that the Christian lessons\nof Monnica and the nurses at Thagaste became more and more blurred in\nAugustin's mind? Many years after, an old Madaura grammarian, called\nMaximus, wrote to him in a tone of loving reproach: \"Thou hast drawn away\nfrom us\"--_a secta nostra deviasti_. Did he wish to hint that at this time\nAugustin had glided into paganism? Nothing is more unlikely. He himself\nassures us that the name of Christ remained always \"graven on his heart.\"\nBut while he was at Madaura he lived indifferently with pagans and\nChristians.\n\nBesides that, the teaching he got was altogether pagan in tone. No doubt he\npicked out, as he always did, the subjects which suited him. Minds such as\nhis fling themselves upon that which is likely to nourish them: they throw\naside all the rest, or suffer it very unwillingly. Thus Augustin never\nwavered in his dislike for Greek: he was a poor Greek scholar. He detested\nthe Greeks by instinct. According to Western prejudice, these men of\nthe East were all rascals or amusers. Augustin, as a practical African,\nalways regarded the Greeks as vain, discoursing wits. In a word, they\nwere not sincere people whom it would be safe to trust. The entirely\nlocal patriotism of the classical Greek authors further annoyed this Roman\ncitizen who was used to regard the world as his country: he thought them\nvery narrow-minded to take so much interest in the history of some little\ntown. As for him, he looked higher and farther. It must be remembered that\nin the second half of the fourth century the Greek attitude, broadened and\nfully conscious of itself, set itself more and more against Latinism, above\nall, politically. There it lay, a hostile and impenetrable block before the\nWestern peoples. And here was a stronger reason for a Romanized African to\ndislike the Greeks.\n\nSo he painfully construed the _Iliad_ and _Odyssey_, very cross at the\ndifficulties of a foreign language which prevented him from grasping the\nplots of the fine, fabulous narratives. There were, however, abridgments\nused in the schools, a kind of summaries of the Trojan War, written by\nLatin grammarians under the odd pseudonyms of Dares the Phrygian and Dictys\nof Crete. But these abridgments were very dry for an imagination like\nAugustin's. He much preferred the _\u00c6neid_, the poem admired above all\nby the Africans, on account of the episode devoted to the foundation of\nCarthage. Virgil was his passion. He read and re-read him continually;\nhe knew him by heart. To the end of his life, in his severest writings,\nhe quoted verses or whole passages out of his much-loved poet. Dido's\nadventure moved him to tears. They had to pluck the book out of his hands.\n\nNow the reason is that there was a secret harmony between Virgil's soul and\nthe soul of Augustin. Both were gracious and serious. One, the great poet,\nand one, the humble schoolboy, they both had pity on the Queen of Carthage,\nthey would have liked to save her, or at any rate to mitigate her sadness,\nto alter a little the callousness of \u00c6neas and the harshness of the Fates.\nBut think of it! Love is a divine sickness, a chastisement sent by the\ngods. It is just, when all's said, that the guilty one should endure her\nagony to the very end. And then, such very great things are going to arise\nout of this poor love! Upon it depends the lot of two Empires. What counts\na woman before Rome and Carthage? Besides, she was bound to perish: the\ngods had decreed it.... There was in all that a concentrated emotion, a\ndepth of sentiment, a religious appeal which stirred Augustin's heart,\nstill unaware of itself. This obedience of the Virgilian hero to the\nheavenly will, was already an adumbration of the humility of the future\nChristian.\n\nCertainly, Augustin did not perceive very plainly in these turbid years\nof his youth the full religious significance of Virgil's poem. Carried\naway by his headstrong nature, he yielded to the heart-rending charm of\nthe romantic story: he lived it, literally, with the heroine. When his\nschoolmasters desired him to elaborate the lament of the dying Queen Dido\nin Latin prose, what he wrote had a veritable quiver of anguish. Without\nthe least defence against lust and the delusions of the heart, he spent\nintellectually and in a single outburst all the strength of passion.\n\nHe absorbed every love-poem with the eagerness of a participating soul. If\nhe took pleasure in the licentiousness of Plautus and Terence, if he read\ndelightfully those comedies wherein the worst weaknesses are excused and\nglorified, I believe that he took still more pleasure in the Latin Elegiacs\nwho present without any shame the romantic madness of Alexandrine love.\nFor what sing these poets even to weariness, unless it be that no one can\nresist the Cyprian goddess, that life has no other end but love? Love for\nitself, to love for the sake of loving--there is the constant subject of\nthese sensualists, of Catullus, Propertius, Tibullus, Ovid. After the story\nof Dido, the youthful reader was ravished by the story of Ariadne, even\nmore disturbing, because no remorse modifies the frenzy of it. He read:\n\n    _Now while the careless hero flees, beating the wave with his\n    and casting to the gales of the open sea his idle promises,--there,\n    standing among the shingle of the beach, the daughter of Minos follows\n    him, alas! with her beautiful sad eyes: she stares, astonied, like to a\n    Bacchante changed into a statue. She looks forth, and her heart floats\n    upon the great waves of her grief. She lets slip from her head her\n    fine-spun coif, she tears away the thin veils which cover her bosom,\n    and the smooth cincture which supports her quivering breasts. All that\n    slips from her body into the salt foam which ripples round her feet.\n    But little she cares for her coif or for her apparel carried away by\n    the tide! Lost, bewildered, with all her heart and all her soul, she is\n    clinging to thee, O Theseus._\n\nAnd if Augustin, when he had read these burning verses of Catullus, looked\nthrough the Anthologies which were popular in the African schools, he\nwould come upon \"The Vigil of Venus,\" that eclogue which ends with such a\npassionate cry:\n\n    _O my springtime, when wilt thou come? When shall I be as the swallow?\n    When shall I cease to be silent?... May he love to-morrow, he\n    has not loved yet. And he who has already loved, may he love again\n    to-morrow._\n\nImagine the effect of such exhortations on a youth of fifteen! Truly, this\nspringtide of love, which the poet cries for in his distress, the son\nof Monnica knew well was come for him. How he must have listened to the\nmusical and melancholy counsellor who told his pain to the leaves of the\nbook! What stimulant and what food for his boyish longings and dreams! And\nwhat a divine chorus of beauties the great love-heroines of ancient epic\nand elegy, Helen, Medea, Ariadne, Ph\u00e6dra, formed and re-formed continually\nin his dazzled memory! When we of to-day read such verses at Augustin's\nage, some bitterness is mixed with our delight. These heroes and heroines\nare too far from us. These almost chimerical beings withdraw from us into\noutlying lands, to a vanished world which will never come again. But for\nAugustin, this was the world he was born into--it was his pagan Africa\nwhere pleasure was the whole of life, and one lived only for the lusts of\nthe flesh. And the race of fabulous princesses--they were not dead, those\nladies: they were ever waiting for the well-beloved in the palaces at\nCarthage. Yes, the scholar of Madaura lived wonderful hours, dreaming thus\nof love between the pages of the poets. These young dreams before love\ncomes are more bewitching than love itself: a whole unknown world suddenly\ndiscovered and entered with a quivering joy of discovery at each step. The\nunused strength of illusion appears inexhaustible, space becomes deeper and\nthe heart more strong....\n\nA long time afterwards, when, recovered from all that, Augustin speaks to\nus of the Divine love, he will know fully the infinite value of it from\nhaving gone through all the painful entrancements of the other. And he will\nsay to us, with the sureness of experience: \"The pleasure of the human\nheart in the light of truth and the abundance of wisdom--yea, the pleasure\nof the human heart, of the faithful heart, and of the heart which is\nholy, stands alone. You will find nothing in any voluptuousness fit to be\ncompared to it. I say not that this other pleasure is less, for that which\nis called less hath only to increase to become equal. No, I shall not say\nthat all other pleasure is less. No comparison can be made. It is another\nkind, it is another reality.\"\n\n\n\n\nVI\n\nTHE HOLIDAYS AT THAGASTE\n\n\nIn the city of Apuleius, the Christian Monnica's son became simply a pagan.\nHe was near his sixteenth year: the awkward time of early virility was\nbeginning for him. Prepared at Madaura, it suddenly burst out at Thagaste.\n\nAugustin came back to his parents, no doubt during the vacation. But\nthis vacation lasted perhaps a whole year. He had come to the end of his\njuvenile studies. The grammarians at Madaura could teach him nothing more.\nTo round off his acquirements, it would be necessary to attend the lectures\nof some well-known rhetorician. Now there were very good rhetoricians only\nat Carthage. Besides, it was a fashion, and point of honour, for Numidian\nfamilies to send their sons to finish their education in the provincial\ncapital. Patricius was most eager to do this for his son, who at Madaura\nhad shewn himself a very brilliant pupil and ought not therefore to be\npulled up half-way down the course. But the life of a student cost a good\ndeal, and Patricius had no money. His affairs were always muddled. He was\nobliged to wait for the rents from his farms, to grind down his tenants,\nand, ultimately, despairing of any other way out of it, to ask for an\nadvance of money from a rich patron. That needed time and diplomacy.\n\nDays and months went by, and Augustin, with nothing to do, joined in with\neasily-made friends and gave himself up to the pleasures of his time of\nlife, like all the young townsmen of Thagaste--pleasures rather rough and\nlittle various, such as were to be got in a little free-town of those days,\nand as they have remained for the natives of to-day, whether they live\na town or country life. To hunt, to ride horseback, to play at games of\nchance, to drink, eat, and make love--they wanted nothing beyond that. When\nAugustin in his _Confessions_ accuses himself of his youthful escapades he\nuses the most scathing language. He speaks of them with horror and disgust.\nOnce more we are tempted to believe that he exaggerates through an excess\nof Christian remorse. There are even some who, put on their guard by this\nvehement tone, have questioned the historical value of the _Confessions_.\nThey argue that when the Bishop of Hippo wrote these things his views and\nfeelings had altered. He could no longer judge with the same eye and in\nthe same spirit the happenings of his youth. All this is only too certain:\nwhen he wrote, it was as a Christian he judged himself, and not as a cold\nhistorian who refuses to go beyond the brutal fact. He tried to unravel\nthe origin and to trace the consequences of the humblest of his actions,\nbecause this is of the highest importance for salvation. But however severe\nhis judgment may be, it does not impair the reality of the fact itself.\nMoreover, in natures like his, acts which others would hardly think of\nhave a vibration out of all proportion with the act itself. The evil of sin\ndepends upon the consciousness of the sin and the pleasure taken in it.\nAugustin was very intelligent and very sensual.\n\nIn any case, young Africans develop early, and the lechery of the race\nis proverbial. It must have been a good deal stronger at a time when\nChristianity still had to fight against pagan slackness in these matters,\nere Islam had imposed its hypocritical austerity upon the general conduct.\nThere is even room for wonder that in Augustin's case this crisis of\ndevelopment did not happen earlier than his sixteenth year. It seems that\nit was only more violent. In what language he describes it! \"I dared to\nroam the woods and pursue my vagrant loves beneath the shade.\" But he\nwas not yet in love--this he points out himself. In his case then it was\nsimple lust. \"From the quagmire of concupiscence, from the well of puberty,\nexhaled a mist which clouded and befogged my heart, so that I could not\ndistinguish between the clear shining of affection and the darkness of\nlust.... I could not keep within the kingdom of light, where friendship\nbinds soul to soul.... And so I polluted the brook of friendship with the\nsewage of lust.\" Let us not try to make it clearer than he has left it\nhimself. When one thinks of all the African vices, one dare not dwell upon\nsuch avowals. \"Lord,\" he says, \"I was loathsome in Thy sight.\" And with\npitiless justice he analyses the effect of the evil: \"It stormed confusedly\nwithin me, whirling my thoughtless youth over the precipices of desire. And\nI wandered still further from Thee, and Thou didst leave me to myself; the\ntorrent of my fornications tossed and swelled and boiled and ran over.\" And\nduring this time: \"Thou saidst nothing, O my God!\" This silence of God is\nthe terrible sign of hardened sin, of hopeless damnation. It meant utter\ndepravity of the will; he did not even feel remorse any more.\n\nHere he is, then, as if unfastened from his child's soul--separated from\nhimself. The object of his youthful faith has no more meaning for him. He\nunderstands no longer, and it is all one to him that he does not. Thus,\ntold by himself, does this first crisis of Augustin's life emerge from the\nautobiography; and it takes on a general significance. Once for all, under\na definite form, and to a certain degree classic, he has diagnosed with\nhis subtle experience of doctor of souls the pubescent crisis in all young\nmen of his age, in all the young Christians who are to come after him. For\nthe story of Augustin is the story of each of us. The loss of faith always\noccurs when the senses first awaken. At this critical moment, when nature\nclaims us for her service, the consciousness of spiritual things is, in\nmost cases, either eclipsed or totally destroyed. The gradual usage to the\nbrutalities of the instinct ends by killing the sensitiveness of the inward\nfeelings. It is not reason which turns the young man from God; it is the\nflesh. Scepticism but provides him with excuses for the new life he is\nleading.\n\nThus started, Augustin was not able to pull up half-way on the road of\npleasure; he never did anything by halves. In these vulgar revels of the\nordinary wild youth, he wanted again to be best, he wanted to be first as\nhe was at school. He stirred up his companions and drew them after him.\nThey in their turn drew him. Among them was found that Alypius, who was the\nfriend of all his life, who shared his faults and mistakes, who followed\nhim even in his conversion, and became Bishop of Thagaste. These two future\nshepherds of Christ roamed the streets with the lost sheep. They spent\nthe nights in the open spaces of the town, playing, or wantonly dreaming\nbefore cups of cool drinks. They lounged there, stretched out on mats, with\na crown of leaves on the head, a jasmine garland round the neck, a rose\nor marigold thrust above the ear. They never knew what to do next to kill\ntime. So one fine evening the reckless crew took it into their heads to\nrifle a pear tree of one of Patricius's neighbours. This pear tree was just\nbeyond the vineyard belonging to Augustin's father. The rascals shook down\nthe pears. They took a few bites to find out the taste, and having decided\nthis to be rather disappointing, they chucked all the rest to the hogs.\n\nIn this theft, done merely for the pleasure of the thing, Augustin sees\nan evidence of diabolical mischief. Doubtless he committed many another\nmisdeed where, like this, the whole attraction lay in the Satanic joy\nof breaking the law. His fury for dissolute courses knew no rest. Did\nMonnica observe anything of this change in Augustin? The boy, grown big,\nhad escaped from the supervision of the women's apartments. If the mother\nguessed anything, she did not guess all. It fell to her husband to open her\neyes. With the freedom of manners among the ancients, Augustin relates the\nfact quite plainly.... That took place in the bath-buildings at Thagaste.\nHe was bathing with his father, probably in the _piscina_ of cold baths.\nThe bathers who came out of the water with dripping limbs were printing\nwet marks of their feet upon the mosaic flooring, when Patricius, who was\nwatching them, suddenly perceived that his son had about him the signs\nof manhood, that he was already bearing--as Augustin says himself in his\npicturesque language--the first signs of turbulent youth, like another\n_toga praetexta_. Patricius, as a good pagan, welcomed with jubilation this\npromise of grand-children, and rushed off joyously to brag of his discovery\nto Monnica. She took the news in quite another way. Frightened at the idea\nof the dangers to which her son's virtue was exposed, she lectured him\nin private. But Augustin, from the height of his sixteen years, laughed\nat her. \"A lot of old-women's gossip! Why does she want to talk about\nthings she can't understand!...\" Tired out at last, Monnica tried to get\na promise from her son that he would at least have some restraint in his\ndissipation--that he would avoid women of the town, and above all, that he\nwould have nothing to do with married women. For the rest, she put him in\nGod's hands.\n\nIt may be wondered--Augustin himself wonders--that she did not think of\nfinding him a wife. They marry early in Africa. Even now any Arab labourer\nbuys a wife for his son, hardly turned sixteen, so that the fires of a too\nwarm youth may be quenched in marriage. But Monnica, who was not yet a\nsaint, acted in this matter like a foreseeing and practical woman of the\nprosperous class. A wife would be a drag for a young man like Augustin, who\nseemed likely to have such a brilliant career. A too early marriage would\njeopardize his future. Before all things, it was important that he should\nbecome an illustrious rhetorician, and raise the fortunes of the family.\nFor her, all else yielded to this consideration. But she hoped at least\nthat the headstrong student might consent to be good into the bargain.\n\nThis was also Patricius's way of looking at the matter. And so, says\nAugustin, \"My father gave himself no concern how I grew towards Thee, or\nhow chaste I was, provided only that I became a man of culture--however\ndestitute of Thy culture, O God.... My mother and he slackened the curb\nwithout regard to due severity, and I was suffered to enjoy myself\naccording to my dissolute fancy.\" Meanwhile, Patricius was now become\n(very tardily) a catechumen. The entreaties of his wife had won him to the\nCatholic faith. But his sentiments were not much more Christian--\"He hardly\nthought of Thee, my God,\" acknowledges his son, who nevertheless was\npleased at this conversion. If Patricius decided to get converted, it was\nprobably from political reasons. Since the death of Julian the Apostate,\npaganism appeared finally conquered. The Emperor Valentinianus had just\nproclaimed heavy penalties against night-sacrifices. In Africa, the\nCount Romanus persecuted the Donatists. All the Christians in Thagaste\nwere Catholic. What was the good of keeping up a useless and dangerous\nresistance? Perhaps the end of Patricius--which was near--was as edifying\nas Monnica could wish. But at all events, at the present moment, he was\nnot the man to interfere with Augustin's pleasures: he only thought of\nthe eventual fortune of the young man. Alone, Monnica might have had some\ninfluence on him, and she herself was fascinated by his future career in\nthe world. Perhaps, to quiet her conscience, she said to herself that this\nfrivolous education would be more or less of a help to her son towards\nbringing him back to God, that a day would come when the famous rhetorician\nwould plead the cause of Christ?...\n\nScandalized though she might be at his conduct, it is however apparent that\nit was about this time she began to get fonder of him, to worry over him as\nher favourite child. But it was not till much later that the union between\nmother and son became quite complete. Too many old customs still remained\npreventing close intercourse between the men and women of a family. And it\nwill hardly do to picture such intimacy from the intimacy which may exist\nbetween a mother and son of our own time. There was none of the spoiling,\nor indulgence, or culpable weakness which enervates maternal tenderness and\nmakes it injurious to the energy of a manly character. Monnica was severe\nand a little rough. If she let her feelings be seen, it was solely before\nGod. And yet it is most certain that in the depth of her heart she loved\nAugustin, not only as a future member of Christ, but humanly, as a woman\nfrustrated of love in a badly assorted marriage may spend her love on her\nchild. The brutality of pagan ways revolted her, and she poured on this\nyoung head all her stored-up affection. In Augustin she loved the being she\nwished she could love in her husband.\n\nA number of personal considerations were no doubt involved in the deep and\nunselfish attachment she had for her son: instinctively, she looked for him\nto protect her against the father's violence. She felt that he would be the\nsupport of her old age, and also, she foresaw dimly what one day he would\nbe. All this aided to bring about the tie, the understanding, which grew\nmore and more close between Augustin and Monnica. And so from this time\nthey both appear to us as they were to appear to all posterity--the pattern\nof the Christian Mother and Son. Thanks to them, the hard law of the\nancients has been abrogated. There shall be no more barriers between the\nmother and her child. No longer shall it be vain exterior rites which draw\ntogether the members of the same family: they shall communicate in spirit\nand truth. Heart speaketh to heart. The fellowship of souls is founded,\nand the ties of the domestic hearth are drawn close, as they never were in\nantiquity. No more shall they work in concert only for material things;\nthey will join together to love--and to love each other more. The son will\nbelong more to his mother.\n\nAt the time we have now come to, Monnica was already undertaking the\nconquest of Augustin's soul. She prayed for him fervently. The young man\ncared very little: gratitude came to him only after his conversion. At this\ntime he was thinking of nothing but amusement. For this he even forgot his\ncareer. But Monnica and Patricius thought of it constantly--especially\nPatricius, who gave himself enormous trouble to enable this student on a\nholiday to finish his studies. Eventually he got together the necessary\nmoney, possibly borrowed enough to make up the sum from some rich landowner\nwho was the patron of the people of small means in Thagaste--say, that\ngorgeous Romanianus, to whom Augustin, in acknowledgment, dedicated one of\nhis first books. The young man could now take the road for Carthage.\n\nHe left by himself, craving for knowledge and glory and pleasure, his heart\nfull of longing for what he knew not, and melancholy without cause. What\nwas going to become of him in the great, unknown city?\n\n\n\n\nTHE SECOND PART\n\nTHE ENCHANTMENT OF CARTHAGE\n\n\n  Amare et amari.\n  \"To love and to be loved.\"\n\n_Confessions_, III, i.\n\n\n\n\nI\n\nCARTHAGO VENERIS\n\n\n\"I went to Carthage, where shameful loves bubbled round me like boiling\noil.\"\n\nThis cry of repentance, uttered by the converted Augustin twenty-five\nyears later, does not altogether stifle his words of admiration for the\nold capital of his country. One can see this patriotic admiration stirring\nbetween the lines. Carthage made a very strong impression on him. He gave\nit his heart and remained faithful to the end. His enemies, the Donatists,\ncalled him \"the Carthaginian arguer.\" After he became Bishop of Hippo, he\nwas continually going to Carthage to preach, or dispute, or consult his\ncolleagues, or to ask something from men in office. When he is not there,\nhe is ever speaking of it in his treatises and plain sermons. He takes\ncomparisons from it: \"You who have been to Carthage--\" he often says to\nhis listeners. For the boy from little Thagaste to go to Carthage, was\nabout the same as for our youths from the provinces to go to Paris. _Veni\nCarthaginem_--in these simple words there is a touch of naive emphasis\nwhich reveals the bewilderment of the Numidian student just landed in the\ngreat city.\n\nAnd, in fact, it was one of the five great capitals of the Empire: there\nwere Rome, Constantinople, Antioch, Alexandria--Carthage. Carthage was the\nsea-port capital of the whole western Mediterranean. With its large new\nstreets, its villas, its temples, its palaces, its docks, its variously\ndressed cosmopolitan population, it astonished and delighted the schoolboy\nfrom Madaura. Whatever local marks were left about him, or signs of the\nrustic simpleton, it brushed off. At first, Augustin must have felt himself\nas good as lost there.\n\nThere he was, his own master, with nobody to counsel and direct him. He\ndoes indeed mention his fellow-countryman, that Romanianus, the patron of\nhis father and of other people in Thagaste, as a high and generous friend\nwho invited him to his house when he, a poor youth, came to finish his\nstudies in a strange city, and helped him, not only with his purse, but\nwith his friendship. Unfortunately the allusion is not very clear. Still,\nit does seem to shew that Augustin, in the first days after his arrival at\nCarthage, stayed with Romanianus. It is not in the least improbable that\nRomanianus had a house at Carthage and spent the winter there: during the\nrest of the year he would be in his country houses round about Thagaste.\nThis opulent benefactor might not have been satisfied with giving Augustin\na good \"tip\" for his journey when he was leaving his native town, but may\nalso have put him up in his own house at Carthage. Such was the atonement\nfor those enormous fortunes of antiquity: the rich had to give freely and\nconstantly. With the parcelling out of wealth we have become much more\negoistical.\n\nIn any case, Romanianus, taken up with his pleasures and business, could\nnot have been much of a guide for Monnica's son. Augustin was therefore\nwithout control, or very nearly. No doubt he came to Carthage with a strong\ndesire to increase his knowledge and get renown, but still more athirst\nfor love and the emotions of sentiment. The love-prelude was deliriously\nprolonged for him. He was at that time so overwhelmed by it, that it is the\nfirst thing he thinks of when he relates his years at Carthage. \"To love\nand be loved\" seems to him, as to his dear Alexandrine poets, the single\nobject of life. Yet he was not in love, \"but he loved the idea of love.\"\n_Nondum amabam, et amare amabam ... amare amans...._\n\nTruly, never a pagan poet had hitherto found such language to speak\nof love. These subtle phrases are not only the work of a marvellous\nword-smith: through their almost imperceptible shades of meaning may be\ndescried an entirely new soul, the pleasure-loving soul of the old world\nawakening to spiritual life. Modern people have repeated the words more\nthan enough, but by translating them too literally--\"I loved to love\"--they\nhave perhaps distorted the sense. They have made Augustin a kind of\nRomantic like Alfred de Musset, a dilettante in love. Augustin is not so\nmodern, although he often seems one of ourselves. When he wrote those words\nhe was a bishop and a penitent. What strikes him above all in looking back\nupon his uneasy and feverish life as a youth and young man, is the great\nonrush of all his being which swept him towards love. Plainly, man is made\nfor love, since he loves without object and without cause, since in itself\nalone the idea of love is already for him a beginning of love. Only he\nfalls into error in giving to creatures a heart that the Creator alone can\nfill and satisfy. In this love for love's sake, Augustin discerned the sign\nof the predestined soul whose tenderness will find no rest but in God. That\nis why he repeats this word \"Love\" with a kind of intoxication. He knows\nthat those who love like him cannot love long with a human love. Nor does\nhe blush to acknowledge it:--he loved--he loved with all his soul--he\nloved to the point of loving the coming of love. Happy intimation for the\nChristian! A heart so afire is pledged to the eternal marriage.\n\nWith this heat of passion, this lively sensibility, Augustin was a prey for\nCarthage. The voluptuous city took complete hold on him by its charm and\nits beauty, by all the seductions of mind and sense, by its promises of\neasy enjoyment.\n\nFirst of all, it softened this young provincial, used to the harder country\nlife of his home; it relaxed the Numidian contracted by the roughness of\nhis climate; it cooled his eyes burned by the sun in the full-flowing of\nits waters and the suavity of its horizons. It was a city of laziness, and\nabove all, of pleasure, as well for those plunged in business as for the\nidlers. They called it _Carthago Veneris_--Carthage of Venus. And certainly\nthe old Phoenician Tanit always reigned there. Since the rebuilding of her\ntemple by the Romans, she had transformed herself into _Virgo Coelestis_.\nThis Virgin of Heaven was the great Our Lady of unchastity, towards whom\nstill mounted the adoration of the African land four hundred years after\nthe birth of Christ. \"Strange Virgin,\" Augustin was to say later, \"who can\nonly be honoured by the loss of virginity.\" Her dissolving influence seemed\nto overcome the whole region. There is no more feminine country than this\nCarthaginian peninsula, ravished on all sides by the caress of the waters.\nStretched out between her lakes on the edge of the sea, Carthage lounged in\nthe humid warmth of her mists, as if in the suffocating atmosphere of her\nvapour-baths.\n\nShe stole away the energies, but she was an enchantment for the eyes.\nFrom the top of the impressive flight of steps which led up to the temple\nof \u00c6sculapius on the summit of the Acropolis, Augustin could see at his\nfeet the huge, even-planned city, with its citadel walls which spread out\nindefinitely, its gardens, blue waters, flaxen plains, and the mountains.\nDid he pause on the steps at sunset, the two harbours, rounded cup-shape,\nshone, rimmed by the quays, like lenses of ruby. To the left, the Lake of\nTunis, stirless, without a ripple, as rich in ethereal lights as a Venetian\nlagoon, radiated in ever-altering sheens, delicate and splendid. In front,\nacross the bay, dotted with the sails of ships close-hauled to the wind,\nbeyond the wind-swept and shimmering intervals, the mountains of Rhodes\nraised their aerial summit-lines against the sky. What an outlook on the\nworld for a young man dreaming of fame! And what more exhilarating spot\nthan this Mount Byrsa, where, in deep layers, so many heroic memories were\ngathered and superimposed. The great dusty plains which bury themselves\nfar off in the sands of the desert, the mountains--yes, and isles and\nheadlands, all bowed before the Hill that Virgil sang and seemed to do\nher reverence. She held in awe the innumerable tribes of the barbaric\ncontinent; she was mistress of the sea. Rome herself, from the height of\nher Palatine, surged less imperial.\n\nMore than any other of the young men seated with him on the benches of the\nschool of rhetoric, Augustin hearkened to the dumb appeals which came\nfrom the ancient ruins and new palaces of Carthage. But the supple and\ntreacherous city knew the secret of enchaining the will. She tempted him by\nthe open display of her amusements. Under this sun which touches to beauty\nthe plaster of a hut, the grossest pleasures have an attraction which men\nof the North cannot understand. The overflowing of lust surrounds you.\nThis prolific swarming, all these bodies, close-pressed and soft with\nsweat, give forth as it were a breath of fornication which melts the will.\nAugustin breathed in with delight the heavy burning air, loaded with human\nodours, which filled the streets and squares of Carthage. To all the bold\nsoliciting, to all the hands stretched out to detain him as he walked, he\nyielded.\n\nBut for a mind like his Carthage had more subtle allurements in reserve.\nHe was taken by her theatres, by the verses of her poets and the melodies\nof her musicians. He shed tears at the plays of Menander and Terence;\nhe lamented upon the misfortunes of separated lovers; he shared their\nquarrels, rejoiced and despaired with them. And still he awaited the\nepiphany of Love--that Love which the performance of the actors shewed him\nto be so touching and fine.\n\nSuch then was Augustin, given over to the irresponsibility of his eighteen\nyears--a heart spoiled by romantic literature, a mind impatient to try\nevery sort of intellectual adventure in the most corrupting and bewitching\ncity known to the pagan centuries, set amidst one of the most entrancing\nlandscapes in the world.\n\n\n\n\nII\n\nTHE AFRICAN ROME\n\n\nCarthage did not offer only pleasures to Augustin; it was besides an\nextraordinary subject to think about for an understanding so alert and\nall-embracing as his.\n\nAt Carthage he understood the Roman grandeur as he could not at Madaura\nand the Numidian towns. Here, as elsewhere, the Romans made a point of\nimpressing the minds of conquered races by the display of their strength\nand magnificence. Above all, they aimed at the immense. The towns built\nby them offered the same decorative and monumental character of the\nGreek cities of the Hellenistic period, which the Romans had further\nexaggerated--a character not without emphasis and over-elaboration, but\nwhich was bound to astonish, and that was the main thing in their view. In\nshort, their ideal was not perceptibly different from that of our modern\ntown councillors. To lay out streets which intersected at right angles; to\ncreate towns cut into even blocks like chessboards; to multiply prospects\nand huge architectural masses--all the Roman cities of this period revealed\nsuch an aim, with an almost identical plan.\n\nErected after this type, the new Carthage caused the old to be forgotten.\nEverybody agreed that it was second only to Rome. The African writers\nsquandered the most hyperbolical praises upon it. For them it is \"The\nsplendid, the august, the sublime Carthage.\" Although there may well be a\ncertain amount of triviality or of patriotic exaggeration in these praises,\nit is certain that the Roman capital of the Province of Africa was no less\nconsiderable than the old metropolis of the Hanno and Barcine factions.\nWith a population almost as large as that of Rome, it had almost as great\na circumference. It must further be recalled that as it had no ramparts\ntill the Vandal invasion, the city overflowed into the country. With its\ngardens, villas, and burial-places of the dead, it covered nearly the\nentire peninsula, to-day depopulated.\n\nCarthage, as well as Rome, had her Capitol and Palatine upon Mount Byrsa,\nwhere rose no doubt a temple consecrated to the Capitolean triune deities,\nJupiter, Juno, and Minerva, not far from the great temple of \u00c6sculapius, a\nmodern transformation of the old Punic Eschmoum. Hard by these sanctuaries,\nthe Proconsul's palace dominated Carthage from the height of the acclivity\nof the Acropolis. The Forum was at the foot of the hill, probably in the\nneighbourhood of the ports--a Forum built and arranged in the Roman way,\nwith its shops of bankers and money-changers placed under the circular\ngalleries, with the traditional image of Marsyas, and a number of statues\nof local celebrities. Apuleius no doubt had his there. Further off was the\nHarbour Square, where gathered foreigners recently landed and the idlers of\nthe city in search of news, and where the booksellers offered the new books\nand pamphlets. There was to be seen one of the curiosities of Carthage--a\nmosaic representing fabulous monsters, men without heads, and men with only\none leg and one foot--a huge foot under which, lying upon their backs, they\nsheltered from the sun, as under a parasol. On account of this feature they\nwere called the _sciapodes_. Augustin, who like everybody else had paused\nbefore these grotesque figures, recalls them somewhere to his readers....\nBeside the sea, in the lower town and upon the two near hills of the\nAcropolis, were a number of detached buildings that the old authors have\npreserved the names of and briefly described. Thanks to the zeal of\narch\u00e6ologists, it is now become impossible to tell where they stood.\n\nThe pagan sanctuaries were numerous. That of the goddess Coelestis, the\ngreat patroness of Carthage, occupied a space of five thousand feet. It\ncomprised, besides the actual [Greek: hieron], where stood the image of the\ngoddess, gardens, sacred groves, and courts surrounded with columns. The\nancient Phoenician Moloch had also his temple under the name of Saturn.\nThey called him _The Old One_, so Augustin tells us, and his worshippers\nwere falling away. On the other hand, Carthage had another sanctuary which\nwas very fashionable, a _Serapeum_ as at Alexandria, where were manifested\nthe pomps of the Egyptian ritual, celebrated by Apuleius. Neighbouring\nthe holy places, came the places of amusement: the theatre, the Odeum,\ncircus, stadium, and amphitheatre--this last, of equal dimensions with\nthe Colosseum at Rome, its gallery rising upon gallery, and its realistic\nsculptures of animals and artisans. Then there were the buildings for the\npublic service: the immense cisterns of the East and the Malga, the great\naqueduct, which, after being carried along a distance of fifty-five miles,\nemptied the water of the Zaghouan into the reservoirs at Carthage. Finally,\nthere were the Baths, some of which we know--those of Antoninus and of\nMaximianus, and those of Gargilius, where one of the most important\nCouncils known to the history of the African Church assembled. There were\nlikewise many Christian basilicas at the time of Augustin. The authors\nmention seventeen: it is likely there were more. That of Damous-el-Karita,\nthe only one of which considerable traces have been found, was vast and\nrichly decorated, and was perhaps the cathedral of Carthage.\n\nWhat other buildings there were are utterly lost to history. It\nmay be conjectured, however, that Carthage, as well as Rome, had a\n_septizonium_--a decorative building with peristyles one above the other\nwhich surrounded a reservoir. In fact, it is claimed that the one at\nRome was copied from Carthage. Straight streets paved with large flags\nintersected around these buildings, forming a network of long avenues, very\nbright and ventilated. Some of them were celebrated in the ancient world\neither for their beauty or the animation of their trade: the street of the\nJewellers, the street of Health, of Saturn, of Coelestis, too, or of Juno.\nThe fig and vegetable markets and the public granaries were also some of\nthe main centres of Carthaginian life.\n\nIt is unquestionable that Carthage, with its buildings and statues, its\nsquares, avenues and public gardens, looked like a large capital, and was\na perfect example of that ideal of rather brutal magnificence and strength\nwhich the Romans obtruded everywhere.\n\nAnd even while it dazzled the young provincial from Thagaste, the African\nRome shewed him the virtue of order--social and political order. Carthage,\nthe metropolis of Western Africa, maintained an army of officials who\nhandled the government in its smallest details. First of all, there\nwere the representatives of the central power, the imperial rulers--the\nProconsul, a sort of vice-emperor, who was surrounded by a full court, a\ncivil and military staff, a privy council, an _officium_ which included a\ncrowd of dignitaries and subaltern clerks. Then there was the Propr\u00e6tor\nof Africa who, being in control of the government of the whole African\nprovince, had an _officium_ still larger perhaps than the Proconsul's.\nAfter them came the city magistrates, who were aided in their functions by\nthe Council of the Decurions--the Senate of Carthage. These Carthaginian\nsenators cut a considerable figure: for them their colleagues at Rome\nwere full of airs and graces, and the Emperors endeavoured to keep them\nin a good-humour. All the details of city government came under their\nsupervision: the slaughter-houses, buildings, the gathering of municipal\ntaxes, and the police, which comprised even the guardians of the Forum.\nThen there were the army and navy. The home port of a grain-carrying fleet\nwhich conveyed the African cereals to Ostia, Carthage could starve Rome\nif she liked. The grain and oil of all countries lay in her docks--the\nstorehouses of the state provisions, which were in charge of a special\nprefect who had under his orders a whole corporation of overseers and\nclerks.\n\nAugustin must have heard a good deal of grumbling at Carthage against this\nexcess of officialism. But, all the same, so well-governed a city was a\nvery good school for a young man who was to combine later the duties of\nbishop, judge, and governor. The blessings of order, of what was called\n\"the Roman peace\" no doubt impressed him the more, as he himself came from\na turbulent district often turned upside down by the quarrels of religious\nsects and by the depredations of the nomads--a boundary-land of the Sahara\nregions where it was much harder to bring the central government into\nplay than in Carthage and the coast-towns. To appreciate the beauty of\ngovernment, there is nothing like living in a country where all is at the\nmercy of force or the first-comer's will. Such of the Barbarians who came\nin contact with Roman civilization were overcome with admiration for the\ngood order that it established. But what astonished them more than anything\nelse was that the Empire was everywhere.\n\nNo man, whatever his race or country, could help feeling proud to belong to\nthe Roman city. He was at home in all the countries in the world subject\nto Rome. Our Europe, split into nationalities, can hardly understand now\nthis feeling of pride, so different from our narrow patriotisms. The way to\nfeel something of it is to go to the colonies: out there the least of us\nmay believe himself a sovereign, simply from the fact that he is a subject\nof the governing country. This feeling was very strong in the old world.\nCarthage, where the striking effect of the Empire appeared in all its\nbrilliancy, would increase it in Augustin. He had only to look around him\nto value the extent of the privilege conferred by Rome on her citizens. Men\ncoming from all countries, without exception of race, were, so to speak,\nmade partners of the Empire and collaborated in the grandeur of the Roman\nscheme. If the Proconsul who then occupied the Byrsa palace, the celebrated\nSymmachus, belonged to an old Italian family, he whom he represented,\nthe Emperor Valentinian, was the son of a Pannonian soldier. The Count\nTheodosius, the general who suppressed the insurrection of Firmus in\nMauretania, was a Spaniard, and the army he led into Africa was made up,\nfor the most part, of Gauls. Later on, under Arcadius, another Gaul,\nRufinus, shall be master of the whole of the East.\n\nAn active mind like Augustin's could not remain indifferent before this\nspectacle of the world thrown open by Rome to all men of talent. He had the\nsoul of a poet, quick to enthusiasm; the sight of the Eagles planted on\nthe Acropolis at Carthage moved him in a way he never forgot. He acquired\nthe habit of seeing big, and began to cast off race prejudices and all the\npetty narrowness of a local spirit. When he became a Christian he did not\nclose himself up, like the Donatists, within the African Church. His dream\nwas that Christ's Empire upon earth should equal the Empire of the C\u00e6sars.\n\nStill, it is desirable not to fall into error upon this Roman unity.\nBehind the imposing front it shewed from one end to the other of the\nMediterranean, the variety of peoples, with their manners, traditions,\nspecial religions, was always there, and in Africa more than elsewhere.\nThe population of Carthage was astonishingly mixed. The hybrid character\nof this country without unity was illustrated by the streaks found in the\nCarthaginian crowds. All the specimens of African races elbowed one another\nin the streets, from the nigger, brought from his native Soudan by the\nslave-merchant, to the Romanized Numidian. The inflow, continually renewed,\nof traffickers and cosmopolitan adventurers increased this confusion.\nAnd so Carthage was a Babel of races, of costumes, of beliefs and ideas.\nAugustin, who was at heart a mystic, but also a dialectician extremely fond\nof showy discussions, found in Carthage a lively summary of the religions\nand philosophies of his day. During these years of study and reflection he\ncaptured booty of knowledge and observation which he would know how to make\nuse of in the future.\n\nIn the Carthage sanctuaries and schools, in the squares and the streets,\nhe could see pass the disciples of all the systems, the props of all the\nsuperstitions, the devotees of all the religions. He heard the shrill\nclamour of disputes, the tumult of fights and riots. When a man was at the\nend of his arguments, he knocked down his opponent. The authorities had a\ngood deal of trouble to keep order. Augustin, who was an intrepid logician,\nmust have longed to take his share in these rows. But one cannot exactly\nimprovise a faith between to-day and to-morrow. While he awaited the\nenlightenment of the truth, he studied the Carthaginian Babel.\n\nFirst of all, there was the official religion, the most obvious and perhaps\nthe most brilliant, that of the Divinity of the Emperors, which was still\nkept up even under the Christian C\u00e6sars. Each year, at the end of October,\nthe elected delegates of the entire province, having at their head the\n_Sacerdos province_, the provincial priest, arrived at Carthage. Their\nleader, clad in a robe broidered with palms, gold crown on head, made his\nsolemn entry into the city. It was a perfect invasion, each member dragging\nin his wake a mob of clients and servants. The Africans, with their\ntaste for pomp and colour, seized the chance to give themselves over to a\ndisplay of ruinous sumptuosities: rich dresses, expensive horses splendidly\ncaparisoned, processions, sacrifices, public banquets, games at the circus\nand amphitheatre. These strangers so overcrowded the city that the imperial\nGovernment had to forbid them, under severe penalties, to stay longer\nthan five days. A very prudent measure! At these times, collisions were\ninevitable between pagans and Christians. It was desirable to scatter such\ncrowds as soon as possible, for riots were always smouldering in their\nmidst.\n\nNo less thronged were the festivals of the Virgin of Heaven. A survival\nof the national religion, these feasts were dear to the hearts of the\nCarthaginians. Augustin went to them with his fellow-students. \"We trooped\nthere from every quarter,\" he says. There was a great gathering of people\nin the interior court which led up to the temple. The statue, taken from\nits sanctuary, was placed before the peristyle upon a kind of repository.\nWantons, arrayed with barbarous lavishness, danced around the holy\nimage; actors performed and sang hymns. \"Our eager eyes,\" Augustin adds\nmaliciously, \"rested in turn on the goddess, and on the girls, her\nadorers.\" The Great Mother of the Gods, the Goddess of Mount Berecyntus,\nwas worshipped with similar license. Every year the people of Carthage went\nto wash her solemnly in the sea. Her statue, carried in a splendid litter,\nrobed with precious stuffs, curled and farded, passed through the streets\nof the city, with its guard of mummers and Corybants. These last, \"with\nhair greasy from pomade, pale faces, and a loose and effeminate walk, held\nout bowls for alms to the onlookers.\"\n\nThe devotion to Isis was yet another excuse for processions: the _Serapeum_\nwas a rival attraction to the temple of the Heavenly Maiden. If we may\ntrust Tertullian, the Africans swore only by Serapis. Possibly Mithras\nhad also worshippers in Carthage. Anyhow, the occult religions were fully\nrepresented there. Miracle-working was becoming more and more the basis\neven of paganism. Never had the soothsayers been more flourishing.\nEverybody, in secret, pried into the entrails of the sacrificial victims,\nor used magic spells. As to the wizards and astrologists, they did business\nopenly. Augustin himself consulted them, like all the Carthaginians. The\npublic credulity had no limits.\n\nOn the opposite side from the pagan worship, the sects which had sprung\nfrom Christianity sprouted. True, Africa has given birth to but a small\nnumber of heresies: the Africans had not the subtle mind of the Orientals\nand they were not given to theorizing. But a good many of the Eastern\nheresies had got into Carthage. Augustin must have still met Arians there,\nalthough at this period Arianism was dying out in Africa. What is certain\nis that orthodox Catholicism was in a very critical state. The Donatists\ncaptured its congregations and churches; they were unquestionably in the\nmajority. They raised altar against altar. If Genethlius was the Catholic\nbishop, the Donatist bishop was Parmenianus. And they claimed to be more\nCatholic than their opponents. They boasted that they were the Church, the\nsingle, the unique Church, the Church of Christ. But these schismatics\nthemselves were already splitting up into many sects. At the time Augustin\nwas studying at Carthage, Rogatus, Bishop of Tenes, had just broken\npublicly with Parmenian's party. Another Donatist, Tyconius, published\nbooks wherein he traversed many principles dear to his fellow-religionists.\nDoubt darkened consciences. Amid these controversies, where was the truth?\nAmong whom did the Apostolic tradition dwell?\n\nTo put the finishing touch on this anarchy, a sect which likewise derived\nfrom Christianity--Manicheeism--began to have numerous adepts in Africa.\nWatched with suspicion by the Government, it concealed part of its\ndoctrine, the most scandalous and subversive. But the very mystery which\nenveloped it, helped it to get adherents.\n\nAmong all these apostles preaching their gospel, these devotees beating\nthe drum before their god, these theologians reciprocally insulting and\nexcommunicating one another, Augustin brought the superficial scepticism of\nhis eighteenth year. He wanted no more of the religion in which his mother\nhad brought him up. He was a good talker, a clever dialectician; he was in\na hurry to emancipate himself, to win freedom for his way of thinking as\nfor his way of life; and he meant to enjoy his youth. With such gifts, and\nwith such dispositions, he could only choose among all these doctrines that\nwhich would help most the qualities of his mind, at once flattering his\nintellectual pretensions, and leaving his pleasure-loving instincts a loose\nrein.\n\n\n\n\nIII\n\nTHE CARTHAGE STUDENT\n\n\nHowever strong were the attractions of the great city, Augustin well knew\nthat he had not been sent there to amuse himself, or to trifle as an\namateur with philosophy. He was poor, and he had to secure his future--make\nhis fortune. His family counted on him. Neither was he ignorant of the\ndifficult position of his parents and by what sacrifices they had supplied\nhim with the means to finish his studies. Necessarily he was obliged to be\na student who worked.\n\nWith his extraordinary facility, he stood out at once among his\nfellow-students. In the rhetoric school, where he attended lectures,\nhe was, he tells us, not only at the top, but he was the leader of his\ncompanions. He led in everything. At that time, rhetoric was extremely\nfar-reaching: it had come to take in all the divisions of education,\nincluding science and philosophy. Augustin claims to have learned all that\nthe masters of his time had to teach: rhetoric, dialectic, geometry, music,\nmathematics. Having gone through the whole scholastic system, he thought of\nstudying law, and aided by his gift of words, to become a barrister. For a\ngifted young man it was the shortest and surest road to money and honours.\n\nUnhappily for him, hardly was he settled down at Carthage than his father\ndied. This made his future again problematical. How was he to keep up his\nstudies without the sums coming from his father? The affairs of Patricius\nmust have been left in the most parlous condition. But Monnica, clinging to\nher ambitious plans for her son, knew how to triumph over all difficulties,\nand she continued to send Augustin money. Romanianus, the M\u00e6cenas of\nThagaste, who was doubtless applied to by her, came once more to the rescue\nof the hard-up student. The young man, set at ease about his expenses,\nresumed light-heartedly his studious and dissipated life.\n\nAs a matter of fact, this family bereavement does not seem to have caused\nhim much grief. In the _Confessions_ he mentions the death of his father in\na few words, and, so to speak, in parenthesis, as an event long foreseen\nwithout much importance. And yet he owed him a great deal. Patricius was\nhard pressed, and he took immense trouble to provide the means for his\nson's education. But with the fine egotism of youth, Augustin perhaps\nthought it enough to have profited by his father's sacrifices, and\ndispensed himself from gratitude. In any case, his affection for his father\nmust have been rather lukewarm; the natural differences between them ran\ntoo deep. In these years, Monnica filled all the heart of Augustin.\n\nBut the influence of Monnica herself was very slight upon this grown-up\nyouth, eighteen years old. He had forgotten her lessons, and it did not\ntrouble him much if his conduct added to the worries of the widow, who was\nnow struggling with her husband's creditors. At heart he was a good son and\nhe deeply loved his mother, but inevitably the pressure of the life around\nhim swept him along.\n\nHe has pictured his companions for us, after his conversion, as terrible\nblackguards. No doubt he is too severe. Those young men were neither better\nnor worse than elsewhere. They were rowdy, as they were in the other cities\nof the Empire, and as one always is at that age. Imperial regulations\nenjoined the police to have an eye on the students, to note their conduct\nand what company they kept. They were not to become members of prohibited\nsocieties, not to go too often to the theatre, nor to waste their time in\nraking and feastings. If their conduct became too outrageous, they were to\nbe beaten with rods and sent back to their parents. At Carthage there was\na hard-living set of men who called themselves \"The Wreckers.\" Their great\npleasure was to go and make a row at a professor's lecture; they would\nburst noisily into the classroom and smash up anything they could lay hold\nof. They amused themselves also by \"ragging\" the freshmen, jeering at their\nsimplicity, and playing them a thousand tricks. Things haven't much changed\nsince then. The fellow-students of Augustin were so like students of\nto-day that the most modern terms suggest themselves to describe their\nperformances.\n\nAugustin, who was on the whole well conducted, and, as behoved a future\nprofessor, had a respect for discipline, disapproved of \"The Wreckers\" and\ntheir violence. This did not prevent him from enjoying himself in their\nsociety. He was overcome with shame because he could not keep pace with\nthem--we must believe it at least, since he tells us so himself. With a\ncertain lack of assurance, blended however with much juvenile vanity, he\njoined the band. He listened to that counsel of vulgar wisdom which is\ndisastrous to souls like his: \"Do as others do.\" He accordingly did do\nas the others; he knew all their debauchery, or he imagined he did, for\nhowever low he went, he was never able to do anything mean. He was then so\nfar from the faith that he arranged love-trysts in the churches. \"I was not\nafraid to think of my lust, and plan a scheme for securing the deadly fruit\nof sin, even within the walls of Thy church during the celebration of Thy\nmysteries.\" We might be reading the confession of a sensualist of to-day.\nOne grows astonished at these morals, at once so old and so modern. What,\nalready! These young Christian basilicas, but newly sprung out of the\nearth, where the men were strictly separated from the women--were they\nalready become places of assignation, where love-letters were slipped into\nhands, and procuresses sold their furtive services!...\n\nAt length the great happiness for which Augustin had so long been sighing\nwas granted him: he loved and he was loved.\n\nHe loved as he indeed was able to love, with all the impetuosity of his\nnature and all the fire of his temperament, with all his heart and all his\nsenses. \"I plunged headlong into love, whose fetters I longed to wear.\" But\nas he went at once to extremes, as he meant to give himself altogether,\nand expected all in return, he grew irritated at not receiving this same\nkind of love. It was never enough love for him. Yet he was loved, and the\nvery certainty of this love, always too poor to his mind, exasperated the\nviolence and pertinacity of his desire. \"Because I was loved, I proudly\nriveted round myself the chain of woe, to be soon scourged with the red-hot\niron rods of jealousy, torn by suspicions, fears, anger, and quarrels.\"\nThis was passion with chorus and orchestra, a little theatrical, with its\nviolences, its alternations between fury and ecstasy, such as an African,\nsteeped in romantic literature, would conceive it. Deceived, he flung\nhimself in desperate pursuit of the ever-flitting love. He had certainly\nmore than one passion. Each one left him more hungry than the last.\n\nHe was sensual, and he felt each time how brief is pleasure, in what a\nlimited circle all enjoyment turns. He was tender, eager to give himself;\nand he saw plainly that one never gives oneself quite altogether, that even\nin the maddest hours of surrender one always reserves oneself in secret,\nkeeping for oneself something of oneself; and he felt that most of the time\nhis tenderness got no answer. When the joyous heart brings the offering of\nits love, the heart of her he loves is absent. And when it is there, on the\nedge of the lips, decked and smiling to meet the loved one, it is the other\nwho is absent. Almost never do they join together, and they never join\ntogether altogether. And so this Love, which claims to be constant and even\neternal, ought to be, if it would prolong itself, a continual act of faith,\nand hope, and charity. To believe in it in spite of its darkening and\nfalling away; to hope its return, often against all evidence; to pardon its\ninjustices and sometimes its foul actions--how many are capable of such\nabnegation? Augustin went through all that. He was in despair about it.\nAnd then, the nostalgia of predestined souls took hold of him. He had an\nindistinct feeling that these human loves were unworthy of him, and that\nif he must have a master, he was born to serve another Master. He had a\ndesire to shake off the platitude of here below, the melancholy fen where\nstagnated what he calls \"the marsh of the flesh\"; to escape, in a word,\nfrom the wretched huts wherein for a little he had sheltered his heart; to\nburn all behind him, and so prevent the weakness of a return; and to go and\npitch his tent further, higher, he knew not where--upon some unapproachable\nmountain where the air is icy, but before the eyes, the vasty stretches of\nlight and space....\n\nThese first loves of Augustin were really too fierce to last. They\nburned up themselves. Augustin did not keep them up long. There was in\nhim, besides, an instinct which counteracted his exuberant, amorous\nsentimentality--the sense of beauty. That in itself was enough to make him\npause on the downhill of riot. The anarchy and commotion of passion was\nrepellent to a mind devoted to clearness and order. But there was still\nanother thing--the son of the Thagaste freeholder had any amount of common\nsense. That at least was left to him of the paternal heritage. A youth of\nwhat we call the lower middle class, strictly brought up in the hard and\nfrugal discipline of the provinces, he felt the effects of his training.\nThe bohemianism in which his friends revelled could not hold him\nindefinitely. Besides this, the career he desired, that of a barrister\nor professor, had a preliminary obligation to maintain a certain outward\ndecorum. He himself tells us so; in the midst of his most disreputable\nperformances he aspired to be known for his fashion and wit--_elegans atque\nurbanus_. Politeness of speech and manners, the courteous mutual deference\nof the best society--such, was the ideal of this budding professor of\nrhetoric.\n\nAnxiety about his future, joined to his rapid disenchantments, ere long\nsobered the student: he just took his fling and then settled down. Love\nturned for him into sensual habit. His head became clear for study and\nmeditation. The apprentice to rhetoric liked his business. Up to his\nlast breath, despite his efforts to change, he continued, like all his\ncontemporaries, to love rhetoric. He handled words like a worker in verbals\nwho is aware of their price and knows all their resources. Even after his\nconversion, if he condemns profane literature as a poisoner of souls, he\nabsolves the beauty of language. \"I accuse not words,\" he says. \"Words\nare choice and precious vessels. I accuse the wine of error that drunken\ndoctors pour out for us into these fair goblets.\" At the Rhetoric School he\ntook extreme pleasure in declaiming. He was applauded; the professor gave\nhim as an example to the others. These scholastic triumphs foretold others\nmore celebrated and reverberating. And so, in his heart, literary vanity\nand ambition disputed the ever-lively illusions of love. And then, above\nall! he had to live; Monnica's remittances were necessarily small; the\ngenerosity of Romanianus had its limit. So he beat about to enlarge his\nsmall student's purse. He wrote verses for poetic competitions. Perhaps\nalready he was able to act as tutor to certain of his fellow-students, less\nadvanced.\n\nIf the need of loving tormented his sentimental heart, he tried to assuage\nit in friendship. He loved friendship as he loved love. He was a passionate\nand faithful friend up to his death. At this time of his life, he was\nriveting friendships which were never to be broken. He had beside him his\nfellow-countryman, Alypius, the future Bishop of Thagaste, who had followed\nhim to Carthage and would, later on, follow him to Milan; Nebridius, a not\nless dear companion, fated to die early; Honoratus, whom he drew into his\nerrors and later did his best to enlighten; and, finally, that mysterious\nyoung man, whose name he does not tell us, and whose loss he mourned as\nnever any one has mourned the death of a friend.\n\nThey lived in daily and hourly intimacy, in continual fervour and\nenthusiasm. They were great theatre-goers, where Augustin was able to\nsatisfy his desire for tender emotions and romantic adventures. They had\nmusical parties; they tried over again the popular airs heard at the\nOdeum or some other of the innumerable theatres at Carthage. All the\nCarthaginians, even the populace, were mad about music. The Bishop of\nHippo, in his sermons, recalls a mason upon his scaffolding, or a shoemaker\nin his stall, singing away the tunes of well-known musicians. Then our\nstudents strolled on the quays or in the Harbour Square, contemplating\nthe many-coloured sea, this splendour of waters at the setting sun, which\nAugustin will extol one day with an inspiration unknown to the ancient\npoets. Above all, they fell into discussions, commented what they had\nlately read, or built up astonishing plans for the future. So flowed by a\nhappy and charming life, abruptly interpolated with superb anticipations.\nWith what a full heart the Christian penitent calls it back for us!--\"What\ndelighted me in the intercourse of my friends, was the talk, the laughter,\nthe good turns we did each other, the common study of the masters of\neloquence, the comradeship, now grave now gay, the differences that left\nno sting, as of a man differing with himself, the spice of disagreement\nwhich seasoned the monotony of consent. Each by turns would instruct or\nlisten; impatiently we missed the absent friend, and savoured the joy of\nhis return. We loved each other with all our hearts, and such tokens of\nfriendship springing from the heart and displayed by a word, a glance, an\nexpression, by a thousand pretty complaisances, supply the heat which welds\nsouls together, and of many make one.\"\n\nIt is easily understood that such ties as these had given Augustin a\npermanent disgust for his rowdy comrades of a former time: he went no more\nwith \"The Wreckers.\" The small circle he took pleasure in was quiet and\ncheerful. Its merriment was controlled by the African gravity. He and his\nfriends come before my eyes, a little like those students of theology, or\nthose cultivated young Arabs, who discuss poetry, lolling indolently upon\nthe cushions of a divan, while they roll between their fingers the amber\nbeads of their rosary, or walking slowly under the arcades of a mosque,\ndraped in their white-silk simars, with a serious and meditative air,\ngestures elegant and measured, courteous and harmonious speech, and\nsomething discreet, polite, and already clerical in their tone and manners.\n\nIn fact, the life which Augustin was at that time relishing was the pagan\nlife on its best and gentlest side. The subtle network of habits and daily\noccupations enveloped him little by little. There was some risk of his\ngrowing torpid in this soft kind of life, when suddenly a rude shock roused\nhim.... It was a chance, but in his eyes a providential chance, which put\nthe _Hortensius_ of Cicero between his hands. Augustin was about nineteen,\nstill a student; according to the order which prevailed in the schools,\nthe time had come for him to read and explain this philosophical dialogue.\nHe had no curiosity about the book. He took it from his sense of duty as\na student, because it figured on the schedule. He unrolled the book, and\nbegan it, doubtless with calm indifference. All of a sudden, a great\nunexpected light shone between the lines. His heart throbbed. His whole\nsoul sprang towards these phrases, so dazzling and revealing. He awoke\nfrom his long drowsiness. Before him shone a marvellous vision.... As this\ndialogue is lost, we can hardly to-day account for such enthusiasm, and\nwe hold that the Roman orator was a very middling philosopher. We know,\nhowever, through Augustin himself, that the book contained an eloquent\npraise of wisdom. And then, words are naught without the soul of the\nreader; all this, falling into Augustin's soul, rendered a prolonged and\nmagnificent sound. It is evident, too, that just at the moment when he\nunrolled the book he was in a condition to receive this uplifting summons.\nIn such minutes, when the heart, ignorant of itself, swells like the sea\nbefore a storm, when all the inner riches of the being overflow, the\nslightest glimmer is enough to reveal all these imprisoned forces, and the\nleast shock to set them free.\n\nHe has at least preserved for us, in pious and faithful gratitude, some\nphrases of this dialogue which moved him so deeply. Especially does he\nadmire this passage, wherein the author, after a long discussion, ends in\nthese terms: \"If, as pretend the philosophers of old time, who are also\nthe greatest and most illustrious, we have a soul immortal and divine, it\nbehoves us to think, that the more it has persevered in its way, that is to\nsay, in reason, love, and the pursuit of truth, and the less it has been\nintermingled and stained in human error and passion, the easier will it be\nfor it to raise itself and soar again to the skies.\"\n\nSuch phrases, read in a certain state of mind, might well overwhelm this\nyoung man, who was ere long to yearn for the cloister and was destined to\nbe the founder of African monasticism. To give his whole life to the study\nof wisdom, to compel himself towards the contemplation of God, to live\nhere below an almost divine life--this ideal, impossible to pagan wisdom,\nAugustin was called to realize in the name of Christ. That had dawned on\nhim, all at once, while he was reading the _Hortensius_. And this ideal\nappeared to him so beautiful, so well worth the sacrifice of all he had\nhitherto loved, that nothing else counted for him any more. He despised\nrhetoric, the vain studies it compelled him to pursue, the honour and glory\nit promised him. What was all that to the prize of wisdom? For wisdom he\nfelt himself ready to give up the world.... But these heroic outbursts\ndo not, as a rule, keep up very long in natures so changeable and\nimpressionable as Augustin's. Yet they are not entirely thrown away.\nThus, in early youth, come dim revelations of the future. There comes a\npresentiment of the port to which one will some day be sailing; a glimpse\nof the task to fulfil, the work to build up; and all this rises before the\neyes in an entrancement of the whole being. Though the bright image be\neclipsed, perhaps for years, the remembrance of it persists amid the worst\ndegradations or the worst mediocrities. He who one single time has seen it\npass, can never afterwards live quite like other people.\n\nThis fever calmed, Augustin set himself to reflect. The ancient\nphilosophers promised him wisdom. But Christ also promised it! Was it not\npossible to reconcile them? And was not the Gospel ideal essentially more\nhuman than that of the pagan philosophers? Suppose he tried to submit to\nthat, to bring the faith of his childhood into line with his ambitions as a\nyoung man of intellect? To be good after the manner of his mother, of his\ngrandparents, of the good Thagaste servants, of all the humble Christian\nsouls whose virtues he had been taught to respect, and at the same time to\nrival a Plato by the strength of thought--what a dream! Was it possible?...\nHe tells us himself that the illusion was brief, and that he grew cool\nabout the _Hortensius_ because he did not find the name of Christ in it. He\ndeceives himself, probably. At this time he was not so Christian. He yields\nto the temptation of a fine phrase: when he wrote his _Confessions_ he had\nnot yet entirely lost this habit.\n\nBut what remains true is, that feeling the inadequateness of pagan\nphilosophy, he returned for a moment towards Christianity. The Ciceronian\ndialogue, by disappointing his thirst for the truth, gave him the idea of\nknocking at the door of the Church and trying to find out if on that side\nthere might not be a practicable road for him. This is why the reading\nof _Hortensius_ is in Augustin's eyes one of the great dates of his life.\nAlthough he fell back in his errors, he takes credit for his effort.\nHe recognizes in it the first sign, and, as it were, a promise of his\nconversion. \"Thenceforth, my God, began my upward way, and my return\ntowards Thee.\"\n\nHe began then to study the Holy Scriptures with a more or less serious\nintention to instruct himself in them. But to go to the Bible by way of\nCicero was to take the worst road. Augustin got lost there. This direct\npopular style, which only cares about saying things, and not about how they\nare said, could only repel the pupil of Carthage rhetoricians, the imitator\nof the harmonious Ciceronian sentences. Not only had he much too spoiled\na taste in literature, but there was also too much literature in this\npose of a young man who starts off one fine morning to conquer wisdom. He\nwas punished for his lack of sincerity, and especially of humility. He\nunderstood nothing of the Scripture, and \"I found it,\" he says, \"a thing\nnot known to the proud, nor yet laid open to children, but poor in\nappearance, lofty in operation, and veiled in mysteries. At that time, I\nwas not the man to bow my head so as to pass in at its door.\"...\n\nHe grew tired very quickly. He turned his back on the Bible, as he\nhad thrown aside _Hortensius_, and he went to find pasture elsewhere.\nNevertheless, his mind had been set in motion. Nevermore was he to know\nrepose, till he had found truth. He demanded this truth from all the sects\nand all the churches. So it was, that in despair he flung himself into\nManicheeism.\n\nSome have professed amazement that this honest and practical mind should\nhave stuck fast in a doctrine so tortuous, so equivocal, contaminated by\nfancies so grossly absurd. But perhaps it is forgotten that there was\neverything in Manicheeism. The leaders of the sect did not deliver the bulk\nof the doctrine all at once to their catechumens; the entire initiation was\na matter of several degrees. Now Augustin never went higher than a simple\n_auditor_ in the Manichean Church. What attracted specially fine minds to\nthe Manichees, was that they began by declaring themselves rationalists.\nTo reconcile faith with natural science and philosophy has been the fad\nof heresiarchs and free-thinkers in all ages. The Manicheans bragged that\nthey had succeeded. They went everywhere, crying out: \"Truth, Truth!\" That\nsuited Augustin very well: it was just what he was looking for. He hastened\nto the preachings of these humbugs, impatient to receive at last this\n\"truth,\" so noisily announced. From what they said, it was contained in\nseveral large books written by their prophet under the guidance of the Holy\nGhost. There was quite a library of them. By way of bamboozling the crowd,\nthey produced some of them which looked very important, ponderous as\nTables of the Law, richly bound in vellum, and embellished with striking\nilluminations. How was it possible to doubt that the entire revelation was\ncontained in such beautiful books? One felt at once full of respect for a\nreligion which was able to produce in its favour the testimony of such a\nmass of writings.\n\nHowever, the priests did not open them. To allay the impatience of their\nhearers, they amused them by criticizing the books and dogmas of the\nCatholics. This preliminary criticism was the first lesson of their\ninstruction. They pointed out any number of incoherences, absurdities,\nand interpolations in the Bible: according to them, a great part of the\nScriptures had been foisted on the world by the Jews. But they triumphed\nespecially in detecting the contradictions of the Gospel narratives. They\nsapped them with syllogisms. It is easy to understand that these exercises\nin logic should have at once attracted the youthful Augustin. With his\nextraordinary dialectical subtilty, he soon became very good at it\nhimself--much better even than his masters. He made speeches in their\nassemblies, fenced against a text, peremptorily refuted it, and reduced his\nadversaries to silence. He was applauded, covered with praise. A religion\nwhich brought him such successes must be the true one.\n\nAfter he became a bishop, he tried to explain to himself how it was that\nhe fell into Manicheeism, and could find only two reasons. \"The first,\"\nhe says, \"was a friendship which took hold of me under I know not what\nappearance of kindness, and was like a cord about my neck.... The second\nwas those unhappy victories that I almost always won in our disputes.\"\n\nBut there is still another which he mentions elsewhere, and it had\nperhaps the most weight. This was the loose moral code which Manicheeism\nauthorized. This doctrine taught that we are not responsible for the evil\nwe do. Our sins and vices are the work of the evil Principle--the God of\nDarkness, enemy of the God of Light. Now at the moment when Augustin was\nreceived as _auditor_ by the Manichees, he had a special need of excusing\nhis conduct by a moral system so convenient and indulgent. He had just\nformed his connection with her who was to become the mother of his child.\n\n\n\n\nIV\n\nTHE SWEETNESS OF TEARS\n\n\nAugustin was nearly twenty. He had finished his studies in rhetoric within\nthe required time. According to the notions of that age, a young man\nought to have concluded his course by his twentieth year. If not, he was\nconsidered past mending and sent back there and then to his family.\n\nIt may appear surprising that a gifted student like Augustin did not finish\nhis rhetoric course sooner. But after his terms at Madaura, he had lost\nnearly a year at Thagaste. Besides, the life of Carthage had so many charms\nfor him that doubtless he was in no hurry to leave. However that may be,\nthe moment was now come for him to make up his mind about his career.\nThe wishes of his parents, the advice of his masters, as well as his own\nambitions and qualities, urged him, as we know, to become a barrister. But\nnow, suddenly, all his projects for the future changed. Not only did he\ngive up the law, but at the very moment when all appeared to smile on him,\nat the opening of his youth, he left Carthage to go and bury himself as a\nteacher of grammar in the little free-town his birthplace.\n\nAs he has neglected to give any explanation of this sudden determination,\nwe are reduced to conjectures. It is likely that his mother was bothered\nabout household expenses and could no longer afford to keep him at\nCarthage. Besides, she had other children, a son and daughter, to start in\nlife. Augustin was on the point of being, if not poor, at least very hard\nup. He must do something to earn his living, and as quickly as possible.\nIn these conditions, the quickest way out of the difficulty was to sell\nto others what he had bought from his masters. To live, he would open a\nword-shop, as he calls it disdainfully. But as he had only just ceased to\nbe a student, he could not dream of becoming a professor in a great city\nsuch as Carthage, and setting himself up in rivalry to so many celebrated\nmasters. The best thing he could do, if he did not want to vegetate, was to\nfall back on some more modest post. Now his protector, Romanianus, wanted\nhim to go to Thagaste. This rich man had a son almost grown up, whom it was\nnecessary to put as soon as possible in the hands of a tutor. Augustin,\nso often helped by the father, was naturally thought of to look after the\nyouth. Furthermore, Romanianus, who appreciated Augustin's talent, must\nhave been anxious to attract him to Thagaste and keep him there. With an\neye to the interests of his free-town, he desired to have such a shining\nlight in the place. So he asked this young man, whom he patronized, to\nreturn to his native district and open a grammar school. He promised\nhim pupils, and, above all, the support of his influence, which was\nconsiderable, Monnica, as we may conjecture, added her entreaties to those\nof the great head of the Thagaste municipality. Augustin yielded.\n\nDid it grieve him very much to make up his mind to this exile? It must have\nbeen extremely hard for a young man of twenty to give up Carthage and its\npleasures. Moreover, it is pretty nearly certain that at this time he had\nalready started that connection which was to last so long. To leave a\nmistress whom he loved, and that in all the freshness of a passion just\nbeginning--one wonders how he was able to make up his mind to it. And yet\nhe did leave, and spent nearly a year at Thagaste.\n\nOne peculiar mark of the youth, and even of the whole life of Augustin, is\nthe ease with which he unlearns and breaks off his habits--the sentimental\nas well as the intellectual. He used up a good many doctrines before\nresting in the Catholic truth; and even afterwards, in the course of a\nlong life, he contradicted and corrected himself more than once in his\ncontroversies and theological writings. His _Retractations_ prove this. One\nmight say that the accustomed weighs on him as a hindrance to his liberty;\nthat the look of the places where he lives becomes hateful to him as a\nthreat of servitude. He feels dimly that his true country is elsewhere, and\nthat if he must settle anywhere it is in the house of his Heavenly Father.\n_Inquietum est cor nostrum, donec requiescat in te...._ \"Restless are our\nhearts, O my God, until they rest in Thee.\" Long before St. Francis of\nAssisi, he practised the mystic rule: \"As a stranger and a pilgrim.\" It is\ntrue that in his twentieth year he was very far from being a mystic. But he\nalready felt that restlessness which made him cross the sea and roam Italy\nfrom Rome to Milan. He is an impulsive. He cannot resist the mirages of his\nheart or his imagination. He is always ready to leave. The road and its\nchances tempt him. He is eager for the unknown. He lets himself be carried\nin delight by the blowing wind. God calls him; he obeys without knowing\nwhere he goes. This unsettled young man, halting between contrary passions,\nwho feels at home nowhere, has already the soul of an apostle.\n\nThis changeableness of mood was probably the true cause of his departure\nfor Thagaste. But other more apparent reasons, reasons more patent to a\njuvenile consciousness, guided him also. No doubt he was not sorry to\nreappear in his little town, although he was so young, with the importance\nand authority of a master. His former companions were going to become his\npupils. And then the Manichees had fanaticized him. Carried away by the\nneophyte's bubbling zeal, elevated by his triumphs at the public meetings\nin Carthage, he meant to shine before his fellow-countrymen, and perhaps\nconvert them. He departed with his mind made up to proselytize. Let us\nbelieve also, that in spite of his dissolute life, and the new passion that\nfilled his heart, he did not come back to Thagaste without an affectionate\nthought at the back of his head for his mother.\n\nThe reception that Monnica had in reserve for him was going to surprise him\nconsiderably. Since her widowhood, the wife of Patricius had singularly\nadvanced in the way of Christian perfection. The early Church not only\noffered widows the moral help of its sacraments and consolations, it also\ngranted a special dignity with certain privileges to those who made a vow\nto refrain from sex-intercourse. They had in the basilicas, even as the\nconsecrated virgins, a place of honour, divided from that of the other\nmatrons by a balustrade. They wore a special dress. They were obliged to\na conduct which would shew them worthy of all the outer marks of respect\nwhich surrounded them. The austerity of Monnica had increased with the zeal\nof her faith. She set an example to the Church people at Thagaste. Docile\nto the teachings of her priests, eager to serve her brethren, multiplying\nalms as much as she could with her straitened means, she was unfailing at\nthe services of the Church. Twice daily, morning and evening, she might be\nseen, exact to the hour of prayer and sermon. She did not go there, her son\nassures us, to mingle in cabals and the gossip of pious females, but to\nhear God's word in homily, and that God might hear her in prayer.\n\nThe widow compelled all who were about her to the same severe rule which\nshe herself observed. In this rigid atmosphere of his home, the student\nfrom Carthage, with his free, fashionable airs, must have caused a painful\nastonishment. Monnica felt at once that she and her son understood each\nother no longer. She began by remonstrating with him. Augustin rebelled.\nThings got worse when, with his presumption of the young professor\nnew-enamelled by the schools, the harsh and aggressive assurance of the\nheresiarch, he boasted as loud as he could of being a Manichee. Monnica,\ndeeply wounded in her piety and motherly tenderness, ordered him to give up\nhis errors. He refused, and only replied by sarcasms to the poor woman's\ncomplaints. Then she must have believed that the separation was final, that\nAugustin had committed an irreparable crime. Being an African Christian,\nabsolute in her faith and passionate for its defence, she regarded her\nson as a public danger. She was filled with horror at his treason. It is\npossible, too, that guided by the second-sight of her affection, she saw\nclearer into Augustin's heart than he did himself. She was plunged in\nsorrow that he mistook himself to this extent, and refused the Grace which\ndesired to win him to the Catholic unity. And as he was not content with\nlosing himself, but also drew others into peril--disputing, speech-making\nbefore his friends, abusing his power of language to throw trouble into\nconsciences--Monnica finally made up her mind. She forbade her son to eat\nat her table, or to sleep under her roof. She drove him from the house.\n\nThis must have been a big scandal in Thagaste. It does not appear, however,\nthat Augustin cared much. In all the conceit of his false knowledge, he had\nthat kind of inhumanity which drives the intellectual to make litter of the\nsweetest and deepest feelings as a sacrifice to his abstract idol. Not only\ndid he not mind very much if his apostasy made his mother weep, but he did\nnot trouble, either, to reconcile the chimeras of his brain with the living\nreality of his soul and the things of life. Whatever he found inconvenient,\nhe tranquilly denied, content if he had talked well and entangled his\nadversary in the net of his syllogisms.\n\nPut in interdict by Monnica, he simply went and quartered himself on\nRomanianus. The sumptuous hospitality he received there very soon consoled\nhim for his exile from his home. And if his self-esteem had been affronted,\nthe pride of living familiarly with so important a personage was, for a\nvain young man, a very full compensation.\n\nIn fact, this Romanianus roused the admiration of the whole country by his\nluxury and lavish expenditure. He was bound to ruin himself in the long\nrun, or, at any rate, to raise up envious people bent upon his ruin. Being\nat the head of the Decurions, he was the protector, not only of Thagaste,\nbut of the neighbouring towns. He was the great patron, the influential\nman, who had nearly the whole country for his dependents. The town council,\nthrough gratitude and flattery, had had his name engraved upon tables of\nbrass, and had put up statues to him. It had even conferred powers on him\nwider than municipal powers. The truth is that Romanianus did not dole\nout his benefactions to his fellow-citizens. He gave them bear-fights and\nother spectacles till then unknown at Thagaste. He did not grudge public\nbanquets, and every day a free meal was to be got at his house. The guests\nwere served plentifully. After having eaten his dinner, they dipped in\nthe purse of the host. Romanianus knew the art of doing an obliging thing\ndiscreetly, and even how to anticipate requests which might be painful. So\nhe was proclaimed unanimously, \"the most humane, the most liberal, the most\npolite and happiest of men.\"\n\nGenerous to his dependents, he did not forget himself. He built a villa\nwhich, by the space it occupied, was a real palace, with _therm\u00e6_ walled\nin precious marbles. He passed his time in the baths, or gaming, or\nhunting--in short, he led the life of a great landed proprietor of those\ndays.\n\nNo doubt these villas had neither the beauty nor the art-value of the great\nItalian villas, which were a kind of museums in a pretty, or grand, natural\nframe; but they did not lack charm. Some of them, like that of Romanianus,\nwere built and decorated at lavish expense. Immensely large, they took\nin sometimes an entire village; and sometimes, also, the villa, properly\nspeaking, the part of the building where the master dwelt, was fortified,\nclosed in by walls and towers like a feudal castle. Upon the outer gates\nand the entrance door might be read in big letters: \"The Property of\nSo-and-so.\" Often, the inscription was repeated upon the walls of an\nenclosure or of a farm, which really belonged to a dependent of the great\nman. Under the shelter of the lord's name, these small-holders defended\nthemselves better against fiscal tyranny, or were included in the\nimmunities of their patrons. So was formed, under the cover of patronage,\na sort of African feudalism. Augustin's father, who owned vineyards, was\ncertainly a vassal of Romanianus.\n\nAs the African villa was a centre of agricultural activity, it maintained\non the estate a whole population of slaves, workmen, and small-holders.\nThe chief herdsman's house neighboured that of the forester. Through\ndeer-parks, enclosed by latticed fences, wandered gazelles. Oil factories,\nvats and cellars for wine, ran on from the bath-buildings and the offices.\nThen there was the main building with its immense doorway, its belvedere of\nmany stories, as in the Roman villas, its interior galleries, and wings to\nthe right and left of the _atrium_. In front lay the terraces, the gardens\nwith straight walks formed by closely-clipped hedges of box which led to\npools and jets of water, to arbours covered with ivy, to nymph-fountains\nornamented with columns and statues. In these gardens was a particular\nplace called the \"philosopher's corner.\" The mistress of the house used to\ngo there to read or dream. Her chair, or folding-seat, was placed under the\nshade of a palm tree. Her \"philosopher\" followed her, holding her parasol\nand leading her little favourite dog.\n\nIt is easy to realize that Augustin managed to stand his mother's severity\nwithout overmuch distress in one of these fine country houses. To be\ncomfortable there, he had only to follow his natural inclination, which\nwas, he tells us, epicureanism. It is most certain that at this period\nthe only thing he cared about and sought after was pleasure. Staying\nwith Romanianus, he took his share in all the pleasant things of life,\n_suavitates illius vit\u00e6_--shared the amusements of his host, and only\nbothered about his pupils when he had nothing better to do. He must have\nbeen as little of a grammarian as possible--he hadn't the time. With\nthe tyrannical friendship of rich people, who are hard put to it to\nfind occupation, Romanianus doubtless monopolized him from morning till\nnight. They hunted together, or dined, or read poetry, or discussed in\nthe evergreen alleys of the garden or \"the philosopher's corner.\" And\nnaturally, the recent convert to Manicheeism did his best to indoctrinate\nand convert his patron--so far at least as a careless man like Romanianus\ncould be converted. Augustin accuses himself of having \"flung\" Romanianus\ninto his own errors. Augustin probably was not so guilty. His wealthy\nfriend does not seem to have had any very firm convictions. In all\nlikelihood, he was a pagan, a sceptical or hesitating pagan, such\nas existed in numbers at that time. Led by Augustin, he drew near to\nManicheeism. Then, when Augustin gave up Manicheeism for Platonic\nphilosophy, we see Romanianus take the airs of a philosopher. Later, when\nAugustin came back to Catholicism, he drew Romanianus in his wake towards\nthat religion. This man of fashion was one of those frivolous people who\nnever go deep into things, for whom ideas are only a pastime, and who\nconsider philosophers or men of letters as amusers. But it is certain\nthat he liked to listen to Augustin, and let himself be influenced. If he\ntrifled with Manicheeism, the reason was that Augustin dazzled him with his\narguments and fine phrases. This orator of twenty had already extraordinary\ncharm.\n\nSo Augustin led a delightful life with Romanianus. Everything pleased\nhim--his talking triumphs, the admiration of his hearers, the flattery\nand luxury which surrounded him. Meanwhile, Monnica was plunged in grief\nat his conduct, and implored God to draw him from his errors. She began\nto be sorry that she had sent him away, and with the clear-sightedness of\nthe Christian, she perceived that Romanianus' house was not good for the\nprodigal. It would be better to have him back. Near her he would run less\nrisk of being corrupted. Through intense praying, came to her a dream\nwhich quickened her determination. \"She dreamed that she was weeping and\nlamenting, with her feet planted on a wooden rule, when she saw coming\ntowards her a radiant youth who smiled upon her cheerfully. He asked the\nreason of her sorrow and her daily tears ... and when she told him she was\nbewailing my perdition, he bade her be of good comfort, look and see, for\nwhere she was, there was I also. She looked, and saw me standing by her\nside on the same rule.\"\n\nFilled with joy by this promise from on high, Monnica asked her son to\ncome home. He did come back, but with the quibbles of the Sophist, the\nrhetorician cavilled against his mother. He tried to upset her happiness.\nHe said to her:\n\n\"Since, according to your dream, we are to be both standing on the same\nrule, that means that you are going to be a Manichean.\"\n\n\"No,\" answered Monnica. \"_He_ did not say, where he is you will be, but\nwhere you are he will be.\"\n\nAugustin confesses that this strong good sense made a certain impression\non him. Nevertheless he did not change. For still nine years he remained a\nManichee.\n\nAs a last resource, Monnica begged a bishop she knew, a man deeply read in\nthe Scriptures, to speak with her son and refute his errors. But so great\nwas the reputation of Augustin as an orator and dialectician that the holy\nman dared not try a fall with such a vigorous jouster. He answered the\nmother very wisely, that a mind so subtle and acute could not long continue\nin such gross sophisms. And he offered his own example, for he, too, had\nbeen a Manichee. But Monnica pressed him with entreaties and tears. At last\nthe bishop, annoyed by her persistence, but at the same time moved by her\ntears, answered with a roughness mingled with kindness and compassion:\n\n\"Go, go! Leave me alone. Live on as you are living. It cannot be that the\nson of such tears should be lost.\"\n\n_Filius istarum lacrymarum_: the son of such tears!... Was it indeed the\ncountry bishop, or rather the rhetorician Augustin who, in a burst of\ngratitude, hit upon this sublime sentence? Certain it is that later on\nAugustin saw in his mother's tears as it were a first baptism whence he\ncame forth regenerate. After having borne him according to the flesh,\nMonnica, by her tears and moans, gave him birth into the spiritual life.\nMonnica wept because of Augustin. Monnica wept for Augustin. This is rather\nastonishing in the case of so severe a mother--this African a trifle\nrough. The expressions--tears and moans and weeping--occur so often in\nher son's writings, that we are at first tempted to take them for pious\nmetaphors--figures of a sacred rhetoric. We suspect that Monnica's tears\nmust come from the Bible, an imitation of King David's penitential tears.\nBut it would be quite an error to believe that. Monnica wept real tears.\nIn her whole-hearted prayers she bedewed the pavement of the basilica; she\nmoistened the balustrade against which she leant her forehead. This austere\nwoman, this widow whose face nobody saw any more, whose body was shapeless\nby reason of the mass of stuffs, grey and black, which wrapped her from\nhead to foot--this rigid Christian concealed a heart full of love. Love\nsuch as this was then a perfectly new thing.\n\nThat an African woman should carry her piety to the point of fanaticism;\nthat she should work to conquer her son to her faith; that, if he strayed\nfrom it, she should hate him and drive him out with curses--this has been\nseen in Africa at all times. But that a mother should mourn at the thought\nthat her child is lost for another life; that she grows terror-stricken and\ndespairing when she thinks that she may possess a happiness in which he\nwill have no part, and walk in the gardens of Heaven while her child will\nnot be there--no, this had never been seen before. \"Where I am you will\nbe,\" near me, against my heart, our two hearts meeting in the one same\nlove--in this union of souls, continued beyond the grave, lies all the\nChristian sweetness and hope.\n\nAugustin was no longer, or not yet, a Christian. But in his tears he is\nthe true son of his mother. This gift of tears that Saint Lewis of France\nbegged God with so much earnestness and contrition to grant him, Monnica's\nson had to the full. \"For him to weep was a pleasure.\" [1] He inebriated\nhimself with his tears. Now, just while he was at Thagaste, he lost a\nfriend whom he loved intensely. This death set free the fountain of tears.\nThey are not yet the holy tears which he will shed later before God, but\nonly poor human tears, more pathetic perhaps to our own weakness.\n\n[Footnote 1: Sainte-Beuve.]\n\nWho was this friend? He tells us in very vague terms. We only know that\nthey had grown up as boys together and had gone to the same schools; that\nthey had just passed a year together, probably at Carthage; that this young\nman, persuaded by him, was become a Manichee; and that, in a word, they\nloved passionately. Augustin, while speaking of him, recalls in a deeper\nsense what Horace said of his friend Virgil: _dimidium anim\u00e6_--\"O thou half\nof my soul!\"\n\nWell, this young man fell gravely sick of a fever. As all hope was at an\nend, they baptized him, according to the custom. He grew better, was almost\ncured, \"As soon as I was able to talk to him,\" says Augustin--\"and that was\nas soon as he could bear it, for I never left his side, and we were bound\nup in one another--I ventured a jest, thinking that he would jest too,\nabout the baptism which he had received, when he could neither think nor\nfeel. But by this time he had been told of his baptism. He shrank from\nme as from an enemy, and with a wonderful new-found courage, warned me\nnever to speak so to him again, if I wished to remain his friend. I was\nso astounded and confused that I said no more, resolving to wait till\nhe should regain his strength, _when I would tell him frankly what I\nthought_.\"\n\nSo, at this serious moment, he whom they called \"the Carthaginian disputer\"\nwas sorry not to be able to measure himself in a bout of dialectics with\nhis half-dead friend. The intellectual poison had so perverted his mind,\nthat it almost destroyed in him the feelings of common decency. But if his\nhead, as he acknowledges, was very much spoiled, his heart remained intact.\nHis friend died a few days after, and Augustin was not there. He was\nstunned by it.\n\nHis grief wrought itself up to wildness and despair. \"This sorrow fell like\ndarkness on my heart, and wherever I looked I saw nothing but death. My\ncountry became a torture, my father's house a misery. All the pleasures\nthat I had shared with him, turned into hideous anguish now that he was\ngone. My eyes sought for him everywhere, and found him not. I hated the\nfamiliar scenes because he was not there, and they could no more cry to\nme, 'Lo! he will come.' as they used when he was absent but alive....\"\nThen Augustin began to weep louder, he prolonged his weeping, finding\nconsolation only in tears. Monnica's tenderness was restrained; in him it\nwas given full vent and exaggerated. At that time, the Christian moderation\nwas unknown to him, as well as the measure which the good taste of the\nancients prompted. He has often been compared to the most touching\ngeniuses, to Virgil, to Racine, who had also the gift of tears. But\nAugustin's tenderness is more abandoned, and, so to speak, more romantic.\nIt even works up, sometimes, into an unhealthy excitement.\n\nTo be full of feeling, as Augustin was then, is not only to feel with\nexcessive sensitiveness the least wounds, the slightest touches of love or\nhate, nor is it only to give oneself with transport; but it is especially\nto take delight in the gift of oneself, to feel at the moment of full\nabandonment that one is communicating with something infinitely sweet,\nwhich already has ceased to be the creature loved. It is love for love, it\nis to weep for the pleasure of tears, it is to mix with tenderness a kind\nof egoism avid of experiences. Having lost his friend, Augustin loathes all\nthe world. He repeats: \"Tears were my only comfort. I was wretched, and\nmy wretchedness was dear to me.\" And accordingly, he did not want to be\nconsoled. But as, little by little, the terrors of that parting subsided,\nhe perceived himself that he played with grief and made a joy of his\ntears. \"My tears,\" he says, \"were dearer to me than my friend had been.\"\nBy degrees the friend is almost forgotten. Though Augustin may hate life\nbecause his friend has gone, he confesses naively that he would not have\nsacrificed his existence for the sake of the dead. He surmises that what\nis told of Orestes and Pylades contending to die for each other is but a\nfable. Ultimately, he comes to write: \"Perhaps I feared to die, _lest the\nother half of him whom I had loved so dearly, should perish_.\" He himself,\nin his _Retractations_, condemns this phrase as pure rhetoric. It remains\ntrue that what was perhaps the deepest sorrow of his life--this sorrow so\nsincere and painful which had \"rent and bloodied his soul\"--ended with a\nstriking phrase.\n\nIt should be added, that in a stormy nature like his, grief, like love,\nwears itself out quickly. It burns up passion and sentiment as it does\nideas. When at length he regained his calm, everything appeared drab.\nThagaste became intolerable. With his impulsive temperament, his changeable\nhumour, he all at once hit upon a plan: To go back to Carthage and open a\nrhetoric school. Perhaps, too, the woman he loved and had abandoned there\nwas pressing him to return. Perhaps she told him that she was about to\nbecome a mother. Always ready to go away, Augustin scarcely hesitated.\nIt is more than likely that he did not consult Monnica. He only told\nRomanianus, who, as he had all kinds of reasons for wanting to keep\nAugustin at Thagaste, at first strongly objected. But the young man pointed\nto his future, his ambition to win fame. Was he going to bury all that in a\nlittle town?\n\nRomanianus yielded, and with a generosity that is no longer seen, he paid\nthe expenses this time too.\n\n\n\n\nV\n\nTHE SILENCE OF GOD\n\n\nAugustin was going to live nine years at Carthage--nine years that he\nsquandered in obscure tasks, in disputes sterile or unfortunate for himself\nand others--briefly, in an utter forgetfulness of his true vocation. \"And\nduring this time Thou wert silent, O my God!\" he cries, in recalling only\nthe faults of his early youth. Now, the silence of God lay heavy. And yet\neven in those years his tormented soul had not ceased to appeal. \"Where\nwert Thou then, O my God, while I looked for Thee? Thou wert before me. But\nI had drawn away from myself and I could not find myself. How much less,\nthen, could I find Thee.\"\n\nThis was certainly the most uneasy, and, at moments, the most painful time\nof his life. Hardly was he got back to Carthage than he had to struggle\nagainst ever-increasing money difficulties. Not only had he to get his\nown living, but the living of others--possibly his mother's and that of\nhis brother and sister--at all events, he had to support his mistress and\nthe child. It is possible that the infant was born before its father left\nThagaste; if not, the birth must have occurred shortly after.\n\nThe child was called Adeodatus. There is a kind of irony in this name,\nwhich was then usual, of Adeodatus--\"Gift of God.\" This son of his sin, as\nAugustin calls him, this son whom he did not want, and the news of whose\nbirth must have been a painful shock--this poor child was a gift of Heaven\nwhich the father could have well done without. And then, when he saw him,\nhe was filled with joy, and he cherished him as a real gift from God.\n\nHe accepted his fatherhood courageously, and, as it happens in such\ncases, he was drawn closer to his mistress, their association taking on\nsomething of conjugal dignity. Did the mother of Adeodatus justify such\nattachment--an attachment which was to last more than ten years? The\nmystery in which Augustin intended that the woman he had loved the most\nshould remain enveloped for all time, is nearly impenetrable to us. No\ndoubt she was of a very humble, not to say low class, since Monnica judged\nit impossible to bring about a marriage between the ill-assorted pair.\nThere must have been an extreme inequality between the birth and education\nof the lovers. This did not prevent Augustin from loving his mistress\npassionately, for her beauty perhaps, or perhaps for her goodness of heart,\nor both. Nevertheless, it is surprising, that in view of his changing\nhumour, and his prompt and impressionable soul, he remained faithful to\nher so long. What was to prevent his taking his son and going off? Ancient\ncustom authorized such an act. But Augustin was tender-hearted. He was\nafraid to cause pain; he dreaded for others the wounds that caused him so\nmuch suffering himself. So he stayed on from kindness, from pity, habit\ntoo, and also because, in spite of everything, he loved the mother of his\nchild. Up to the time of his conversion, they lived like husband and wife.\n\nSo now, to keep his family, he really turns \"a dealer in words.\" In spite\nof his youth (he was barely twenty) the terms he had kept at Thagaste as\na teacher of grammar allowed him to take his place among the rhetoricians\nat Carthage. Thanks to Romanianus, he got pupils at once. His protector at\nThagaste sent his son, that young Licentius whose education Augustin had\nalready begun, with one of his brothers, doubtless younger. It seems likely\nthat the two youths lived in Augustin's house. A small fact which their\nmaster has preserved, looks like a proof of this. A spoon having been lost\nin the house, Augustin, to find out where it was, told Licentius to go\nand consult a wizard, one Albicerius, who had, just then, a great name in\nCarthage. This message is scarcely to be explained unless we suppose the\nlad was lodging in his professor's house. Another of the pupils is known to\nus. This is Eulogius, who was later on a rhetorician at Carthage, and of\nwhom Augustin relates an extraordinary dream. Finally, there was Alypius,\na little younger than himself, his friend--\"the brother of his heart,\" as\nhe calls him. Alypius had been attending his lessons at Thagaste. When the\nschoolmaster abruptly threw up his employment, the father of the pupil\nwas angry, and in sending his son to Carthage, he forbade him to go near\nAugustin's class. But it was difficult to keep such eager friends apart.\nLittle by little, Alypius overcame his father's objections, and became a\npupil of his friend.\n\nAugustin's knowledge, when he began to lecture, could not have been very\ndeep, for he had only lately quitted the student's bench himself. His\nduties forced him to learn what he did not know. In teaching he taught\nhimself. It was at this time that he did most of the reading which\nafterwards added substance to his polemics and treatises. He tells us\nhimself that he read in those days all that he could lay hands on. He is\nvery proud of having read by himself and understood without any assistance\nfrom a master, the _Ten Categories_ of Aristotle, which was considered one\nof the most abstruse works of the Stagirite. In an age when instruction was\nprincipally by word of mouth, and books comparatively rare, it is obvious\nthat Augustin was not what we call an \"all-devouring reader.\" We do not\nknow if Carthage had many libraries, or what the libraries were worth. It\nis no less true that the author of _The City of God_ is the last of the\nLatin writers who had a really all-round knowledge. It is he who is the\nlink between modern times and pagan antiquity. The Middle Age hardly knew\nclassical literature, save by the allusions and quotations of Augustin.\n\nSo in spite of family and professional cares, he did not lose his\nintellectual proclivities. The conquest of truth remained always his great\nambition. He still hoped to find it in Manicheeism, but he began to think\nthat it was a long time coming. The leaders of the sect could not have\ntrusted him thoroughly. They feared his acute and subtle mind, so quick\nto detect the flaw in a thesis or argument. That is why they postponed\nhis initiation into their secret doctrines. Augustin remained a simple\n_auditor_ in their Church. By way of appeasing the enormous activity of\nhis intelligence, they turned him on to controversy, and the critical\ndiscussion of the Scriptures. Giving themselves out for Christians, they\nadopted a part of them, and flung aside as interpolated or forged all that\nwas not in tune with their theology. Augustin, as we know, triumphed in\ndisputes of this kind, and was vain because he excelled in them.\n\nAnd when he grew tired of this negative criticism and asked his evangelists\nto give him more substantial food, they put him on some exoteric doctrine\ncalculated to appeal to a young imagination by its poetic or philosophical\ncolouring. The catechumen was not satisfied, but he put up with it for\nlack of anything better. Very prettily he compares these enemies of the\nScriptures to the snarers of birds, who defile or fill with earth all the\nwater-places where the birds use to drink, save one mere; and about this\nthey set their snares. The birds all fly there, not because the water\nis better, but because there is no other water, and they know not where\nelse to go and drink. So Augustin, not knowing where to quench his thirst\nfor truth, was fain to make the best of the confused pantheism of the\nManichees.\n\nWhat remains noteworthy is, that however unstable his own convictions were,\nhe yet converted everybody about him. It was through him that his friends\nbecame Manichees: Alypius one of the first; then Nebridius, the son of a\ngreat landowner near Carthage; Honoratius, Marcianus; perhaps, too, the\nyoungest of his pupils, Licentius and his brother--all victims of his\npersuasive tongue, which he exerted later on to draw them back from their\nerrors. So great was his charm--so deep, especially, was public credulity!\n\nThis fourth century was no longer a century of strong Christian faith. On\nthe other hand, the last agony of paganism was marked by a new attack of\nthe lowest credulity and superstition. As the Church energetically combated\nboth one and the other, it is not surprising that it was chiefly the\npagans who were contaminated. The old religion was to end by foundering in\nmagic. The greatest minds of the period, the neo-Platonists, the Emperor\nJulian himself, were miracle-workers, or at any rate, adepts in the occult\nsciences. Augustin, who was then separated from Christianity, followed the\ngeneral impulse, together with the young men he knew. Just now we saw him\nsending to consult the soothsayer, Albicerius, about the loss of a spoon.\nAnd this man of intellect believed also in astrologers and nigromancers.\n\nStrips of lead have been found at Carthage upon which are written magic\nspells against horses entered for races in the circus. Just like the\nCarthaginian jockeys, Augustin had recourse to these hidden and fraudulent\npractices, to make sure of success. On the eve of a verse competition in\nthe theatre, he fell in with a wizard who offered, if they could agree\nabout the price, to sacrifice a certain number of animals to buy the\nvictory. Upon this, Augustin, very much annoyed, declared that if the prize\nwere a crown of immortal gold, not a fly should be sacrificed to help him\nwin it. Really, magic was repellent to the honesty of his mind, as well\nas to his nerves, by reason of the suspicious and brutal part of its\noperations. As a rule, it was involved with haruspicy, and had a side of\nsacred anatomy and the kitchen which revolted the sensitive--dissection\nof flesh, inspection of entrails, not to mention the slaughtering and\nstrangling of victims. Fanatics, such as Julian, gave themselves up with\ndelight to these disgusting manipulations. What we know of Augustin's soul\nmakes it quite clear why he recoiled with horror.\n\nAstrology, on the contrary, attracted him by its apparent science. Its\nadepts called themselves \"mathematicians,\" and thus seemed to borrow from\nthe exact sciences something of their solidity. Augustin often discussed\nastrology with a Carthage physician, Vindicianus, a man of great sense\nand wide learning, who even reached Proconsular honours. In vain did he\npoint out to the young rhetorician that the pretended prophecies of the\nmathematicians were the effect of chance; in vain did Nebridius, less\ncredulous than his friend, join his arguments to those of the crafty\nphysician; Augustin clung obstinately to his chimera. His dialectical mind\ndiscovered ingenious justifications for what the astrologers claimed.\n\nThus, dazzled by all the intellectual phantasms, he strayed from one\nscience to another, repeating meanwhile in his heart the motto of his\nManichean masters: \"The Truth, the Truth!\". But whatever might be the\nattractions of the speculative life, he had first to face the needs of\nactual life. The sight of his child called him back to a sense of his\nposition. To get money, and for that purpose to push himself forward, put\nhimself in evidence, increase his reputation--Augustin worked at that as\nhard as he could. It led him to enter for the prize of dramatic poetry.\nHe was declared the winner. His old friend, the physician Vindicianus, who\nwas then Proconsul, placed the crown, as he says, upon his \"disordered\nhead.\" The future Father of the Church writing for the theatre--and what a\ntheatre it was then!--is not the least extraordinary thing in this life so\ndisturbed and, at first sight, so contradictory.\n\nIt was also from literary ambition that about the same time he wrote a book\non \u00e6sthetics called _Upon the Beautiful and the Fit_, which he dedicated to\na famous colleague, the Syrian Hierius, \"orator to the City of Rome,\" one\nof the professors of the official education appointed either by the Roman\nmunicipality or the Imperial treasury. This Levantine rhetorician had an\nimmense success in the capital of the Empire. His renown had got beyond\nacademical and fashionable circles and crossed the sea. Augustin admired\nhim on trust, like everybody else. It is clear that, at this time he could\nnot imagine a more glorious fortune for himself than to become, like\nHierius, orator to the City of Rome. Later in life, the Bishop of Hippo,\nwhile condemning the vanity of his youthful ambitions, must have made some\nextremely ironical reflections as to their modesty. How mistaken he was\nabout himself! An Augustin had dreamed of equalling one day this obscure\npedagogue, of whom nobody, save for him, would ever have spoken again. Men\nof instinct, like Augustin, continually go wrong in this way about their\nobject and the means to employ. But their mistakes are only in appearance.\nA will stronger than their own leads them, by mysterious ways, whither they\nought to go.\n\nThis first book of Augustin's is lost, and we are unable to say whether\nthere be any reason to regret it. He himself recalls it to us in a very\nindifferent tone and rather vague terms. It would seem, however, that his\n\u00e6sthetic had a basis of Manichean metaphysics. But what is significant for\nus, in this youthful essay, is that the first time Augustin wrote as an\nauthor it was to define and to praise Beauty. He did not yet know, at least\nnot directly from the text, the dialogues of Plato, and he is already\ninclined to Platonism. He was this by nature. His Christianity will be a\nreligion all of light and beauty. For him, the supreme Beauty is identical\nwith the supreme Love. \"Do we love anything,\" he used to say to his\nfriends, \"except what is beautiful?\" _Num amamus aliquid, nisi pulchrum?_\nAgain, at the end of his life, when he strives in _The City of God_ to\nmake clear for us the dogma of the resurrection of the body, he thinks our\nbodies shall rise free from all earthly flaws, in all the splendour of the\nperfect human type. Nothing of the body will be lost. It will keep all its\nlimbs and all its organs _because they are beautiful_. One recognizes in\nthis passage, not only the Platonist, but the traveller and art-lover, who\nhad gazed upon some of the finest specimens of ancient statuary.\n\nThis first book had hardly any success. Augustin does not even say whether\nthe celebrated Hierius paid him a compliment about it, and he has an air\nof giving us to understand that he had no other admirer but himself. New\ndisappointments, more serious mortifications, changed little by little his\nstate of mind and his plans for the future. He was obliged to acknowledge\nthat after years of effort he was scarcely more advanced than at the start.\nThere was no chance to delude himself with vain pretences: it was quite\nplain to everybody that the rhetorician Augustin was not a success. Now,\nwhy was this? Was it that he lacked the gift of teaching? Perhaps he had\nnot the knack of keeping order, which is the most indispensable of all\nfor a schoolmaster. What suited him best no doubt was a small and select\naudience which he charmed rather than ruled. Large and noisy classes he\ncould not manage. At Carthage, these rhetoric classes were particularly\ndifficult to keep in order, because the students were more rowdy than\nelsewhere. At any moment \"The Wreckers\" might burst in and make a row.\nAugustin, who had not joined in these \"rags\" when he was a student, saw\nhimself obliged to endure them as a professor. He had nothing worse to\ncomplain of than his fellow-professors, in whose classes the same kind of\ndisturbance took place. That was the custom and, in a manner of speaking,\nthe rule in the Carthage schools. For all that, a little more authoritative\nbearing would not have harmed him in the eyes of these disorderly boys. But\nhe had still graver defects for a professor who wants to get on: he was not\na schemer, and he could not make the most of himself.\n\nIt is quite possible that he did not possess the qualities which just then\npleased the pagan public in a rhetorician. The importance that the ancients\nattached to physical advantages in an orator is well known. Now, according\nto an old tradition, Augustin was a little man and not strong: till the end\nof his life he complained of his health. He had a weak voice, a delicate\nchest, and was often hoarse. Surely this injured him before audiences used\nto all the outward emphasis and all the studied graces of Roman eloquence.\nFinally, his written and spoken language had none of those brilliant and\ningenious curiosities of phrase which pleased in literary and fashionable\ncircles. This inexhaustibly prolific writer is not in the least a stylist.\nIn this respect he is inferior to Apuleius, or Tertullian, though he leaves\nthem far behind in the qualities of sincere and deep sentiment, poetic\nflow, colour, the vividness of metaphor, and, besides, the emotion, the\nsuavity of the tone. With all that, no matter how hard he tried, he could\nnever grasp what the rhetoricians of his time understood by style. This is\nwhy his writings, as well as his addresses, were not very much liked.\n\nNevertheless, good judges recognized his value, and guessed the powers,\nlying still unformed within him, which he was misusing ere they were\nmature. He was received at the house of the Proconsul Vindicianus, who\nliked to talk with him, and treated him with quite fatherly kindness.\nAugustin knew people in the best society. He did all his life. His charm\nand captivating manners made him welcome in the most exclusive circles.\nBut just because he was valued by fashionable society, it came home to him\nmore painfully that he had not the position he deserved with the public\nat large. Little by little his humour grew bitter. In this angry state of\nmind he was no longer able to consider things with the same confidence and\nserenity. His mental disquietudes took hold of him again.\n\nHis ideas were affected, first of all. He began to have doubts, more\nand more definite, about Manicheeism. He began by suspecting the rather\ntheatrical austerity which the initiated of the sect made such a great\nparade of. Among other turpitudes, he saw one day in one of the busiest\nparts of Carthage \"three of the Elect whinny after some women or other who\nwere passing, and begin making such obscene signs that they surpassed the\ncoarsest people for impudence and shamelessness.\" He was scandalized at\nthat; but, after all, it was a small thing. He himself was not so very\nvirtuous then. Generally your intellectual worries very little about\nsquaring his conduct with his principles, and does not bother about the\npractical part. No; what was much worse in his eyes is that the Manichean\nphysical science, a congeries of fables more or less symbolical, suddenly\nstruck him as ruinous. He had just been studying astronomy, and he found\nthat the cosmology of the Manichees--of these men who called themselves\nmaterialists--did not agree with scientific facts. Therefore Manicheeism\nmust be wrong universally, since it ran counter to reason confirmed by\nexperience.\n\nAugustin spoke about his doubts, not only to his friends, but to the\npriests of his sect. These got out of the difficulty by evasions and the\nmost dazzling promises. A Manichee bishop, a certain Faustus, was coming\nto Carthage. He was a man of immense learning. Most certainly he would\nrefute every objection without the least trouble. He would confirm the\nyoung _auditors_ in their faith.... So Augustin and his friends waited for\nFaustus as for a Messiah. Their disappointment was immense. The supposed\ndoctor turned out to be an ignorant man, who possessed no tincture of\nscience or philosophy, and whose intellectual baggage consisted of nothing\nbut a little grammar. A delightful talker and a wit, the most he could do\nwas to discourse pleasantly on literature.\n\nThis disappointment, joined to the set-backs in his profession, brought\nabout a crisis of soul and conscience in Augustin. So this Truth which he\nhad sighed after so long, which had been so much promised to him, was only\na decoy! One must be content not to know!... Then what was left to do since\ntruth was unapproachable? Possibly fortune and honours would console him\nfor it. But he was far enough from them too. He felt that he was on the\nwrong road, that he was getting into a rut at Carthage, as he had got into\na rut at Thagaste. He must succeed, whatever the cost!... And then he gave\nway to one of those moments of weariness, when a man has no further hope of\nsaving himself save by some desperate step. He was sick of where he was and\nof those about him. His friends, whom he knew too well, had nothing more\nto teach him, and could not help him in the only search which passionately\ninterested him. And his entanglement became irksome. Here was nine years\nthat this sharing of bed and board had lasted. His son was at that\nunattractive age which rather bores a young father than it revives an\naffection already old. No doubt he did not want to abandon him. He did not\nintend to break altogether with his mistress. But he felt the need of a\nchange of air, to take himself off somewhere else, where he could breathe\nmore freely and get fresh courage for his task.\n\nThen it dawned on him to try his fortune at Rome. It was there that\nliterary reputations were made. He would find there, no doubt, better\njudges than at Carthage. He would very likely end by getting a post in the\npublic instruction, with a steady salary--this would relieve him of present\nworries, at all events. Probably he had already this plan in his head when\nhe sent his treatise _On the Beautiful_ to Hierius, orator to the City of\nRome; he thought that by this politeness he might depend, later, on the\nbacking of the well-known rhetorician. Lastly, his friends, Honoratius,\nMarcianus, and the others, earnestly persuaded him to go and find a stage\nworthy of him at Rome. Alypius, who was at this time finishing his law\nstudies there, and must have felt their separation, pressed him to come to\nRome and promised him success.\n\nOnce more, Augustin was ready to go away. He was not long in making up his\nmind. He was going to leave all belonging to him, his mistress, his child,\ntill the time when his new position would enable him to send for them. He\nhimself tells us that the chief motive which led him to decide on this\njourney was that the Roman students were said to be better disciplined\nand less noisy than the students at Carthage. Evidently, that is a reason\nwhich would weigh with a professor who objected to act the policeman in his\nclass. But besides the reasons we have given, there were others which must\nhave influenced his decision. Theodosius had lately ordered very heavy\npenalties against the Manichees. Not only did he condemn them to death, but\nhe had instituted a perfect Inquisition, with the special duty of spying\nupon and prosecuting these heretics. Did it occur to Augustin that he might\nhide better in Rome, where he was unknown, than in a city where he was a\nmarked man on account of his proselytizing zeal? In any case, his departure\ngave rise to calumnies which his adversaries, the Donatists, did not\nfail many years later to bring up again and make worse. They accused him\nof having run away from prosecution; he fled the country, so they said,\non account of a judgment which was out against him, pronounced by the\nProconsul Messianus. Augustin had no trouble in refuting these false\ninsinuations. But all these facts seem to prove that the most ordinary\nprudence warned him to cross the sea as soon as possible.\n\nAccordingly, he prepared to set sail. Let us hope that in spite of his\nlofty indifference to material things, he made some provision for the\nexistence of the woman and child he left behind. As for her, she appeared\nto agree without over-many violent scenes to this parting, which, he said,\nwas temporary. It was not the same with his mother. The very idea of Rome,\nwhich seemed to her another Babylon, terrified this austere African woman.\nWhat spiritual dangers lay in wait for her son there! She wanted to keep\nhim near her, both to bring him to the faith and also to love him--this\nAugustin who had been her only human love. And then he was doubtless the\nchief support of the widow. Without him, what was going to become of her?\n\nThe fugitive was forced to put a trick on Monnica so as to carry out his\nplan. She would not leave him a moment, folded him in her arms, implored\nhim with tears not to go. The night he was to sail she followed him down to\nthe dock, although Augustin, to allay her suspicions, had told her a lie.\nHe pretended that he was only going down to the ship with a friend to see\nhim off. But Monnica, only half believing, followed. Night fell. Meanwhile,\nthe ship, anchored in a little bay to the north of the city, did not move.\nThe sailors were waiting till a wind rose to slip their moorings. The\nweather was moist and oppressive, as it usually is in the Mediterranean in\nAugust and September. There was not a breath of air. The hours passed on.\nMonnica, overcome by heat and fatigue, could hardly stand. Then Augustin\ncunningly persuaded her to go and pass the night in a chapel hard by, since\nit was plain that the ship would not weigh anchor till dawn. After many\nremonstrances, she at length agreed to rest in this chapel--a _memoria_\nconsecrated to St. Cyprian, the great martyr and patron of Carthage.\n\nLike most of the African sanctuaries of those days, and the _marabouts_\nof to-day, this one must have been either surrounded, or approached, by a\ncourt with a portico in arcades, where it was possible to sleep. Monnica\nsat down on the ground under her heap of veils among other poor people and\ntravellers, who were come like her to try to find a little cool air on this\nstifling night near the relics of the blessed Cyprian. She prayed for her\nchild, offering to God \"the blood of her heart,\" begging God not to let\nhim go, \"for she loved to keep me with her\" says Augustin, \"as mothers are\nwont, yes, far more than most mothers.\" And like a true daughter of Eve,\n\"weeping and crying, she sought again with groans the son she had brought\nforth with groans.\" She prayed for a long time; then, worn out with sorrow,\nshe slept. The porter of the chapel, without knowing it, watched that\nnight not only the mother of the rhetorician Augustin, but the ancestor\nof an innumerable line of souls; this humble woman, who slept there on\nthe ground, on the flags of the courtyard, carried in her heart all the\nyearning of all the mothers of the future.\n\nWhile she slept, Augustin went stealthily on board. The silence and the\ntempered splendour of the night weighed him down. Sometimes the cry of the\nsailors on watch took a strange note in the lustrous vaporous spaces. The\nGulf of Carthage gleamed far off under the scintillation of the stars,\nunder the palpitating of a milky way all white like the flowers of the\ngarden of Heaven. But Augustin's heart was heavy, heavier than the air\nweighted by the heat and sea-damp--heavy from the lie and the cruelty he\nhad just committed. He saw already the awakening and sorrow of his mother.\nHis conscience was troubled, overcome by remorse and forebodings....\nMeanwhile, his friends tried to cheer him, and urged him to have courage\nand hope. Marcianus, while embracing him, reminded him of the verses of\nTerence:\n\n  \"This day which brings to thee another life\n  Demands that thou another man shalt be.\"\n\nAugustin smiled sadly. At last the ship began to move. The wind had risen,\nthe wind of the grand voyage which was bearing him to the unknown....\nSuddenly, at the keen freshness of the open sea, he thrilled. His strength\nand confidence rushed back. To go away! What enchantment for all those who\ncannot fasten themselves to a corner of the earth, who know by instinct\nthat they belong _elsewhere_, who always pass \"as strangers and as\npilgrims,\" and who go away with relief, as if they cast a burthen behind\nthem. Augustin was of those people--of those who, among the fairest\nattractions of the Road, never cease to think of the Return. But he knew\nnot where God was leading him. Marcianus was right: a new life was really\nbeginning for him; only it was not the life that either of them hoped for.\n\nHe who departed as a rhetorician, to sell words, was to come back as an\napostle, to conquer souls.\n\n\n\n\nTHE THIRD PART\n\nTHE RETURN\n\n\n    Et ecce ibi es in corde eorum, in corde confitentium tibi, et\n    projicientium se in te, et plorantium in sinu tuo, post vias suas\n    difficiles.\n\n    \"And behold! Thou art there in their hearts, in the hearts of\n    that confess to Thee, and cast themselves upon Thee, and sob upon Thy\n    breast, after their weary ways.\"\n\n    _Confessions_, V, 2.\n\n\n\n\nI\n\nTHE CITY OF GOLD\n\n\nAugustin fell ill just after he got to Rome. It would seem that he arrived\nthere towards the end of August or beginning of September, before the\nstudents reassembled, just at the time of heat and fevers, when all Romans\nwho could leave the city fled to the summer resorts on the coast.\n\nLike all the great cosmopolitan centres at that time, Rome was unhealthy.\nThe diseases of the whole earth, brought by the continual inflow of\nforeigners, flourished there. Accordingly, the inhabitants had a panic fear\nof infection, like our own contemporaries. People withdrew prudently from\nthose suffering from infectious disorders, who were left to their unhappy\nfate. If, from a sense of shame, they sent a slave to the patient's\nbedside, he was ordered to the sweating-rooms, and there disinfected from\nhead to foot, before he could enter the house again.\n\nAugustin must have had at least the good luck to be well looked after,\nsince he recovered. He had gone to the dwelling of one of his Manichee\nbrethren, an _auditor_ like himself, and an excellent kind of man, whom he\nstayed with all the time he was in Rome. Still, he had such a bad attack of\nfever that he very nearly died. \"I was perishing,\" he says; \"and I was all\nbut lost.\" He is frightened at the idea of having seen death so near, at a\nmoment when he was so far from God--so far, in fact, that it never occurred\nto him to ask for baptism, as he had done, in like case, when he was\nlittle. What a desperate blow would that have been for Monnica! He still\nshudders when he recalls the danger: \"Had my mother's heart been smitten\nwith that wound, it never could have been healed. _For I cannot express\nher tender love towards me_, or with how far greater anguish she travailed\nof me now in the spirit, than when she bore me in the flesh.\" But Monnica\nprayed. Augustin was saved. He ascribes his recovery to the fervent prayers\nof his mother, who, in begging of God the welfare of his soul, obtained,\nwithout knowing it, the welfare of his body.\n\nAs soon as he was convalescent, he had to set to work to get pupils. He was\nobliged to ask the favours of many an important personage, to knock at many\nan inhospitable door. This unfortunate beginning, the almost mortal illness\nwhich he was only just recovering from, this forced drudgery--all that did\nnot make him very fond of Rome. It seems quite plain that he never liked\nit, and till the end of his life he kept a grudge against it for the sorry\nreception it gave him. In the whole body of his writings it is impossible\nto find a word of praise for the beauty of the Eternal City, while, on\nthe contrary, one can make out through his invectives against the vices\nof Carthage, his secret partiality for the African Rome. The old rivalry\nbetween the two cities was not yet dead after so many centuries. In\nhis heart, Augustin, like a good Carthaginian--and because he was a\nCarthaginian--did not like Rome.\n\nThe most annoying things joined together as if on purpose to disgust him\nwith it. The bad season of the year was nigh when he began to reside there.\nAutumn rains had started, and the mornings and evenings were cold. What\nwith his delicate chest, and his African constitution sensitive to cold,\nhe must have suffered from this damp cold climate. Rome seemed to him a\nnorthern city. With his eyes still full of the warm light of his country,\nand the joyous whiteness of the Carthage streets, he wandered as one exiled\nbetween the gloomy Roman palaces, saddened by the grey walls and muddy\npavements. Comparisons, involuntary and continual, between Carthage and\nRome, made him unjust to Rome. In his eyes it had a hard, self-conscious,\ndeclamatory look, and gazing at the barren Roman _campagna_, he remembered\nthe laughing Carthage suburbs, with gardens, villas, vineyards, olivets,\ncircled everywhere by the brilliance of the sea and the lagoons.\n\nAnd then, besides, Rome could not be a very delightful place to live in for\na poor rhetoric master come there to better his fortune. Other strangers\nbefore him had complained of it. Always to be going up and down the flights\nof steps and the ascents, often very steep, of the city of the Seven Hills;\nto be rushing between the Aventine and Sallust's garden, and thence to\nthe Esquiline and Janiculum! To bruise the feet on the pointed cobbles of\nsloping alley-ways! These walks were exhausting, and there seemed to be no\nend to this city. Carthage was also large--as large almost as Rome. But\nthere Augustin was not seeking employment. When he went for a walk there,\nhe strolled. Here, the bustle of the crowds, and the number of equipages,\ndisturbed and exasperated the southerner with his lounging habits. Any\nmoment there was a risk of being run over by cars tearing at full gallop\nthrough the narrow streets: men of fashion just then had a craze for\ndriving fast. Or again, the passenger was obliged to step aside so\nthat some lady might go by in her litter, escorted by her household,\nfrom the handicraft slaves and the kitchen staff, to the eunuchs and\nhouse-servants--all this army manoeuvring under the orders of a leader who\nheld a rod in his hand, the sign of his office. When the street became\nclear once more, and at last the palace of the influential personage\nto whom a visit had to be paid was reached, there was no admittance\nwithout greasing the knocker. In order to be presented to the master,\nit was necessary to buy the good graces of the slave who took the name\n(_nomenclator_), and who not only introduced the suppliant, but might, with\na word, recommend or injure. Even after all these precautions, one was not\nyet sure of the goodwill of the patron. Some of these great lords, who were\nnot always themselves sprung from old Roman families, prided themselves\nupon their uncompromising nationalism, and made a point of treating\nforeigners with considerable haughtiness. The Africans were regarded\nunfavourably in Rome, especially in Catholic circles. Augustin must have\nhad an unpleasant experience of this.\n\nThrough the long streets, brilliantly lighted at evening (it would seem\nthat the artificial lighting of Rome almost equalled the daylight), he\nwould return tired out to the dwelling of his host, the Manichee. This\ndwelling, according to an old tradition, was in the Velabrum district, in\na street which is still to-day called _Via Greca_, and skirts the very old\nchurch of Santa Maria-in-Cosmedina--a poor quarter where swarmed a filthy\nmass of Orientals, and where the immigrants from the Levantine countries,\nGreeks, Syrians, Armenians, Egyptians, lodged. The warehouses on the Tiber\nwere not very far off, and no doubt there were numbers of labourers,\nporters, and watermen living in this neighbourhood. What a place for\nhim who had been at Thagaste the guest of the magnificent Romanianus,\nand intimate with the Proconsul at Carthage! When he had climbed up the\nsix flights of stairs to his lodging, and crouched shivering over the\nill-burning movable hearth, in the parsimonious light of a small bronze or\nearthenware lamp, while the raw damp sweated through the walls, he felt\nmore and more his poverty and loneliness. He hated Rome and the stupid\nambition which had brought him there. And yet Rome should have made a vivid\nappeal to this cultured man, this \u00e6sthete so alive to beauty. Although the\ntransfer of the Court to Milan had drawn away some of its liveliness and\nglitter, it was still all illuminated by its grand memories, and never had\nit been more beautiful. It seems impossible that Augustin should not have\nbeen struck by it, despite his African prejudices. However well built the\nnew Carthage might be, it could not pretend to compare with a city more\nthan a thousand years old, which at all periods of its history had\nmaintained the princely taste for building, and which a long line of\nemperors had never ceased to embellish.\n\nWhen Augustin landed at Ostia, he saw rise before him, closing the\nperspective of the _Via Appia_, the Septizonium of Septimus Severus--an\nimitation, doubtless, on a far larger scale, of the one at Carthage. This\nhuge construction, water-works probably of enormous size, with its ordered\ncolumns placed line above line, was, so to speak, the portico whence opened\nthe most wonderful and colossal architectural mass known to the ancient\nworld. Modern Rome has nothing at all to shew which comes anywhere near it.\nDominating the Roman Forum, and the Fora of various Emperors--labyrinths of\ntemples, basilicas, porticoes, and libraries--the Capitol and the Palatine\nrose up like two stone mountains, fashioned and sculptured, under the heap\nof their palaces and sanctuaries. All these blocks rooted in the soil,\nsuspended, and towering up from the flanks of the hills, these interminable\nregiments of columns and pilasters, this profusion of precious marbles,\nmetals, mosaics, statues, obelisks--in all that there was something\nenormous, a lack of restraint which disturbed the taste and floored the\nimagination. But it was, above all, the excessive use of gold and gilding\nthat astonished the visitor. Originally indigent, Rome became noted for\nits greed of gold. When the gold of conquered nations began to come into\nits hands, it spread it all over with the rather indiscreet display of\nthe upstart. When Nero built the Golden House he realized its dream. The\nCapitol had golden doors. Statues, bronzes, the roofs of temples, were all\ngilded. All this gold, spread over the brilliant surfaces and angles of\nthe architecture, dazzled and tired the eyes: _Acies stupet igne metalli_,\nsaid Claudian. For the poets who have celebrated it, Rome is the city of\ngold--_aurata Roma_.\n\nA Greek, such as Lucian, had perhaps a right to be shocked by this\narchitectural debauch, this beauty too crushing and too rich. A Carthage\nrhetorician, like Augustin, could feel at the sight of it nothing but the\nsame irritated admiration and secret jealousy as the Emperor Constans felt\nwhen he visited his capital for the first time.\n\nEven as the Byzantine C\u00e6sar, and all the provincials, Augustin, no doubt,\nexamined the curiosities and celebrated works which were pointed out to\nstrangers: the temple of Jupiter Capitolinus; the baths of Caracalla and\nDiocletian; the Pantheon; the temple of Roma and of Venus; the Place of\nConcord; the theatre of Pompey; the Odeum, and the Stadium. Though he might\nbe stupefied by all this, he would remember, too, all that the Republic\nhad taken from the provinces to construct these wonders, and would say to\nhimself: \"'Tis we who have paid for them.\" In truth, all the world had\nbeen ransacked to make Rome beautiful. For some time a muffled hostility\nhad been brewing in provincial hearts against the tyranny of the central\npower, especially since it had shewn itself incapable of maintaining peace,\nand the Barbarians were threatening the frontiers. Worn out by so many\ninsurrections, wars, massacres, and pillages, the provinces had come to ask\nif the great complicated machine of the Empire was worth all the blood and\nmoney that it cost.\n\nFor Augustin, moreover, the crisis was drawing near which was to end in his\nreturn to the Catholic faith. He had been a Christian, and as such brought\nup in principles of humility. With these sentiments, he would perhaps\ndecide that the pride and vanity of the creature at Rome claimed far too\nmuch attention, and was even sacrilegious. It was not only the emperors who\ndisputed the privileges of immortality with the gods, but anybody who took\nit into his head, provided that he was rich or had any kind of notoriety.\nAmid the harsh and blinding gilt of palaces and temples, how many statues,\nhow many inscriptions endeavoured to keep an obscure memory green, or the\nfeatures of some unknown man! Of course, at Carthage too, where they copied\nRome, as in all the big cities, there were statues and inscriptions in\nabundance upon the Forum, the squares, and in the public baths. But what\nhad not shocked Augustin in his native land, did shock him in a strange\ncity. His home-sick eyes opened to faults which till then had been veiled\nby usage. In any case, this craze for statues and inscriptions prevailed at\nRome more than anywhere else. The number of statues on the Forum became so\ninconvenient, that on many occasions certain ones were marked for felling,\nand the more insignificant shifted. The men of stone drove out the living\nmen, and forced the gods into their temples. And the inscriptions on the\nwalls bewildered the mind with such a noise of human praise, that ambition\ncould dream of nothing beyond. It was all a kind of idolatry which revolted\nthe strict Christians; and in Augustin, even at this time, it must have\noffended the candour of a soul which detested exaggeration and bombast.\n\nThe vices of the Roman people, with whom he was obliged to live cheek by\njowl, galled him still more painfully. And to begin with, the natives hated\nstrangers. At the theatres they used to shout: \"Down with the foreign\nresidents!\" Acute attacks of xenophobia often caused riots in the city.\nSome years before Augustin arrived, a panic about the food supply led to\nthe expulsion, as useless mouths, of all foreigners domiciled in Rome,\neven the professors. Famine was an endemic disease there. And then, these\nlazy people were always hungry. The gluttony and drunkenness of the Romans\nroused the wonder and also the disgust of the sober races of the Empire--of\nthe Greeks as well as the Africans. They ate everywhere--in the streets, at\nthe theatre, at the circus, around the temples. The sight was so ignoble,\nand the public intemperance so scandalous, that the Prefect, Ampelius, was\nobliged to issue an order prohibiting people who had any self-respect from\neating in the street, the keepers of wine-shops from opening their places\nbefore ten o'clock in the morning, and the hawkers from selling cooked meat\nin the streets earlier than a certain hour of the day. But he might as well\nhave saved himself the trouble. Religion itself encouraged this greediness.\nThe pagan sacrifices were scarcely more than pretexts for stuffing. Under\nJulian, who carried the great public sacrifices of oxen to an abusive\nextent, the soldiers got drunk and gorged themselves with meat in the\ntemples, and came out staggering. Then they would seize hold of any\npassers-by, whom they forced to carry them shoulder-high to their barracks.\n\nAll this must be kept in mind so as to understand the strictness and\nunyielding attitude of the Christian reaction. This Roman people, like the\npagans in general, was frightfully material and sensual. The difficulty of\nshaking himself free from matter and the senses is going to be the great\nobstacle which delays Augustin's conversion; and if it was so with him, a\nfastidious and intellectual man, what about the crowd? Those people thought\nof nothing but eating and drinking and lewdness. When they left the tavern\nor their squalid rooms, they had only the obscenities of mimes, or the\ntumbles of the drivers in the circus, or the butcheries in the amphitheatre\nto elevate them. They passed the night there under the awnings provided by\nthe municipality. Their passion for horse-races and actors and actresses,\ncurbed though it was by the Christian emperors, continued even after\nthe sack of Rome by the Barbarians. At the time of the famine, when the\nstrangers were expelled, they excepted from this wholesale banishment three\nthousand female dancers with the members of their choirs, and their leaders\nof orchestra.\n\nThe aristocracy did not manifest tastes much superior. Save a few\ncultivated minds, sincerely fond of literature, the greatest number only\nsaw in the literary pose an easy way of being fashionable. These became\ninfatuated about an unknown author, or an ancient author whose books were\nnot to be had. They had these books sought for and beautifully copied.\nThey, \"who hated study like poison,\" spoke only of their favourite author:\nthe others did not exist for them. As a matter of fact, music had ousted\nliterature: \"the libraries were closed like sepulchres.\" But fashionable\npeople were interested in an hydraulic organ, and they ordered from the\nlute-makers \"lyres the size of chariots.\" Of course, this musical craze was\nsheer affectation. Actually, they were only interested in sports: to race,\nto arrange races, to breed horses, to train athletes and gladiators. As a\npastime, they collected Oriental stuffs. Silk was then fashionable, and so\nwere precious stones, enamels, heavy goldsmiths' work. Rows of rings were\nworn on each finger. People took the air in silk robes, held together by\nbrooches carved in the figures of animals, a parasol in one hand, and a fan\nwith gold fringes in the other. The costumes and fashions of Constantinople\nencroached upon the old Rome and the rest of the Western world.\n\nImmense fortunes, which had gathered in the hands of certain people, either\nthrough inheritance or swindling, enabled them to keep up a senseless\nexpenditure. Like the American millionaires of to-day, who have their\nhouses and properties in both hemispheres, these great Roman lords\npossessed them in every country in the Empire. Symmachus, who was Prefect\nof the City when Augustin was in Rome, had considerable estates not only in\nItaly and in Sicily, but even in Mauretania. And yet, in spite of all their\nwealth and all the privileges they enjoyed, these rich people were neither\nhappy nor at ease. At the least suspicion of a despotic power, their lives\nand property were threatened. Accusations of magic, of disrespect to\nthe C\u00e6sar, of plots against the Emperor--any pretext was good to plunder\nthem. During the preceding reign, that of the pitiless Valentinian, the\nRoman nobility had been literally decimated by the executioner. A certain\nvice-Prefect, Maximinus, had gained a sinister reputation for cleverness in\nthe art of manufacturing suspects. By his orders, a basket at the end of a\nstring was hung out from one of the windows of the Pr\u00e6torium, into which\ndenunciations might be cast. The basket was in use day and night.\n\nIt is clear that at the time that Augustin settled in Rome this abominable\nsystem was a little moderated. But accusation by detectives was always in\nthe air. And living in this atmosphere of mistrust, hypocrisy, bribery, and\ncruelty--small wonder if the Carthaginian fell into bitter reflections upon\nRoman corruption. However impressive from the front, the Empire was not\nnice to look at close at hand.\n\nBut Augustin was, above all, home-sick. When he strolled tinder the shady\ntrees of the Janiculum or Sallust's gardens, he already said to himself\nwhat he would repeat later to his listeners at Hippo: \"Take an African, put\nhim in a place cool and green, and he won't stay there. He will feel he\nmust go away and come back to his blazing desert.\" As for himself, he had\nsomething better to regret than a blazing desert. In front of the City of\nGold, stretched out at his feet, and the horizon of the Sabine Hills, he\nremembered the feminine softness of the twilights upon the Lake of Tunis,\nthe enchantment of moonlit nights upon the Gulf of Carthage, and that\nastonishing landscape to be discovered from the height of the terrace of\nByrsa, which all the grandeur of the Roman _campagna_ could not make him\nforget.\n\n\n\n\nII\n\nTHE FINAL DISILLUSION\n\n\n'The new professor had managed to secure a certain number of pupils whom\nhe gathered together in his rooms. He could make enough to live at Rome\nby himself, if he could not support there the woman and child he had left\nbehind at Carthage. In this matter of finding work, his host and his\nManichee friends had done him some very good turns. Although forced to\nconceal their beliefs since the edict of Theodosius, there were a good many\nManichees in the city. They formed an occult Church, strongly organized,\nand its adepts had relations with all classes of Roman society. Possibly\nAugustin presented himself as one driven out of Africa by the persecution.\nSome compensation would be owing to this young man who had suffered for the\ngood cause.\n\nIt was his friend Alypius, \"the brother of his heart,\" who, having preceded\nhim to Rome to study law at his parents' wishes, now was the most useful in\nhelping Augustin to make himself known and find pupils. Himself a Manichee,\nconverted by Augustin, and a member of one of the leading families in\nThagaste, he had not long to wait for an important appointment in the\nImperial administration. He was assessor to the Treasurer-General, or\n\"Count of the Italian Bounty Office,\" and decided fiscal questions. Thanks\nto his influence, as well as to his acquaintances among the Manichees, he\nwas a valuable friend for the new arrival, a friend who could aid him, not\nonly with his purse, but with advice. Without much capacity for theorizing,\nthis Alypius was a practical spirit, a straight and essentially honest\nsoul, whose influence was excellent for his impetuous friend. Of very\nchaste habits, he urged Augustin to restraint. And even in abstract\nstudies, the religious controversies which Augustin dragged him into, his\nstrong good sense moderated the imaginative dashes, the overmuch subtilty\nwhich sometimes led the other beyond healthy reason.\n\nUnhappily they were both very busy--the judge and the rhetorician--and\nalthough their friendship became still greater during this stay in Rome,\nthey were not able to see each other as much as they desired. Their\npleasures, too, were perhaps not the same. Augustin did not in the least\ncare about being chaste, and Alypius had a passion for the amphitheatre--a\npassion which his friend disapproved of. Some time earlier, at Carthage,\nAugustin had filled him with disgust of the circus. But hardly was Alypius\narrived in Rome, than he became mad about the gladiatorial shows. Some\nfellow-students took him to the amphitheatre, almost by force. Thereupon,\nhe said that he would stay, since they had dragged him there; but he bet\nthat he would keep his eyes shut all through the fight, and that nothing\ncould make him open them. He sat down on the benches with those who had\nbrought him, his eyelids pressed down, refusing to look. Suddenly there was\na roar of shouting, the shout of the crowd hailing the fall of the first\nwounded. His lids parted of themselves; he saw the flow of blood. \"At the\nsight of the blood\" says Augustin, \"he drank in ruthlessness; no longer\ndid he turn away, but fixed his gaze, and he became mad--and he knew no\nmore.... He was fascinated by the criminal atrocity of this battle, and\ndrunk with the pleasure of blood.\"\n\nThese breathless phrases of the _Confessions_ seem to throb still with the\nwild frenzy of the crowd. They convey to us directly the kind of Sadic\nexcitement which people went to find about the arena. Really, a wholesome\nsight for future Christians, for all the souls that the brutality of\npagan customs revolted! The very year that Augustin was at Rome, certain\nprisoners of war, Sarmatian soldiers, condemned to kill each other in the\namphitheatre, chose suicide rather than this shameful death. There was in\nthis something to make him reflect--him and his friends. The fundamental\ninjustices whereon the ancient world rested--the crushing of the slave\nand the conquered, the contempt for human life--these things they touched\nwith the finger when they looked on at the butcheries in the amphitheatre.\nAll those whose hearts sickened with disgust and horror before these\nslaughter-house scenes, all those who longed for a little more mildness, a\nlittle more justice, were all recruits marked out for the peaceful army of\nthe Christ.\n\nFor Alypius, especially, it was not a bad thing to have known this\nblood-drunkenness at first hand: he shall be only the more ashamed when\nhe falls at the feet of the merciful God. Equally useful was it for him\nto have personal experience of the harshness of men's justice; and in the\nfulfilment of his duties as a judge to observe its errors and flaws. While\nhe was a student at Carthage he just escaped being condemned to death upon\na false accusation of theft--the theft of a piece of lead! Already they\nwere dragging him, if not to the place of capital punishment, at least to\nprison, when a chance meeting with a friend of his who was a senator saved\nhim from the threatening mob. At Rome, while Assessor to the Count of the\nItalian Bounty Office, he had to resist an attempt to bribe him, and by\ndoing so risked losing his appointment, and, no doubt, something worse\ntoo. Official venality and dishonesty were evils so deeply rooted, that\nhe himself nearly succumbed. He wanted some books copied, and he had the\ntemptation to get this done at the charge of the Treasury. This peculation\nhad, in his eyes, a good enough excuse, and it was certain to go\nundetected. Nevertheless, when he thought it over he changed his mind, and\nvirtuously refrained from giving himself a library at the expense of the\nState.\n\nAugustin, who relates these anecdotes, draws the same moral from them as\nwe do, to wit--that for a man who was going to be a bishop and, as such,\nadministrator and judge, this time spent in the Government service was a\ngood preparatory school. Most of the other great leaders of this generation\nof Christians had also been officials; before ordination, they had been\nmixed up in business and politics, and had lived freely the life of their\ncentury. So it was with St. Ambrose, with St. Paulinus of Nola, with\nAugustin himself, and Evodius and Alypius, his friends.\n\nAnd yet, however absorbed in their work the two Africans might be, it\nis pretty near certain that intellectual questions took the lead of\nall others. This is manifest in Augustin's case at least. He must have\nastonished the good Alypius when he got to Rome by acknowledging that he\nhardly believed in Manicheeism any longer. And he set forth his doubts\nabout their masters' cosmogony and physical science, his suspicions\ntouching the hidden immorality of the sect. As for himself, the\ncontroversies, which were the Manichees' strong point, did not dazzle him\nany longer. At Carthage, but lately, he had heard a Catholic, a certain\nHelpidius, oppose to them arguments from Scripture, which they were unable\nto refute. To make matters worse, the Manichee Bishop of Rome made a bad\nimpression on him from the very outset. This man, he tells us, was of rough\nappearance, without culture or polite manners. Doubtless this unmannerly\npeasant, in his reception of the young professor, had not shewn himself\nsufficiently alive to his merits, and the professor felt aggrieved.\n\nFrom then, his keen dialectic and his satirical spirit (Augustin had\nformidable powers of ridicule all through his life) were exercised upon\nthe backs of his fellow-religionists. Provisionally, he had admitted\nas indisputable the basic principles of Manicheeism: first of all, the\nprimordial antagonism of the two substances, the God of Light and the God\nof Darkness; then, this other dogma, that particles of that Divine Light,\nwhich had been carried away in a temporary victory of the army of Darkness,\nwere immersed in certain plants and liquors. Hence, the distinction they\nmade between clean and unclean food. All those foods were pure which\ncontained some part of the Divine Light; impure, those which did not. The\npurity of food became evident by certain qualities of taste, smell, and\nappearance. But now Augustin found a good deal of arbitrariness in these\ndistinctions, and a good deal of simplicity in the belief that the Divine\nLight dwelt in a vegetable. \"Are they not ashamed,\" he said, \"to search God\nwith their palates or with their nose? And if His presence is revealed by\na special brilliancy, by the goodness of the taste or the smell, why allow\nthat dish and condemn this, which is of equal savour, light, and perfume?\n\n\"Yea, why do they look upon the golden melon as come out of God's\ntreasure-house, and yet will have none of the golden fat of the ham or the\nyellow of an egg? Why does the whiteness of lettuce proclaim to them the\nDivinity, and the whiteness of cream nothing at all? And why this horror\nof meat? For, look you, roast sucking-pig offers us a brilliant colour, an\nagreeable smell, and an appetizing taste--sure signs, according to them, of\nthe Divine Presence.\"... Once started on this topic, Augustin's vivacity\nhas no limits. He even drops into jokes which would offend modern\nshamefacedness by their Aristophanic breadth.\n\nThese arguments, to say the truth, did not shake the foundations of the\ndoctrine, and if a doctrine must be judged according to its works, the\nManichees might entrench themselves behind their rigid moral rules, and\ntheir conduct. Contrary to the more accommodating Catholicism, they paraded\na puritan intolerance. But Augustin had found out at Carthage that this\nausterity was for the most part hypocrisy. At Rome he was thoroughly\nenlightened.\n\nThe Elect of the religion made a great impression by their fasts and their\nabstinence from meat. Now it became clear that these devout personages,\nunder pious pretexts, literally destroyed themselves by over-eating and\nindigestion. They held, in fact, that the chief work of piety consisted in\nsetting free particles of the Divine Light, imprisoned in matter by the\nwiles of the God of Darkness. They being the Pure, they purified matter by\nabsorbing it into their bodies. The faithful brought them stores of fruit\nand vegetables, served them with real feasts, so that by eating these\nthings they might liberate a little of the Divine Substance. Of course,\nthey abstained from all flesh, flesh being the dwelling-place of the Dark\nGod, and also from fermented wine, which they called \"the devil's gall.\"\nBut how they made up for it over the rest! Augustin makes great fun of\nthese people who would think it a sin if they took as a full meal a small\nbit of bacon and cabbage, with two or three mouthfuls of undiluted wine,\nand yet ordered to be served up, from three o'clock in the afternoon, all\nkinds of fruit and vegetables, the most exquisite too, rendered piquant\nby spices, the Manichees holding that spices were very full of fiery and\nluminous principles. Then, their palates titillating from pepper, they\nswallowed large draughts of mulled wine or wine and honey, and the juice\nof oranges, lemons, and grapes. And these junketings began over again at\nnightfall. They had a preference for certain cakes, and especially for\ntruffles and mushrooms--vegetables more particularly mystic.\n\nSuch a diet put human gluttony to a heavy test. Many a scandal came to\nlight in the Roman community. The Elect made themselves sick by devouring\nthe prodigious quantity of good cheer brought to them with a view to\npurification. As it was a sacrilege to let any be lost, the unhappy people\nforced themselves to get down the lot. There were even victims: children,\ngorged with delicacies, died of stuffing. For children, being innocent\nthings, were deemed to have quite special purifying virtues.\n\nAugustin was beginning to get indignant at all this nonsense. Still, except\nfor these extravagances, he continued to believe in the asceticism of the\nElect--asceticism of such severity that the main part of the faithful found\nit impossible to practise. And see! just at this moment, whom should he\ndiscover very strange things about but Bishop Faustus, that Faustus whom he\nhad looked for at Carthage as a Messiah. The holy man, while he preached\nrenunciation, granted himself a good many indulgences: he lay, for one\nthing, on feathers, or upon soft goatskin rugs. And these puritans were not\neven honest. The Manichee Bishop of Rome, that man of rough manners who had\nso offended Augustin, was on the point of being convicted of stealing the\ngeneral cash-box. Lastly, there were rumours in the air, accusing the Elect\nof giving themselves over to reprehensible practices in their private\nmeetings. They condemned marriage and child-bearing as works of the devil,\nbut they authorized fornication, and even, it is said, certain acts against\nnature. That, for Augustin, was the final disillusion.\n\nIn spite of it, he did not separate openly from the sect. He kept his\nrank of _auditor_ in the Manichee Church. What held him to it, were some\nplausible considerations on the intellectual side. Manicheeism, with its\ndistinction of two Principles, accounted conveniently for the problem of\nevil and human responsibility. Neither God nor man was answerable for sin\nand pain, since it was the other, the Dark Principle, who distributed\nthem through the world among men. Augustin, who continued to sin,\ncontinued likewise to be very comfortable with such a system of morals and\nmetaphysics. Besides, he was not one of those convinced, downright minds\nwho feel the need to quarrel noisily with what they take to be error.\nNo one has opposed heresies more powerfully, and with a more tireless\npatience, than he has. But he always put some consideration into the\nbusiness. He knew by experience how easy it is to fall into error, and he\nsaid this charitably to those whom he wished to persuade. There was nothing\nabout him like St. Jerome.\n\nPersonal reasons, moreover, obliged him not to break with his\nfellow-religionists who had supported him, nursed him even, on his arrival\nat Rome, and who, as we shall see in a moment, might still do him services.\nAugustin was not, like his friend Alypius, a practical mind, but he had\ntact, and in spite of all the impulsiveness and mettle of his nature,\na certain suppleness which enabled him to manoeuvre without too many\ncollisions in the midst of the most embarrassing conjunctures. Through\ninstinctive prudence he prolonged his indecision. Little by little, he who\nhad formerly flung himself so enthusiastically in pursuit of Truth, glided\ninto scepticism--the scepticism of the Academics in its usual form.\n\nAnd at the same time that he lost his taste for speculative thinking, new\nannoyances in his profession put the finishing touch on his discouragement.\nIf the Roman students were less noisy than those of Carthage, they had a\ndeplorable habit of walking off and leaving their masters unpaid. Augustin\nwas ere long victimized in this way: he lost his time and his words. As at\nCarthage, so at Rome, he had to face the fact that he could not live by his\nprofession. What was he to do? Would he have to go back home? He had fallen\ninto despair, when an unforeseen chance turned up for him.\n\nThe town council of Milan threw open a professorship of Rhetoric to public\ncompetition. It would be salvation for him if he could get appointed. For\na long time he had wanted a post in the State education. In receipt of a\nfixed salary, he would no longer have to worry about beating up a class,\nor to guard against the dishonesty of his pupils. He put his name down\nimmediately among the candidates. But no more in those days than in ours\nwas simple merit by itself enough. It was necessary to pull strings. His\nfriends the Manichees undertook to do this for him. They urged his claims\nwarmly on the Prefect Symmachus, who doubtless presided at the competitive\ntrials. By an amusing irony of fate, Augustin owed his place to people he\nwas getting ready to separate from, whom even he was soon going to attack,\nand also to a man who was in a way the official enemy of Christianity.\nThe pagan Symmachus appointing to an important post a future Catholic\nbishop--there is matter for surprise in that! But Symmachus, who had been\nProconsul at Carthage, protected the Africans in Rome. Furthermore, it\nis likely that the Manichees represented their candidate to him as a man\nhostile to Catholics. Now in this year, A.D. 384, the Prefect had just\nbegun an open struggle with the Catholics. He believed, therefore, that he\nmade a good choice in appointing Augustin.\n\nSo a chain of events, with which his will had hardly anything to do,\nwas going to draw the young rhetorician to Milan--yes, and how much\nfarther!--to where he did not want to go, to where the prayers of Monnica\nsummoned him unceasingly: \"Where I am, there shall you be also.\" When he\nwas leaving Rome, he did not much expect that. What he chiefly thought of\nwas that he had at last won an independent financial position, and that he\nwas become an official of some importance. He had a flattering evidence\nof this at once: It was at the expense of the city of Milan and in the\nImperial carriages that he travelled through Italy to take up his new post.\n\n\n\n\nIII\n\nTHE MEETING BETWEEN AMBROSE AND AUGUSTIN\n\n\nBefore he left Rome, and during his journey to Milan, Augustin must have\nrecalled more than once the verses of Terence which his friend Marcianus\nhad quoted by way of encouragement and advice the night he set sail for\nItaly:\n\n  \"This day which brings to thee another life\n  Demands that thou another man shalt be.\"\n\nHe was thirty years old. The time of youthful wilfulness was over. Age,\ndisappointments, the difficulties of life, had developed his character.\nHe was now become a man of position, an eminent official, in a very large\ncity which was the second capital of the Western Empire and the principal\nresidence of the Court. If he wished to avoid further set-backs in his\ncareer, it behoved him to choose a line of conduct carefully thought out.\n\nAnd first of all, it was time to get rid of Manicheeism. A Manichee would\nhave made a scandal in a city where the greatest part of the population\nwas Christian, and the Court was Catholic, although it did not conceal\nits sympathy with Arianism. It was a long time now since Augustin had\nbeen a Manichee in his heart. Accordingly, he was not obliged to feign\nin order to re-enter a Church which already included him formally among\nits catechumens. Doubtless he was a very lukewarm catechumen, since at\nintervals he inclined to scepticism. But he thought it decent to remain,\nat least for the time being, in the Catholic body, in which his mother had\nbrought him up, until the day when some sure light should arise to direct\nhis path. Now St. Ambrose was at that time the Catholic Bishop of Milan.\nAugustin was very eager to gain his goodwill. Ambrose was an undoubted\npolitical power, an important personage, a celebrated orator whose renown\nwas shed all across the Roman world. He belonged to an illustrious family.\nHis father had been Pr\u00e6torian prefect of Gaul. He himself, with the\ntitle of Consul, was governing the provinces of Emilia and Liguria when\nthe Milanese forced him, much against his will, to become their bishop.\nBaptized, ordained priest, and consecrated, one on top of the other, it\nwas only apparently that he gave up his civil functions. From the height\nof his episcopal throne he always personified the highest authority in the\ncountry.\n\nAs soon as he arrived at Milan, Augustin hurried to call upon his bishop.\nKnowing him as we do, he must have approached Ambrose in a great transport\nof enthusiasm. His imagination, too, was kindled. In his thought this was\na man of letters, an orator, a famous writer, almost a fellow-worker, that\nhe was going to see. The young professor admired in Bishop Ambrose all the\nglory that he was ambitious of, and all that he already believed himself\nto be. He fancied, that however great might be the difference in their\npositions, he would find himself at once on an equal footing with this high\npersonage, and would have a familiar talk with him, as he used to have at\nCarthage with the Proconsul Vindicianus. He told himself also that Ambrose\nwas a priest, that is to say, a doctor of souls: he meant to open to him\nall his spiritual wretchedness, the anguish of his mind and heart. He\nexpected consolation from him, if not cure.\n\nWell, he was mistaken. Although in all his writings he speaks of \"the holy\nBishop of Milan\" with feelings of sincere respect and admiration, he lets\nit be understood that his expectations were not realized. If the Manichean\nbishop of Rome had offended him by his rough manners, Ambrose disconcerted\nhim alike by his politeness, his kindliness, and by the reserve,\nperhaps involuntarily haughty, of his reception. \"He received me,\" says\nAugustin, \"like a father, and as a bishop he was pleased enough at my\ncoming:\"--_peregrinationem meam satis episcopaliter dilexit_. This _satis\nepiscopaliter_ looks very like a sly banter at the expense of the saint. It\nis infinitely probable that St. Ambrose received Augustin, not exactly as a\nman of no account, but still, as a sheep of his flock, and not as a gifted\norator, and that, in short, he shewed him the same \"episcopal\" benevolence\nas he had from a sense of duty for all his hearers. It is possible too\nthat Ambrose was on his guard from the outset with this African, appointed\na municipal professor through the good offices of the pagan Symmachus,\nhis personal enemy. In the opinion of the Italian Catholics, nothing\ngood came from Carthage: these Carthaginians were generally Manichees\nor Donatists--sectaries the more dangerous because they claimed to be\northodox, and, mingling with the faithful, hypocritically contaminated\nthem. And then Ambrose, the great lord, the former Governor of Liguria, the\ncounsellor of the Emperors, may not have quite concealed a certain ironic\ncommiseration for this \"dealer in words,\" this young rhetorician who was\nstill puffed up with his own importance.\n\nBe this as it will, it was a lesson in humility that St. Ambrose, without\nintending it, gave to Augustin. The lesson was not understood. The rhetoric\nprofessor gathered only one thing from the visit, which was, that the\nBishop of Milan had received him well. And as human vanity immediately\nlends vast significance to the least advances of distinguished or powerful\npersons, Augustin felt thankful for it. He began to love Ambrose almost as\nmuch as he admired him, and he admired him for reasons altogether worldly.\n\"Ambrose I counted one of the happy ones of this world, because he was held\nin such honour by the great.\" The qualification which immediately follows\nshews naively enough the sensual Augustin's state of mind at that time:\n\"Only it seemed to me that celibacy must be a heavy burthen upon him.\"\n\nIn those years the Bishop of Milan might, indeed, pass for a happy man\nin the eyes of the world. He was the friend of the very glorious and\nvery victorious Theodosius; he had been the adviser of the young Emperor\nGratian, but lately assassinated; and although the Empress Justina, devoted\nto the Arians, plotted against him, he had still great influence in the\ncouncil of Valentinian II--a little Emperor thirteen years old, whom a\nCourt of pagans and Arians endeavoured to draw into an anti-Catholic\nreaction.\n\nAlmost as soon as Augustin arrived in Milan, he was able to see for himself\nthe great authority and esteem which Ambrose possessed, the occasion being\na dispute which made a great noise.\n\nTwo years earlier, Gratian had had the statue and altar of _Victory_\nremoved from the _Curia_, declaring that this pagan emblem and its\naccompaniments no longer served any purpose in an assembly of which the\nmajority was Christian. By the same stroke, he suppressed the incomes of\nthe sacerdotal colleges with all their privileges, particularly those of\nthe Vestals; confiscated for the revenue the sums granted for the exercise\nof religion; seized the property of the temples; and forbade the priests\nto receive bequests of real estate. This meant the complete separation\nof the State and the ancient religion. The pagan minority in the Senate,\nwith Symmachus, the Prefect, at its head, protested against this edict.\nA deputation was sent to Milan to place the pagan grievances before\nthe Emperor. Gratian refused to receive them. It was thought that his\nsuccessor, Valentinian II, being feebler, would be more obliging. A new\nsenatorial committee presented themselves with a petition drawn up by\nSymmachus--a genuine piece of oratory which Ambrose himself admired, or\npretended to admire. This speech made a deep impression when it was read\nin the Imperial Council. But Ambrose intervened with all his eloquence.\nHe demanded that the common law should be applied equally to pagans as to\nChristians, and it was he who won the day. _Victory_ was not replaced in\nthe Roman _Curia_, neither were the goods of the temples returned.\n\nAugustin must have been very much struck by this advantage which\nCatholicism had gained. It became clear that henceforth this was to be\nthe State religion. And he who envied so much the fortunate of the world,\nmight take note, besides, that the new religion brought, along with the\nfaith, riches and honours to its adepts. At Rome he had listened to the\ndisparaging by pagans and his Manichee friends of the popes and their\nclergy. They made fun of the fashionable clerics and legacy hunters. It was\nrelated that the Roman Pontiff, servant of the God of the poor, maintained\na gorgeous establishment, and that his table rivalled the Imperial table in\nluxury. The prefect Pr\u00e6textatus, a resolute pagan, said scoffingly to Pope\nDamasus: \"Make me Bishop of Rome, and I'll become a Christian at once.\"\n\nCertainly, commonplace human reasons can neither bring about nor account\nfor a sincere conversion. Conversion is a divine work. But human reasons,\narranged by a mysterious Will with regard to this work, may at least\nprepare a soul for it. Anyhow, it cannot be neglected that Augustin, coming\nto Milan full of ambitious plans, there saw Catholicism treated with so\nmuch importance in the person of Ambrose. This religion, which till then he\nhad despised, now appeared to him as a triumphant religion worth serving.\n\nBut though such considerations might attract Augustin's attention, they\ntook no hold on his conscience. It was well enough for an intriguer about\nthe Court to get converted from self-interest. As for him, he wanted all or\nnothing; the chief good in his eyes was certainty and truth. He scarcely\nbelieved in this any longer, and surely had no hope of finding it among\nthe Catholics; but still he went to hear Ambrose's sermons. He went in the\nfirst place as a critic of language, with the rather jealous curiosity of\nthe trained man who watches how another man does it. He wanted to judge\nhimself if the sacred orator was as good as his reputation. The firm and\nsubstantial eloquence of this former official, this statesman who was more\nthan anything a man of action, immediately got control of the frivolous\nrhetorician. To be sure, he did not find in Ambrose's sermons the\nexhilaration or the verbal caress which had captivated him in those of\nFaustus the Manichean; but yet they had a persuasive grace which held him.\nAugustin heard the bishop with pleasure. Still, if he liked to hear him\ntalk, he remained contemptuous of the doctrine he preached.\n\nThen, little by little, this doctrine forced itself on his meditations:\nhe perceived that it was more serious than he had thought hitherto, or,\nat least, that it could be defended. Ambrose had started in Italy the\nexegetical methods of the Orientals. He discovered in Scripture allegorical\nmeanings, sometimes edifying, sometimes deep, always satisfying for a\nreasonable mind. Augustin, who was inclined to subtilty, much relished\nthese explanations which, if ingenious, were often forced. The Bible\nno longer seemed to him so absurd. Finally, the immoralities which the\nManichees made such a great point of against the Holy Writ, were justified,\naccording to Ambrose, by historical considerations: what God did not allow\nto-day, He allowed formerly by reason of the conditions of existence.\nHowever, though the Bible might be neither absurd nor contrary to morals,\nthis did not prove that it was true. Augustin found no outlet for his\ndoubts.\n\nHe would have been glad to have Ambrose help him to get rid of them. Many a\ntime he tried to have a talk with him about these things. But the Bishop of\nMilan was so very busy a personage! \"I could not ask him,\" says Augustin,\n\"what I wanted as I wanted, because the shoals of busy people who consulted\nhim about their affairs, and to whose infirmities he ministered, came\nbetween me and his ear and lips. And in the few moments when he was not\nthus surrounded, he was refreshing either his body with needful food, or\nhis mind with reading. While he read his eye wandered along the page and\nhis heart searched out the meaning, but his voice and his tongue were at\nrest. Often when we attended (for the door was open to all, and no one was\nannounced), we saw him reading silently, but never otherwise, and after\nsitting for some time without speaking (_for who would presume to trouble\none so occupied?_) we went away again. We divined that, for the little\nspace of time which was all that he could secure for the refreshment of his\nmind, he allowed himself a holiday from the distraction of other people's\nbusiness, and did not wish to be interrupted; _and perhaps he was afraid\nlest eager listeners should invite him to explain the harder passages of\nhis author, or to enter upon the discussion of difficult topics_, and\nhinder him from perusing as many volumes as he wished.... _Of course\nthe reason that guided a man of such remarkable virtue must have been\ngood...._\"\n\nNobody could comment more subtly--nor, be it said also, more\nmaliciously--the attitude of St. Ambrose towards Augustin, than Augustin\nhimself does it here. At the time he wrote this page, the events he was\nrelating had happened a long time ago. But he is a Christian, and, in his\nturn, he is a bishop: he understands now what he could not understand\nthen. He feels thoroughly at heart that if Ambrose withdrew himself, it\nwas because the professor of rhetoric was not in a state of mind to have a\nprofitable discussion with a believer: he lacked the necessary humility of\nheart and intellect. But at the moment, he must have taken things in quite\nanother way, and have felt rather hurt, not to say more, at the bishop's\napparent indifference.\n\nJust picture a young writer of to-day, pretty well convinced of his value,\nbut uneasy about his future, coming to ask advice of an older man already\nfamous--well, Augustin's advances to Ambrose were not unlike that, save\nthat they had a much more serious character, since it was not a question of\nliterature, but of the salvation of a soul. At this period, what Augustin\nsaw in Ambrose, even when he consulted him on sacred matters, was chiefly\nthe orator, that is to say, a rather older rival.... He enters. He is shewn\ninto the private room of the great man, without being announced, _like any\nordinary person_. The great man does not lay aside his book to greet him,\ndoes not even speak a word to him.... What would the official professor of\nRhetoric to the City of Milan think of such a reception? One can make out\nclearly enough through the lines of the _Confessions_. He said to himself\nthat Ambrose, being a bishop, had charge of souls, and he was surprised\nthat the bishop, no matter how great a lord he might be, made no attempt\nwhatever to offer him spiritual aid. And as he was still devoid of\nChristian charity, no doubt he thought too that Ambrose was conscious\nthat he had not the ability to wrestle with a dialectician of Augustin's\nstrength, and that, into the bargain, the prelate was to seek in knowledge\nof the Scriptures. And, in truth, Ambrose had been made a bishop so\nsuddenly that he must have found himself obliged to improvise a hasty\nknowledge. Anyhow, Augustin concluded that if he refused to discuss, it was\nbecause he was afraid of being at a disadvantage.\n\nVery surely St. Ambrose had no notion of what the catechumen was thinking.\nHe soared too high to trouble about miserable stings to self-respect. In\nhis ministry he was for all alike, and he would have thought it against\nChristian equality to shew any special favour to Augustin. If, in the brief\ntalks he had with the young rhetorician, he was able to gather anything of\nhis character, he could not have formed a very favourable opinion of it.\nThe high-strung temperament of the African, these vague yearnings of the\nspirit, these sterile melancholies, this continual temporizing before the\nfaith--all that could only displease Ambrose, the practical Roman, the\nofficial used all his life to command.\n\nHowever that was, Augustin, in following years, never allowed himself the\nleast reproach towards Ambrose. On the contrary, everywhere he loads him\nwith praise, quotes him repeatedly in his treatises, and takes refuge on\nhis authority. He calls him his \"father.\" But once, when he is speaking\nof the spiritual desolation in which he was plunged at Milan, there does\nescape him something like a veiled complaint which appears to be aimed at\nAmbrose. After recalling the eagerness with which he sought truth in those\ndays, he adds: \"If any one could have been found then to trouble about\ninstructing me, he would have had a most willing and docile pupil.\"\n\nThis phrase, in such marked contrast with so many laudatory passages in\nthe _Confessions_ about St. Ambrose, seems to be indeed a statement of\nthe plain truth. If God made use of Ambrose to convert Augustin, it is\nnevertheless likely that Ambrose personally did nothing, or very little, to\nbring about this conversion.\n\n\n\n\nIV\n\nPLANS OF MARRIAGE\n\n\nBut even as he draws nearer the goal, Augustin would appear, on the\ncontrary, to get farther away from it. Such are God's secret paces, Who\nsnatches souls like a thief: He drops on them without warning. Till the\nvery eve of the day when Christ shall come to take him, Augustin will be\nall taken up with the world and the care of making a good figure in it.\n\nAlthough Ambrose's sermons stimulated him to reflect upon the great\nhistorical reality which Christianity is, he had as yet but dim glimpses\nof it. He had given up his superficial unbelief, and yet did not believe\nin anything definite. He drifted into a sort of agnosticism compounded of\nmental indolence and discouragement. When he scrutinized his conscience to\nthe depths, the most he could find was a belief in the existence of God and\nHis providence--quite abstract ideas which he was incapable of enlivening.\nBut whatever was the use of speculating upon Truth and the Sovereign Good!\nThe main thing to do was to live.\n\nNow that his future was certain, Augustin endeavoured to arrange his life\nwith a view to his tranquillity. He had no longer very large ambitions.\nWhat he principally wanted to do was to create for himself a nice little\nexistence, peaceful and agreeable, one might almost say, middle-class. His\npresent fortune, although small, was still enough for that, and he was in a\nhurry to enjoy it.\n\nAccordingly, he had not been long in Milan ere he sent for his mistress and\nhis son. He had rented an apartment in a house which gave on a garden. The\nowner, who did not live there, allowed him the use of the whole house. A\nhouse, the dream of the sage! And a garden in Virgil's country! Augustin,\nthe professor, should have been wonderfully happy. His mother soon joined\nhim. Gradually a whole tribe of Africans came down on him, and took\nadvantage of his hospitality. Here was his brother, Navigius, his two\ncousins, Rusticus and Lastidianus, his friend Alypius, who could not make\nup his mind to part from him, and probably Nebridius, another of his\nCarthage friends. Nothing could be more in harmony with the customs of the\ntime. The Rhetorician to the City of Milan had a post which would pass\nfor superb in the eyes of his poor relations. He was acquainted with very\nimportant people, and had access to the Imperial Court, whence favours and\nbounties came. Immediately, the family ran to put themselves under his\nprotection and be enrolled beneficiaries, to get what they could out of\nhis new fortune and credit. And then these immigrations of Africans and\nOrientals into the northern countries always come about in the same way. It\nis enough if one of them gets on there: he becomes immediately the drop of\nink on the blotting-paper.\n\nThe most important person in this little African phalanstery was\nunquestionably Monnica, who had taken in hand the moral and material\ncontrol of the house. She was not very old--not quite fifty-four--but she\nwanted to be in her own country. That she should have left it, and faced\nthe weariness of a long journey over sea and land, she must have had very\nserious reasons. The poverty into which she had fallen since the death of\nher husband would not be an adequate explanation of her departure from\nher native land. She had still some small property at Thagaste; she could\nhave lived there. The true motives of her departure were of an altogether\ndifferent order. First of all, she passionately loved her son, to the point\nthat she was not able to live away from him. Let us recall Augustin's\ntouching words: \"For she loved to keep me with her, as mothers are wont,\nyes, far more than most mothers.\" Besides that, she wanted to save him. She\ncompletely believed that this was her work in the world.\n\nBeginning from now, she is no longer the widow of Patricius: she is already\nSaint Monnica. Living like a nun, she fasted, prayed, mortified her body.\nBy long meditating on the Scriptures, she had developed within her the\nsense of spiritual realities, so that before long she astonished Augustin\nhimself. She had visions; perhaps she had trances. As she came over the sea\nfrom Carthage to Ostia, the ship which carried her ran into a wild gale.\nThe danger became extreme, and the sailors themselves could no longer hide\ntheir fear. But Monnica intrepidly encouraged them. \"Never you fear, we\nshall arrive in port safe and sound!\" God, she declared, had promised her\nthis.\n\nIf, in her Christian life, she knew other minutes more divine, that was\ntruly the most heroic. Across Augustin's calm narrative, we witness the\nscene. This woman lying on the deck among passengers half dead from fatigue\nand terror, suddenly flings back her veils, stands up before the maddened\nsea, and with a sudden flame gleaming over her pale face, she cries to the\nsailors: \"What do you fear? We shall get to port. _I am sure of it!_\" The\nglorious act of faith!\n\nAt this solemn moment, when she saw death so near, she had a clear\nrevelation of her destiny; she knew with absolute certainty that she was\nentrusted with a message for her son, and that her son would receive this\nmessage, in spite of all, in spite of the wildness of the sea--aye, in\nspite of his own heart.\n\nWhen this sublime emotion had subsided, it left with her the conviction\nthat sooner or later Augustin would change his ways. He had lost himself,\nhe was mistaken about himself. This business of rhetorician was unworthy\nof him. The Master of the field had chosen him to be one of the great\nreapers in the time of harvest. For a long while Monnica had foreseen the\nexceptional place that Augustin was to take in the Church. Why fritter\naway his talent and intelligence in selling vain words, when there were\nheresies to combat, the Truth to make shine forth, when the Donatists were\ncapturing the African basilicas from the Catholics? What, in fact, was the\nmost celebrated rhetorician compared to a bishop--protector of cities,\ncounsellor of emperors, representative of God on earth? All this might\nAugustin be. And he remained stubborn in his error! Prayers and efforts\nmust be redoubled to draw him from that. It was also for herself that she\nstruggled, for the dearest of her hopes as a mother. To bear a soul to\nJesus Christ--and a chosen soul who would save in his turn souls without\nnumber--for this only had she lived. And so it was that on the deck, tired\nby the rolling of the ship, drenched by the seas that were breaking on\nboard, and hardly able to stand in the teeth of the wind, she cried out to\nthe sailors: \"What do you fear? We shall get to port. I am sure of it....\"\n\nAt Milan she was regarded by Bishop Ambrose as a model parishioner. She\nnever missed his sermons and \"hung upon his lips as a fountain of water\nspringing up to eternal life.\" And yet it does not appear that the great\nbishop understood the mother any better than he did the son: he had not\nthe time. For him Monnica was a worthy African woman, perhaps a little odd\nin her devotion, and given to many a superstitious practice. Thus, she\ncontinued to carry baskets of bread and wine and pulse to the tombs of the\nmartyrs, according to the use at Carthage and Thagaste. When, carrying\nher basket, she came to the door of one of the Milanese basilicas, the\ndoorkeeper forbade her to enter, saying that it was against the bishop's\norders, who had solemnly condemned such practices because they smacked\nof idolatry. The moment she learned that this custom was prohibited by\nAmbrose, Monnica, very much mortified, submitted to take away her basket,\nfor in her eyes Ambrose was the providential apostle who would lead her son\nto salvation. And yet it must have grieved her to give up this old custom\nof her country. Save for the fear of displeasing the bishop, she would\nhave kept it up. Ambrose was gratified by her obedience, her fervour and\ncharity. When by chance he met the son, he congratulated him on having such\na mother. Augustin, who did not yet despise human praise, no doubt expected\nthat Ambrose would in turn pay some compliments to himself. But Ambrose did\nnot praise him at all, and perhaps he felt rather vexed.\n\nHe himself, however, was always very busy; he had hardly any time to profit\nby the pious exhortations of the bishop. His day was filled by his work\nand his social duties. In the morning he lectured. The afternoon went in\nfriendly visits, or in looking up men of position whom he applied to for\nhimself or his relations. In the evening, he prepared to-morrow's lecture.\nIn spite of this very full and stirring life, which would seem to satisfy\nall his ambitions, he could not manage to stifle the cry of his heart in\ndistress. He did not feel really happy. In the first place, it is doubtful\nwhether he liked Milan any better than Rome. He felt the cold there very\nmuch. The Milanese winters are very trying, especially for a southerner.\nThick fogs rise from the canals and the marsh lands which surround the\ncity. The Alpine snows are very near. This climate, damper and frostier\neven than at Rome, did no good to his chest. He suffered continually from\nhoarseness; he was obliged to interrupt his lectures--a most disastrous\nnecessity for a man whose business it is to talk. These attacks became so\nfrequent that he was forced to wonder if he could keep on long in this\nstate. Already he felt that he might be obliged to give up his profession.\nThen, in those hours when he lost heart, he flung to the winds all his\nyouthful ambitions. As a last resort, the voiceless rhetorician would take\na post in one of the administrative departments of the Empire. The idea of\nbeing one day a provincial governor did not rouse any special repugnance.\nWhat a fall for him! \"Yes, but it is the wisest, the wisest thing,\"\nretorted the ill-advising voice, the one we are tempted to listen to when\nwe doubt ourselves.\n\nFriendship, as always with Augustin, consoled him for his hopeless\nthoughts. Near him was \"the brother of his heart,\" the faithful Alypius,\nand also Nebridius, that young man so fond of metaphysical discussions.\nNebridius had left his rich estate in the Carthaginian suburbs, and a\nmother who loved him, simply to live with Augustin in the pursuit of truth.\nRomanianus was also there, but for a less disinterested reason. The M\u00e6cenas\nof Thagaste, after his ostentatious expenditure, found that his fortune\nwas threatened. A powerful enemy, who had started a law-suit against him,\nworked to bring about his downfall. Romanianus had come to Milan to\ndefend himself before the Emperor, and to win the support of influential\npersonages about the Court. And so it came about that he saw a great deal\nof Augustin.\n\nBesides this little band of fellow-countrymen, the professor of rhetoric\nhad some very distinguished friends among the aristocracy. He was\nespecially intimate with that Manlius Theodorus whom the poet Claudian\ncelebrates, and to whom he himself later on was to dedicate one of his\nbooks. This rich man, who had been Proconsul at Carthage, where no doubt he\nhad met Augustin, lived at this time retired in the country, dividing his\nleisure hours between the study of the Greek philosophers, especially of\nthe Platonists, and the cultivation of his vineyards and olive trees.\n\nHere, as at Thagaste, in these beautiful villas on the shores of the\nItalian lakes, the son of Monnica gave himself up once more to the\nsweetness of life. \"I liked an easy life,\" he avows in all simplicity.\nHe felt himself to be more Epicurean than ever. He might have chosen\nEpicureanism altogether, if he had not always kept a fear of what is beyond\nlife. But when he was the guest of Manlius Theodoras, fronting the dim blue\nmountains of lake Como, framed in the high windows of the _triclinium_,\nhe did not think much about what is beyond life. He said to himself: \"Why\ndesire the impossible? So very little is needed to satisfy a human soul.\"\nThe enervating contact of luxury and comfort imperceptibly corrupted him.\nHe became like those fashionable people whom he knew so well how to charm\nwith his talk. Like the fashionable people of all times, these designated\nvictims of the Barbarians built, with their small daily pleasures, a\nrampart against all offensive or saddening realities, leaving the important\nquestions without answer, no longer even asking them. And they said:\n\"I have beautiful books, a well-heated house, well-trained slaves, a\ndelightfully arranged bathroom, a comfortable vehicle: life is sweet. I\ndon't wish for a better. What's the use? This one is good enough for me.\"\nAt the moment when his tired intellect gave up everything, Augustin was\ntaken in the snare of easy enjoyment, and desired to resemble these people\nat all points, to be one of them. But to be one of them he must have a\nhigher post than a rhetorician's, and chiefly it would be necessary to put\nall the outside forms and exterior respectability into his life that the\nworld of fashion shews. Thus, little by little, he began to think seriously\nof marriage.\n\nHis mistress was the only obstacle in the way of this plan. He got rid of\nher.\n\nThat was a real domestic drama, which he has tried to hide; but it must\nhave been extremely painful for him, to judge by the laments which he gives\nvent to, despite himself, in some phrases, very brief and, as it were,\nashamed. In this drama Monnica was certainly the leader, though it is\nlikely that Augustin's friends also played their parts. No doubt, they\nobjected to the professor of rhetoric, that he was injuring his reputation\nas well as his future by living thus publicly with a concubine. But\nMonnica's reasons were more forcible and of quite another value.\n\nTo begin with, it is very natural that she should have suffered in her\nmaternal dignity, as well as in her conscience as a Christian, by having to\nput up with the company of a stranger who was her son's mistress. However\nlarge we may suppose the house where the African tribe dwelt, a certain\nclashing between the guests was unavoidable. Generally, disputes as to\nwho shall direct the domestic arrangements divide mother-in-law and\ndaughter-in-law who live under one roof. What could be Monnica's feelings\ntowards a woman who was not even a daughter-in-law and was regarded by her\nas an intruder? She did not consider it worth while to make any attempt at\nregulating the entanglement of her son by marrying them: this person was\nof far too low a class. It is all very well to be a saint, but one does\nnot forget that one is the widow of a man of curial rank, and that a\nmiddle-class family with self-respect does not lower itself by admitting\nthe first-comer into its ranks by marriage. But these were secondary\nconsiderations in her eyes. The only one which could have really preyed on\nher mind is that this woman delayed Augustin's conversion. On account of\nher, as Monnica saw plainly, he put off his baptism indefinitely. She was\nthe chain of sin, the unclean past under whose weight he stifled. He must\nbe freed from her as soon as possible.\n\nConvinced therefore that such was her bounden duty, she worked continually\nto make him break off. By way of putting him in some sort face to face with\na deed impossible to undo, she searched to find him a wife, with the fine\neagerness that mothers usually put into this kind of hunt. She discovered\na girl who filled, as they say, all the requirements, and who realized all\nthe hopes of Augustin. She had a fortune considerable enough not to be a\nburthen on her husband. Her money, added to the professor's salary, would\nallow the pair to live in ease and comfort. So they were betrothed. In\nthe uncertainty about all things which was Augustin's state just then, he\nallowed his mother to work at this marriage. No doubt he approved, and like\na good official he thought it was time for him to settle down.\n\nFrom that moment, the separation became inevitable. How did the poor\ncreature who had been faithful to him during so many years feel at this\nignominious dismissal? What must have been the parting between the child\nAdeodatus and his mother? How, indeed, could Augustin consent to take him\nfrom her? Here, again, he has decided to keep silent on this painful drama,\nfrom a feeling of shame easy to understand. Of course, he was no longer\nstrongly in love with his mistress, but he was attached to her by some\nremains of tenderness, and by that very strong tie of pleasure shared. He\nhas said it in words burning with regret. \"When they took from my side, as\nan obstacle to my marriage, her with whom I had been used for such a long\ntime to sleep, my heart was torn at the place where it was stuck to hers,\nand the wound was bleeding.\" The phrase casts light while it burns. \"At the\nplace where my heart stuck to hers\"--_cor ubi adh\u00e6rebat_. He acknowledges\nthen that the union was no longer complete, since at many points he had\ndrawn apart. If the soul of his mistress had remained the same, his had\nchanged: however much he might still love her, he was already far from her.\n\nBe that as it will, she behaved splendidly in the affair--this forsaken\nwoman, this poor creature whom they deemed unworthy of Augustin. She was a\nChristian; perhaps she perceived (for a loving woman might well have this\nkind of second-sight) that it was a question not only of the salvation of\na loved being, but of a divine mission to which he was predestined. She\nsacrificed herself that Augustin might be an apostle and a saint--a great\nservant of God. So she went back to her Africa, and to shew that she\npardoned, if she could not forget, she vowed that she would never know any\nother man. \"She who had slept\" with Augustin could never be the wife of any\none else.\n\nHowever low she may have been to begin with, the unhappy woman was great at\nthis crisis. Her nobility of soul humiliated Augustin, and Monnica herself,\nand punishment was not slow in falling on them both--on him, for letting\nhimself be carried away by sordid plans for success in life, and upon her,\nthe saint, for having been too accommodating. As soon as his mistress was\ngone, Augustin suffered from being alone. \"I thought that I should be\nmiserable,\" says he, \"without the embraces of a woman.\" Now his promised\nbride was too young: two years must pass before he could marry her. How\ncould he control himself till then? Augustin did not hesitate: he found\nanother mistress.\n\nThere was Monnica's punishment, cruelly deceived in her pious intentions.\nIn vain did she hope a great deal of good from this approaching marriage:\nthe silence of God shewed her that she was on the wrong track. She begged\nfor a vision, some sign which would reveal to her how this new-planned\nmarriage would turn out. Her prayer was not heard.\n\n\"Meanwhile,\" says Augustin, \"my sins were being multiplied.\" But he did\nnot limit himself to his own sins: he led others into temptation. Even in\nmatrimonial matters, he felt the need of making proselytes. So he fell upon\nthe worthy Alypius. He, to be sure, guarded himself chastely from women,\nalthough in the outset of his youth, to be like everybody else, he had\ntried pleasure with women; but he had found that it did not suit his taste.\nHowever, Augustin put conjugal delights before him with so much heat, that\nhe too began to turn his thoughts that way, \"not that he was overcome by\nthe desire of pleasure, _but out of curiosity_.\" For Alypius, marriage\nwould be a sort of philosophic and sentimental experience.\n\nHere are quite modern expressions to translate very old conditions of soul.\nThe fact is, that these young men, Augustin's friends and Augustin himself,\nwere startlingly like those of a generation already left behind, alas! who\nwill probably keep in history the presumptuous name they gave themselves:\n_The Intellectuals_.\n\nLike us, these young Latins of Africa, pupils of the rhetoricians and the\npagan philosophers, believed in hardly anything but ideas. All but ready to\naffirm that Truth is not to be come at, they thought, just the same, that\na vain hunt after it was a glorious risk to run, or, at the very least, an\nexciting game. For them this game made the whole dignity and value of life.\nAlthough they had spasms of worldly ambition, they really despised whatever\nwas not pure speculation. In their eyes, the world was ugly; action\ndegrading. They barred themselves within the ideal garden of the sage, \"the\nphilosopher's corner,\" as they called it, and jealously they stopped up all\nthe holes through which the painful reality might have crept through to\nthem. But where they differed from us, is that they had much less dryness\nof soul, with every bit as much pedantry--but such ingenuous pedantry!\nThat's what saved them--their generosity of soul, the youth of their\nhearts. They loved each other, and they ended by growing fond of life and\ngetting in contact with it again. Nebridius journeyed from Carthage to\nMilan, abandoning his mother and family, neglecting considerable interests,\nnot only to talk philosophy with Augustin, but to live with him as a\nfriend. From this moment they might have been putting in practice those\nwords of the Psalm, which Augustin ere long will be explaining to his monks\nwith such tender eloquence: \"Behold, how good and how pleasant it is for\nbrethren to dwell together in unity!\"\n\nThis is not baseless hypothesis: they had really a plan for establishing a\nkind of lay monastery, where the sole rule would be the search after Truth\nand the happy life. There would be about a dozen solitaries. They would\nmake a common stock of what means they possessed. The richest, and among\nthese Romanianus, promised to devote their whole fortune to the community.\nBut the recollection of their wives brought this naive plan to nothing.\nThey had neglected to ask the opinions of their wives, and if these, as\nwas likely, should refuse to enter the convents with their husbands, the\nmarried men could not face the scheme of living without them. Augustin\nespecially, who was on the point of starting a new connection, declared\nthat he would never find the courage for it. He had also forgotten that\nhe had many dependents: his whole family lived on him. Could he leave his\nmother, his son, his brother, and his cousins?\n\nIn company with Alypius and Nebridius, he sincerely lamented that this\nfair dream of coenobite life was impracticable. \"We were three famishing\nmouths,\" he says, \"complaining of our distress one to another, and waiting\nupon Thee that Thou mightest give us our meat in due season. And in all\nthe bitterness that Thy mercy put into our worldly pursuits, we sought the\nreason why we suffered; and all was darkness. Then we turned to each other\nshuddering, and asked: 'How much longer can this last?'...\"\n\nOne day, a slight commonplace fact which they happened upon brought home\nto them still more cruelly their intellectual poverty. Augustin, in his\nofficial position as municipal orator, had just delivered the official\npanegyric of the Emperor. The new year was opening: the whole city was\ngiven over to mirth. And yet he was cast down, knowing well that he had\njust uttered many an untruth, and chiefly because he despaired of ever\nbeing happy. His friends were walking with him. Suddenly, as they crossed\nthe street, they came upon a beggar, quite drunk, who was indulging in the\njolliest pranks. So there was a happy man! A few pence had been enough\nto give him perfect felicity, whereas they, the philosophers, despite\nthe greatest efforts and all their knowledge, could not manage to win\nhappiness. No doubt, as soon as the drunkard grew sober, he would be more\nwretched than before. What matters that, if this poor joy--yes, though it\nbe an illusion--can so much cheer a poor creature, thus raise him so far\nabove himself! That minute, at least, he shall have lived in full bliss.\nAnd to Augustin came the temptation to do as the beggar-man, to throw\noverboard his philosophical lumber and set himself simply to live without\nafterthoughts, since life is sometimes good.\n\nBut an instinct, stronger than the instinct of pleasure, said to him:\n\"_There is something else!_--Suppose that were true?--Perhaps you might be\nable to find out.\" This thought tormented him unceasingly. Now eager, now\ndisheartened, he set about trying to find the \"something else.\"\n\n\n\n\nV\n\nTHE CHRIST IN THE GARDEN\n\n\n\"I was tired of devouring time and of being devoured by it.\" The whole\nmoral crisis that Augustin is about to undergo might be summed up in these\nfew words so concentrated and so strong. No more to scatter himself among\nthe multitude of vain things, no more to let himself flow along with the\nminutes as they flowed; but to pull himself together, to escape from the\nrout so as to establish himself upon the incorruptible and eternal, to\nbreak the chains of the old slave he continues to be so as to blossom forth\nin liberty, in thought, in love--that is the salvation he longs for. If it\nbe not yet the Christian salvation, he is on the road which leads to that.\n\nOne might amuse oneself by drawing a kind of ideal map-route of his\nconversion, and fastening into one solid chain the reasons which made him\nemerge at the act of faith: he himself perhaps, in his _Confessions_,\nhas given way too much to this inclination. In reality, conversion is an\ninterior fact, and (let us repeat it) a divine fact, which is independent\nof all control by the reason. Before it breaks into light, there is a long\npreparation in that dark region of the soul which to-day is called the\nsubconscious. Now nobody has more _lived_ his ideas than did Augustin\nat this time of his life. He took them, left them, took them up again,\npersisted in his desperate effort. They reflect in their disorder his\nvariable soul, and the misgivings which troubled it to its depths. And yet\nit cannot be that this interior fact should be in violent contradiction\nwith logic. The head ought not to hinder the heart. With the future\nbeliever, a parallel work goes on in the feelings and in the thought. If we\nare not able to reproduce the marches and counter-marches, or follow their\nrepeatedly broken line, we can at least shew the main halting-places.\n\nLet us recall Augustin's state of mind when he came to Milan. He was a\nsceptic, the kind of sceptic who regards as useless all speculation upon\nthe origin of things, and for whom cognition is but an approximation of the\ntrue. Vaguely deist, he saw in Jesus Christ only a wise man among the wise.\nHe believed in God and the providences of God, which amounts to this: That\nalthough materialist by tendency, he admitted the divine interference in\nhuman affairs--the miracle. This is an important point which differentiates\nhim from modern materialists.\n\nNext, he listened to the preaching of Ambrose. The Bible no longer seemed\nto him absurd or at variance with a moral scheme. Ambrose's exegesis,\nhalf allegorical, half historic, might be accepted, taken altogether,\nby self-respecting minds. But what, above all, struck Augustin in the\nScriptures, was the wisdom, the practical efficiency. Those who lived by\nthe Christian rule were not only happy people, but, as Pascal would say,\ngood sons, good husbands, good fathers, good citizens. He began to suspect\nthat this life here below is bearable and has a meaning only when it is\nfastened to the life on high. Even as for nations glory is daily bread, so\nfor the individual the sacrifice to something which is beyond the world is\nthe only way of living in the world.\n\nSo, little by little, Augustin corrected the false notions that the\nManichees had filled him with about Catholicism. He acknowledged that in\nattacking it he had \"been barking against the vain imaginations of carnal\nthoughts.\" Still, he found great difficulty in getting free of all his\nManichean prejudices. The problem of Evil remained inexplicable for him,\napart from Manichee teachings. God could not be the author of evil. This\ntruth admitted, he went on from it to think, against his former masters,\nthat nothing is bad in itself--bad because it has within it a corrupting\nprinciple. On the contrary, all things are good, though in varying degrees.\nThe apparent defects of creation, perceived by our senses, blend into\nthe harmony of the whole. The toad and the viper have their place in the\noperation of a perfectly arranged world. But physical ill is not the only\nill; there is also the evil that we do and the evil that others do us.\nCrime and pain are terrible arguments against God. Now the Christians\nhold that the first is the product solely of the human will, of liberty\ncorrupted by original sin, and that the other is permitted by God as a\nmeans of purifying souls. Of course, this was a solution, but it implied a\nbelief in the dogmas of the Fall and of the Redemption. Augustin did not\naccept them yet. He was too proud to recognize an impaired will and the\nneed of a Saviour. \"My puffed-out face,\" he says, \"closed up my eyes.\"\n\nNevertheless he had taken a great step in rejecting the fundamental dogma\nof Manicheeism--the double Principle of good and evil. Henceforth for\nAugustin there exists only one Principle, unique and incorruptible--the\nGood, which is God. But his view of this divine substance is still\nquite materialistic, to such an extent is he governed by his senses. In\nhis thought, it is corporeal, spatial, and infinite. He pictures it as\na kind of limitless sea, wherein is a huge sponge bathing the world\nthat it pervades throughout.... He was at this point, when one of his\nacquaintances, \"a man puffed up with immense vanity,\" gave him some of\nthe Dialogues of Plato, translated into Latin by the famous rhetorician\nVictorinus Afer. It is worth noting, as we pass, that Augustin, now\nthirty-two years old, a rhetorician by profession and a philosopher by\ntaste, had not yet read Plato. This is yet another proof to what extent the\ninstruction of the ancients was oral, resembling in this the Mussulmans'\ninstruction of to-day. Up to now, he had only known Plato by hearsay. He\nread him, and it was as a revelation. He learned that a reality could exist\nwithout diffusion through space. He saw God as unextended and yet infinite.\nThe sense of the divine Soul was given to him. Then the primordial\nnecessity of the Mediator or Word was borne in upon his mind. It is the\nWord which has created the world. It is through the Word that the world,\nand God, and all things, including ourselves, become comprehensible to us.\nWhat an astonishment! Plato corresponded with St. John! \"In the beginning\nwas the Word\"--_in principio erat verbum_--said the fourth Gospel. But\nit was not only an Evangelist that Augustin discovered in the Platonist\ndialogues, it was almost all the essential part of the doctrine of Christ.\nHe saw plainly the profound differences, but for the moment he was struck\nby the resemblances, and they carried him away. What delighted him, first\nof all, is the beauty of the world, constructed after His own likeness by\nthe Demiurgus. God is Beauty; the world is fair as He who made it. This\nmetaphysical vision entranced Augustin; his whole heart leaped towards\nthis ineffably beautiful Divinity. Carried away by enthusiasm he cries: \"I\nmarvelled to find that now I loved Thee, O my God, and not a phantasm in\nThy stead. If I was not yet in a state to enjoy Thee, _I was swept up to\nThee by Thy beauty_.\"\n\nBut such an abandonment could not endure: \"I was not yet in a state to\nenjoy Thee.\" There is Augustin's main objection to Platonism. He felt\nthat instead of touching God, of enjoying Him, he would be held by purely\nmental conceptions, that he would be always losing his way among the\nphantasmagoria of idealism. What was the use of giving up the illusory\nrealities of the senses, if it were not to get hold of more _solid_\nrealities? Though his intelligence, his poet's imagination, might be\nattracted by the glamour of Platonism, his heart was not satisfied. \"It is\none thing,\" he says, \"from some wooded height to behold the land of peace,\nanother thing to march thither along the high road.\"\n\nSt. Paul it was who shewed him this road. He began to read the _Epistles_\ncarefully, and the more he read of them the more he became aware of the\nabyss which separates philosophy from wisdom--the one which marshals the\nideas of things, the other which, ignoring ideas, leads right up to the\ndivine realities whereon the others are suspended. The Apostle taught\nAugustin that it was not enough to get a glimpse of God through the crystal\nof concepts, but that it is necessary to be united to Him in spirit and in\ntruth--to possess and enjoy Him. And to unite itself to this Good, the soul\nmust get itself into a fit state for such a union, purify and cure itself\nof all its fleshly maladies, descry its place in the world and hold to it.\nNecessity of repentance, of humility, of the contrite and humble heart.\nOnly the contrite and humble heart shall see God. \"The broken heart shall\nbe cured,\" says the Scripture, \"but the heart of the proud man shall be\nshattered.\" So Augustin, the intellectual, had to change his methods,\nand he felt that this change was right. If the writer who wants to write\nbeautiful things ought to put himself beforehand into some sort of a state\nof grace, wherein not only vile actions, but unworthy thoughts become\nimpossible, the Christian, in like manner, must cleanse and prepare\nhis inward eye to perceive the divine verities. Augustin grasped this\nthought in reading St. Paul. But what, above all, appealed to him in the\n_Epistles_, was their paternal voice, the mildness and graciousness hidden\nbeneath the uncultivated roughness of the phrases. He was charmed by this.\nHow different from the philosophers! \"Those celebrated pages have no trace\nof the pious soul, the tears of repentance, nor of Thy sacrifice, O my God,\nnor of the troubled spirit.... No one there hearkened to the Christ that\ncalleth, 'Come unto Me, all ye that labour!' They think it scorn to learn\nfrom Him, because He is meek and lowly of heart. For Thou hast hidden these\nthings from the wise and prudent, and hast revealed them unto babes.\"\n\nBut it is not much to bend: what is, above all, requisite for him is to get\nrid of his passions. Now Augustin's passions were old friends. How could\nhe part with them? He lacked courage for this heroic treatment. Just think\nof what a young man of thirty-two is. He is always thinking of women. Lust\nholds him by the entanglements of habit, and he takes pleasure in the\nimpurity of his heart. When, yielding to the exhortations of the Apostle,\nhe tried to shape his conduct to his new way of thinking, the old friends\ntrooped to beg of him not to do anything of the kind. \"They pulled me,\" he\nsays, \"by the coat of my flesh, and they murmured in my ear--What, are you\nleaving us? Shall we be no more with you, for ever? _Non erimus tecum ultra\nin aeternum?_... And from that instant, the thing you well know, and still\nanother thing, will be forbidden you for ever--for eternity....\"\n\nEternity! Dread word. Augustin shook with fear. Then, calming himself, he\nsaid to them: \"I know you; I know you too well! You are Desire without\nhope, the Gulf without soundings that nothing can fill up. I have suffered\nenough because of you.\" And the anguished dialogue continued: \"What\nmatters that! If the only possible happiness for you is to suffer on our\naccount, to fling your body into the voracious gulf, without end, without\nhope!\"--\"Let cowards act so!... For me there is another happiness than\nyours. There is _something else_: I am certain.\" Then the friends, put\na little out of countenance by this convinced tone, muttered in a lower\nvoice: \"Still, just suppose you are losing this wretched pleasure for\na phantasm still more empty.... Besides, you are mistaken about your\nstrength. You cannot--no, you never can exist without us.\" They had touched\nthe galling spot: Augustin knew his weakness only too well. And his burning\nimagination presented to him with extraordinary lucidity these pleasures\nwhich he could not do without. They were not only embracements, but also\nthose trifles, those superfluous nothings, \"those light pleasantnesses\nwhich make us fond of life.\" The perfidious old friends continued to\nwhisper: \"Wait a bit yet! The things you despise have a charm of their\nown; they bring even no small sweetness. You ought not to cut yourself off\nlight-heartedly, for it would be shameful to return to them afterwards.\"\nHe passed in review all the things he was going to give up; he saw them\nshine before him tinted in the most alluring colours: gaming, elaborate\nentertainments, music, song, perfumes, books, poetry, flowers, the coolness\nof forests (he remembered the woods about Thagaste, and his hunting days\nwith Romanianus)--in a word, all that he had ever cared about, even to\n\"that freshness of the light, so kind to human eyes.\"\n\nAugustin was not able to decide in this conflict between temptation and the\ndecree of his conscience, and he became desperate. His will, enfeebled by\nsin, was unable to struggle against itself. And so he continued to endure\nlife and to be \"devoured by time.\"\n\nThe life of that particular period, if it was endurable for quiet folk\nwho were careful to have nothing to do with politics--this life of the\nEmpire near its end, could be nothing but a scandalous spectacle for an\nhonest-minded and high-souled man such as Augustin. It ought to have\ndisgusted him at once with remaining in the world. At Milan, connected as\nhe was with the Court, he was in a good position to see how much baseness\nand ferocity may spring from human avarice and ambition. If the present\nwas hideous, the future promised to be sinister. The Roman Empire no longer\nexisted save in name. Foreigners, come from all the countries of the\nMediterranean, plundered the provinces under its authority. The army was\nalmost altogether in the hands of the Barbarians. They were Gothic tribunes\nwho kept order outside the basilica where Ambrose had closed himself in\nwith his people to withstand the order of the Empress Justina, who wished\nto hand over this church to the Arians. Levantine eunuchs domineered over\nthe exchequer-clerks in the palace, and officials of all ranks. All these\npeople plundered where they could. The Empire, even grown feeble, was\nalways an excellent machine to rule men and extract gold from nations.\nAccordingly, ambitious men and adventurers, wherever they came from, tried\nfor the Purple: it was still worth risking one's skin for. Even more than\nthe patriots (and there were still some very energetic men of this sort\nwho were overcome with grief at the state of things), the men of rapine\nand violence were interested in maintaining the Empire. The Barbarians\nthemselves desired to be included, so that they might pillage it with more\nimpunity.\n\nAs for the emperors, even sincere Christians, they were obliged to become\nabominable tyrants to defend their constantly threatened lives. Never were\nexecutions more frequent or more cruel than at this time. At Milan they\nmight have shewn Augustin, hard by the Imperial sleeping apartments, the\ncave where the preceding Emperor, choleric Valentinian, kept two bears,\n\"Bit of Gold\" and \"Innocence,\" who were his rapid executioners. He fed them\nwith the flesh of those condemned to die. Possibly \"Bit of Gold\" was still\nliving. \"Innocence\"--observe the atrocious irony of this name--had been\nrestored to the liberty of her native forests, as a reward for her good and\nloyal services.\n\nWas Augustin, who still thought of becoming an official, going to mix in\nwith this lot of swindlers, assassins, and brute beasts? As he studied them\nnear at hand, he felt his goodwill grow weak. Like all those who belong\nto worn-out generations, he must have been disgusted with action and the\nvillainies it involves. Just before great catastrophes, or just after,\nthere is an epidemic of black pessimism which freezes delicate souls.\nBesides, he was ill--a favourable circumstance for a disappointed man if he\nentertains thoughts of giving up the world. In the fogs of Milan his chest\nand throat became worse and worse. And then it is likely enough that he was\nnot succeeding better as rhetorician than he had at Rome. It was a kind\nof fatality for all Africans. However great their reputation in their own\ncountry, that was the end of it as soon as they crossed the sea. Apuleius,\nthe great man of Carthage, had tried the experiment to his cost. They had\nmade fun of his guttural Carthaginian pronunciation. The same kind of thing\nhappened to Augustin. The Milanese turned his African accent into ridicule.\nHe even found among them certain purists who discovered solecisms in his\nphrases.\n\nBut these scratches at his self-respect, this increasing disgust of men\nand things, were small matters compared to what was going on within him.\nAugustin had a sick soul. The forebodings he had always been subject to\nwere now become the suffering of every moment. At certain times he was\nassailed by those great waves of sadness which unfurl all of a sudden from\nthe depths of the unknown. In such minutes we believe that the whole world\nis hurling itself against us. The great wave rolled him over; he got up\nagain all wounded. And he felt stretch forth in him a new will which was\nnot his own, under which the other, the will to sin, struggled. It was\nlike the approach of an invisible being whose contact overcame him with an\nanguish which was full of pleasure. This being wanted to open out within\nhim, but the weight of his old sins prevented. Then his soul cried out in\npain.\n\nIn those moments, what a relief it was to let himself float on the\ncanticles of the Church! The liturgical chants were then something new in\nthe West. It was in the very year we are dealing with that St. Ambrose\nstarted the custom in the Milanese basilicas.\n\nThe childhood of our hymns! One cannot think about that without being\nmoved. One envies Augustin for having heard them in their spring freshness.\nThese lovely musics, which were to sound during so many centuries, and\nstill soar against the vaults of cathedrals, were leaving the nest for the\nfirst time. We cannot think that a day will come when they will fold their\nwings and fall silent. Since human bodies, temples of the Holy Ghost, will\nlive again in glory, one would like to believe with Dante that the hymns,\ntemples of the Word, are likewise immortal, and that they will still be\nheard in the everlasting. Doubtless in the twilight glens of Purgatory the\nbewailing souls continue to sing the _Te lucis ante terminum_, even as in\nthe star-circles, where the Blessed move ever, will always leap up the\ntriumphant notes of the _Magnificat_....\n\nEven on those who have lost the faith, the power of these hymns is\nirresistible. \"If you knew,\" said Renan, \"the charm that the Barbarian\nmagicians knew how to put into their canticles. When I remember them, my\nheart melts.\" The heart of Augustin, who had not yet the faith, melted too\nin hearing them: \"How I have cried, my God, over the hymns and canticles\nwhen the sweet sound of the music of Thy Church thrilled my soul! As the\nmusic flowed into my ears, and Thy truth trickled into my heart, the tide\nof devotion swelled high within me, and the tears ran down, and there was\ngladness in those tears.\" His heart cast off its heaviness, while his mind\nwas shaken by the heavenly music. Augustin loved music passionately. At\nthis time he conceived God as the Great Musician of the spheres; and soon\nhe will write that \"we are a strophe in a poem.\" At the same time, the\nvivid and lightning figures of the Psalms, sweeping over the insipid\nmetaphors of the rhetoric which encumbered his memory, awoke in the depths\nof him his wild African imagination and sent him soaring. And then the\naffectionate note, the plaint in those sacred songs: _Deus, Deus meus!_--\"O\nGod! O _my_ God!\" The Divinity was no longer a cold abstraction, a phantom\nthat withdrew into an unapproachable infinite; He became the actual\npossession of the loving soul. He leant over His poor scarred creature,\ntook him in His arms, and comforted him like a kind father.\n\nAugustin wept with tenderness and ecstasy, but also with despair. He wept\nupon himself. He saw that he had not the courage to be happy with the only\npossible happiness. What, indeed, was he seeking, unless it were to capture\nthis \"blessed life\" which he had pursued so long? What he had tried to get\nout of all his loves was the complete gift of his soul--to realize himself\ncompletely. Now, this completeness of self is only in God--_in Deo salutari\nmeo_. The souls we have wounded are in unison with us, and with themselves,\nonly in God.... And the sweet Christian symbolism invited him with its\nmost enticing images: the Shades of Paradise; the Fountain of Living\nWater; the Repose in the Lord God; the green Branch of the Dove, harbinger\nof peace.... But the passions still resisted. \"To-morrow! Wait a little\nyet! Shall we be no more with you, for ever? _Non erimus tecum ultra in\naeternum?_...\" What a dismal sound in these syllables, and how terrifying\nfor a timid soul! They fell, heavy as bronze, on the soul of Augustin.\n\nAn end had to be put to it somehow. What was needed was some one who would\nforce him out of his indecision. Instinctively, led by that mysterious will\nwhich he felt had arisen within him, he went to see, and consult in his\ndistress, an old priest named Simplicianus, who had converted or directed\nBishop Ambrose in his young days. No doubt Augustin spoke to him of what he\nhad lately been reading, and particularly of his Platonist studies, and of\nall the efforts he made to enter the communion of Christ. He acknowledged\nthat he was convinced, but he could not bend to the practice of the\nChristian life. Then, very skilfully, as one artful in differentiating\nsouls, perceiving that vanity was not yet dead in Augustin, Simplicianus\noffered him as an example the very translator of those Platonic books which\nhe had just been reading so enthusiastically--that famous Victorinus Afer,\nthat orator so learned and admired, who had his statue in the Roman Forum.\nBecause of some remains of philosophical pride, and also from fear of\noffending his friends among the Roman aristocracy, who were still almost\naltogether pagan, Victorinus was a Christian only in his head. In vain\nSimplicianus pointed out to him how illogical his conduct was. But suddenly\nand unexpectedly he decided. The day of the baptism of the catechumens,\nthis celebrated man mounted the platform set up in the basilica for the\nprofession of faith of the newly converted, and there, like the meanest of\nthe faithful, he delivered his profession before all the assembled people.\nThat was a dramatic stroke. The crowd, jubilant over this fine performance,\ncheered the neophyte. And on all sides they shouted: \"Victorinus!\nVictorinus!\"\n\nAugustin listened to this little story, whereof all the details were so\nhappily chosen to act on an imagination like his:--the statue in the\nRoman Forum; the platform from the height of which the orator had spoken\na language so new and unexpected; the exulting shouts of the crowd:\n\"Victorinus! Victorinus!\" Already he saw himself in the same position.\nThere he was in the basilica, on the platform, in presence of Bishop\nAmbrose; he too repeated his profession of faith, and the people of Milan\nclapped their hands--\"Augustin! Augustin!\" But can a humble and contrite\nheart thus take pleasure in human adulation? If Augustin did become a\nconvert, it would be entirely for God and before God. Very quickly he put\naside the temptation.... Nevertheless, this example, coming from so exalted\na man, made a very deep and beneficial impression. He looked upon it as a\nprovidential sign, a lesson in courage which concerned him personally.\n\nSome time after that, he received a visit from a fellow-countryman, a\ncertain Pontitianus, who had a high position in the Imperial household.\nAugustin happened to be alone in the house with his friend Alypius. They\nsat down to talk, and by chance the visitor noticed the Epistles of St.\nPaul lying on a table for playing games. This started the conversation.\nPontitianus, who was a Christian, praised the ascetic life, and especially\nthe wonders of holiness wrought by Antony and his companions in the\nEgyptian deserts. This subject was in the air. In Catholic circles at\nRome, they spoke of little else than these Egyptian solitaries, and of\nthe number, growing larger and larger, of those who stripped themselves\nof their worldly goods to live in utter renunciation. What was the good\nof keeping these worldly goods, that the avarice of Government taxation\nconfiscated so easily, and that the Barbarians watched covetously from\nafar! The brutes who came down from Germany would get hold of them sooner\nor later. And even supposing one might save them, retain an ever-uncertain\nenjoyment of them, was the life of the time really worth the trouble of\nliving? There was nothing more to hope for the Empire. The hour of the\ngreat desolation was at hand....\n\nPontitianus, observing the effect of his words on his hearers, was led\nto tell them a quite private adventure of his own. He was at Tr\u00e8ves, in\nattendance on the Court. Well, one afternoon while the Emperor was at\nthe circus, he and three of his friends, like himself attached to the\nhousehold, went for a stroll beyond the city walls. Two of them parted\nfrom the others and went off into the country, and there they came upon\na hut where dwelt certain hermits. They went in, and found a book--_The\nLife of St. Antony_. They read in it; and for them that was a conversion\nthunder-striking, instantaneous. The two courtiers resolved to join the\nsolitaries there and then, and they never went back to the Palace. And they\nwere betrothed!...\n\nThe tone of Pontitianus as he recalled this conscience-drama which he\nhad witnessed, betrayed a strange emotion which gradually took hold of\nAugustin. His guest's words resounded in him like the blows of a clapper in\na bell. He saw himself in the two courtiers of Tr\u00e8ves. He too was tired of\nthe world, he too was betrothed. Was he going to do as the Emperor--remain\nin the circus taken up with idle pleasures, while others took the road to\nthe sole happiness?\n\nWhen Pontitianus was gone, Augustin was in a desperate state. The repentant\nsoul of the two courtiers had passed into his. His will uprose in grievous\nconflict and tortured itself. He seized Alypius roughly by the arm and\ncried out to him in extraordinary excitement:\n\n\"What are we about? Yes, I say, what are we about? Did you not hear? Simple\nmen arise and take Heaven by violence, and we with all our heartless\nlearning--look how we are wallowing in flesh and blood!\"\n\nAlypius stared at him, stupefied. \"The truth is,\" adds Augustin, \"that I\nscarcely knew what I said. My face, my eyes, my colour, and the change in\nmy voice expressed my meaning much better than my words.\" If he guessed\nfrom this upheaval of his whole frame how close at hand was the heavenly\nvisitation, all he felt at the moment was a great need to weep, and he\nwanted solitude to weep freely. He went down into the garden. Alypius,\nfeeling uneasy, followed at a distance, and in silence sat down beside him\non the bench where he had paused. Augustin did not even notice that his\nfriend was there. His agony of spirit began again. All his faults, all his\nold stains came once more to his mind, and he grew furious against his\ncowardly feebleness as he felt how much he still clung to them. Oh, to tear\nhimself free from all these miseries--to finish with them once for all!...\nSuddenly he sprang up. It was as if a gust of the tempest had struck him.\nHe rushed to the end of the garden, flung himself on his knees under a\nfig-tree, and with his forehead pressed against the earth he burst into\ntears. Even as the olive-tree at Jerusalem which sheltered the last watch\nof the Divine Master, the fig-tree of Milan saw fall upon its roots a sweat\nof blood. Augustin, breathless in the victorious embrace of Grace, panted:\n\"How long, how long?... To-morrow and to-morrow?... Why not now? Why not\nthis hour make an end of my vileness?...\"\n\nNow, at this very moment a child's voice from the neighbouring house began\nrepeating in a kind of chant: \"_Take and read, take and read_.\" Augustin\nshuddered. What was this refrain? Was it a nursery-rhyme that the little\nchildren of the countryside used to sing? He could not recollect it; he had\nnever heard it before.... Immediately, as upon a divine command, he rose to\nhis feet and ran back to the place where Alypius was sitting, for he had\nleft St. Paul's Epistles lying there. He opened the book, and the passage\non which his eyes first fell was this: _Put ye on the Lord Jesus Christ,\nand make not provision for the flesh to fulfil the lusts thereof_.... The\nflesh!... The sacred text aimed at him directly--at him, Augustin, still so\nfull of lust! This command was the answer from on high....\n\nHe put his finger between the leaves, closed the volume. His frenzy had\npassed away. A great peace was shed upon him--it was all over. With a calm\nface he told Alypius what had happened, and without lingering he went into\nMonnica's room to tell her also. The Saint was not surprised. It was long\nnow since she had been told, \"Where I am, there shalt thou be also.\" But\nshe gave way to an outburst of joy. Her mission was done. Now she might\nsing her canticle of thanksgiving and enter into God's peace.\n\nMeanwhile, the good Alypius, always circumspect and practical, had opened\nthe book again and shewn his friend what followed the verse, for Augustin,\nin his excitement, had neglected to read further. The Apostle said, \"_Him\nthat is weak in the faith receive ye_.\" This also applied to Augustin.\nThat was only too certain: his new faith was still very unsteady. Let not\npresumption blind him! Yes, no doubt with all his soul he desired to be a\nChristian. It now remained for him to become one.\n\n\n\n\nTHE FOURTH PART\n\nTHE HIDDEN LIFE\n\n\n  Fac me, Pater, quaerere te.\n  \"Cause me to seek Thee, O my Father.\"\n\n  _Soliloquies_, I, i.\n\n\n\n\nI\n\nTHE LAST SMILE OF THE MUSE\n\n\nNow that Augustin had been at last touched by grace, was he after all\ngoing to make a sensational conversion like his professional brother, the\ncelebrated Victorinus?\n\nHe knew well enough that there is a good example set by these noisy\nconversions which works on a vast number of people. And however \"contrite\nand humble\" his heart might be, he was quite aware that in Milan he\nwas an important personage. What excitement, if he were to resign his\nprofessorship on the ground that he wished to spend the rest of his life in\nthe ascetic way of the Christians!... But he preferred to avoid the scandal\non one side, and the loud praise on the other. God alone and some very dear\nfriends should witness his repentance.\n\nThere were now hardly twenty days before the vacation. He would be patient\ntill then. Thus, the parents of his pupils would not have any ground to\nreproach him for leaving them before the end of term, and as his health\nwas getting worse, he would have a good excuse to give up his post. The\ndampness of the climate had given him a sort of chronic bronchitis which\nthe summer had not cured. He had difficulty in breathing; his voice was\nmuffled and thin--so much so, that he began to think his lungs were\nattacked. Augustin's health really needed care. This was a quite good\nenough reason to interrupt his lectures. Having fulfilled his professional\nduties to the very end--and he assures us that it took some courage--he\nleft the professorial chair with the declared intention of never occupying\nit again.\n\nHere, then, he is free from all worldly ties. From now on he can prepare\nhimself for baptism in silence and retreat. But still he must live somehow!\nAugustin had more souls depending on him than ever: his son, his mother,\nhis brother, his cousins--a heavy burthen which he had been struggling\nunder for a long time. It is probable that once more Romanianus, who was\nstill in Milan, came to his assistance. It will be remembered that the\nM\u00e6cenas of Thagaste had taken up warmly the plan of a lay monastery which\nAugustin and his friends had lost their heads over, and he had promised\nto subscribe a large sum. Augustin's retreat was a first step towards\nrealizing this plan in a new shape. Romanianus, no doubt, approved of\nit. In any case, he asked Augustin to keep on giving lessons to his son\nLicentius. Another young man, Trygetius, begged for the same favour.\nAugustin therefore did not intend to give up his employment altogether. He\nhad changed, for the present at least, from a Government professor into a\nprivate one.\n\nThis meant that he had a certain living. All he wanted now was a shelter.\nA friend, a colleague, the grammarian Verecundus, graciously offered him\nthis. Verecundus thus repaid a favour which Augustin had quite recently\ndone him. It was at Augustin's request that Nebridius, who was a friend of\nboth, agreed to take over the classes of the grammarian, who was obliged\nto go away. Although rich, full of talent, and very eager for peace and\nsolitude, Nebridius, simply out of good-nature, was willing to take the\nplace of Verecundus in his very modest employment. One cannot too much\nadmire the generosity and kindliness of these ancient and Christian\nmanners. In those days, friendship knew nothing of our narrow and shabby\negoisms.\n\nNow Verecundus owned a country house just outside Milan, at Cassicium. He\nsuggested to Augustin to spend the vacation there, and even to live there\npermanently with all his people, on condition of looking after the property\nand keeping it up.\n\nAttempts have been made to find traces of this hospitable dwelling where\nthe future monk of Thagaste and Hippo bade farewell to the world. Cassicium\nhas disappeared. The imagination is free to rebuild it fancifully in any\npart of the rich country which lies about Milan. Still, if the youthful\nLicentius has not yielded too much to metaphor in the verses wherein he\nrecalls to Augustin \"Departed suns among Italian mountain-heights,\" it is\nlikely that the estate of Verecundus lay upon those first mountain-slopes\nwhich roll into the Brianza range. Even to-day, the rich Milanese have\ntheir country houses among those hills.\n\nTo Augustin and his companions this flourishing Lombardy must have seemed\nanother promised land. The country, wonderfully fertile and cultivated,\nis one orchard, where fruit trees cluster, and, in all ways, deep streams\nwind, slow-flowing and stocked with fish. Everywhere is the tremor of\nrunning water--inconceivably fresh music for African ears. A scent of mint\nand aniseed; fields with grass growing high and straight in which you\nplunge up to the knees. Here and there, deeply engulfed little valleys\nwith their bunches of green covert, slashed with the rose plumes of the\nlime trees and the burnished leaves of the hazels, and where already the\nnorthern firs lift their black needles. Far off, blended in one violet\nmass, the Alps, peak upon peak, covered with snow; and nearer in view,\nsheer cliffs, jutting fastnesses, ploughed through with black gorges which\nmake flare out plainer the bronze-gold of their slopes. Not far off, the\nenchanted lakes slumber. It seems that an emblazonment fluctuates from\ntheir waters, and writhing above the crags which imprison them drifts\nathwart a sky sometimes a little chill--Leonardo's pensive sky of shadowed\namethyst--again of a flushed blue, whereupon float great clouds, silken\nand ruddy, as in the backgrounds of Veronese's pictures. The beauty of the\nlight lightens and beautifies the over-heavy opulence of the land.\n\nAnd wherever the country house of Verecundus may be placed, some bit of\nthis triumphal landscape will be found. As for the house itself, Augustin\nhas said enough about it for us to see it fairly well. It was no doubt one\nof those old rustic buildings, inhabited only some few months of the year,\nin the warmest season, and for the rest of the time given over to the\nfrolics of mice and rats. Without any pretence to architectural form, it\nhad been enlarged and renovated simply for the greater convenience of those\nwho lived there. There was no attempt at symmetry; the main door was not in\nthe middle of the building, and there was another door on one of the sides.\nThe sole luxury of this country house was perhaps the bath-houses. These\nbaths, however simple they might be, nevertheless reminded Augustin of\nthe decoration of gymnasiums. Does this mean that he found there rich\npavements, mosaics, and statues? These were quite usual things in Roman\nvillas. The Italians have always had, at all periods, a great fondness\nfor statues and mosaics. Not very particular about the quality, they made\nup for it by the quantity. And when they could not treat themselves to\nthe real thing, it was good enough to give themselves the make-believe in\npainting. I can imagine easily enough Verecundus' house, painted in fresco\nfrom top to bottom, inside and out, like those houses at Pompeii, or the\nmodern Milanese villas.\n\nThere was no attempt at ornamental gardens at Cassicium. The surroundings\nmust have been kitchen-garden, grazing-land, or ploughed fields, as in\na farm. A meadow--not in the least the lawns found in front of a large\ncountry house--lay before the dwelling, which was protected from sun and\nwind by clumps of chestnut trees. There, stretched on the grass under the\nshade of one of these spreading trees, they chatted gaily while listening\nto the broken song of the brook, as it flowed under the windows of the\nbaths. They lived very close to nature, almost the life of field-tillers.\nThe whole charm of Cassicium consisted in its silence, its peace, and,\nabove all, its fresh air. Augustin's tired lungs breathed there a purer air\nthan in Milan, where the humid summer heat is crushing. His soul, yearning\nfor retirement, discovered a retreat here in harmony with his new desires,\na country solitude of which the Virgilian grace still appealed to his\nliterary imagination. The days he passed there were days of blessedness for\nhim. Long afterwards he was deeply moved when he recalled them, and in an\noutburst of gratitude towards his host, he prayed God to pay him his debt.\n\"Thou wilt recompense him, O Lord, on the day of the resurrection of the\njust.... For that country house at Cassicium where we found shelter in Thee\nfrom the burning summer of our time, Thou wilt repay to Verecundus the\ncoolness and evergreen shade of Thy paradise....\"\n\nThat was an unequalled moment in Augustin's life. Following immediately\nupon the mental crisis which had even worn out his body, he seems to be\nexperiencing the pleasure of convalescence. He slackens, and, as he says\nhimself, he rests. His excitement is quenched, but his faith remains\nas firm as ever. With a cairn and supremely lucid mind he judges his\ncondition; he sees clearly all that he has still to do ere he becomes a\nthorough Christian. First, he must grow familiar with the Scripture, solve\ncertain urgent questions--that of the soul, for example, its nature and\norigin--which possessed him just then. Then he must change his conduct,\nalter his ways of thought, and, if one may so speak, disinfect his mind\nstill all saturated with pagan influences: a delicate work--yes, and an\nuneasy, at times even painful, which would take more than one day.\n\nAfter twenty centuries of Christianity, and in spite of our claim to\nunderstand all things, we do not yet realize very well what an abyss\nlies between us and paganism. When by chance we come upon pagan traces\nin certain primitive regions of the South of Europe, we get muddled, and\nattribute to Catholicism what is but a survival of old abolished customs,\nso far from us that we cannot recognize them any more. Augustin, on the\ncontrary, was right next to them. When he strolled over the fields and\nthrough the woods around Cassicium, the Fauns and woodland Nymphs of the\nold mythology haunted his memory, and all but stood before his eyes. He\ncould not take a walk without coming upon one of their chapels, or striking\nagainst a boundary-mark still all greasy from the oil with which the\nsuperstitious peasants had drenched it. Like himself, the old pagan land\nhad not yet quite put on the Christ of the new era. He was like that Hermes\nCriophorus, who awkwardly symbolized the Saviour on the walls of the\nCatacombs. Even as the Bearer of Rams changed little by little into the\nGood Shepherd, the Bishop of Hippo emerged slowly from the rhetorician\nAugustin.\n\nHe became aware of it during that languid autumn at Cassicium--that autumn\nheavy with all the rotting of summer, but which already promised the\ngreat winter peace. The yellow leaves of the chestnuts were heaped by the\nroadside. They fell in the brook which flowed near the baths, and the\nslowed water ceased to sing. Augustin strained his ears for it. His soul\nalso was blocked, choked up by all the deposit of his passions. But he knew\nthat soon the chant of his new life would begin in triumphal fashion, and\nhe said over to himself the words of the psalm: _Cantate mihi canticum\nnovum_--\"Sing unto me a new song.\"\n\nUnfortunately for Augustin, his soul and its salvation was not his only\ncare at Cassicium: he had a thousand others. So it shall be with him\nthroughout his life. Till the very end he will long for solitude, for the\nlife in God, and till the end God will charge him with the care of his\nbrethren. This great spirit shall live above all by charity.\n\nAt the house of Verecundus he was not only the head, but he had a complete\ncountry estate to direct and supervise. Probably all the guests in the\nhouse helped him. They divided the duties. The good Alypius, who was used\nto business and versed in the twisted ways of the law, took over the\nforeign affairs--the buying and selling, probably the accounts also. He was\ncontinually on the road to Milan. Augustin attended to the correspondence,\nand every morning appointed their work to the farm-labourers. Monnica\nlooked after the household, no easy work in a house where nine sat down to\ntable every day. But the Saint fulfilled her humble duties with touching\nkindness and forgetfulness of self: \"She took care of us,\" says Augustin,\n\"as if we had all been her children, and she served us as if each of us had\nbeen her father.\"\n\nLet us look a little at these \"children\" of Monnica. Besides Alypius, whom\nwe know already, there was the young Adeodatus, the child of sin--\"my son\nAdeodatus, whose gifts gave promise of great things, unless my love for\nhim betrays me.\" Thus speaks his father. This little boy was, it seems,\na prodigy, as shall be the little Blaise Pascal later: \"His intelligence\nfilled me with awe\"--_horrori mihi erat illud ingenium_--says the father\nagain. What is certain is that he had a soul like an angel. Some sayings\nof his have been preserved by Augustin. They are fragrant as a bunch of\nlilies.\n\nThe other members of the family are nearer the earth. Navigius, Augustin's\nbrother, an excellent man of whom we know nothing save that he had a bad\nliver--the icterus of the African colonist--and that on this account he\nabstained from sweetmeats. Rusticus and Lastidianus, the two cousins,\npersons as shadowy as the \"supers\" in a tragedy. Finally, Augustin's\npupils, Trygetius and Licentius. The first, who had lately served some time\nin the army, was passionately fond of history, \"like a veteran.\" Although\nhis master in some of his Dialogues has made him his interlocutor, his\ncharacter remains for us undeveloped. With Licentius it is different. This\nson of Romanianus, the M\u00e6cenas of Thagaste, was Augustin's beloved pupil.\nIt is easy to make that out. All the phrases he devotes to Licentius have a\nwarmth of tone, a colour and relief which thrill.\n\nThis Licentius comes before us as the type of the spoiled child, the son of\na wealthy family, capricious, vain, presuming, unabashed, never hesitating\nif he sees a chance to have a joke with his master. Forgetful, besides,\nprone to sudden fancies, superficial, and rather blundering. With all\nthat, the best boy in the world--a bad head, but a good heart. He was a\nfrank pagan, and I believe remained a pagan all his life, in spite of the\nremonstrances of Augustin and those of the gentle Paulinus of Nola, who\nlectured him in prose and verse. A great eater and a fine drinker, he\nfound himself obliged to do penance at St. Monnica's rather frugal table.\nBut when the fever of inspiration took hold of him, he forgot eating and\ndrinking, and in his poetical thirst he would would have drained--so his\nmaster says--all the fountains of Helicon. Licentius had a passion for\nversifying: \"He is an almost perfect poet,\" wrote Augustin to Romanianus.\nThe former rhetorician knew the world, and the way to talk to the father\nof a wealthy pupil, especially if he is your benefactor. At Cassicium,\nunder Augustin's indulgent eyes, the pupil turned into verse the romantic\nadventure of Pyramus and Thisbe. He declaimed bits of it to the guests\nin the house, for he had a fine loud voice. Then he flung aside the\nunfinished poem and suddenly fell in love with Greek tragedies of which,\nas it happened, he understood nothing at all, though this did not prevent\nhim from boring everybody he met with them. Another day it was the Church\nmusic, then quite new, which flung him into enthusiasm. That day they heard\nLicentius singing canticles from morning till night.\n\nIn connection with this, Augustin relates with candid freedom an anecdote\nwhich to-day needs the indulgence of the reader to make it acceptable. As\nit gives light upon that half-pagan, half-Christian way of life which was\nstill Augustin's, I will repeat it in all its plainness.\n\nIt happened, then, one evening after dinner, that Licentius went out and\ntook his way to a certain mysterious retreat, and there he suddenly began\nsinging this verse of the Psalm: \"Turn us again, O Lord God of hosts, cause\nThy face to shine; and we shall be saved.\" As a matter of fact, he had\nhardly sung anything else for a long time. He kept on repeating this verse\nover and over again, as people do with a tune they have just picked up. But\nthe pious Monnica, who heard him, could not tolerate the singing of such\nholy words in such a place. She spoke sharply to the offender. Upon this\nthe young scatter-brains answered rather flippantly:\n\n\"Supposing, good mother, that an enemy had shut me up in that place--do you\nmean to say that God wouldn't have heard me just the same?\"\n\nThe next day he thought no more about it, and when Augustin reminded him,\nhe declared that he felt no remorse.\n\n\"As far as I am concerned,\" replied the excellent master, \"I am not in the\nleast shocked by it.... The truth is, that neither that place, which has\nso much scandalized my mother, nor the darkness of night, is altogether\ninappropriate to this canticle. For whence, think you, do we implore God\nto drag us, so that we may be converted and gaze upon His face? Is it not\nfrom that jakes of the senses wherein our souls are plunged, and from that\ndarkness of which the error is around us?...\"\n\nAnd as they were discussing that day the order established by Providence,\nAugustin made it a pretext to give a little edifying lecture to his pupil.\nHaving heard the sermon to the end, the sharp Licentius put in with sly\nmaliciousness:\n\n\"I say, what a splendid arrangement of events to shew me that nothing\nhappens except in the best way, and for our great good!\"\n\nThis reply gives us the tone of the conversation between Augustin and\nhis pupils. Nevertheless, however free and merry the talks might be, the\npurpose was always instructive, and it was always substantial. Let us not\nforget that the Milanese rhetorician is still a professor. The best part of\nhis days was devoted to these two youths who had been put under his charge.\nAs soon as he had settled the business of the farm, talked to the peasants,\nand given his orders to the workmen, he fell back upon his business of\nrhetorician. In the morning they went over Virgil's _Eclogues_ together. At\nnight they discussed philosophy. When the weather was fine they walked in\nthe fields, and the discussion continued under the shade of the chestnut\ntrees. If it rained, they took refuge in the withdrawing-room adjoining the\nbaths. Beds were there, cushions, soft chairs convenient for talking, and\nthe equal temperature from the vapour-baths close at hand was good for\nAugustin's bronchial tubes.\n\nThere is no stiffness in these dialogues, nothing which smacks of the\nschool. The discussion starts from things which they had under the eyes,\noften from some slight accidental happening. One night when Augustin could\nnot sleep--he often suffered from insomnia--the dispute began in bed, for\nthe master and his pupils slept in the same room. Lying there in the dark,\nhe listened to the broken murmur of the stream. He was trying to think out\nan explanation of the pauses in the sound, when Licentius shifted under the\nbedclothes, and reaching out for a piece of stick lying on the floor, he\nrapped with it on the foot of the bed to frighten the mice. So he was not\nasleep either, nor Trygetius, who was stirring about in his bed. Augustin\nwas delighted: he had two listeners. Immediately he put this question: \"Why\ndo those pauses come in the flow of the stream? Do they not follow some\nsecret law?...\" They had hit upon a subject for debate. During many days\nthey discussed the order of the world.\n\nAnother time, as they were going into the baths, they stopped to look\nat two cocks fighting. Augustin called the attention of the youths \"to\na certain order full of propriety in all the movements of these fowls\ndeprived of reason.\"\n\n\"Look at the conqueror,\" said he. \"He crows triumphantly. He struts and\nplumes himself as a proud sign of victory. And now look at the beaten one,\nwithout voice, his neck unfeathered, a look of shame. All that has I know\nnot what beauty, in harmony with the laws of nature....\"\n\nNew argument in favour of order: the debate of the night before is started\nrolling again.\n\nFor us, too, it is well worth while to pause on this little homely scene.\nIt reveals to us an Augustin not only very sensitive to beauty, but very\nattentive to the sights of the world surrounding him. Cockfights were still\nvery popular in this Roman society at the ending of the Empire. For a long\ntime sculptors had found many gracious subjects in the sport. Reading this\npassage of Augustin's, one recalls, among other similar designs, that\nfuneral urn at the Lateran upon which are represented two little boys, one\ncrying over his beaten cock, while the other holds his tenderly in his\narms and kisses it--the cock that won, identified by the crown held in its\nspurs.\n\nAugustin is always very close to these humble realities. Every moment\noutside things start up in the dialogues between the master and his\npupils.... They are in bed on a rainy night in November. Gradually, a vague\ngleam rests on the windows. They ask each other if that can be the moon, or\nthe break of day.... Another time, the sun rises in all its splendour, and\nthey decide to go into the meadow and sit on the grass. Or else, the sky\ndarkens and lights are brought in. Or again, it is the appearance of\ndiligent Alyphis, just come back from Milan....\n\nIn the same way as he notes these light details in passing, Augustin\nwelcomes all his guests into his dialogues and admits them to the debate:\nhis mother, his brother, the cousins, Alypius between his business\njourneys, down to the child Adeodatus. He knew the value of ordinary good\nsense, the second-sight of a pure heart, or of a pious soul strengthened by\nprayer. Monnica used often to come into the room when they were arguing,\nto let them know that dinner was ready, or for something of the kind. Her\nson asked her to remain. Modestly she shewed her astonishment at such an\nhonour.\n\n\"Mother,\" said Augustin, \"do you not love truth? Then why should I blush\nto give you a place among us? Even if your love for truth were only\nhalf-hearted, I ought still to receive you and listen to you. How much more\nthen, since you love it more than you love me, _and I know how much you\nlove me_.... Nothing can separate you from truth, neither fear, nor pain\nof whatever kind it be--no, nor death itself. Do not all agree that this\nis the highest stage of philosophy? How can I hesitate after that to call\nmyself your disciple?\"\n\nAnd Monnica, utterly confused by such praise, answered with affectionate\ngruffness:\n\n\"Stop talking! You have never told bigger lies.\"\n\nMost of the time these conversations were simply dialectic games in the\ntaste of the period, games a little pedantic, and fatiguing from subtilty.\nThe boisterous Licentius did not always enjoy himself. He was often\ninattentive; and his master scolded him. But all the same, the master\nunderstood how to amuse his two foster-children while he exercised their\nintelligence. At the end of one discussion he said to them laughing:\n\n\"Just at this hour, the sun warns me to put the playthings I had brought\nfor the children back in the basket....\"\n\nLet us remark in passing that this is the last time, before those\ncenturies which are coming of universal intellectual silence or arid\nscholasticism--the last time that high questions will be discussed in this\ngraceful light way, and with the same freedom of mind. The tradition begun\nby Socrates under the plane-trees on the banks of the Ilissus, is ending\nwith Augustin under the chestnuts of Cassicium.\n\nAnd yet, however gay and capricious the form, the substance of these\ndialogues, \"On the Academics,\" \"On Order,\" and \"On the Happy Life,\" is\nserious, and even very serious. The best proof of their importance in\nAugustin's eyes is, that after taking care to have them reported in\nshorthand, he eventually published them. The _notarii_ attended these\ndiscussions and let nothing be lost. The rise of the scrivener, of the\nnotary, dates from this period. The administration of the Lower-Empire was\nfrightfully given to scribbling. By contact with it, the Church became so\ntoo. Let us not press our complaints about it, since this craze for writing\nhas procured for us, with a good deal of shot-rubbish, some precious\nhistorical documents. In Augustin's case, these reports of his lectures at\nCassicium have at least the value of shewing us the state of soul of the\nfuture Bishop of Hippo at a decisive moment of his life.\n\nFor these _Dialogues_, although they look like school exercises, reveal the\nintimate thoughts of Augustin on the morrow of his conversion. While he\nseems to be refuting the Academics, he is fighting the errors from which\nhe, personally, had suffered so long. He clarified his new ideal. No; the\nsearch for truth, without hope of ever reaching it, cannot give happiness.\nAnd genuine happiness is only in God. And if a rhythm is to be found in\nthings, then it is necessary to make the soul rhythmic also and so enable\nit to contemplate God. It is necessary to still within it the noise of the\npassions. Hence, the need of inward reformation, and, at a final analysis,\nof asceticism.\n\nBut Augustin knew full well that these truths must be adapted to the\nweakness of the two lads he was teaching, and also to the common run of\nmankind. He has not yet in these years the uncompromising attitude which\nere long will give him a sterner virtue--an attitude, however, unceasingly\ntempered by his charity and by the persistent recollections of his reading.\nIt was now that he shaped the rule of conduct in worldly morals and\neducation which the Christian experience of the future will adopt: \"If you\nhave always order in your hearts,\" he said to his pupils, \"you must return\nto your verses. _For a knowledge of liberal sciences, but a controlled and\nexact knowledge_, forms men who will love the truth.... But there are other\nmen, or, to put it better, other souls, who, although held in the body, are\nsought for the eternal marriage by the best and fairest of spouses. For\nthese souls it is not enough to live; they wish to live happy.... But as\nfor you, go, _meanwhile_, and find your Muses!\"\n\n\"Go and find your Muses!\" What a fine saying! How human and how wise! Here\nis clearly indicated the double ideal of those who continue to live in the\nworld according to the Christian law of restraint and moderation, and of\nthose who yearn to live in God. With Augustin the choice is made. He will\nnever more look back. These Dialogues at Cassicium are his supreme farewell\nto the pagan Muse.\n\n\n\n\nII\n\nTHE ECSTASY OF SAINT MONNICA\n\n\nThey stayed through the winter at Cassicium. However taken up he might be\nby the work of the estate and the care of his pupils, Augustin devoted\nhimself chiefly to the great business of his salvation.\n\nThe _Soliloquies_, which he wrote then, render even the passionate tone of\nthe meditations which he perpetually gave way to during his watches and\nnights of insomnia. He searched for God, moaning: _Fac me, Pater, qu\u00e6rere\nte_--\"Cause me to seek Thee, O my Father.\" But still, he sought Him more as\na philosopher than as a Christian. The old man in him was not dead. He had\nnot quite stripped off the rhetorician or the intellectual. The over-tender\nheart remained, which had so much sacrificed to human love. In those ardent\ndialogues between himself and his reason, it is plain to see that reason\nis not quite the mistress. \"I love only God and the soul,\" Augustin states\nwith a touch of presumption. And his reason, which knows him well, answers:\n\"Do you not then love your friends?\"--\"I love the soul; how therefore\nshould I not love them?\" What does this phrase, of such exquisite\nsensibility, and even already so aloof from worldly thoughts--what does\nit lack to give forth a sound entirely Christian? Just a slight change of\naccent.\n\nHe himself began to see that he would do better not to philosophize so much\nand to draw nearer the Scripture, in listening to the wisdom of that with\na contrite and humble heart. Upon the directions of Ambrose, whose advice\nhe had asked by letter, he tried to read the prophet Isaiah, because\nIsaiah is the clearest foreteller of the Redemption. He found the book so\ndifficult that he lost heart, and he put it aside till later. Meanwhile,\nhe had forwarded his resignation as professor of Rhetoric to the Milan\nmunicipality. Then, when the time was come, he sent to Bishop Ambrose\na written confession of his errors and faults, and represented to him\nhis very firm intention to be baptized. He was quietly baptized on the\ntwenty-fifth of April, during the Easter season of the year 387, together\nwith his son Adeodatus, and his friend Alypius. Alypius had prepared most\npiously, disciplining himself with the harshest austerities, to the point\nof walking barefoot on the frozen soil.\n\nSo now the solitaries of Cassicium are back in Milan. Augustin's two pupils\nwere gone. Trygetius doubtless had rejoined the army. Licentius had gone\nto live in Rome. But another fellow-countryman, an African from Thagaste,\nEvodius, formerly a clerk in the Ministry of the Interior, came to join\nthe small group of new converts. Evodius, the future Bishop of Uzalis, in\nAfrica, and baptized before Augustin, was a man of scrupulous piety and\nunquestioning faith. He talked of devout subjects with his friend, who,\njust fresh from baptism, experienced all the quietude of grace. They spoke\nof the community which St. Ambrose had either founded or organized at\nthe gates of Milan, and in comparison with a life so austere, Augustin\nperceived that the life he had led at Cassicium was still stained with\npaganism. He must carry out his conversion to the end and live as a hermit\nafter the manner of Antony and the solitaries of the Thebaid. Then it\noccurred to him that he still owned a little property at Thagaste--a house\nand fields. There they would settle and live in self-denial like the\nmonks. The purity of the young Adeodatus predestined him to this ascetic\nexistence. As for Monnica, who long since had taken the widow's veil, she\nhad to make no change in her ways to lead a saintly life in the company of\nher son and grandson. It was agreed among them all to go back to Africa,\nand to start as soon as possible.\n\nThus, just after his baptism, Augustin shews but one desire: to bury\nhimself in a retreat, to lead a humble and hidden life, divided between the\nstudy of the Scripture and the contemplation of God. Later on, his enemies\nwere to accuse him of having become a convert from ambition, in view of the\nhonours and riches of the episcopate. This is sheer calumny. His conversion\ncould not have been more sincere, more disinterested--nor more heroic\neither: he was thirty-three years old. When we think of all he had loved\nand all he gave up, we can only bow the head and bend the knee before the\nlofty virtue of such an example.\n\nIn the course of the summer the caravan started and crossed the Apennines\nto set sail at Ostia. The date of this exodus has never been made quite\nclear. Perhaps Augustin and his companions fled before the hordes of the\nusurper Maximus, who, towards the end of August, crossed the Alps and\nmarched on Milan, while the young Valentinian with all his Court took\nrefuge at Aquileia. In any case, it was a trying journey, especially in the\nhot weather. When Monnica arrived she was very enfeebled. At Ostia they had\nto wait till a ship was sailing for Africa. Propitious conditions did not\noffer every day. At this period, travellers were at the mercy of the sea,\nof the wind, and of a thousand other circumstances. Time did not count; it\nwas wasted freely. The ship sailed short distances at a time, skirting the\ncoasts, where the length of the stay at every point touched depended on the\nmaster. On board these ships--feluccas hardly decked over--if the crossing\nwas endless and unsafe, it was, above all, most uncomfortable. People were\nin no hurry to undergo the tortures of it, and spaced them out as much\nas possible by frequent stoppages. On account of all these reasons, our\nAfricans made a rather long stay at Ostia. They lodged, no doubt, with\nChristian brethren, hosts of Augustin or Monnica, in a tranquil house far\nout of earshot of the cosmopolitan crowd which overflowed in the hotels on\nthe quay.\n\nOstia, situated at the mouth of the Tiber, was both the port and\nbond-warehouse of Rome. The Government stores-ships landed the African oil\nand corn there. It was a junction for commerce, the point where immigrants\nfrom all parts of the Mediterranean disbarked. To-day there is only left\na wretched little village. But at some distance from this hamlet, the\nexcavations of arch\u00e6ologists have lately brought to light the remains of\na large town. They have discovered at the entrance a place of burial with\narcosol-tombs; and here perhaps the body of St. Monnica was laid. In this\nplace of graves they came upon also a beautiful statue injured--a funeral\nGenius, or a Victory, with large folded wings like those of the Christian\nangels. Further on, the forum with its shops, the guard-house of the\nnight-cohort, baths, a theatre, many large temples, arcaded streets paved\nwith large flags, warehouses for merchandise. There may still be seen,\nlining the walls, the holes in which the ends of the amphor\u00e6 used to be\ndropped to keep them upright. All this wreckage gives an idea of a populous\ncentre where the stir of traffic and shipping was intense.\n\nAnd yet in this noisy town, Augustin and his mother found means to withdraw\nthemselves and join together in meditation and prayer. Amid this rather\nvulgar activity, in a noise of trade and seafaring, a mystic scene develops\nwhere the purified love of mother and son gleams upon us as in a light of\napotheosis. They had at Ostia a foretaste, so to speak, of the eternal\nunion in God. This was in the house where they had come on arrival. They\ntalked softly, resting against a window which looked upon the garden....\nBut the scene has been made popular by Ary Scheffer's too well-known\npainting. You remember it: two faces, pale, bloodless, stripped of flesh,\nin which live only the burning eyes cast upward to the sky--a dense sky,\nbaffling, heavy with all the secrets of eternity. No visible object,\nnothing, absolutely nothing, distracts them from their contemplation. The\nsea itself, although indicated by the painter, almost blends into the\nblue line of the horizon. Two souls and the sky--there you have the whole\nsubject.\n\nIt is living poetry congealed in abstract thought. The attitude of the\ncharacters, majestically seated, instead of leaning on the window-ledge,\nhas, in Scheffer's picture, I know not what touch of stiffness, of slightly\ntheatrical. And the general impression is a cold dryness which contrasts\nwith the lyric warmth of the story in the _Confessions_.\n\nFor my part, I always thought, perhaps on the testimony of the picture,\nthat the window of the house at Ostia opened above the garden in view of\nthe sea. The sea, symbol of the infinite, ought to be present--so it seemed\nto me--at the final conversation between Monnica and Augustin. At Ostia\nitself I was obliged to give up this too literary notion; the sea is not\nvisible there. No doubt at that time the channel was not so silted up as it\nis to-day. But the coast lies so low, that just hard by the actual mouth of\nthe Tiber, the nearness of the sea can only be guessed by the reflection of\nthe waves in the atmosphere, a sort of pearly halo, trembling on the edge\nof the sky. At present I am inclined to think that the window of the house\nat Ostia was very likely turned towards the vast melancholy horizon of the\n_Agro Romano_. \"We passed through, one after another,\" says Augustin, \"all\nthe things of a material order, unto heaven itself.\" Is it not natural to\nsuppose that these things of a material order--these shapes of the earth\nwith its plantations, its rivers, towns, and mountains--were under their\neyes? The bleak spectacle which unrolled before their gaze agreed, at all\nevents, with the disposition of their souls.\n\nThis great desolate plain has nothing oppressive, nothing which retains\nthe eyes upon details too material. The colours about it are pale and\nslight, as if on the point of swooning away. Immense sterile stretches,\nfawn-coloured throughout, with here and there shining a little pink, a\nlittle green; gorse, furze-bushes by the deep banks of the river, or a few\n_boschetti_ with dusty leaves, which feebly stand out upon the blondness\nof the soil. To the right, a pine forest. To the left, the undulations of\nthe Roman hills expire into an emptiness infinitely sad. Afar, the violet\nscheme of the Alban mountains, with veiled and dream-like distances, shape\nindefinitely against the pearl light, limpid and serene, of the sky.\n\nAugustin and Monnica, resting on the window-ledge, looked forth. Doubtless\nit was towards evening, at the hour when southern windows are thrown open\nto the cool after a burning day. They looked forth. \"We marvelled,\" says\nAugustin, \"at the beauty of Thy works, O my God!...\" Rome was back there\nbeyond the hills, with its palaces, its temples, the gleam of its gilding\nand its marbles. But the far-off image of the imperial city could not\nconquer the eternal sadness which rises from the _Agro_. An air of funeral\nloneliness lay above this plain, ready to be engulfed by the creeping\nshadows. How easy it was to break free of these vain corporeal appearances\nwhich decomposed of themselves! \"Then,\" Augustin resumes, \"we soared with\nglowing hearts still higher.\" (He speaks as if he and his mother were risen\nwith equal flight to the vision. It is more probable that he was drawn\nup by Monnica, long since familiar with the ways of the spirit, used to\nvisions, and to mystic talks with God....) Where was this God? All the\ncreatures, questioned by their anguished entreaty, answered: _Qu\u00e6re super\nnos_--\"Seek above us!\" They sought; they mounted higher and higher: \"And\nso we came to our own minds, and passed beyond them into the region of\nunfailing plenty, where Thou feedest Israel for ever with the food of\ntruth.... And as we talked, and we strove eagerly towards this divine\nregion, _by a leap with the whole force of our hearts, we touched it for\nan instant_.... Then we sighed, we fell back, and left there fastened the\nfirst fruits of the Spirit, and heard again the babble of our own tongues,\nthis mortal speech wherein each word has a beginning and an ending.\"\n\n\"We fell back!\" The marvellous vision had vanished. But a great silence was\nabout them, silence of things, silence of the soul. And they said to each\nother:\n\n\"If the tumult of the flesh were hushed; hushed these shadows of earth,\nsea, sky; suppose this vision endured, and all other far inferior modes of\nvision were taken away, and this alone were to ravish the beholder, and\nabsorb him, and plunge him in mystic joy, so that eternal life might be\nlike this moment of comprehension which has made us sigh with Love--might\nnot that be the fulfilment of 'Enter thou into the joy of thy Lord'? Ah,\nwhen shall this be? Shall it not be, O my God, when we rise again among the\ndead...?\"\n\nLittle by little they came down to earth. The dying colours of the\nsunset-tide smouldered into the white mists of the _Agro_. The world\nentered into night. Then Monnica, impelled by a certain presentiment, said\nto Augustin:\n\n\"My son, as for me, I find no further pleasure in life. What I am still to\ndo, or why I still linger here, I know not.... There was only one thing\nmade me want to tarry a little longer in this life, that I might see you a\nChristian and a Catholic before I died. My God has granted me this boon far\nbeyond what I hoped for. So what am I doing here?\"\n\nShe felt it; her work was done. She had exhausted, as Augustin says, all\nthe hope of the century--_consumpta spe s\u00e6culi_. For her the parting was\nnear. This ecstasy was that of one dying, who has raised a corner of the\nveil, and who no longer belongs to this world.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nAnd, in fact, five or six days later she fell ill. She had fever. The\nclimate of Ostia bred fevers, as it does to-day, and it was always\nunsanitary on account of all the foreigners who brought in every infection\nof the Orient. Furthermore, the weariness of a long journey in summer had\nworn out this woman, old before her time. She had to go to bed. Soon she\ngot worse, and then lost consciousness. They believed she was in the agony.\nThey all came round her bed--Augustin, his brother Navigius, Evodius, the\ntwo cousins from Thagaste, Rusticus, and Lastidianus. But suddenly she\nshuddered, raised herself, and asked in a bewildered way:\n\n\"Where was I?\"\n\nThen, seeing the grief on their faces, she knew that she was lost, and she\nsaid in a steady voice:\n\n\"You will bury your mother here.\"\n\nNavigius, frightened by this sight of death, protested with all his\naffection for her:\n\n\"No. You will get well, mother. You will come home again. You won't die in\na foreign land.\"\n\nShe looked at him with sorrowful eyes, as if hurt that he spoke so little\nlike a Christian, and turning to Augustin:\n\n\"See how he talks,\" she said.\n\nAnd after a silence, she went on in a firmer voice, as if to impress on her\nsons her final wishes:\n\n\"Lay this body where you will, and be not anxious about it. Only I beseech\nyou, remember me at the altar of God, wherever you are.\"\n\nThat was the supreme renunciation. How could an African woman, so much\nattached to her country, agree to be buried in a stranger soil? Pagan\nnotions were still very strong in this community, and the place of burial\nwas an important consideration. Monnica, like all other widows, had settled\nupon hers. At Thagaste she had had her place prepared beside her husband\nPatricius. And here now she appeared to give that up. Augustin's companions\nwere astonished at such abnegation. As for himself, he marvelled at the\ncompleteness of the change worked in his mother's soul by Grace. And as he\nthought over all the virtues of her life, the strength of her faith--from\nthat moment, he had no doubt that she was a saint.\n\nShe still lingered for some time. Finally, on the ninth day of her illness,\nshe died at the age of fifty-six.\n\nAugustin closed her eyes. A great sorrow surged into his heart. And yet he\nwho was so quick to tears had the courage not to cry.... Suddenly a noise\nof weeping rose in the room of death: it was the young Adeodatus, who\nlamented at the sight of the corpse. He sobbed in such a heartbroken way\nthat those who were there, demoralized by the distress of it, were obliged\nto rebuke him. This struck Augustin so deeply, that many years afterwards\nthe broken sound of this sobbing still haunted his ears. \"Methought,\" he\nsays, \"that it was my own childish soul which thus broke out in the weeping\nof my son.\" As for him, with the whole effort of his reason struggling\nagainst his heart, he only wanted to think of the glory which the saint\nhad just entered into. His companions felt likewise. Evodius caught up a\npsalter, and before Monnica's body, not yet cold, he began to chant the\nPsalm, \"My song shall be of mercy and judgment; unto Thee, O Lord, will I\nsing.\" All who were in the house took up the responses.\n\nIn the meantime, while the layers-out were preparing the corpse for burial,\nthe brethren drew Augustin into another room. His friends and relations\nstood round him. He consoled the others and himself. He spoke, as the\ncustom was, upon the deliverance of the faithful soul and the happiness\nwhich is promised. They might have imagined that he had no sense of grief,\n\"But in Thy hearing, O my God, where none of them could hear, I was chiding\nthe softness of my heart, and holding back the tide of sorrow.... Alas!\nwell did I know what I was choking down in my heart.\"\n\nNot even at the church, where the sacrifice was offered for Monnica's\nsoul, nor at the cemetery before the coffin, did he weep. From a sense of\nChristian seemliness, he feared to scandalize his brethren by imitating\nthe desolation of the pagans and of those who die without hope. But this\nvery effort that he made to keep back his tears became another cause of\nsuffering. The day ended in a black sadness, a sadness he could not shake\noff. It stifled him. Then he remembered the Greek proverb--\"The bath\ndrives away sorrow;\" and he determined to go and bathe. He went into the\n_tepidarium_ and stretched himself out on the hot slab. Useless remedy!\n\"The bitterness of my trouble was not carried from my heart with the sweat\nthat flowed from my limbs.\" The attendants rolled him in warm towels and\nled him to the resting-couch. Worn out by tiredness and so many emotions,\nhe fell into a heavy sleep. The next day, upon awaking, a fresh briskness\nwas in all his being. Some verses came singing into his memory; they were\nthe first words of the confident and joyous hymn of St. Ambrose:\n\n  \"Creator of the earth and sky,\n  Ruling the firmament on high,\n  Clothing the day with robes of light,\n  Blessing with gracious sleep the night,--\n\n  That rest may comfort weary men\n  To face their usual toil again,\n  And soothe awhile the harassed mind,\n  And sorrow's heavy load unbind.\"\n\nSuddenly, at the word _sorrow_, the thought of his dead mother came back\nto him, with the regret for that kind heart he had lost. A wave of despair\noverwhelmed him. He flung himself sobbing on the bed, and at last wept all\nthe tears he had pent up so long.\n\n\n\n\nIII\n\nTHE MONK OF THAGASTE\n\n\nAlmost a year went by before Augustin continued his journey. It is hard to\naccount for this delay. Why should he thus put off his return to Africa, he\nwho was so anxious to fly the world?\n\nIt is likely that Monnica's illness, the arrangements about her funeral,\nand other matters to settle, kept him at Ostia till the beginning of\nwinter. The weather became stormy, the sea dangerous. Navigation was\nregularly interrupted from November--sometimes even earlier, from the\nfirst days of October, if the tempests and the equinox were exceptionally\nviolent. It would then be necessary to wait till spring. Besides, word\ncame that the fleet of the usurper Maximus, then at war with Theodosius,\nblockaded the African coast. Travellers ran the risk of being captured by\nthe enemy. From all these reasons, Augustin would be prevented from sailing\nbefore the end of the following summer. In the meantime, he went to live in\nRome. He employed his leisure to work up a case against the Manichees, his\nbrethren of the day before. Once he had adopted Catholicism, he must have\nexpected passionate attacks from his former brothers in religion. To close\ntheir mouths, he gathered against them an elaborate mass of documents,\nbristling with the latest scandals. He busied himself also with a\nthorough study of their doctrines, the better to refute them: in him the\ndialectician never slept. Then, when he had an opportunity, he visited the\nRoman monasteries, studying their rule and organization, so as to decide on\na model for the convent which he always intended to establish in his own\ncountry. At last, he went back to Ostia some time in August or September,\n388, where he found a ship bound for Carthage.\n\nFour years earlier, about the same time of year, he had made the same\nvoyage, coming the opposite way. He had a calm crossing; hardly could one\nnotice the movement of the ship. It is the season of smooth seas in the\nMediterranean. Never is it more etherial than in these summer months. The\nvague blue sky is confused with the bleached sea, spread out in a large\nsheet without creases--liquid and flexible silk, swept by quivering amber\nglow and orange saffron when the sun falls. No distinct shape, only strange\nsuffusions of soft light, a pearl-like haze, the wistful blue reaching away\nindefinably.\n\nAt Carthage, Augustin had grown used to the magnificence of this pageantry\nof the sea. Now, the sea had the same appeased and gleaming face he had\nseen four years sooner. But how much his soul had since been changed!\nInstead of the tumult and falsehood which rent his heart and filled it\nwith darkness, the serene light of Truth, and deeper than the sea's peace,\nthe great appeasement of Grace. Augustin dreamed. Far off the \u00c6olian isles\nwere gloomed in the impending shadows, the smoky crater of Stromboli was\nno more than a black point circled by the double blue of waves and sky. So\nthe remembrance of his passions, of all that earlier life, sank under the\ntriumphant uprising of heavenly peace. He believed that this blissful state\nwas going to continue and fill all the hours of his new life, and he knew\nof nothing so sweet....\n\nThis time, again, he was mistaken about himself. Upon the thin plank of the\nboat which carried him, he did not feel the force of the immense element,\nasleep now under his feet, but quick to be unchained at the first gust of\nwind; and he did not feel either the overflowing energy swelling his heart\nrenewed by Grace--an energy which was going to set in motion one of the\nmost complete and strenuous existences, one of the richest in thought,\ncharity, and works which have enlightened history. Thinking only of the\ncloister, amidst the friends who surrounded him, no doubt he repeated the\nwords of the Psalm: \"Behold, how good and how pleasant it is for brethren\nto dwell together in unity.\" He pressed the hands of Alypius and Evodius,\nand tears came to his eyes.\n\nThe sun was gone. All the cold waste of waters, forsaken by the gleam,\nblurred gradually in vague anguish beneath the fall of night.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nAfter skirting the Sicilian coasts, they arrived at last at Carthage.\nAugustin did not linger there; he was eager to see Thagaste once more, and\nto retire finally from the world. Favourable omens drew him to the place,\nand seemed to hearten him in his resolution. A dream had foretold his\nreturn to his former pupil, Elogius, the rhetorician. He was present, too,\nat the miraculous cure of a Carthage lawyer, Innocentius, in whose house he\ndwelt with his friends.\n\nAccordingly, he left for Thagaste as soon as he could. There he made\nhimself popular at once by giving to the poor, as the Gospel prescribed,\nwhat little remained of his father's heritage. But he does not make clear\nenough what this voluntary privation exactly meant. He speaks of a house\nand some little meadows--_paucis agellulis_--that he sequestrated. Still,\nhe did not cease to live in the house all the time he was at Thagaste. The\nprobability is that he did sell the few acres of land he still owned and\nbestowed the product of the sale on the poor. As to the house, he must have\nmade it over with the outbuildings to the Catholic body of his native town,\non condition of keeping the usufruct and of receiving for himself and his\nbrethren the necessities of life. At this period many pious persons acted\nin this way when they gave their property to the Church. Church goods\nbeing unseizable, and exempt from taxation, this was a roundabout way of\ngetting the better of fiscal extortion, whether in the shape of arbitrary\nconfiscations, or eviction by force of arms. In any case, such souls as\nwere tired of the world and longing for repose, found in these bequests an\nheroic method of saving themselves the trouble of looking after a fortune\nor a landed estate. When these fortunes and lands were extensive, the\ngenerous donors felt, we are told, an actual relief in getting rid of them.\n\nThis financial question settled, Augustin took up the task of turning the\nhouse into a monastery, like those he had seen at Rome and Milan. His son\nAdeodatus, his friends Alypius and Evodius, Severus, who became Bishop\nof Milevia, shared his solitude. But it is certain that he had other\nsolitaries with him whom he alludes to in his letters. Their rule was as\nyet a little easy, no doubt. The brothers of Thagaste were not confined\nin a cloister. They were simply obliged to fasts, to a special diet, to\nprayers and meditations in common.\n\nIn this half-rustic retreat (the monastery was situated at the gates of\nthe town) Augustin was happy: he had at last realized the project he had\nhad so long at heart. To enter into himself, pray, above all, to study\nthe Scripture, to fathom even its most obscure places, to comment it with\nthe fervour and piety which the African of all times has brought to _what\nis written down_--it seemed to him that he had enough there to fill all\nthe minutes of his life. But no man can teach, lecture, discuss, write,\nduring twenty years, in vain. However much Augustin might be converted, he\nremembered the school at Thagaste, just as he did at Cassicium. Still, it\nwas necessary to finish with this sort of thing once for all. The new monk\nmade what may be called his will as a professor.\n\nHe finished, at this time, or revised his school treatises, which he had\nbegun at Milan, comprising all the liberal arts--grammar, dialectic,\nrhetoric, geometry, arithmetic, philosophy, music. Of all these books he\nonly finished the first, the treatise on grammar. The others were only\nsummaries, and are now lost. On the other hand, we have still the six\nbooks on music, likewise begun at Milan, which he finished, almost as an\namusement, at Thagaste. They are dialogues between himself and his pupil,\nthe poet Licentius, upon metre and scansion. But we know from himself that\nhe intended to make this book longer, and to write a second part upon\nmelody, that is to say, music, properly so called. He never found the time:\n\"Once,\" he says, \"the burthen of ecclesiastical affairs was placed on my\nshoulders, _all these pleasant things_ slipped from my hands.\"\n\nThus, the monk Augustin only rests from prayer and meditation to study\nmusic and poetry. He has thought it necessary to excuse himself. \"In all\nthat,\" says he, \"I had but one purpose. For, as I did not wish to pluck\naway too suddenly either young men, or those of another age, on whom God\nhad bestowed good wits, from ideas of the senses and carnal literature,\n_things it is very hard for them not to be attached to_, I have tried\nby reasoning lessons to turn them little by little, and by the love of\nunchanging truth, to attach them to God, sole master of all things.... He\nwho reads these books will see that if I have touched upon the poets and\ngrammarians, 'twas more by the exigency of the journey than by any desire\nto settle among them.... Such is the life I have chosen to walk with the\nfeeble, not being very strong myself, rather than to hurl myself out on the\nvoid with wings still half-fledged....\"\n\nHere again, how human all that is, and wise--yes, and modest too. Augustin\nhas no whit of the fanatic about him. No straighter conscience than his,\nor even more persistent in uprooting error. But he knows what man is, that\nlife here below is a voyage among other men weak as himself, and he fits in\nwith the needs of the voyage. Oh, yes, no doubt, for the Christian who has\narrived at supreme renunciation--what is poetry, what is knowledge, \"what\nis everything that is not eternal?\" But this carnal literature and science\nare so many steps of a height proportionate to our feebleness, to lead\nus imperceptibly to the conceptual world. As a prudent guide of souls,\nAugustin did not wish to make the ascent too rapidly. As for music, he has\nstill more indulgence for that than for any of the other arts, for \"it\nis by sounds that we best perceive the power of numbers in every variety\nof movement, and their study thus leads us gradually to the closest and\nhighest secrets of truth, and discovers to those who love and seek it\nthe divine Wisdom and Providence in all things....\" He is always coming\nback to it--to this music he loves so much; he comes back to it in spite\nof himself. Later, in great severity, he will reproach himself for the\npleasure he takes in the liturgical chants, but nevertheless the old\ninstinct will remain. He was born a musician. He will remain one to his\nlast gasp.\n\nIf he did not break completely with profane art and letters at this present\nmoment of his life, his chief reasons were of a practical order. Still\nanother object may be discerned in these educational treatises--namely, to\nprove to the pagans that one may be a Christian and yet not be a barbarian\nand ignorant. Augustin's position in front of his adversaries is very\nstrong indeed. None of them can attempt to cope with him either in breadth\nof knowledge, or in happy versatility, or in plenitude of intellectual\ngifts. He had the entire heritage of the ancient world between his hands.\nWell might he say to the pagans: \"What you admire in your orators and\nphilosophers, I have made my own. Behold it! On my lips recognize the\naccent of your orators.... Well, all that, which you deem so high, I\ndespise. The knowledge of this world is nothing without the wisdom of\nChrist.\"\n\nOf course, Augustin has paid the price of this all-round knowledge--too\nfar-reaching, perhaps, at certain points. He has often too much paraded his\nknowledge, his dialectic and oratorical talents. What matters that, if even\nin this excess he aims solely at the welfare of souls--to edify them and\nset them aglow with the fire of his charity? At Thagaste, he disputes with\nhis brethren, with his son Adeodatus. He is always the master--he knows it;\nbut what humility he puts into this dangerous part! The conclusion of his\nbook, _The Master_, which he wrote then, is that all the words of him who\nteaches are useless, if the hidden Master reveal not the truth to him who\nlistens.\n\nSo, under his ungainly monk's habit, he continues his profession of\nrhetorician. He has come to Thagaste with the intention of retiring from\nthe world and living in God; and here he is disputing, lecturing, writing\nmore than ever. The world pursues him and occupies him even in his retreat.\nHe says to himself that down there at Rome, at Carthage, at Hippo, there\nare men speaking in the forums or in the basilicas, whispering in secret\nmeetings, seducing poor souls defenceless against error. These impostors\nmust be immediately unmasked, confounded, reduced to silence. With all his\nheart Augustin throws himself into this work at which he excels. Above all,\nhe attacks his old friends the Manichees.... He wrote many tracts against\nthem. From the animosity he put into these, may be judged to what extent\nManicheeism filled his thoughts, and also the progress of the sect in\nAfrica.\n\nThis campaign was even the cause of a complete change in his way of\nwriting. With the object of reaching the plainest sort of people, he began\nto employ the popular language, not recoiling before a solecism, when the\nsolecism appeared to him indispensable to explain his thought. This must\nhave been a cruel mortification for him. In his very latest writings he\nmade a point of shewing that no elegance of language was unknown to him.\nBut his real originality is not in that. When he writes the fine style,\nhis period is heavy, entangled, often obscure. On the other hand, nothing\nis more lively, clear and coloured, and, as we say to-day, more direct,\nthan the familiar language of his sermons and certain of his treatises.\nThis language he has really created. He wanted to clarify, comment, give\ndetails, and he felt how awkward classical Latin is to decompose ideas\nand render shades. And so, in a popular Latin, already very close to the\nRomance languages, he has thrown out the plan of analytical prose, the\ninstrument of thought of the modern West.\n\nNot only did he battle against the heretics, but his restless friendship\ncontinually scaled the walls of his cell to fly to the absent ones dear\nto his heart. He feels that he must expand to his friends, and make them\nsharers in his meditations: this nervous man, in poor health, spends a part\nof his nights meditating. The argument he has hit upon in last night's\ninsomnia--his friends must be told that! He heaps his letters on them. He\nwrites to Nebridius, to Romanianus, to Paulinus of Nola; to people unknown\nand celebrated, in Africa, Italy, Spain, and Palestine. A time will come\nwhen his letters will be real encyclicals, read throughout Christendom. He\nwrites so much that he is often short of paper. He has not tablets enough\nto put down his notes. He asks Romanianus to give him some. His beautiful\ntablets, the ivory ones, are used up; he has used the last one for a\nceremonial letter, and he asks his friend's pardon for writing to him on\na wretched bit of vellum.\n\nBesides all that, he interests himself in the affairs of his\nfellow-townsmen. Augustin is a personage at Thagaste. The good folk of the\nfree-town are well aware that he is eloquent, that he has a far-reaching\nacquaintance, and that he has great influence in high quarters. They\nask for his protection and his interference. It is even possible that\nthey obliged him to defend them in the courts. They were proud of their\nAugustin. And as they were afraid that some neighbouring town might steal\naway their great man, they kept a guard round his house. They prevented him\nfrom shewing himself too much in the neighbourhood. Augustin himself agreed\nwith this, and lived retired as far as he could, for he was afraid they\nwould make him a bishop or priest in spite of himself. In those days that\nwas a danger incurred by all Christians who were rich or had talent. The\nrich gave their goods to the poor when they took orders. The men of talent\ndefended the interests of the community, or attracted opulent benefactors.\nAnd because of all these reasons, the needy or badly managed churches\nstalked as a prey the celebrated Augustin.\n\nIn spite of this supervision, this unremitting rush of business, the work\nof all kinds which he undertook, he experienced at Thagaste a peace which\nhe was never to find again. One might say that he pauses and gathers\ntogether all his strength before the great exhausting labour of his\napostolate. In this Numidian country, so verdant and cool, where a thousand\nmemories of childhood encompassed him, where he was not able to take a step\nwithout encountering the ever-living image of his mother, he soared towards\nGod with more confidence. He who sought in the things of sense ladder-rungs\nwhereby to mount to spiritual realities, still turned kindly eyes on\nthe natural scene. From the windows of his room he saw the forest pines\nrounding their heads, like little crystal goblets with stems slim and thin.\nHis scarred chest breathed in deliriously the resinous breath of the fine\ntrees. He listened like a musician to the orchestra of birds. The changing\nscenes of country life always attracted him. It is now that he wrote:\n\"Tell me, does not the nightingale seem to you to modulate her voice\ndelightfully? Is not her song, so harmonious, so suave, so well attuned to\nthe season, the very voice of the spring?...\"\n\n\n\n\nIV\n\nAUGUSTIN A PRIEST\n\n\nThis halt did not last long. Soon was going to begin for Augustin the time\nof tribulation, that of his struggles and apostolic journeys.\n\nAnd first, he must mourn his son Adeodatus, that young man who seemed\ndestined to such great things. It is indeed most probable that the young\nmonk died at Thagaste during the three years that his father spent there.\nAugustin was deeply grieved; but, as in the case of his mother's death, he\nmastered his sorrow by all the force of his Christian hope. No doubt he\nloved his son as much as he was proud of him. It will be remembered what\nwords he used to speak of this youthful genius, whose precocity frightened\nhim. Little by little his grief quietened down, and in its place came a\nmild resignation. Some years later he will write about Adeodatus: \"Lord,\nearly didst Thou cut off his life from this earth, but I remember him\nwithout a shadow of misgiving. My remembrance is not mixed with any fear\nfor his boyhood, or the youth he was, or the man he would have been.\" No\nfear! What a difference between this and the habitual feelings of the\nJansenists, who believed themselves his disciples! While Augustin thinks of\nhis son's death with a calm and grave joy which he can scarce hide, those\nof Port Royal could only think in trembling of the judgment of God. Their\nfaith did not much resemble the luminous and confident faith of Augustin.\nFor him, salvation is the conquest of joy.\n\nAt Thagaste he lived in joy. Every morning in awaking before the forest\npines, glistening with the dews of the morning, he might well say with a\nfull heart: \"My God, give me the grace to live here under the shades of Thy\npeace, while awaiting that of Thy Paradise.\" But the Christians continued\nto watch him. It was to the interest of a number of people that this light\nshould not be hid under a bushel. Perhaps a snare was deliberately laid for\nhim. At any rate, he was imprudent enough to come out of his retreat and\ntravel to Hippo. He thought he might be safe there, because, as the town\nhad a bishop already, they would not have any excuse to get him consecrated\nin spite of himself.\n\nAn inhabitant of Hippo, a clerk of the Imperial Ministry of the Interior,\nbegged his spiritual assistance. Doubts, he maintained, still delayed him\non the way to an entire conversion. Augustin alone could help him to get\nclear of them. So Augustin, counting already on a new recruit for the\nThagaste monastery, went over there at the request of this official.\n\nNow, if there was a bishop at Hippo (a certain Valerius), priests were\nlacking. Furthermore, Valerius was getting on in years. Originally Greek,\nhe knew Latin badly, and not a word of Punic--a great hindrance for him in\nhis duties of judge, administrator, and catechist. The knowledge of the two\nlanguages was indispensable to an ecclesiastic in such a country, where the\nmajority of the rural population spoke only the old Carthaginian idiom.\nAll this proves to us that Catholicism was in bad shape in the diocese\nof Hippo. Not only was there a lack of priests, but the bishop was a\nforeigner, little familiar with African customs. There was a general\ndemand for a native to take his place--one young, active, and well enough\nfurnished with learning to hold his own against the heretics and the\nschismatics of the party of Donatus, and also sufficiently able to watch\nover the interests of the Church at Hippo, and above all, to make it\nprosperous. Let us not forget that at this time, in the eyes of a crowd of\npoor wretches, Christianity was first and foremost the religion which gave\nout bread. Even in those early days, the Church did its best to solve the\neternal social question.\n\nWhile Augustin was at Hippo, Valerius preached a sermon in the basilica in\nwhich, precisely, he deplored this lack of priests the community suffered\nfrom. Mingled with the congregation, Augustin listened, sure that he would\nbe unrecognized. But the secret of his presence had leaked out. People\npointed to him while the bishop was preaching. The next thing was that some\nfurious enthusiasts seized hold of him and dragged him to the foot of the\nepiscopal chair, yelling:\n\n\"Augustin a priest! Augustin a priest!\"\n\nSuch were the democratic ways of the Church in those days. The\ninconveniences are plain enough. What is certain is, that if Augustin had\nresisted, he might have lost his life, and that the bishop would have\nprovoked a riot in refusing him the priesthood. In Africa, religious\npassions are not to be trifled with, especially when they are exasperated\nby questions of profit or politics. In his heart, the bishop was delighted\nwith this brutal capture which gained him the distinction of such a\nwell-known fellow-worker. There and then he ordained the Thagaste monk. And\nso, as Augustin's pupil, Possidius, the future Bishop of Guelma, puts it,\n\"This shining lamp, which sought the darkness of solitude, was placed upon\nthe lamp-stand...\" Augustin, who saw the finger of God in this adventure,\nsubmitted to the popular will. Nevertheless, he was in despair, and he\nwept at the change they were forcing on him. Then, some of those present,\nmistaking the significance of his tears, said to console him:\n\n\"Yes, you are right. The priesthood is not good enough for your merits. But\nyou may be certain that you will be our bishop.\"\n\nAugustin well knew all that the crowd meant by that, and what it expected\nof its bishop. He who only thought of leaving the world, grew frightened\nat the practical cares he would have to take over. And the spiritual side\nof his jurisdiction frightened him no less. To speak of God! Proclaim the\nword of God! He deemed himself unworthy of so high a privilege. He was so\nill-prepared! To remedy this fault of preparation, as well as he could, he\ndesired that he might be given a little leisure till the following Easter.\nIn a letter addressed to Valerius, and no doubt intended to be made public,\nhe humbly set forth the reasons why he asked for delay. They were so\napposite and so creditable, that very likely the bishop yielded. The new\npriest received permission to retire to a country house near Hippo. His\nflock, who did not feel at all sure of their shepherd, would not have let\nhim go too far off.\n\nHe took up his duties as soon as possible. Little by little he became,\nto all intents, the coadjutor of the bishop, who charged him with the\npreaching and the baptism of catechumens. These were the two most important\namong the episcopal prerogatives. The bishops made a point of doing these\nthings themselves. Certain colleagues of Valerius even grew scandalized\nthat he should allow a simple priest to preach before him in his own\nchurch. But soon other bishops, struck by the advantages of this\ninnovation, followed the example of Valerius, and allowed their clerks to\npreach even in their presence. The priest of Hippo did not lose his head\namong so many honours. He felt chiefly the perils of them, and he regarded\nthem as a trial sent by God. \"I have been forced into this,\" he said,\n\"doubtless in punishment of my sins; for from what other motive can I think\nthat the second place at the helm should be given to me--to me who do not\neven know how to hold an oar....\"\n\nMeanwhile, he had not relinquished his purpose of monastic life. Though\na priest, he meant to remain a monk. It was heart-breaking for him to be\nobliged to leave his monastery at Thagaste. He spoke of his regret to\nValerius, who, perceiving the usefulness of a convent as a seminary for\nfuture priests, gave him an orchard belonging to the church of Hippo, that\nhe might found a new community there. So was established the monastery\nwhich was going to supply a great number of clerks and bishops to all the\nAfrican provinces.\n\nAmong the ruins of Hippo, that old Roman and Phoenician city, they search\nfor the place where Augustin's monastery stood, without much hope of ever\nfinding it. Some have thought to locate it upon that hill where the water\nbrought from the near mountains by an aqueduct used to pour into immense\nreservoirs, and where to-day rises a new basilica which attracts all eyes\nout at sea. Behind the basilica is a convent where the Little Sisters of\nthe Poor lodge about a hundred old people. So is maintained among the\nAfrican Mussulmans the remembrance of the grand Christian _marabout_. One\nmight possibly wish to see there a building more in the pure and quiet\ntaste of antiquity. But after all, the piety of the intention is enough.\nThis hospital serves admirably to call up the memory of the illustrious\nbishop who was charity itself. As for the basilica, Africa has done all she\ncan to make it worthy of him. She has given her most precious marbles, and\none of her fairest landscapes as a frame.\n\nIt is chiefly in the evening, in the closing dusk, that this landscape\nreveals all its special charm and its finer values. The roseate glow of the\nsetting sun throws into sharp relief the black profile of the mountains,\nwhich command the Seybouse valley. Under the mustering shadows, the pallid\nriver winds slowly to the sea. The gulf, stretching limitless, shines like\na slab of salt strangely bespangled. In this atmosphere without mists, the\nsharp outlines of the coast, the dense movelessness of the aspect, has an\nindescribable effect. It is like a hitherto unknown and virginal revelation\nof the earth. Then the stars bloom out, with a flame, an hallucinating\npalpability. Charles's Wain, burning low on the gorges of the Edough, seems\nlike a golden waggon rolling through the fields of Heaven. A deep peace\nsettles upon farmland and meadow country, only broken by a watch-dog's bark\nnow and then....\n\nBut it matters not which spot is chosen in the surroundings of Hippo to\nplace Augustin's monastery, the view will be equally beautiful. From all\nparts of the plain, mounded by heaps of ruins, the sea can be seen--a wide\nbay circled in soft bland curves, like at Naples. All around, an arena of\nmountains--the green ravines of the Edough and its wooded slopes. Along the\nsurbased roads rise the great sonorous pines, and through them wanders the\n\u00e6olian complaint of the sea-winds. Blue of the sea, blue of the sky, noble\nfoliage of Italy's ancient groves--it is one of Lamartine's landscapes\nunder a more burning sun. The gaiety of the mornings there is a physical\nluxury for heart and eyes, when the new-born light laughs upon the painted\ncupolas of the houses, and dark blue veils float between the walls, glaring\nwhite, of the steep streets.\n\nAmong the olives and orange-trees of Hippo, Augustin must have seen happy\ndays pass by, as at Thagaste. The rule he had given the convent, which he\nhimself obeyed like any one else, was neither too slack nor too strict--in\na word, such as it should be for men who have lived in the culture of\nletters and works of the mind. There was no affectation of excessive\nausterity. Augustin and his monks wore very simple clothes and shoes, but\nsuitable for a bishop and his clerks. Like laymen, they wore the byrrhus,\na garment with a hood, which seems very like the ancestor of the Arab\nburnous. To keep an even line between daintiness and negligence in costume,\nto have no exaggeration in anything, is what Augustin aimed at. The poet\nRutilius Numatianus, who about that time was attacking the sordid and\nculture-hating monks with sombre irony, would have had a chance to admire\na restraint and decorum in the Hippo monastery which recalled what was\nbest in the manners of the ancient world. At table, a like moderation.\nVegetables were generally provided, and sometimes meat when any one\nwas sick, or guests arrived. They drank a little wine, contrary to the\nregulations of St. Jerome, who condemned wine as a drink for devils. When\na monk infringed the rule, his share of the wine was stopped.\n\nThrough some remains of fastidious habits in Augustin, or perhaps because\nhe had nothing else, the table service he used himself was silver. On the\nother hand, the pots and dishes were of earthenware, or wood, or common\nalabaster. Augustin, who was very temperate in eating and drinking, seemed\nat table to pay attention only to what was being read or talked about.\nHe cared very little what he ate, provided the food was not a stimulant\nto lubricity. He used to say to those Christians who paraded a Pharisaic\nseverity: \"It is the pure heart which makes pure food.\" Then, with his\nconstant desire for charity, he prohibited all spiteful gossip in the\nconversation in the refectory. In those times of religious struggle, the\nclerics ferociously blackened each other's characters. Augustin caused to\nhave written on the walls a distich, which ran thus:\n\n  \"He who takes pleasure in slandering the life of the absent,\n  Should know he is unworthy to sit at this table.\"\n\n\"One day,\" says Possidius, \"some of his intimate friends, even other\nbishops, having forgotten this sentence, he reproached them warmly, and\nvery much perturbed, he cried out that he was going to remove those verses\nfrom the refectory, or rise from table and withdraw to his cell. I was\npresent with many others when this happened.\"\n\nIt was not only slanderous talk or interior dissensions which troubled\nAugustin's peace of mind. He combined the duties of priest, of a head of\na convent, and of an apostle. He had to preach, instruct the catechumens,\nbattle against the disaffected. The town of Hippo was very unruly, full\nof heretics, schismatics, pagans. Those of the party of Donatus were\ntriumphant, driving the Catholics from their churches and lands. When\nAugustin came into the country, Catholicism was very low. And then the\nineradicable Manichees continued to recruit proselytes. He never stopped\nwriting tracts, disputing against them, overwhelming them under the close\nlogic of his arguments. At the request of the Donatists themselves, he had\nan argument with one of their priests, a certain Fortunatus, in the baths\nof Sossius at Hippo. He reduced this man to silence and to flight. Not in\nthe least discouraged were the Manichees: they sent another priest.\n\nIf the enemies of the Church shewed themselves stubborn, Augustin's own\ncongregation were singularly turbulent, hard to manage. The weakness of old\nValerius must have allowed a good many abuses to creep into the community.\nEre long the priest of Hippo had a foretaste of the difficulties which\nawaited him as bishop.\n\nFollowing the example of Ambrose, he undertook to abolish the custom\nof feasts in the basilicas and on the tombs of the martyrs. This was a\nsurvival of paganism, of which the festivals included gluttonous eating and\norgies. At every solemnity, and they were frequent, the pagans ate in the\ncourts and under the porticoes around the temples. In Africa, above all,\nthese public repasts gave an opportunity for repugnant scenes of stuffing\nand drunkenness. As a rule, the African is very sober; but when he does let\nhimself go he is terrible. This is quite easily seen to-day, in the great\nMuslem feasts, when the rich distribute broken bits of meat to the poor of\ntheir district. As soon as these people, used to drink water and to eat a\nlittle boiled rice, have tasted meat, or drunk only one cup of wine, there\nis no holding them: there are fights, stabbing matches, a general brawl\nin the hovels. Just picture this popular debauch in full blast in the\ncemeteries and the courts of the basilicas, and it will be understood why\nAugustin did his best to put an end to such scandals.\n\nFor this purpose, he joined hands first of all with his bishop, Valerius,\nand then with the Primate of Carthage, Aurelius, who shall be henceforth\nhis firmest support in his struggle against the schismatics.\n\nDuring Lent, the subject fitting in naturally with the season, he\nspoke against these pagan orgies; and this gave rise to a good deal of\ndiscontent, outside. Easter went by without trouble. But the day after the\nAscension, the people of Hippo were used to celebrate what they called \"the\nJoy-day,\" by a traditional good feed and drink. The day before, which was\nthe religious festival, Augustin intrepidly spoke against \"the Joy-day.\"\nThey interrupted the preacher. Some of them shouted that as much was done\nat Rome in St. Peter's basilica. At Carthage, they danced round the tomb of\nSt. Cyprian. To the shrilling of flutes, amid the dull blows of the gongs,\nmimes gave themselves up to obscene contortions, while the spectators\nsang to the clapping of their hands.... Augustin knew all about that.\nHe declared that these abominations might have been tolerated in former\ntimes so as not to discourage the pagans from becoming converts; but that\nhenceforth the people, altogether Christian, should give them up. In the\nend, he spoke with such touching eloquence that the audience burst into\ntears. He believed he had won.\n\nThe next day it was all to do over again. Agitators had worked among the\ncrowd to such an extent that a riot was feared. Nevertheless, Augustin,\npreceded by his bishop, entered the basilica at the hour of service. At the\nsame moment the Donatists were banqueting in their church, which was quite\nnear. Through the walls of their own church the Catholics heard the noise\nof this carouse. It required the coadjutor's most urgent remonstrances to\nkeep them from imitating their neighbours. The last murmurs died down, and\nthe ceremony ended with the singing of the sacred hymns.\n\nAugustin had carried the position. But the conflict had got to the point\nthat he had to threaten the people with his resignation, and, as he wrote\nto Alypius, \"to shake out on them the dust from his clothes.\" All this\npromised very ill for the future. He who already considered the priesthood\nas a trial, saw with terror the bishopric drawing near.\n\n\n\n\nTHE FIFTH PART\n\nTHE APOSTLE OF PEACE AND OF CATHOLIC UNITY\n\n\n    Dic eis ista, ut plorent ... et sic eos rape tecum ad Deum: quia de\n    spiritu ejus haec dicis eis, si dicis ardens igne caritatis.\n\n    \"Tell them this, O my soul, that they may weep ... and thus carry them\n    up with thyself to God; because by His Spirit thou sayest these things,\n    if Thou speakest burning with the flame of charity.\"\n\n    _Confessions_, IV, 12.\n\n\n\n\nI\n\nTHE BISHOP OF HIPPO\n\n\nIn his monastery, Augustin was still spied upon by the neighbouring\nChurches, who wanted him for their bishop. They would capture him on the\nfirst opportunity. The old Valerius, fearing his priest would be taken\nunawares, urged him to hide himself. But he knew by the very case of\nAugustin, forced into the priesthood in spite of himself, that the greatest\nprecautions are useless against those determined to gain their ends by any\nmeans. It would be safest to anticipate the danger.\n\nHe determined therefore to share the bishopric with Augustin, to have him\nconsecrated during his own lifetime, and to indicate him as his successor.\nThis was against the African usage, and what was more, against the Canons\nof the Council of Nice--though it is true that Valerius, like Augustin\nhimself, was unaware of this latter point. But surely the rule could be\nwaived in view of the exceptional merits of the priest of Hippo. The old\nbishop began by sounding Aurelius, the Primate of Carthage, and when he was\nsatisfied as to the agreement and support of this high personage, he took\nthe opportunity of a religious solemnity to make known his intentions to\nthe people.\n\nSome of the neighbouring bishops--Megalius, Bishop of Guelma and Primate of\nNumidia, among them--being gathered at Hippo to consecrate a new bishop,\nValerius announced publicly in the basilica that he wished Augustin to be\nconsecrated at the same ceremony. This had been the wish of his people\nfor a long time. Really, in demanding this honour for his priest, the old\nbishop did no more than follow the wish of the public. Immediately, his\nwords were received with cheers. The faithful with loud shouts demanded\nAugustin's consecration.\n\nMegalius alone objected. He even made himself the voice of certain\ncalumnies, so as to have the candidate put aside as unworthy. There is\nnothing astonishing in such an attitude. This Megalius was old (he died a\nshort time after), and, like all old men, he took the gloomiest view of\ninnovations. Already, in the face of settled custom, had Valerius granted\nAugustin the right to preach in his presence. And see now, by a new\nsinking, he was attempting to place two bishops at once in the see of\nHippo! Whatever this young priest's talents might be, enough, had been\ndone for him--a recent convert into the bargain, and, what was still more\nserious, a refugee from the Manicheans. What was not related about the\nabominations committed in the mysteries of those people? Just how far had\nAugustin dipped into them? They snarled against him everywhere at Hippo,\nand at Carthage too, where he had compromised himself by his excessive\nzeal; Catholics and Donatists alike gossiped. Megalius, a punctilious\ndefender of discipline and the hierarchy, no doubt gathered up these\nmalevolent rumours with pleasure. He used them as an excuse for making\nAugustin mark time, so to speak. Commonplace people always feel a secret\ndelight in humiliating to the common rule those whom they can feel are\nbeings of a different quality from themselves.\n\nOne of the slanders set abroad about Valerius' priest, Megalius seems to\nhave believed. He allowed himself to be persuaded that Augustin had given\na philtre to a woman, one of his penitents, whom he wished to possess. It\nwas then the fashion among the pious to exchange _eulogies_, or bits of\nholy bread, to signify a spiritual communion. Augustin was said to have\nmixed certain magic potions with some of these breads and offered them\nhypocritically to the woman he was in love with. This accusation started a\nbig scandal, and the remembrance of it persisted long, because five or six\nyears later the Donatist Petilian was still repeating it.\n\nAugustin cleared himself victoriously. Megalius avowed his mistake. He did\nbetter: not only did he apologize to him he had slandered, but he solemnly\nasked forgiveness from his fellow-bishops for having misled them upon false\nrumours. It is probable that some time during the inquiry he had got to\nknow Valerius' coadjutor better. Augustin's charm, taken with the austerity\nof his life, acted upon the vexed old man and altered his views. Be that\nso or not, it was at any rate by Megalius, Bishop of Guelma and Primate of\nNumidia, that Augustin was consecrated Bishop of Hippo.\n\nHe was in consternation over his rise. He has said it again and again. We\nmay take his word for it. Yet the honours and advantages of the episcopate\nwere then so considerable that his enemies were able to describe him as an\nambitious man. Nothing could agree less with his character. In his heart,\nAugustin only wished to live in quiet. Since his retreat at Cassicium,\nfortune he had given up, as well as literary glory. His sole wish was to\nlive in pondering the divine truths, and to draw nearer to God. _Videte et\ngustate quam mitis sit Dominus_--\"O taste and see that the Lord is good.\"\nThis perhaps, of the whole Bible, is the verse he liked best, which\nanswered best to the close desire of his soul; and he quotes it oftenest\nin his sermons. Then, to study the Holy Writings, scan the least syllables\nof them, since all truth lies there--well, a whole life is not too much\nfor such labour as that! And to do it, one should sever all ties with the\nworld, take refuge forbiddingly in the cloister.\n\nBut this sincere Christian analysed himself too skilfully not to perceive\nthat he had a dangerous tendency to isolation. He took too much pleasure\nin cutting himself off from the society of mankind to enshroud himself\nin study and meditation. He who acknowledged a secret tendency to the\nEpicurean indolence--was he going to live a life of the dilettante and the\nself-indulgent under cover of holiness? Alone could action save him from\nselfishness. Others doubtless fulfilled the laws of charity in praying,\nin mortifying themselves for their brethren. But when, like him, a man\nhas exceptional faculties of persuasion and eloquence, such vigour in\ndialectics, such widespread culture, such power to bring to naught the\nwrong--would it not be insulting to God to let such gifts lie idle, and a\nserious failure in charity to deprive his brethren of the support of such\nan engine?\n\nBesides that, he well knew that no man draws near to truth without a\npurified heart. Might not his passions, which were so violent, begin to\ntorment him again after this respite with greater frenzy than before his\nconversion? Against that, too, action was the main antidote. In the duties\nof the bishopric he saw a means of asceticism--a kind of courageous\npurification. He would load himself of his own will with so many anxieties\nand so much work that he would have no time left to listen to the insidious\nvoice of his \"old friends.\" Could he manage to silence them at once?\nThis unheard-of grace--would it be granted to him? Or would not rather\nthe struggle continue in the depths of his conscience? What comes out as\ncertain is that those terrible passions which turned his youth upside down,\nnevermore play any part in his life. From the moment he fell on his knees\nunder the fig-tree at Milan, his sinful heart is a dead heart. He has been\nfreed from almost all the weaknesses of the old nature, not only from its\nvices and carnal affections, but from its most pardonable lapses--save,\nperhaps, some old sediment of intellectual and literary vanity.\n\nHis books, at the first glance, shew us him no more save as the doctor, and\nalready the saint. What is seen at once is an entirely bare intelligence,\nan entirely pure heart, fired only by the divine love. And yet the\naffectionate and tender heart which his had been, always warms his\ndiscussions and his most abstract exegesis. It does not take long to feel\nthe heat of them, the power of pouring forth emotion. Augustin takes no\nheed of that. Of himself he no longer thinks; he no longer belongs to\nhimself. If he has accepted the episcopate, it is so as to give himself\naltogether to the Church, to be all things to all men. He is the man-word,\nthe man-pen, the sounding-board of the truth. He becomes the man of the\nmiserable crowds which the Saviour covered with His pity. He is theirs, to\nconvince them and cure them of their errors. He is a machine which works\nwithout ever stopping for the greater glory of Christ. Bishop, pastor,\nleader of souls--he has no desire for anything else.\n\nBut it was a heavy labour for this intellectual, who till then had lived\nonly among books and ideas. The day after his consecration, he must have\nregarded it with more terror than ever. During his nights of insomnia, or\nat the recreation hour in the monastery garden, he thought over it with\ngreat distress. His eyes wide open in the darkness of his cell, he sought\nto define a theory upon the nature and origin of the soul; or else, at the\nfall of day, he saw between the olive branches \"the sea put on fluctuating\nshades like veils of a thousand colours, sometimes green, a green of\ninfinite tints; sometimes purple; blue sometimes....\" And his soul, easily\nstirred to poetry, at once arose from these material splendours to the\ninvisible region of ideas. Then, immediately, he caught himself up: it\nwas not a question of all that! He said to himself that he was henceforth\nthe bishop Augustin, that he had charge of souls, that he must work for\nthe needs of his flock. He would have to struggle in a combat without a\nmoment's respite. Thereupon he arranged his plans of attack and defence.\nWith a single glance he gauged the huge work before him.\n\nA crushing work, truly! He was Bishop of Hippo, but a bishop almost without\na flock, in comparison with the rival community of Donatists. The bishop of\nthe dissentients, Proculeianus, boasted that he was the true representative\nof orthodoxy, and as he had on his side the advantage of numbers, he\ncertainly cut a much greater figure in the town than the successor of\nValerius, with all his knowledge and all his eloquence. The schismatics'\nchurch, as we have seen, was quite near the Catholic church. Their noise\ninterfered with Augustin's sermons. Possibly the situation had become\nslightly better in Hippo since the edict of Theodosius. But it was not so\nlong ago that those of the Donatist party had the upper hand. A little\nbefore the arrival of the new bishop, the Donatist clergy forbade their\nfaithful to bake bread for Catholics. A fanatical baker had even refused a\nCatholic deacon who was his landlord. These schismatics believed themselves\nstrong enough to put those who did not belong to them under interdict.\n\nThe rout of Catholicism appeared to be an accomplished fact from one end to\nthe other of Africa. Quite recently a mere fraction of the Donatist party\nhad been able to send three hundred and ten bishops to the Council of\nBagai, who were to judge the recalcitrants of their own sect. Among these\nbishops, the terrible Optatus of Thimgad became marked on account of his\nbloody zeal, rambling round Numidia and even the Proconsulate at the head\nof armed bands, burning farms and villas, rebaptizing the Catholics by main\nforce, spreading terror on all sides.\n\nAugustin knew all this, and when he sought help from the local authorities\nhe was obliged to acknowledge sadly that there was no support to be\nexpected from Count Gildo, who had tyrannized over Carthage and Africa for\nnearly ten years. This Gildo was a native, a Moor, to whom the ministers of\nthe young Valentinian II had thought it a good stroke of policy to confide\nthe government of the province. Knowing the weakness of the Empire, the\nMoor only thought of cutting out for himself an independent principality\nin Africa. He openly favoured Donatism, which was the most numerous and\ninfluential party. The Bishop of Thimgad, Optatus, swore only by him,\nregarding him as his master and his \"god.\" In consequence, he was called\n\"the Gildonian.\"\n\nAgainst such enemies, the Imperial authority could only act irregularly.\nAugustin was well aware of it. He knew that the Western Empire was in a\ncritical position. Theodosius had just died, in the midst of war with the\nusurper Eugenius. The Barbarians, who made up the greater part of the Roman\narmies, shewed themselves more and more threatening. Alaric, entrenched\nin the Peloponnesus, was getting ready to invade Italy. However, the\nall-powerful minister of the young Honorius, the half-Barbarian Stilicho,\ndid his best to conciliate the Catholics, and assured them that he would\ncontinue the protection they had had from Theodosius, Augustin therefore\nturned to the central power. It alone could bring about a little order in\nthe provinces--and then, besides, the new emperors were firmly attached\nto the defence of Catholicism. The Catholic Bishop of Hippo did his\nbest, accordingly, to keep on good terms with the representatives of the\nMetropolitan Government--the proconsuls; the propr\u00e6tors; the counts;\nand the tribunes, or the secretaries, sent by the Emperor as Government\ncommissioners.\n\nThere was no suspicion of flattery in his attitude, no idolatry of power.\nAt Milan, Augustin had been near enough to the Court to know what the\nImperial functionaries were worth. Now, he simply adapted himself as well\nas he could to the needs of the moment. And with all that, he could have\nwished in the depths of his heart that this power were stronger, so as to\ngive the Church more effective support. This cultured man, brought up in\nthe respect of the Roman majesty, was by instinct a faithful servant of\nthe C\u00e6sars. A man who held to authority and tradition, he maintained that\nobedience is due to princes: \"There is a general agreement,\" he said,\n\"of human society to obey its Kings.\" In one of his sermons he compares\nthought, which commands the body, to the Emperor seated upon his throne,\nand from the depths of his palace dictating orders which set the whole\nEmpire moving--a purely ideal image of the sovereign of that time, but one\nwhich pleased his Latin imagination. Alas! Augustin had no illusions about\nthe effect of Imperial edicts; he knew too well how little they were\nregarded, especially in Africa.\n\nSo he could hardly count upon Government support for the defence of\nCatholic unity and peace. He found he must trust to himself; and all\nhis strength was in his intelligence, in his charity, in his deeply\ncompassionate soul. Most earnestly did he wish that Catholicism might be a\nreligion of love, open to all the nations of the earth, even as its Divine\nFounder Himself had wished. A glowing and dominating intelligence, charity\nwhich never tired--those were Augustin's arms. And they were enough. These\nqualities gave him an overwhelming superiority over all the men of his\ntime. Among them, pagans or Christians, he looks like a colossus. From what\na height he crushes, not only the professors who had been his colleagues,\nsuch as Nectarius of Guelma or Maximus of Madaura, but the most celebrated\nwriters of his time--Symmachus, for instance, and Ammianus Marcellinus.\nAfter reading a treatise of Augustin's, one is astounded by the\nintellectual meagreness of these last pagans. The narrowness of their\nmind and platitude of thought is a thing that leaves one aghast. Even the\nillustrious Apuleius, who belonged to the golden age of African literature,\nthe author of _The Doctrine of Plato_, praises philosophy and the Supreme\nBeing in terms which recall the professions of faith of the chemist and\ndruggist, Homais, in _Madame Bovary_.\n\nNor among those who surrounded Augustin, his fellow-bishops, was there one\nfit to be compared with him, even at a distance. Except perhaps Nebridius,\nhis dearest friends, Alypius, Severus, or Evodius, are merely disciples,\nnot to say servants of his thought. Aurelius, Primate of Carthage, an\nenergetic administrator, a firm and upright character, if he is not on\nAugustin's level, is at any rate capable of understanding and supporting\nhim. The others are decent men, like that Samsucius, Bishop of Tours, very\nnearly illiterate, but full of good sense and experience, and on this\nground consulted respectfully by his colleague of Hippo. Or else they are\nplotters, given to debauch, engaged in business, like Paulus, Bishop of\nCataqua, who became involved in risky speculations, swindled the revenue,\nand by his expensive way of life ruined his diocese. Others, on the\nDonatist side, are mere swashbucklers, half-brigands, half-fanatics, like\nthe Gildonian Optatus, Bishop of Thimgad, a manifestation in advance of\nthe Mussulman _marabout_ who preached the holy war against the Catholics,\nraiding, killing, burning, converting by sabre blows and bludgeoning.\n\nAmid these insignificant or violent men, Augustin will endeavour to realize\nto the full the admirable type of bishop, at once spiritual father,\nprotector, and support of his people. He had promised himself to sacrifice\nno whit of his ideal of Christian perfection. As bishop, he will remain a\nmonk, as he did during his priesthood. Beside the monastery established in\nValerius' garden, where it is impossible to receive properly his guests and\nvisitors, he will start another in the episcopal residence. He will conform\nto the monastic rule as far as his duties allow. He will pray, study the\nScriptures, define dogmas, refute heresies. At the same time, he means to\nneglect nothing of his material work. He has mouths to feed, property to\nlook after, law-cases to examine. He will labour at all that. For this\nmystic and theorist it means a never-ceasing immolation.\n\nFirst, to give the poor their daily bread. Like all the communities of that\ntime, Hippo maintained a population of beggars. Often enough, the diocesan\ncash-box was empty. Augustin was obliged to hold out the hand, to deliver\nfrom the height of his pulpit pathetic appeals for charity. Then, there are\nhospitals to be built for the sick, a lodging-house for poor wanderers.\nThe bishop started these institutions in houses bequeathed to the church\nof Hippo. For reasons of economy, he thought better not to build. That\nwould overload his budget. Next came the greatest of all his cares--the\nadministration of Church property. To increase this property, he stipulated\nthat his clergy should give up all they possessed in favour of the\ncommunity, thus giving the faithful an example of voluntary poverty.\nHe also accepted gifts from private persons. But he also often refused\nthese--for example, the bequest of a father or mother, who, in a moment of\nanger, disinherited their children. He did not wish to profit by the bad\nfeelings of parents to plunder orphans. On another side, he objected to\nengage the Church in suits at law with the exchequer upon receiving certain\nheritages. When a business man at Hippo left to the diocese his share of\nprofits in the service of boats for carrying Government stores, Augustin\ncame to the conclusion that it would be better to refuse. In case of\nshipwreck, they would be obliged to make good the lost corn to the\nTreasury, or else to put the captain and surviving sailors to the torture\nto prove that the crew was not responsible for the loss of the ship.\nAugustin would not hear tell of it.\n\n\"Is it fit,\" he said, \"that a bishop should be a shipowner?... A bishop\na torturer? Oh, no; that does not agree at all with a servant of Jesus\nChrist.\"\n\nThe people of Hippo did not share his views. They blamed Augustin's\nscruples. They accused him of compromising the interests of the Church. One\nday he had to explain himself from the pulpit:\n\n\"Well I know, my brothers, that you often say between yourselves: 'Why do\nnot people give anything to the Church of Hippo? Why do not the dying make\nit their heir? The reason is that Bishop Augustin is too easy; he gives all\nback to the children; he keeps nothing!' I acknowledge it, I only accept\ngifts which are good and pious. Whoever disinherits his son to make the\nChurch his heir, let him find somebody willing to accept his gifts. It is\nnot I who will do it, and by God's grace, I hope it will not be anybody....\nYes, I have refused many legacies, but I have also accepted many. Need I\nname them to you? I will give only one instance. I accepted the heritage of\nJulian. Why? Because he died without children....\"\n\nThe listeners thought that their bishop really put too fine a point on\nthings.\n\nThey further reproached him with not knowing how to attract and flatter the\nrich benefactors. Augustin would not allow, either, that they had any right\nto force a passing stranger to receive the priesthood and consequently to\ngive up his goods to the poor. All this really was very wise, not only\naccording to the spirit of the Gospel, but according to human prudence.\nIf Augustin, for the sake of the good fame of his Church, did not wish to\nincur the accusation of grasping and avarice, he dreaded nothing so much\nas a law-case. To accept lightly the gifts and legacies offered was to lay\nhimself open to expensive pettifogging. Far better to refuse than to lose\nboth his money and reputation. So were reconciled, in this man of prayer\nand meditation, practical good sense with the high disinterestedness of the\nChristian teaching.\n\nThe bishop was disinterested; his people were covetous. The people of those\ntimes wished the Church to grow rich, because they were the first to profit\nby its riches. Now these riches were principally in houses and land. The\ndiocese of Hippo had to deal with many houses and immense _fundi_, upon\nwhich lived an entire population of artisans and freed-men, agricultural\nlabourers, and even art-workers--smelters, embroiderers, chisellers on\nmetals. Upon the Church lands, these small people were protected from taxes\nand the extortions of the revenue officers, and no doubt they found the\nepiscopal government more fatherly and mild than the civil.\n\nAugustin, who had made a vow of poverty and given his heritage to the poor,\nbecame by a cruel irony a great landowner as soon as he was elected Bishop\nof Hippo. Doubtless he had stewards under him to look after the property\nof the diocese. This did not save him from going into details of management\nand supervising his agents. He heard the complaints, not only of his\nown tenants, but also of those who belonged to other estates and were\nvictimized by dishonest bailiffs. Anyhow, we have a thousand signs to shew\nthat no detail of country life was unfamiliar to him.\n\nOn horseback or muleback, he rode for miles through the country about\nHippo to visit his vineyards and olivets. He examined, found out things,\nquestioned the workmen, went into the presses and the mills. He knew the\ngrape good to eat, and the grape to make wine with. He pointed out where\nthe ensilage pits had been dug in too marshy land, which endangered the\nyoung corn. As a capable landowner he was abreast of the law, careful\nabout the terms of contracts. He knew the formulas employed for sales or\nbenefactions. He saw to it that charcoal was buried around the landmarks in\nthe fields, so that if the post disappeared, its place could be found. And\nas he was a poet, he gathered on his course a whole booty of rural images\nwhich later on went to brighten his sermons. He made ingenious comparisons\nwith the citron-tree, \"which is seen to give flowers and fruits all the\nyear if it be watered constantly,\" or else with the goat \"who gets upon her\ntwo hind legs to crop the bitter leaves of the wild olive.\"\n\nThese journeys in the open air, however tiring they might be, were after\nall a rest for his overworked brain. But there was one among his episcopal\nduties which wearied him to disgust. Every day he had to listen to parties\nin dispute and give judgment. Following recent Imperial legislation, the\nbishop became judge in civil cases--a tiresome and endless work in a\ncountry where tricky quibbling raged with obstinate fury. The litigants\npursued Augustin, overran his house, like those fellahs in dirty burnous\nwho block our law-courts with their rags. In the _secretarium_ of the\nbasilica, or under the portico of the court leading to the church, Augustin\nsat like a Mussulman cadi in the court of the mosque.\n\nThe emperors had only regulated an old custom of apostolic times in placing\nthe Christians under the jurisdiction of their bishop. In accordance with\nSt. Paul's advice, the priests did their utmost to settle differences among\nthe faithful. Later, when their number had considerably increased, the\nGovernment adopted a system not unlike the \"Capitulations\" in countries\nunder the Ottoman suzerainty. Lawsuits between clerics and laymen could not\nbe equitably judged by civil servants, who were often pagans. Moreover, the\nparties based their claims on theological principles or religious laws that\nthe arbitrator generally knew nothing about. In these conditions, it was\nnatural enough that the Imperial authority should say to the disputants,\n\"Fight it out among yourselves\".\n\nAnd it happened, just at the moment when Augustin began to fill the see of\nHippo, that Theodosius broadened still more the judicial prerogatives of\nthe bishops. The unhappy judge was overwhelmed with law-cases. Every day he\nsat till the hour of his meal, and sometimes the whole day when he fasted.\nTo those who accused him of laziness, he answered:\n\n\"I can declare on my soul that if it were question of my own convenience, I\nshould like much better to work at some manual labour at certain hours of\nthe day, as the rule is in well-governed monasteries, and have the rest of\nthe time free to read or pray or meditate upon the Holy Scripture, instead\nof being troubled with all the complications and dull talk of lawsuits.\"\n\nThe rascality of the litigants made him indignant. From the pulpit he gave\nthem advice full of Christian wisdom, but which could not have been much\nrelished. A suit at law, according to him, was a loss of time and a cause\nof sorrow. It would be better to let the opponent have the money, than to\nlose time and be filled with uneasiness. Nor was this, added the preacher\nin all good faith, to encourage injustice; for the robber would be robbed\nin his turn by a greater robber than himself.\n\nThese reasons seemed only moderately convincing. The pettifoggers did not\nget discouraged. On the contrary, they infested the bishop with their\npleas. As soon as he appeared, they rushed up to him in a mob, surrounded\nhim, kissed his hand and his shoulder, protesting their respect and\nobedience, urging him, constraining him to busy himself about their\naffairs. Augustin yielded. But the next day in a vehement sermon he cried\nout to them:\n\n_Discedite a me, maligni!_--\"Go far from me, ye wicked ones, and let me\nstudy in peace the commandments of my God!\"\n\n\n\n\nII\n\nWHAT WAS HEARD IN THE BASILICA OF PEACE\n\n\nLet us try to see Augustin in his pulpit and in his episcopal city.\n\nWe cannot do much more than reconstruct them by analogy. Royal Hippo is\nutterly gone. Bona, which has taken its place, is about a mile and a half\naway, and the fragments which have been dug out of the soil of the dead\ncity are very inadequate. But Africa is full of Christian ruins, and\nchiefly of basilicas. Rome has nothing equal to offer. And that is easily\nunderstood. The Roman basilicas, always living, have been changed in the\ncourse of centuries, and have put on, time after time, the garb forced upon\nthem by the fashion. Those of Africa have remained just as they were--at\nleast in their principal lines--on the morrow of the Arab invasion, as\nAugustin's eyes had seen them. They are ruins, no doubt, and some very\nmutilated, but ruins of which no restoration has altered the plan or\nchanged the features.\n\nAs the traces of Hippo and its church are swept away or deeply buried, we\nare obliged, in order to get some approximate idea, to turn towards another\nAfrican town which has suffered less from time and devastation. Theveste\nwith its basilica, the best preserved, the finest and largest in all\nAfrica, can restore to us a little of the look and colour and atmosphere of\nHippo in those final years of the fourth century.\n\nAncient Theveste was much larger than the present town, the French Tebessa.\nThis, even reduced to the perimeter of the Byzantine fortress built under\nJustinian, still surprises the traveller by its singularly original aspect.\nAmid the wide plains of alfa-grass which surround it, with its quadrangular\nenclosure, its roads on the projection of the walls behind the battlements,\nits squat turrets, it has a look as archaic, as strange, as our own\nAigues-Mortes amid its marshy fen. Nothing can be more rich and joyous to\nthe eye than the rust which covers its ruins--a complete gilding that one\nwould say had been laid on by the hand of man.\n\nIt has a little temple which is a wonder and has been compared to the\nancient Roman temple--the _Maison Carr\u00e9e_--at N\u00eemes. But how much warmer,\nmore living are the stones! The shafts of the columns, and the pilasters of\nthe peristyle, barked by time, seem as scaly and full of sap as the trunks\nof palm-trees. The carved acanthus-leaves in the capitals of the pillars\ndroop like bunches of palms reddened by the summer.\n\nQuite near, at the end of a narrow street, lined with modern and squalid\nhovels, the triumphal arch of Septimus Severus and of Caracalla extends its\nluminous bow; and high above the heavy mass of architecture, resting upon\nslim aerial little columns, a buoyant _\u00e6diculus_ shines like a coral\ntabernacle or a coffer of yellow ivory.\n\nAll about, forms in long draperies are huddled. The Numidian burnous has\nthe whiteness of the toga. It has also the same graceful folds. At the\nsight of them you suddenly feel yourself to be in a strange land--carried\nback very far across the centuries. No sooner is the vision of antiquity\noutlined than it grows firm. Down below there, a horseman, clad in white,\nis framed with his white horse in the moulded cincture of a door. He\npasses, and upon the white wall of the near tower his shadow rests a\nmoment, like a bas-relief upon the marble of a frieze.\n\nBeyond the Byzantine enclosure, the basilica, with its minor buildings,\nforms another town almost as large as the present Theveste, and also closed\nin by a belt of towers and ramparts. One is immediately struck by the\nopulent colour of the stones--rose, grown pale and thinner in the sun; and\nnext, by the solid workmanship and the structural finish. The stones, as\nin the Greek temples, are placed on top of one another in regular layers:\nthe whole holds together by the weight of the blocks and the polish of the\nsurfaces.\n\nThe proportions are on a large scale. There was no grudging for the\nbuildings, or the materials, or the land. In front of the basilica is a\nwide rectangular court bordered with terraces; a portico at the far end;\nand in the middle four large fountains to water the walk. A flagged avenue,\nclosed by two gateways, divides this court from the basilica, properly so\ncalled, which is reached by a staircase between two columns. The staircase\nleads to the _atrium_ decorated by a Corinthian portico. In the centre\nis the font for purifications, a huge monolithic bason in the shape of a\nfour-leaved clover. Three doors give entrance from the _atrium_ to the\nbasilica, which is divided by rows of green marble columns into three\naisles. The galleries spread out along the side aisles. The floor was in\nmosaic. In the apse, behind the altar, stood the bishop's throne.\n\nAround the main building clustered a great number of others: a baptistry;\nmany chapels (one vaulted in the shape of a three-leaved clover) dedicated,\nprobably, to local martyrs; a graveyard; a convent with its cells, and its\nwindows narrow as loop-holes; stables, sheds, and barns. Sheltered within\nits walls and towers, amid its gardens and outbuildings, the basilica of\nTheveste thus early resembled one of our great monasteries of the Middle\nAge, and also in certain ways the great mosques of Islam--the one at\nCordova, or that at Damascus, with their vestibules surrounded by arcades,\ntheir basons for purification, and their walks bordered with orange-trees.\nThe faithful and the pilgrims were at home there. They might spend the day\nstretched upon the flags of the porticoes, in loafing or sleeping in the\nblue shade of the columns and the cool of the fountains. In the full sense\nof the word, the church was the House of God, open to all.\n\nVery likely the basilicas at Hippo had neither the size nor the splendour\nof this one. Nor were there very many. At the time Augustin was ordained\npriest, that is to say, when the Donatists had still a majority in the\ntown, it seems clear that the orthodox community owned but one single\nchurch, the _Basilica major_, or Basilica of Peace. Its very name proves\nthis. With the schismatics, \"Peace\" was the official name for Catholicism.\n\"Basilica of Peace\" meant simply \"Catholic Basilica.\" Was not this as\nmuch as to say that the others belonged to the dissenters? Doubtless they\nrestored later on, after the promulgations of Honorius, the Leontian\nBasilica, founded by Leontius, Bishop of Hippo, and a martyr. A third was\nbuilt by Augustin during his episcopate--the Basilica of the Eight Martyrs\nof the White Mace.\n\nIt was in the Major, or Cathedral, that Augustin generally preached. To\npreach was not only a duty, but one of the privileges of a bishop. As has\nbeen said, the bishop alone had the right to preach in his church. This\narose from the fact that the African dioceses, although comparatively\nwidespread, had scarcely more people than one of our large parishes to-day.\nThe position of a bishop was like that of one of our parish priests. There\nwere almost as many as there were villages, and they were counted by\nhundreds.\n\nHowever that may be, preaching, the real apostolic ministry, was an\nexhausting task. Augustin preached almost every day, and often many times a\nday--rough work for a man with such a fragile chest. Thus it often happened\nthat, to save his voice, he had to ask his audience to keep still. He spoke\nwithout study, in a language very near the language of the common people.\nStenographers took down his sermons as he improvised them: hence those\nrepetitions and lengthinesses which astonish the reader who does not know\nthe reason for them. There is no plan evident in these addresses. Sometimes\nthe speaker has not enough time to develop his thought. Then he puts off\nthe continuation till the next day. Sometimes he comes with a subject all\nprepared, and then treats of another, in obedience to a sudden inspiration\nwhich has come to him with a verse of Scripture he has just read. Other\ntimes, he comments many passages in succession, without the least care for\nunity or composition.\n\nLet us listen to him in this Basilica of Peace, where during thirty-five\nyears he never failed to announce the Word of God.... The chant of the\nPsalms has just died away. At the far end of the apse, Augustin rises from\nhis throne with its back to the wall, his pale face distinct against the\ngolden hue of the mosaic. From that place, as from the height of a pulpit,\nhe commands the congregation, looking at them above the altar, which is a\nplain wooden table placed at the end of the great aisle.\n\nThe congregation is standing, the men on one side, the women on the other.\nOn the other side of the balustrade which separates them from the crowd,\nare the widows and consecrated virgins, wrapped in their veils black or\npurple. Some matrons, rather overdressed, lean forward in the front rank\nof the galleries. Their cheeks are painted, their eyelashes and eyebrows\nblackened, their ears and necks overloaded with jewels. Augustin has\nnoticed them; after a while he will read them a lesson. This audience is\nall alive with sympathy and curiosity before he begins. With all its faith\nand all its passion it collaborates with the orator. It is turbulent also.\nIt expresses its opinions and emotions with perfect freedom. The democratic\ncustoms of those African Churches surprise us to-day. People made a noise\nas at the theatre or the circus. They applauded; they interrupted the\npreacher. Certain among them disputed what was said, quoting passages from\nthe Bible.\n\nAugustin is thus in perpetual communication with his audience. Nobody has\ndone less soaring than he. He keeps his eye on the facial expressions\nand the attitudes of his public. He talks to them familiarly. When his\nsermon is a little lengthy, he wants to know if his listeners are getting\ntired--he has kept them standing so long! The time of the morning meal\ndraws near. Bellies are fasting, stomachs wax impatient. Then says he to\nthem with loving good-fellowship:\n\n\"Go, my very dear brothers and sisters, go and restore your strength--I do\nnot mean that of your minds, for I see well that they are tireless, but the\nstrength of your bodies which are the servants of your souls. Go then and\nrestore your bodies so that they may do their work well, and when they are\nrestored, come back here and take your spiritual food.\"\n\nUpon certain days, a blast of the sirocco has passed over the town. The\nfaithful, crowded in the aisles, are stifling, covered with sweat. The\npreacher himself, who is very much worked up, has his face dripping, and\nhis clothes are all wet. By this he perceives that once more he has been\nextremely long. He excuses himself modestly. Or again, he jokes like a\nrough apostle who is not repelled by the odour of a lot of human-kind\ngathered together.\n\n\"Oh, what a smell!\" says he. \"I must have been speaking a long while\nto-day.\"\n\nThese good-natured ways won the hearts of the simple folk who listened to\nhim. He is aware of the charm he exerts on them, and of the sympathy they\ngive him back in gratitude for his charity.\n\n\"You have loved to come and hear me, my brothers,\" he said to them. \"But\nwhom have you loved? If it is me--ah, even that is good, my brothers, for\nI want to be loved by you, if I do not want to be loved for myself. As for\nme, I love you in Christ. And you too, do you love me in Him. Let our love\nfor one another moan together up to God--and that is the moaning of the\nDove spoken of in the Scripture....\"\n\nAlthough he preaches from the height of his episcopal throne, he is anxious\nthat his hearers should regard him, Christianly, as their equal. So he\nseems as little of the bishop as possible.\n\n\"All Christians are servants of the same master.... I have been in the\nplace where you are--you, my brothers, who listen to me. And now, if I\ngive the spiritual bread from the height of this chair to the servants of\nthe Master of us all--well, it is but a few years since I received this\nspiritual food with them in a lower place. A bishop, I speak to laymen, but\nI know to how many future bishops I speak....\"\n\nSo he puts himself on an equal footing with his audience by the brotherly\naccent in his words. It is not Christendom, the Universal Church, or I know\nnot what abstract listener he addresses, but the Africans, the people of\nHippo, the parishioners of the Basilica of Peace. He knows the allusions,\nthe comparisons drawn from local customs, which are likely to impress their\nminds. The day of the festival of St. Crispina, a martyr of those parts,\nafter he had developed his subject at very great length, he asked pardon in\nthese terms:\n\n\"Let us think, brothers, that I have invited you to celebrate the birthday\nof the blessed Crispina, and that I have kept up the feast a little too\nlong. Well, might not the same thing happen if some soldier were to ask you\nto dinner and obliged you to drink more than is wise? Let me do as much for\nthe Word of God, with which you should be drunk and surfeited.\"\n\nMarriages, as well as birthday feasts, supplied the orator with vivid\nallegories. Thus he says that when a marriage feast is made in a house,\norgans play upon the threshold, and musicians and dancers begin to sing and\nto act their songs. And yet how poor are these earthly enjoyments which\npass away so soon!... \"In the House of God, the feast has no end.\"\n\nContinually, through the commentaries on the Psalms, like comparisons rise\nto the surface--parables suited to stir the imagination of Africans. A\nthousand details borrowed from local habits and daily life enliven the\nexegesis of the Bishop of Hippo. The mules and horses that buck when one\nis trying to cure them, are his symbol for the recalcitrant Donatists. The\nlittle donkeys, obstinate and cunning, that trot in the narrow lanes of\nAlgerian _casbahs_, appear here and there in his sermons. The gnats bite in\nthem. The unendurable flies plaster themselves in buzzing patches on the\ntables and walls. Then there are the illnesses and drugs of that country:\nthe ophthalmias and collyrium. What else? The tarentulas that run along\nthe beams on the ceiling; the hares that scurry without warning between\nthe horses' feet on the great Numidian plains. Elsewhere, he reminds his\naudience of those men who wear an earring as a talisman; of the dealings\nbetween traders and sailors--a comparison which would go home to this\nseafaring people.\n\nThe events of the time, the little happenings of the moment, glide into\nhis sermons. At the same time as the service in church to-day, there is\ngoing to be horse-racing at the circus, and fights of wild beasts or\ngladiators at the arena. In consequence, there will not be many people\nin the Basilica. \"So much the better,\" says Augustin. \"My lungs will get\nsome rest.\" Another time, it is advertised through the town that most\nsensational attractions will be offered at the theatre--there will be a\nscene representing the open sea. The preacher laughs at those who have\ndeserted the church to go and see this illusion: \"They will have,\" says\nhe, \"the sea on the stage; but we, brothers--ah, we shall have our port in\nJesus Christ.\" This Saturday, while he is preaching, some Jewish women set\nthemselves to dance and sing on the terraces of the near houses, by way of\ncelebrating the Sabbath. In the basilica, the bashing of the crotolos can\nbe heard, and the thuds of the tambourines. \"They would do better,\" says\nAugustin, \"to work and spin their wool.\"\n\nHe dwells upon the catastrophes which were then convulsing the Roman world.\nThe news of them spread with wonderful rapidity. Alaric's Barbarians\nhave taken Rome and put it to fire and sword. At Jerusalem has been an\nearthquake, and the bishop John organizes a subscription for the sufferers\nthroughout Christendom. At Constantinople, globes of fire have been seen in\nthe sky. The _Serapeum_ of Alexandria has just been destroyed in a riot....\n\nAll these things follow each other in lively pictures, without any apparent\norder, throughout Augustin's sermons. It is not he who divides his\ndiscourse into three parts, and refrains from passing to the second till he\nhas learnedly expounded the first. Whether he comments upon the Psalms or\nthe Gospels, his sermons are no more than explanations of the Scriptures\nwhich he interprets, sometimes in a literal sense, and sometimes in an\nallegoric. Let us acknowledge it--his allegoric discourses repel us by\ntheir extreme subtilty, sometimes by their bad taste; and when he confines\nhimself to the letter of the text, he stumbles among small points of\ngrammar which weary the attention. We follow him no longer. We think\nhis audience was very obliging to listen so long--and on their feet--to\nthese endless dissertations.... And then, suddenly, a great lyrical and\noratorical outburst which carries us away--a wind which blows from the\nhigh mountains, and in the wink of an eye sweeps away like dust all those\nfine-spun reasonings.\n\nHe is fond of certain commonplaces, and also of certain books of the\nBible--for instance, _The Song of Songs_ and the Gospel of St. John, the\none satisfying in him the intellectual, and the other the mystic of love.\nHe confronts the verse of the Psalm: \"Before the morning star have I\nbegotten thee,\" with the sublime opening of the Fourth Gospel: \"In the\nbeginning was the Word.\" He lingers upon the beauty of Christ: _Speciosus\nforma pr\u00e6 filiis hominum_, \"Thou art fairer than the children of men.\" This\nis why he is always repeating with the Psalmist: \"Thy face, Lord, have I\nsought\"--_Qu\u00e6sivi vultum tuum, Domine._ And the orator, carried away by\nenthusiasm, adds: \"Magnificent saying! Nothing more divine could be said.\nThose feel it who truly love.\" Another of his favourite subjects is the\nkindness of God: _Videte et gustate quam mitis sit Dominus_--\"O taste\nand see that the Lord is good.\" Naught can equal the pleasure of this\ncontemplation, of this life in God. Augustin conceives it as a musician\nwho has fathomed the secret of numbers. \"Let your life,\" he said, \"be one\nprolonged song.... We do not sing only with the voice and lips when we\nintone a canticle, but in us is an inward singing, because there is also in\nus Some One who listens....\"\n\nTo live this rhythmic and divine life we must get free of ourselves, give\nourselves up utterly in a great outburst of charity.\n\n\"Why,\" he cries--\"Oh, why do you hesitate to give yourselves lest you\nshould lose yourselves? It is rather by not giving yourselves that you\nlose yourselves. Charity herself speaks to you by the mouth of Wisdom and\nupholds you against the terror which fills you at the sound of those words:\n'Give yourself.' If some one wanted to sell you a piece of land, he would\nsay to you: 'Give me your gold.' And for something else, he would say:\n'Give me your silver, give me your money.' Listen to what Charity says to\nyou by the mouth of Wisdom: 'My son, give me thy heart.' 'Give me,' quoth\nshe. Give what? 'My son, give me thy heart.'... Thy heart was not happy\nwhen it was governed by thee, and was thine, for it turned this way and\nthat way after gawds, after impure and dangerous loves. 'Tis from there thy\nheart must be drawn. Whither lift it up? Where to place it? 'Give me thy\nheart,' says Wisdom, 'let it be mine, and it will belong to thee for\nalways.'\"\n\nAfter the chant of love, the chant of the Resurrection. _Cantate mihi\ncanticum novum_--\"Sing to me a new song!\" Augustin repeats these words over\nand over again. \"We wish to rise from the dead,\" cry souls craving for\neternity. And the Church answers: \"Verily, I say unto you, that you shall\nrise from the dead. Resurrection of bodies, resurrection of souls, ye shall\nbe altogether reborn.\" Augustin has explained no dogma more passionately.\nNone was more pleasing to the faithful of those times. Ceaselessly they\nbegged to be strengthened in the conviction of immortality and of meeting\nagain brotherlike in God.\n\nWith what intrepid delight it rose--this song of the Resurrection in\nthose clear African basilicas swimming in light, with all their brilliant\nornamentation of mosaics and marbles of a thousand colours! And what\nartless and confident language those symbolic figures spoke which peopled\ntheir walls--the lambs browsing among clusters of asphodels, the doves, the\ngreen trees of Paradise. As in the Gospel parables, the birds of the field\nand farmyard, the fruits of the earth, figured the Christian truths and\nvirtues. Their purified forms accompanied man in his ascension towards\nGod. Around the mystic chrisms, circled garlands of oranges and pears and\npomegranates. Cocks, ducks, partridges, flamingoes, sought their pasture in\nthe Paradisal fields painted upon the walls of churches and cemeteries.\n\nThose young basilicas were truly the temples of the Resurrection, where\nall the creatures of the Ark saved from the waters had found their refuge.\nNever more in the centuries to follow shall humanity know this frank joy at\nhaving triumphed over death--this youth of hope.\n\n\n\n\nIII\n\nTHE BISHOP'S BURTHEN\n\n\nAugustin is not only the most human of all the saints, he is also one\nof the most amiable in all the senses of that hackneyed word--amiable\naccording to the world, amiable according to Christ.\n\nTo be convinced of this, he should be observed in his dealings with his\nhearers, with his correspondents, even with those he attacks--with the\nbitterest enemies of the faith. Preaching, the administration of property,\nand sitting in judgment were but a part of that episcopal burthen, _Sarcina\nepiscopatus_, under which he so often groaned. He had furthermore to\ncatechize, baptize, direct consciences, guard the faithful against error,\nand dispute with all those who threatened Catholicism. Augustin was a light\nof the Church. He knew it.\n\nDoing his best, with admirable conscientiousness and charity he undertook\nthese tasks. God knows what it must have cost this Intellectual to fulfil\nprecisely all the duties of his ministry, down to the humblest. What\nhe would have liked, above all, was to pass his life in studying the\nScriptures and meditating on the dogmas--not from a love of trifling with\ntheories, but because he believed such knowledge necessary to whoever gave\nforth the Word of God. Most of the priests of that age arrived at the\npriesthood without any previous study. They had to improvise, as quick\nas they could, a complete education in religious subjects. We are left\nastounded before the huge labour which Augustin must have given to acquire\nhis. Before long he even dominated the whole exegetical and theological\nknowledge of his time. In his zeal for divine letters, he knew sleep no\nmore.\n\nAnd yet he did not neglect any of his tasks. Like the least of our\nparish priests, he prepared the neophytes for the Sacraments. He was\nan incomparable catechist, so clear-sighted and scrupulous that his\ninstructions may still be taken as models by the catechists of to-day.\nNeither did he, as an aristocrat of the intelligence, only trouble himself\nwith persons of culture, and leave to his deacons the care of God's common\npeople. All had a right to his lessons, the simple peasants as well as the\nrich and scholarly. One day, a farmer he was teaching walked off and left\nhim there in the middle of his discourse. The poor man, who had fasted, and\nnow listened to his bishop standing, was faint from hunger and felt his\nlegs tremble under him. He thought it better to run away than to fall down\nexhausted at the feet of the learned preacher.\n\nWith his knowledge of men, Augustin carefully studied the kind of people\nhis catechumens were, and adapted his instructions to the character of\neach. If they were city folk, Carthaginians, used to spending their time in\ntheatres and taverns, drunken and lazy, he took a different tone with them\nfrom what he used with rustics who had never left their native _gourbi_.\nIf he were dealing with fashionable people who had a taste for literature,\nhe did not fail to exalt the beauties of the Scripture, although, he would\nsay, they had there a very trifling attraction compared to the truths\ncontained in it. Of all the catechumens, the hardest to deal with, the\nmost fearsome in his eyes, were the professors--the rhetoricians and the\ngrammarians. These men are bloated with vanity, puffed up with intellectual\npride. Augustin knew something about that. It will be necessary to rouse\nthem violently, and before anything else, to exhort them to humility of\nmind.\n\nThe good saint goes further. Not only is he anxious about the souls, but\nalso about the bodies of his listeners. Are they comfortable for listening?\nAs soon as they feel tired they must not hesitate to sit down, as is the\nusage in the basilicas beyond seas.\n\n\"Would not our arrogance be unbearable,\" he asked, \"if we forbade men who\nare our brothers to sit down in our presence, and, much more, men whom we\nought to try with all possible care to make our brothers?...\"\n\nIf they are seen to yawn, \"then things ought to be said to them to awaken\ntheir attention, or to scatter the sad thoughts which may have come into\ntheir minds.\" The catechist should shew, now a serene joy--the joy of\ncertainty; now a gaiety which charms people into belief; \"and always that\nlight-heartedness we should have in teaching.\" Even if we ourselves are sad\nfrom this reason or that, let us remember that Jesus Christ died for those\nwho are listening to us. Is not the thought of bringing Him disciples\nenough to make us joyful?\n\nBishop Augustin set the example for his priests. It is not enough to\nhave prepared the conversion of his catechumens with the subtlety of the\npsychologist, and such perfect Christian charity; but he accompanies them\nto the very end, and charges them once more before the baptismal piscina.\n\nHow he is changed! One thinks of the boon-fellow of Romanianus and of\nManlius Theodorus, of the young man who followed the hunts at Thagaste,\nand who held forth on literature and philosophy in a select company before\nthe beautiful horizons of the lake of Como. Here he is now with peasants,\nslaves, sailors, and traders. And he takes pleasure in their society. It is\nhis flock. He ought to love it with all his soul in Jesus Christ. What an\neffort and what a victory upon himself an attitude so strange reveals to\nus! For really this liking for mean people was not natural to him. He must\nhave put an heroic will-power into it, helped by Grace.\n\nA like sinking of his preferences is evident in the director of consciences\nhe became. Here he was obliged to give himself more thoroughly. He was\nat the mercy of the souls who questioned him, who consulted him as\ntheir physician. He spends his time in advising them, and exercises a\nnever-failing supervision of their morals. It is an almost discouraging\nenterprise to bend these hardened pagans--above all, these Africans--to\nChristian discipline. Augustin is continually reproaching their\ndrunkenness, gluttony, and lust. The populace were not the only ones to get\ndrunk and over-eat themselves. The rich at their feasts literally stuffed\ntill they choked. The Bishop of Hippo never lets a chance go by to recall\nthem to sobriety.\n\nOftener still, he recalls them to chastity. He writes long letters on this\nsubject which are actual treatises. The morals of the age and country are\nfully disclosed in them. Husbands are found loudly claiming a right to free\nlove for themselves, while they force their wives to conjugal fidelity. The\nadultery they allow themselves, they punish with death in their wives. They\nmake an abusive practice of divorce. Upon the most futile reasons, they\nsend the wife the _libellus repudii_--the bill repudiating the marriage--as\nthe various peoples of Islam do still. This society in a state of\ntransition was always creating cases of conscience for strict Christians.\nFor example: If a man cast off his wife under pretext of adultery, might\nhe marry again? Augustin held that no marriage can be dissolved as long as\nboth parties are living. But may not this prohibition provoke husbands to\nkill their adulterous wives, so as to be free to take a new wife? Another\nproblem: A catechumen divorced under the pagan law and since remarried,\npresents himself for baptism. Is he not an adulterer in the eyes of the\nChurch? A man who lives with a woman and does not hide it, who even\ndeclares his firm intention of continuing to live with his concubine--can\nhe be admitted to baptism? Augustin has to answer all these questions, and\ngo into the very smallest details of casuistry.\n\nIs it forbidden to eat the meats consecrated to idols, even when a man\nor woman is dying of hunger? May one enter into agreements with native\ncamel-drivers and carriers who swear by their gods to keep the bargain?\nMay a lie be told in certain conditions?--say, so as to get among heretics\nin pretending to be one of themselves, and thus be able to spy on them\nand denounce them? May adultery be practised with a woman who promises in\nexchange to point out heretics?... The Bishop of Hippo severely condemns\nall these devious or shameful ways, all these compromises which are\ncontrary to the pure moral teaching of the Gospel. But he does this without\naffecting intolerance and rigidity, and with a reminder that the evil of\nsin lies altogether in the intention, and in the consent of the will. In a\nword, one must tolerate and put up with what one is powerless to hinder.\n\nOther questions, which it is quite impossible to repeat here, give us a\nstrange idea of the corruption of pagan morals. Augustin had all he\ncould do to maintain the Christian rule in such surroundings, where the\nChristians themselves were more or less tainted with paganism. But if this\ntroop of sinners and backsliders was hard to drive, the devout were perhaps\nharder. There were the _continents_--the widowers and widows who had made a\nvow of chastity and found this vow heavy; the consecrated virgins who lived\nin too worldly a fashion; the nuns who rebelled against their spiritual\ndirector or their superior; the monks, either former slaves who did not\nwant to do another stroke of work, or charlatans who played upon public\ncredulity in selling talismans and miraculous ointments. Then, the married\nwomen who refused themselves to their husbands; and those who gave away\ntheir goods to the poor without their husbands' consent; and also the proud\nvirgins and widows who despised and condemned marriage.\n\nThen came the crowd of pious souls who questioned Augustin on points of\ndogma, who wanted to know all, to clear up everything; those who thought\nthey should be able here below to see God face to face, to know how we\nshall arise, and who asked if the angels had bodies.... Augustin complains\nthat they are annoying, when he has so many other things to trouble him,\nand that they take him from his studies. But he tries charitably to satisfy\nthem all.\n\nBesides all this, he was obliged to keep up a correspondence with a great\nnumber of people. In addition to his friends and fellow-bishops, he wrote\nto unknown people and foreigners; to men in high place and to lowly people;\nto the proconsuls, the counts and the vicars of Africa; to the very mighty\nOlympius, Master of the Household to the Emperor Honorius; or again, \"to\nthe Right Honourable Lady Maxima,\" \"to the Illustrious Ladies Proba and\nJuliana,\" \"to the Very Holy Lady Albina\"--women who belonged either to the\nprovincial nobility, or to the highest aristocracy of Rome. To whom did he\nnot write?...\n\nAnd what is admirable in these letters is that he does not answer\nnegligently to get rid of a tiresome duty. Almost all of them are full\nof substantial teaching, long thought over. Many were intended to be\npublished--they are practically charges. And yet, however grave the tone\nof them may be, the cultivated man of the world he had been may be traced.\nHis correspondents, after the fashion of the time, overwhelm the bishop\nwith the most fulsome praises. These he accepts, with much ceremony\nindeed, but he does accept them as evidence of the charity of his\nbrethren. Ingenuously, he does his best to return them. Let us not grow\nover-scandalized because our men of letters of to-day have debased the\nvalue of complimentary language by squandering and exaggerating it. The\nmost austere cotemporaries of Augustin, and Augustin himself, outdid them\nby a long way in the art and in the abuse of compliments.\n\nPaulinus of Nola, always beflowered and elegant, wrote to Augustin:\n\"Your letters are a luminous collyrium spread over the eyes of my mind.\"\nAugustin, who remonstrated with him upon the scarcity of his own letters,\nreplies in language which our own _Pr\u00e9cieuses_ would not have disowned:\n\"What! You allow me to pass two summers--and two African summers!--in such\nthirst?... Would to God that you would allow enter to the opulent banquet\nof your book, the long fast from your writings which you have put me\nupon during all a year! If this banquet be not ready, I shall not give\nover my complaints, unless, indeed, that in the time between, you send me\nsomething to keep up my strength.\" A certain Audax, who begged the honour\nof a special letter from the great man, calls him \"the oracle of the Law\";\nprotests that the whole world celebrates and admires him; and finally, at\nthe end of his arguments, conjures him in verse to \"Let fall upon me the\ndew of thy divine word.\" Augustin, with modesty and benignity, returns his\ncompliments, but not without slipping into his reply a touch of banter:\n\"Allow me to point out to you that your fifth line has seven feet. Has\nyour ear betrayed you, or did you want to find out if I was still capable\nof judging these things?\"... Truly, he is always capable of judging these\nthings, nor is he sorry to have it known. A young Greek named Dioscorus,\nwho is passing through Carthage, questions him upon the philosophy of\nCicero. Augustin exclaims at any one daring to interrupt a bishop about\nsuch trifles. Then, little by little, he grows milder, and carried away by\nhis old passion, he ends by sending the young man quite a dissertation on\nthis good subject.\n\nThose are among his innocent whimsicalities. Then, alongside of letters\neither too literary, or erudite, or profound, there are others which are\nsimply exquisite, such as the one he wrote to a young Carthage girl called\nSapida. She had embroidered a tunic for her brother. He was dead, and she\nasked Augustin kindly to wear this tunic, telling him that if he would\ndo this, it would be a great comfort for her in her grief. The bishop\nconsented very willingly. \"I accept this garment,\" he said to her, \"and I\nhave begun to wear it before writing to you....\" Then gently he pities her\nsorrow, and persuades her to resignation and hope.\n\n\"We should not rebuke people for weeping over the dead who are dear to\nthem.... When we think of them, and through habit we look for them still\naround us, then the heart breaks, and the tears fall like the blood of our\nbroken heart....\"\n\nAt the end, in magnificent words, he chants the hymn of the Resurrection:\n\n\"My daughter, your brother lives in his soul, if in his body he sleeps.\nDoes not the sleeper wake? God, who has received his soul, will put it\nagain in the body He has taken from him, not to destroy it--oh, no, but\nsome day to give it to him back.\"\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThis correspondence, voluminous as it is, is nothing beside his numberless\ntreatises in dogma and polemic. These were the work of his life, and it is\nby these posterity has known him. The theologian and the disputer ended by\nhiding the man in Augustin. To-day, the man perhaps interests us more. And\nthis is a mistake. He himself would not have allowed for a moment that his\n_Confessions_ should be preferred to his treatises on Grace. To study, to\ncomment the Scriptures, to draw more exact definitions from the dogmas--he\nsaw no higher employment for his mind, or obligation more important for\na bishop. To believe so as to understand, to understand the better to\nbelieve--it is a ceaseless movement of the intelligence which goes from\nfaith to God and from God to faith. He throws himself into this great\nlabour without a shade of any attempt to make literature, with a complete\nsinking of his tastes and his personal opinions, and in it he entirely\nforgets himself.\n\nOne single time he has thought of himself, and it is precisely in the\n_Confessions_, the spirit of which modern people understand so ill, and\nwhere they try to find something quite different from what the author\nintended. He composed them just after he was raised to the bishopric, to\ndefend himself against the calumnies spread about his conduct. It seems as\nif he wanted to say to his detractors: \"You believe me guilty. Well, I am\nso, and more perhaps than you think, but not in the way you think.\" A great\nreligious idea alters this personal defence. It is less a confession, or an\nexcuse for his faults, in the present sense of the word, than a continual\nglorification of the divine mercy. It is less the shame of his sins he\nconfesses, than the glory of God.\n\nAfter that, he never thought again of anything but Truth and the Church,\nand the enemies of Truth and the Church: the Manichees, the Arians, the\nPelagians--the Donatists, above all. He lets no error go by without\nrefuting it, no libel without an answer. He is always on the breach. He\nmight well be compared, in much of his writings, to one of our fighting\njournalists. He put into this generally thankless business a wonderful\nvigour and dialectical subtlety. Always and everywhere he had to have the\nlast word. He brought eloquence to it, yet more charity--sometimes even\nwit. And lastly, he had a patience which nothing could dishearten. He\nrepeats the same things a hundred times over. These tiresome repetitions,\ninto which he was driven by the obstinacy of his opponents, caused him\nreal pain. Every time it became necessary, he took up again the endless\ndemonstration without letting himself grow tired. The moment it became a\nquestion of the Truth, Augustin could not see that he had any right to keep\nquiet.\n\nIn Africa and elsewhere they made fun of what they called his craze for\nscribbling. He himself, in his _Retractations_, is startled by the number\nof his works. He turns over the Scripture saying which the Donatists\namusingly opposed to him: _V\u00e6 mullum loquentibus_--\"Woe unto them of many\nwords.\" But calling God to witness, he says to Him: _V\u00e6 tacentibus de\nte_--\"Woe unto those who keep silent upon Thee.\" In the eyes of Augustin,\nthe conditions were such that silence would have been cowardly. And\nelsewhere he adds: \"They may believe me or not as they will, but I like\nmuch better to read than to write books....\"\n\nIn any case, his modesty was evident. \"I am myself,\" he acknowledges,\n\"almost always dissatisfied with what I say.\" To the heretics he declares,\nwith a glance back at his own errors, \"I know by experience how easy it\nis to be wrong.\" When there is some doubt in questions of dogma, he does\nnot force his explanations, but suggests them to his readers. How much\nintellectual humility is in that prayer which ends his great work on the\nTrinity: \"Lord my God, one Trinity, if in these books I have said anything\nwhich comes from Thee, may Thou and Thy chosen receive it. But if it is\nfrom me it comes, may Thou and Thine forgive me.\"\n\nAnd again, how much tolerance and charity in those counsels to the faithful\nof his diocese who, having been formerly persecuted by the Donatists, now\nburned to get their revenge:\n\n\"It is the voice of your bishop, my brothers, sounding in your ears. He\nimplores you, all of you who are in this church, to keep yourselves from\ninsulting those who are outside, but rather to pray that they may enter\nwith you into communion.\"\n\nElsewhere, he reminds his priests that they must preach at the Jews in a\nspirit of friendliness and loving-kindness, without troubling to know if\nthey listen with gratitude or indignation. \"We ought not,\" said he, \"to\nbear ourselves proudly against these broken branches of Christ's tree.\"...\n\nThis charity and moderation took nothing from the firmness of his\ncharacter. This he proved in a startling way in the discussion he had with\nSt. Jerome over a passage In the Epistle to the Galatians, and upon the\nnew translation, of the Bible which Jerome had undertaken. The solitary of\nBethlehem saw a \"feint\" on the part of St. Paul in the disputed passage:\nAugustin said, a \"lie.\" What, then, would become of evangelic truth if\nin such a place the Apostle had lied? And would not this be a means of\nauthorizing all the exegetical fantasies of heresiarchs, who already\nrejected as altered or forged all verses of the holy books which conflicted\nwith their own doctrines?...\n\nAs to the new translation of the Bible, it would bring about trouble in the\nAfrican churches, where they were accustomed to the ancient version of the\nSeptuagint. The mistranslations, pointed out by Jerome in the old version,\nwould upset the faithful and lead them to suspect that the entire Scripture\nwas false. In this double matter, Augustin defended at once orthodoxy and\ntradition from very praiseworthy reasons of prudence.\n\nJerome retorted in a most aggressive and offensive tone. He flatly accused\nthe Bishop of Hippo of being jealous of him and of wishing to cut out a\nreputation for learning at his expense. In front of his younger and more\nsupple adversary, he took on the air of an old wrestler who was still\ncapable of knocking out any one who had the audacity to attack him. He\nhurled at Augustin this phrase heavy with menaces: \"The tired ox stands\nfirmer than ever on his four legs.\"\n\nFor all that, Augustin stuck to his opinion, and he confined himself\nto replying gently: \"In anything I say, I am not only always ready to\nreceive your observations upon what you find wounding and contrary to your\nfeelings, but I even ask your advice as earnestly as I can.\"...\n\n\n\n\nIV\n\nAGAINST \"THE ROARING LIONS\"\n\n\nOne day (this was soon after he became bishop) Augustin went to visit a\nCatholic farmer in the suburbs of Hippo, whose daughter had been lessoned\nby the Donatists, and had just enrolled herself among their consecrated\nvirgins. The father at first had shouted at the deserter, and flogged her\nunmercifully by way of improving her state of mind. Augustin, when he heard\nof the affair, condemned the farmer's brutality and declared that he would\nnever receive the girl back into the community unless she came of her own\nfree will. He then went out to the place to try and settle the matter. On\nthe way, as he was crossing an estate which belonged to a Catholic matron,\nhe fell in with a priest of the Donatist Church at Hippo. The priest at\nonce began to insult him and his companions, and yelled:\n\n\"Down with the traitors! Down with the persecutors!\"\n\nAnd he vomited out abominations against the matron herself who owned the\nland. As much from prudence as from Christian charity, Augustin did not\nanswer. He even prevented those with him from falling upon the insulter.\n\nIncidents of this kind happened almost every day. About the same time,\nthe Donatists of Hippo made a great noise over the rebaptizing of another\napostate from the Catholic community. This was a good-for-nothing loafer\nwho beat his old mother, and the bishop severely rebuked his monstrous\nconduct.\n\n\"Well, as you talk in that tone of voice,\" said the loafer, \"I'm going to\nbe a Donatist.\"\n\nThrough bravado, he continued to ill-treat the poor old woman, and to make\nthe worst kind of threats. He roared in savage fury:\n\n\"Yes, I'll become a Donatist, and I'll have your blood.\"\n\nAnd the young ruffian did really go over to the Donatist party. In\naccordance with the custom among the heretics, he was solemnly rebaptized\nin their basilica, and he exhibited himself on the platform clad in the\nwhite robe of the purified. People in Hippo were much shocked. Augustin,\nfull of indignation, addressed his protests to Proculeianus, the Donatist\nbishop. \"What! is this man, all bloody with a murder in his conscience,\nto walk about for eight days in white robes as a model of innocence and\npurity?\" But Proculeianus did not condescend to reply.\n\nThese cynical proceedings were trifling compared to the vexations which the\nDonatists daily inflicted on their opponents. Not only did they tamper with\nAugustin's people, but the country dwellers of the Catholic Church were\ncontinually interfered with on their lands, pillaged, ravaged, and burned\nout by mobs of fanatical brigands who organized a rule of terror from one\nend of Numidia to the other. Supported in secret by the Donatists, they\ncalled themselves \"the Athletes of Christ.\" The Catholics had given them\nthe contemptuous name of \"Circoncelliones,\" or prowlers around cellars,\nbecause they generally plundered cellars and grain-houses. Troops of\nfanaticized and hysterical women rambled round with them, scouring the\ncountry like your true bacchantes, clawing the unfortunate wretches who\nfell into their hands, burning farms and harvests, broaching barrels of\nwine and oil, and crowning these exploits by orgies with \"the Athletes of\nChrist.\" When they saw a haystack blazing in the fields, the country-folk\nwere panic-stricken--the \"Circoncelliones\" were not far off. Soon they\nappeared, brandishing their clubs and bellowing their war cry: _Deo\nlaudes!_--\"Praise be to God.\" \"Your shout,\" said Augustin to them, \"is more\ndreaded by our people than the roaring of lions.\"\n\nSomething had to be done to quell these furious monsters, and to resist\nthe encroachments and forcible acts of the heretics. These, by way of\nfrightening the Catholic bishops, told them roundly:\n\n\"We don't want any of your disputes, and we are going to rebaptize just as\nit suits us. We are going to lay snares for your sheep and to rend them\nlike wolves. As for you, if you are good shepherds, keep quiet!\"\n\nAugustin was not a man to keep quiet, nor yet to spend his strength in\nsmall local quarrels. He saw big; he did not imprison himself within the\nlimits of his diocese. He knew that Numidia and a good part of Africa\nwere in the hands of the Donatists; that they had a rival primate to the\nCatholic primate at Carthage; that they had even sent a Pope of their\ncommunity to Rome. In a word, they were in the majority. Everywhere a\ndissenting Church rose above the orthodox Church, when it did not succeed\nin stifling it altogether. At all costs the progress of this sect must be\nstopped. In Augustin's eyes there was no more urgent work. For him and his\nflock it was a question of insuring their lives, since they were attacked\neven in their fields and houses. From the moment he first came to Hippo,\nas a simple priest, he had thrown himself intrepidly into this struggle.\nHe never ceased till Donatism was conquered and trampled underfoot. To\nestablish peace and Catholic unity everywhere was the great labour of his\nepiscopate.\n\nWho, then, were these terrible Donatists whom we have been continually\nstriking against since the beginning of this history?\n\nIt would soon be a century since they had been disturbing and desolating\nAfrica. Just after the great persecution of Diocletian, the sect was born,\nand it increased with amazing rapidity. During this persecution, evidence\nhad not been wanting of the moral slackness in the African Church. A large\nnumber of lay people apostatized, and a good number of bishops and priests\nhanded over to the pagan authorities, besides the devotional objects,\nthe Scriptures and the muniments of their communities. In Numidia, and\nespecially at Constantine, scandalous scenes took place. The cowardice\nof the clergy was lamentable. Public opinion branded with the names of\n_traditors_, or traitors, those who had weakened and given over the sacred\nbooks to the pagans.\n\nThe danger once over, the Numidians, whose behaviour had been so little\nbrilliant, determined to redeem themselves by audacity, and to prove\nwith superb impudence that they had been braver than the others. So they\nset themselves to shout _traditor_ against whoever displeased them, and\nparticularly against those of Carthage and the Proconsulate. At bottom it\nwas the old rivalry between the two Africas, East and West.\n\nUnder the reign of Constantine a peace had been patched up, when it fell\nout that a new Bishop of Carthage had to be elected, and the Archdeacon\nC\u00e6cilianus, whose name was put forward, was accused of preventing the\nfaithful from visiting the martyrs in their prisons. The zealots contended\nthat in collusion with his bishop, Mensurius, he had given up the Holy\nScriptures to the Roman authorities to be burned. The election promised to\nbe stormy. The supporters of the Archdeacon, who feared the hostility of\nthe Numidian bishops, did not wait for their arrival. They hurried things\nover. C\u00e6cilianus was elected and consecrated by three bishops of the\ndistrict, of whom one was a certain Felix of Abthugni.\n\nAt once the opposite clan, backed up by the Numidians, objected. At their\nhead was a wealthy Spanish woman named Lucilla, an unbalanced devotee,\nwho, it seemed, always carried about her person a bone of a martyr, and\na doubtful one at that. She would ostentatiously kiss her relic before\nreceiving the Eucharist. The Archdeacon C\u00e6cilianus forbade this devotion as\nsuperstitious, and thus made a relentless enemy of the fanatical Spaniard.\nAll the former accusations were renewed against him, and it was added\nthat Felix of Abthugni, who had consecrated him, was a _traditor_. Hence\nthe election was void, by the single fact of the unworthiness of the\nconsecrating bishops. Lucilla, having bribed a section of the bishops\nassembled in council, C\u00e6cilianus was deposed, and the deacon Majorinus\nelected in his room. He himself was soon after succeeded by Donatus, an\nactive, clever, and energetic man, who organized resistance so ably, and\nwho represented so well the spirit of the sect, that he left it his name.\nHenceforth, Donatism enters into history.\n\nBut C\u00e6cilianus had on his side the bishops overseas and the Imperial\nGovernment. The Pope of Rome and the Emperor recognized him as legitimately\nelected. Besides that, he cleared himself of all the grievances urged\nagainst him. Finally, an inquiry, conducted by laymen, proved that Felix of\nAbthugni was not a _traditor_. The Donatists appealed to Constantine, then\nto two Councils convoked successively at Rome and Arles. Everywhere they\nwere condemned. Moreover, the Council of Arles declared that the character\nof him who confers the Sacraments has no influence whatever on their\nvalidity. Thus, baptism and ordination, even conferred by a _traditor_,\nwere canonically sound.\n\nThis decision was regarded as an abominable heresy by the Donatists. As a\nmatter of fact, there was an old African tradition, accepted by St. Cyprian\nhimself, that an unworthy priest could not administer the Sacraments. The\nlocal prejudice would not yield: all were rebaptized who had been baptized\nby the Catholics--that is to say, by the supporters of the _traditors_.\n\nThe theological question was complicated with a question of property which\nwas all but insoluble. Since the Donatist bishops were resolved to separate\nfrom the Catholic communion, did they mean to give up, with their title,\ntheir basilicas and the property belonging to their churches? Supposing\nthat they themselves were disinterested, they had behind them the crowd of\nclients and land-tillers who got their living out of the Church, and dwelt\non Church property. Never would these people allow a rival party to alter\nthe direction of the charities, to plant themselves in their fields and\ntheir _gourbis_, to expel them from their cemeteries and basilicas. Other\nreasons, still deeper perhaps, induced the Donatists to persevere in the\nschism. These religious dissensions were agreeable to that old spirit\nof division which at all times has been the evil genius of Africa. The\nAfricans have always felt the need of segregating themselves from one\nanother in hostile _cofs_. They hate each other from one village to\nanother--for nothing, just, for the pleasure of hating and felling each\nother to the ground.\n\nAt bottom, here is what Donatism really was: It was an extra sharp attack\nof African individualism. These rebels brought in nothing new in dogma.\nThey would not even have been heretics without their claim to rebaptize.\nThey limited themselves to retain a position gained long ago; to keep\ntheir churches and properties, or to seize those of the Catholics upon the\npretence that they were themselves the legitimate owners. With that, they\naffected a respect for tradition, an austerity in morals and discipline,\nwhich made them perfect puritans. Yes, they were the pure, the\nirreconcilables, who alone had not bent before the Roman officials. All\nthis was very pleasing to the discontented and quarrelsome, and caressed\nthe popular instinct in its tendency to particularism.\n\nThat is why the sect became, little by little, mistress of almost the\nwhole country. Then it subdivided, crumbled up into little churches which\nexcommunicated each other. In Southern Numidia, the citadels of orthodox\nDonatism, so to speak, were Thimgad and Bagai. Carthage, with its primate,\nwas the official centre. But in the Byzacena and Tripolitana Regio,\nthere were the Maximianists, and the Rogatists in Mauretania, who had\ncut themselves off from the Great Church. These divisions of the schism\ncorresponded closely enough to the natural compartments of North Africa.\nThere must be some incompatibility of temper between these various regions.\nTo this day, Algiers prides itself on not thinking like Constantine, which\ndoes not think like Bona or like Tunis.\n\nAre we to see in Donatism a nationalist or separatist movement directed\nagainst the Roman occupation? That would be to transport quite modern ideas\ninto antiquity. No more in Augustin's time than in our own was there such a\nthing as African nationality. But if the sectaries had no least thought of\nseparating from Rome, it is none the less true that they were in rebellion\nagainst her representatives, temporal as well as spiritual. Supposing that\nRome had yielded to them--an impossible event, of course--that would have\nmeant a surrender to the claims of Africans who wished to be masters of\ntheir property as well as of their religious beliefs in their own country.\nWhat more could they have wanted? It little mattered to them who was the\nnominal master, provided that they had the realities of government in their\nhands. Altogether, Donatism is a regionalist revindication, very strongly\ncharacterized. It is a remarkable fact that it was among the indigenous\npopulation, ignorant of Latin, that the most of its adherents were\nrecruited.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nSuch was the position of the Church in Africa when Augustin was named\nBishop of Hippo. He judged it at once, with his clear-sightedness, his\nstrong good sense, his broad outlook of a Roman citizen freed from the\nsmallnesses of a local spirit, his Christian idealism which took no heed\nof the accidents or considerations of worldly prosperity. What! was\nCatholicism to become an African religion, a restricted sect, wretchedly\ntied to the letter of tradition, to the exterior practices of worship? To\nreign in a little corner of the world--did Christ die for that? Never!\nChrist died for the wide world. The only limits of His Church are the\nlimits of the universe. And besides, in this resolution to exclude, what\nbecomes of the great principle of Charity? It is by charity, above all,\nthat we are Christians. Faith without love is a faith stagnant and dead....\n\nAugustin also foresaw the consequences of spiritual separation; he had them\nalready under his eyes. The Church is the great spring, not only of love,\nbut of intelligence. Once cut away from this reviving spring, Donatism\nwould become dry and stunted like a branch stripped from a tree. The\ndeep sense of its dogmas would become impoverished as its works emptied\nthemselves of the spirit of charity. Obstinacy, narrowness, lack of\nunderstanding, fanaticism, and cruelty--there you had the inevitable fruits\nof schism. Augustin knew the rudeness and ignorance of his opponents, even\nof the most cultivated among them: he might well ask himself in anguish\nwhat would become of the African Church deprived of the benefit of Roman\nculture, isolated from the great intellectual current which united all the\nchurches beyond seas. Finally, he knew his fellow-countrymen; he knew that\nthe Donatists, even victorious, even sole masters of the land, would turn\nagainst themselves the fury they now satisfied against the Catholics, and\nnever stop tearing each other in pieces. Here was now nearly a hundred\nyears that they had kept Africa in fire and blood. This meant before very\nlong a return to barbarism. Separated from Catholicism, they would really\nseparate from the Empire and even from civilization. And so it was that\nin fighting for Catholic unity, Augustin fought for the Empire and for\ncivilization.\n\nConfronted with these barbarians and sectaries, his attitude could not be\ndoubtful for a single moment. He must do his best to bring them back to the\nChurch. It was only a matter of hitting upon the most effectual means.\n\nPreaching, for an orator such as he was, should be an excellent weapon.\nHis eloquence, his dialectic, his profane and sacred learning, gave him an\nimmense superiority over the defenders of the opposite side. He certainly\nkept in the Church many Catholics who were ready to apostatize. But before\nthe crowd of schismatics, all these high gifts were as good as lost.\nThe people were in no wise anxious to know upon which side truth was to\nbe found. They were Donatists, as they were Numidians or Carthaginians,\nwithout knowing why--because everybody about them was. Many might have\nanswered like that grammarian of Constantine, who told the Inquisitors with\nastute simplicity:\n\n\"I am a professor of Roman literature, a teacher of Latin grammar. My\nfather was a decurion at Constantine; my grandfather was a soldier and\nhad served in the guard. Our family is of Moorish blood.... As for me, I\nam quite ignorant about the origin of the schism: I am just one of the\nordinary faithful of the people called Christians. When I was at Carthage,\nBishop Secundus came there one day. I heard tell that they found out that\nBishop C\u00e6cilianus had been ordained irregularly by I don't know who, and\nthey elected another bishop against him. That's how the schism began at\nCarthage. I have no means of knowing much about the origin of the schism,\nbecause there has never been more than one church in our city. If there has\nbeen a schism here, we know nothing about it.\"\n\nWhen a grammarian talked thus, what could have been the thoughts of\nagricultural labourers, city workmen, and slaves? They belonged to an\nestate, or a quarter of a town, where no other faith than theirs had ever\nbeen professed. They were Donatists like their employers, like their\nneighbours, like the other people of the _cof_ to which they had belonged\nfrom father to son. The theological side of the question left them\nabsolutely indifferent. If Augustin tried to debate with them, they refused\nto listen and referred him to their bishops. That was the word of command.\n\nThe bishops, on their side, avoided all discussion. Augustin tried in vain\nto arrange an argument with Proculeianus, his Donatist colleague at Hippo.\nAnd if some of them shewed themselves more obliging, the evasions and\nreticences of the antagonist, and sometimes outside circumstances, made the\ndebate utterly futile. At Thubursicum the audience raised such a noise in\nthe place where Augustin was debating with the bishop Fortunius, that they\nwere no longer able to hear each other. At other times, the meeting sank to\nan oratorical joust, wherein they tired themselves out passading against\nwords, instead of attacking the matters at issue. Augustin felt that he was\nlosing his time. Besides, the Donatist bishops presented an obstinate front\nagainst which everything smashed.\n\n\"Leave us in our errors,\" they said ironically. \"If we are lost in your\neyes, why follow us about? We don't want to be saved.\"\n\nAnd they prohibited their flocks from saluting Catholics, from speaking to\nthem, from going into their churches or into their houses, from sitting\ndown in the midst of them. They laid an interdict on their adversaries.\nPrimanius, the Donatist Primate of Carthage, upon being invited to a\nconference, answered proudly:\n\n\"The sons of the martyrs can have nothing to do with the race of traitors.\"\n\nThis being the state of the case, no method of pacification was left but\nwritten controversy. Augustin shewed himself tireless at it. It was chiefly\nin these letters and treatises against the Donatists that he was not afraid\nto repeat himself. He knew that he was dealing with the deaf, and with\nthe deaf who did not want to hear: he was obliged to raise his voice.\nWith admirable self-denial he reiterated the same arguments a hundred\ntimes over, a hundred times took up the history of the quarrel from the\nbeginning, spreading such a light over the quibbles and refinings of his\ncontradictors, that it should have brought conviction to the bluntest\nminds. \"No,\" he repeated, \"C\u00e6cilianus was not a _traditor_, nor Felix of\nAbthugni either who consecrated him bishop. The documents are there to\nprove this. And even supposing they were, can the fault of a single man\nbe charged to the whole Church?... Then why do you baptize the Catholics\nunder the pretence that their priests are _traditors_ and as such unworthy\nto administer the Sacraments? It is the sacrifice of Jesus Christ and not\nthe virtue of the priest which renders baptism efficacious. If it were\notherwise, what was the good of the Redemption? It is the fact that by the\nvoluntary death of Christ, all men have been called to salvation. Salvation\nis not the privilege of Africans only. Being Catholic, the Church should\ntake in the whole world....\"\n\nIn the long run, these continual repetitions end by seeming wearisome to\nmodern readers: for us there arises out of all these discussions a dense\nand intolerable boredom. But let us remember that all this was singularly\nliving for Augustin's cotemporaries, that these thankless developments were\nread with passion. And then, too, it was a question of the unity of the\nChurch which involved, as we cannot too often repeat, the interest of the\nEmpire and civilization.\n\nAgainst so persuasive a power the Donatists opposed a conspiracy of\nsilence. Their bishops forbade the people to read what Augustin wrote. They\ndid more--they concealed their own libels so that it was impossible to\nreply to them. But Augustin used all his skill to unearth them. He refuted\nthem, and had his refutations recopied and posted on the walls of the\nbasilicas. The copies circulated through the province and the whole Roman\nworld.\n\nThis would have had an excellent result if the quarrel had been entirely\nover questions of theory. But immense property interests came into it,\nand rancours and terrible hates. Augustin was forced to pass from verbal\npolemics to direct action--defensive action, at first, and then attack.\n\nWhile he and his fellow-bishops did their utmost to preach peace, the\nDonatist bishops urged their followers to the holy war. Augustin even\nreceived threats on his life. During one of his visitations, he was nearly\nassassinated. Men in ambush lay in wait for him. By a providential chance,\nhe took the wrong road, and owed his life to this mistake. His pupil\nPossidius, who was then Bishop of Guelma, was not so lucky. Brought to\nbay in a house by the Donatist bishop Crispinus, he defended himself\ndesperately. They set fire to the house to turn him out. When there was\nnothing else left but to be burned alive, he did come out. The band of\nDonatists seized him, and would have beaten his brains out, if Crispinus\nhimself, fearing a prosecution for murder, had not interfered. But the\nassailants sacked the property and slaughtered all the horses and mules\nin the stables. At Bagai, Bishop Maximianus was stabbed in his basilica.\nA furious mob smashed the altar and began to strike the victim with the\nfragments, and left him for dead on the flags. The Catholics lifted up his\nbody, but the Donatists plucked him out of their hands and flung him from\nthe top of a tower, and he fell on a dunghill which broke the fall. The\nunhappy man still breathed, and by a miracle he recovered.\n\nMeanwhile, the Circoncelliones, armed with their bludgeons, continued to\npillage and burn the farms. They tortured the owners to extract their money\nfrom them. They made them toil round the mill-path like beasts of burthen,\nwhile they lashed at them with whips. At their back, the Donatist priests\ninvaded the Catholic churches and lands. There and then they rebaptized\nthe labourers. These doings were, indeed, very like the practices of the\nAfrican Mussulmans to-day, who, in like circumstances, always begin by\nconverting the Christian farm-hands by main force. Then they purified\nthe basilicas by scraping down the walls and washing the floors with big\ndouches of water; and after demolishing the altar, they scattered salt\nwhere it had stood. It was a perfect disinfection. The Donatists treated\nthe Catholics like the plague-stricken.\n\nSuch acts cried out for vengeance. Augustin, who up till this time had\nrecoiled from asking the public authorities to prosecute, who, as an\nobserver of the apostolic tradition, did not recognize the interference\nof the civil power in Church matters--well, Augustin had to give way to\ncircumstances, and also to the pressure brought to bear on him by his\ncolleagues. Councils assembled at Carthage petitioned the Emperor to take\nexceptional measures against the Donatists, who laughed at all the laws\ndirected against heretics. When they were summoned before the courts they\ndemonstrated to the judges, who were often pagans incompetent to decide in\nthese questions, that it was they who really belonged to the only orthodox\nChurch. Something must be done to end this equivocal position, and to bring\nabout once for all a categorical condemnation of the schism. Augustin,\nacting in concert with the primate Aurelius, was the ruling spirit of these\nmeetings.\n\nLet us not judge his conduct by modern ideas, or be in a hurry to exclaim\nagainst his intolerance. He and the Catholic bishops, in acting thus,\nwere complying with the old tradition which had influenced all the pagan\ngovernments. Rome, particularly, though it recognized all the local sects,\nall the foreign religions, never allowed any of its subjects to refuse to\nfall in with the official religion. The persecutions of the Christians and\nthe Jews had no other motive. Now that it was become the State religion,\nChristianity, willingly or unwillingly, had to summon people to the same\nobedience. The Emperors made a special point of this from political reasons\neasy to understand--to prevent riots and maintain public order. Even if the\nbishops had refrained from all complaint, the Imperial Government would\nhave acted without them and suppressed the disturbances caused by the\nheretics.\n\nJust look at the situation and the men as they were at that moment in\nAfrica. It was the Catholics who were persecuted, and that with revolting\nfury and cruelty. They were obliged to defend themselves. In the next\nplace, the distribution of property in those countries made conversions\nin batches singularly easy. Multitudes of farm tenants, workmen, and\nagricultural slaves, lived upon the immense estates of one owner. Without\nany interest in dogmatic questions, they were Donatists simply because\ntheir master was. To change these devouring wolves into tranquil sheep, it\nwas often quite enough if the master got converted. The great blessing of\npeace depended upon pressure being brought to bear on certain persons. When\nall day and every day there was a risk of being murdered or burned out by\nirresponsible ruffians, the temptation was very strong to fall back on such\na prompt and simple remedy. Augustin and his colleagues ended by making up\ntheir minds to do so. For that matter, they had no choice. They were bound\nto strike, or be themselves suppressed by their enemies.\n\nHowever, before resorting to rigorous measures, they resolved to send forth\na supreme appeal for reconciliation. The Catholics proposed a meeting to\nthe Donatists in which they would loyally examine one another's grievances.\nAs personal or material questions made the great bar to an understanding,\nthey promised that every Donatist bishop who turned convert should keep\nhis see. In places where a schismatic and an orthodox bishop were found\ntogether, they would come to a friendly agreement to govern the diocese by\nturns. Where it was impossible for this to be done, it was proposed that\nthe Catholic should resign in favour of the other. Augustin lent all his\neloquence to carry this motion, which was sufficiently heroic for a good\nnumber of bishops who were not so detached as he from the goods of this\nworld. And one must allow that it was difficult to go much further in the\nway of self-denial.\n\nAfter a good deal of skirmishing and hesitation on the side of the\nschismatics, the Conference met at Carthage in June of the year 411, under\nthe presidency of an Imperial commissioner, the tribune Marcellinus. Once\nagain, the Donatists saw themselves condemned. Upon the report of the\ncommissioner, a decree of Honorius classed them definitely among heretics.\nThey were forbidden to rebaptize or to assemble together, under penalties\nof fine and confiscation. Refractory countrymen and slaves would be liable\nto corporal punishment, and as for the clerics, they would be banished.\n\nThe effect of these new laws was not long in appearing, and it fully\nanswered the wishes of the orthodox bishops. Many populations returned, or\npretended to return, to the Catholic communion. This result was largely\nthe work of Augustin, who for twenty years had worked to bring it about by\npreaching and controversy. But, as might be expected, he did not overdo\nhis triumph. Without delay, he set himself to preach moderation to the\nconquerors. Nor had he waited till the enemy was defeated to do that. Ten\nyears before, while the Donatists were besetting the Catholics everywhere,\nhe said to the priests of his communion:\n\n\"Remember this, my brothers, so as to practise and preach it with\nnever-varying gentleness. Love the men; kill the lie! Lean on truth without\npride; fight for it without cruelty. Pray for those whom you chide, and for\nthose to whom you shew their error.\"\n\nHowever, the victory of the party of peace was not so thorough as it had\nseemed at first. A good many fanatics here and there grew obstinate in\ntheir resistance. The Circoncelliones, maddened, distinguished themselves\nby a new outbreak of ravages and cruelties. They tortured and mutilated all\nthe Catholics who fell into their hands. They had invented an unheard-of\nrefinement of torture, which was to cover with lime diluted with vinegar\nthe eyes of their victims. The priest Restitutus was assassinated in the\nsuburbs of Hippo. A bishop had his tongue and his hand cut off. If the\ntowns were pretty quiet, terror began to reign once more in the country\nplaces.\n\nThe Roman authorities exerted themselves to put an end to these bloody\nscenes. They heavily chastised the offenders whenever they could catch\nthem. In his charity, Augustin interceded for them with the judges. He\nwrote to the tribune Marcellinus:\n\n\"We would not that the servants of God should be revenged by hurts like to\nthose they suffered. Surely, we are not against depriving the guilty of the\nmeans to do harm, but we consider it will be enough, without taking their\nlives or wrenching any limb from them, to turn them from their senseless\ntumult by the restraining power of the laws, in bringing them back to calm\nand reason; or, in a last resort, to take away the opportunity for criminal\nactions by employing them in some useful work.... Christian judge, in this\nmatter fulfil the duty of a father, and while repressing injustice, do not\nforget humanity.\"\n\nThis compassion of Augustin was shewn particularly in his meeting with\nEmeritus, the Donatist Bishop of Cherchell (or as it was then called,\nMauretanian C\u00e6sarea), one of the most stubborn among the irreconcilables.\nHis attitude in dealing with this uncompromising enemy was not only humane,\nbut courteous, full of graciousness, and of the most sensitive charity.\n\nThis fell out in the autumn of the year 418, seven years after the great\nConference at Carthage. Augustin was sixty-four years old. How was it\nthat he who had always had such feeble health undertook at this age the\nlong journey from Hippo to C\u00e6sarea? We know that the Pope, Zozimus, had\nentrusted him with a mission to the Church of that town. With his tireless\nzeal, always ready to march for the glory of Christ, the old bishop\ndoubtless saw in this journey a fresh opportunity for an apostle. So\nhe started off, in spite of the roads, which were very unsafe in those\ntroublous times, in spite of the crushing heat of the season--the end of\nSeptember. He travelled six hundred miles across the endless Numidian\nplain and the mountainous regions of the Atlas, preaching in the churches,\nhalting in the towns and the hamlets to decide questions of private\ninterest, ever pursued by a thousand business worries and by the squabbles\nof litigants and the discontented. At last, after many weeks of fatigue and\ntribulation, he reached Cherchell, where he was the guest of Deuterius, the\nmetropolitan Bishop of Mauretania.\n\nNow Emeritus, the deposed bishop, lived mysteriously in the suburbs, in\nconstant fear of some forcible action on the part of the authorities.\nWhen he learned the friendly intentions of Augustin, he came out of his\nhiding-place and shewed himself in the town. In one of the squares of\nC\u00e6sarea the two prelates met. Augustin, who had formerly seen Emeritus at\nCarthage, recognized him, hurried over to him, saluted him, and at once\nsuggested a friendly talk.\n\n\"Let us go into the church,\" he said. \"This square is hardly suitable for a\ntalk between two bishops.\"\n\nEmeritus, flattered, agreed. The conversation continued in such a cordial\ntone that Augustin was already rejoicing upon having won back the\nschismatic. Deuterius, following the line of conduct which the Catholic\nbishops had adopted, spoke of resigning and handing over the see to the\nother. It was agreed that within two days Emeritus should come to the\ncathedral for a public discussion with his colleague of Hippo. At the\nappointed hour he appeared. A great crowd of people gathered to hear\nthe two orators. The basilica was full. Then Augustin, turning to the\nimpenitent Donatist, said to him mildly:\n\n\"Emeritus, my brother, you are here. You were also at our Conference at\nCarthage. If you were beaten there, why do you come here now? If, on the\nother hand, you think that you were not beaten, tell us what leads you to\nbelieve that you had the advantage....\"\n\nWhat change had Emeritus undergone in two days? Whatever it was, he\ndisappointed the hopes of Augustin and the people of C\u00e6sarea. He returned\nonly ambiguous phrases to the most pressing and brotherly urging. Finally,\nhe took refuge in an angry silence from which it was found impossible to\ndraw him.\n\nAugustin went home without having converted the heretic. No doubt he was\nsorely disappointed. Nevertheless, he shewed no resentment; he even took\nmeasures to ensure the safety of the recalcitrant, in a charitable fear\nless the roused people might do him a bad turn. With all that, when he\nlooked back at the results of nearly thirty years of struggle against\nschism, he might well say to himself that he had done good work for the\nChurch. Donatism, in fact, was conquered, and conquered by him. Was he\nat last to have a chance to rest himself, with the only rest suitable\nto a soul like his, in a steady meditation and study of the Scriptures?\nHenceforth, would he be allowed to live a little less as a bishop and a\nlittle more as a monk? This was always the strong desire of his heart....\n\nBut new and worse trials awaited him at Hippo.\n\n\n\n\nTHE SIXTH PART\n\nFACE TO FACE WITH THE BARBARIANS\n\n\n    Et nunc veniant omnes quicumque amant Paradisum, locum quietis, locum\n    securitatis, locum perpetuae felicitatis, locum in quo non pertimescas\n    Barbarum.\n\n    \"And now let all those come who love Paradise, the place of quiet, the\n    place of safety, the place of eternal happiness, the place where the\n    Barbarian need be feared no more.\"\n\n    _Sermon upon the Barbarian Persecution_, vii, 9.\n\n\n\n\nI\n\nTHE SACK OF ROME\n\n\nDuring June of the year 403, an astonishing event convulsed the former\ncapital of the Empire. The youthful Honorius, attended by the regent\nStilicho, came there to celebrate his triumph over Alaric and the Gothic\narmy, defeated at Pollentia.\n\nThe pageantry of a triumph was indeed a very astonishing sight for\nthe Romans of that period. They had got so unused to them! And no\nless wonderful was the presence of the Emperor at the Palatine. Since\nConstantine's reign, the Imperial palaces had been deserted. They had\nhardly been visited four times in a century by their master.\n\nRome had never got reconciled to the desertion of her princes. When the\nCourt was moved to Milan, and then to Ravenna, she felt she had been\nuncrowned. Time after time the Senate appealed to Honorius to shew himself,\nat least, to his Roman subjects, since political reasons were against his\ndwelling among them. This journey was always put off. The truth is, the\nChristian C\u00e6sars did not like Rome, and mistrusted her still half-pagan\nSenate and people. It needed this unhoped-for victory to bring Honorius\nand his councillors to make up their minds. The feeling of a common danger\nhad for the moment drawn the two opposing religions together, and here\nthey were apparently making friends in the same patriotic delight. Old\nhates were forgotten. In fact, the pagan aristocracy had hopes of better\ntreatment from Stilicho. On account of all these reasons, the triumphant\nC\u00e6sar was received at Rome with delirious joy.\n\nThe Court, upon leaving Ravenna, had crossed the Apennines. A halt was\ncalled on the banks of the Clitumnus, where in ancient times the great\nwhite herds were found which were sacrificed at the Capitol during a\ntriumph. But the gods of the land had fallen; there would be no opiman bull\nthis time on their altars. The pagans felt bitter about it.\n\nThence, by Narnia and the Tiber valley, they made their way down into the\nplain. The measured step of the legions rang upon the large flags of the\nFlaminian way. They crossed the Mulvius bridge--and old Rome rose like a\nnew city. In anticipation of a siege, the regent had repaired the Aurelian\nwall. The red bricks of the enclosure and the fresh mason-work of the\ntowers gleamed in the sun. Finally, striking into the _Via lata_, the\nprocession marched to the Palatine.\n\nThe crowd was packed in this long, narrow street, and overflowed into the\nnearest alleys. Women, elaborately dressed, thronged the balconies, and\neven the terraces of the palace. All at once the people remarked that the\nSenate was not walking before the Imperial chariot. Stilicho, who wished to\nconciliate their good graces, had, contrary to custom, dispensed them from\nmarching on foot before the conqueror. People talked with approval of this\nwily measure in which they saw a promise of new liberties. But applause and\nenthusiastic cheers greeted the young Honorius as he passed by, sharing\nwith Stilicho the honour of the triumphal car.\n\nThe unequalled splendour of his _trabea_, of which the embroideries\ndisappeared under the number and flash of colour of the jewels, left the\npopulace gaping. The diadem, a masterpiece of goldsmith's work, pressed\nheavily on his temples. Emerald pendants twinkled on each side of his neck,\nwhich, as it was rather fat, with almost feminine curves, suggested at once\nto the onlookers a comparison with Bacchus. They found he had an agreeable\nface, and even a soldierly air with his square shoulders and stocky neck.\nMatrons gazed with tender eyes on this C\u00e6sar of nineteen, who had, at that\ntime, a certain beauty, and the brilliance, so to speak, of youth. This\ndegenerate Spaniard, who was really a crowned eunuch, and was to spend his\nlife in the society of the palace eunuchs and die of dropsy--this son of\nTheodosius was just then fond of violent exercise, of hunting and horses.\nBut he was even now becoming ponderous with unhealthy fat. His build and\nbloated flesh gave those who saw him at a distance a false notion of his\nstrength. The Romans were most favourably impressed by him, especially the\nyoung men.\n\nBut the army, the safeguard of the country, was perhaps even more admired\nthan the Emperor. The legions, following the ruler, had almost deserted\nthe capital. The flower of the troops were almost unknown there. In\nconsequence, the march past of the cavalry was quite a new sight for the\npeople. A great murmur of admiration sounded as the _cataphracti_ appeared,\ngleaming in the coats of mail which covered them from head to foot. Upon\ntheir horses, caparisoned in defensive armour, they looked like equestrian,\nstatues--like silver horsemen on bronze horses. Childish cries greeted each\n_draconarius_ as he marched by carrying his ensign--a dragon embroidered on\na long piece of cloth which flapped in the wind. And the crowd pointed at\nthe crests of the helmets plumed with peacock feathers, and the scarfs of\nscarlet silk flowing over the camber of the gilded cuirasses....\n\nThe military show poured into the Forum, swept up the _Via Sacra_, and when\nit had passed under the triumphal arches of the old emperors, halted at the\nPalace of Septimus Severus. In the Stadium, the crowd awaited Honorius.\nWhen he appeared on the balcony of the Imperial box, wild cheering burst\nout on all the rows of seats. The Emperor, diadem on head, bowed to the\npeople. Upon that the cheers became a tempest. Rome did not know how to\nexpress her happiness at having at last got her master back.\n\nOn the eve of the worst catastrophes she had this supreme day of glory, of\ndesperate pride, of unconquerable faith in her destiny. The public frenzy\nencouraged them in the maddest hopes. The poet Claudian, who had followed\nthe Court, became the mouthpiece of these perilous illusions. \"Arise!\" he\ncried to Rome, \"I prithee arise, O venerable queen! Trust in the goodwill\nof the gods. O city, fling away the mean fears of age, _thou who art\nimmortal as the heavens_!...\"\n\nFor all that, the Barbarian danger continued to threaten. The victory\nof Pollentia, which, moreover, was not a complete victory, had settled\nnothing. Alaric was in flight in the Alps, but he kept his eye open for a\nfavourable chance to fall back upon Italy and wrench concessions of money\nand honours from the Court of Ravenna. Supported by his army of mercenaries\nand adventurers in the pay of the Empire like himself, his dealings with\nHonorius were a kind of continual blackmail. If the Imperial Government\nrefused to pay the sums which he protested it owed him for the maintenance\nof his troops, he would pay himself by force. Rome, where fabulous riches\nhad accumulated for so many centuries, was an obvious prey for him and his\nmen. He had coveted it for a long time; and to get up his courage for this\ndaring exploit, as well as to work upon his soldiers, he pretended that he\nhad a mission from Heaven to chastise and destroy the new Babylon. In his\nPannonian forests it would seem he had heard mysterious voices which said\nto him: \"Advance, and thou shalt destroy the city!\"\n\nThis leader of clans had nothing of the conqueror about him. He understood\nthat he was in no wise cut out to wear the purple; he himself felt the\nBarbarian's cureless inferiority. But he also felt that neither was he\nborn to obey. If he asked for the title of Prefect of the City, and if he\npersisted in offering his services to the Empire, it was as a means to get\nthe upper hand of it more surely. Repulsed, disdained by the Court, he\ntried to raise himself in his own eyes and in the eyes of the common people\nby giving himself the airs of an instrument of justice, a man designed by\nfate, who marches blindly to a terrible purpose indicated by the divine\nwrath. It often happened that he was duped by his own mummery. This turbid\nBarbarian soul was prone to the most superstitious terrors.\n\nNotwithstanding his rodomontades, it is certain that in his heart he was\nscared by Rome. He hardly dared to attack it. In the first place, it was\nnot at all a convenient operation for him. His army of mercenaries had no\nproper implements to undertake the siege of this huge city, of which the\ndefence lines were thrown out in so wide a perimeter. He had to come back\nto it twice, before he could make up his mind to invest it seriously. The\nfirst time, in 408, he was satisfied with starving the Romans by cutting\noff the food supply. He had pitched his camp on the banks of the Tiber in\nsuch a way as to capture the shipping between the capital and the great\nstore-houses built near the mouth of the river. From the ramparts, the\nRomans could see the Barbarian soldiers moving about, with their sheepskin\ncoats dyed to a crude red. Panic-stricken, the aristocracy fled to its\nvillas in Campania, or Sicily, or Africa. They took with them whatever\nthey were able to carry. They sought refuge in the nearest islands, even\nin Sardinia and Corsica, despite their reputation for unhealthiness. They\neven hid among the rocks of the seashore. The terror was so great that the\nSenate agreed to everything demanded by Alaric. He was paid an enormous\nindemnity which he claimed as a condition of his withdrawal.\n\nThe following year he used the same method of intimidation to force on the\npeople an emperor he had chosen, and to get conferred on him the title of\nPrefect of the City which he had desired so long. Finally, in the year 410,\nhe struck the supreme blow.\n\nThe Barbarian knew what he was about, and that he did not risk much in\nblockading Rome. Famine would open the gates to him sooner or later. All\nwho were able had left the city, especially the rich. There was no garrison\nto defend it. Only a lazy populace remained behind the walls, unused to\narms, and still more enfeebled by long starvation. And yet this wretched\nand decimated population, in an outburst of patriotism, resisted with\ndesperate energy. The siege was long. Doubtless it began before the spring;\nit ended only at the end of the summer. In the night of the twenty-fourth\nof August, 410, amid the glare of lightning and crashes of thunder, Alaric\nentered Rome by the Salarian gate. It is certain that he only managed it\neven then by treachery. The prey was handed to him.\n\nThe sack of Rome seems to have lasted for three days and three nights. Part\nof the town was burned. The conquered people underwent all the horrors\nwhich accompany such events--violent and stupid destruction, rapes, murders\nof individuals, wholesale slaughter, torture, and mutilation. But in\nreality the Barbarians only wanted the Roman gold. They acted like perfect\nhighway robbers. If they tortured their victims without distinction of age\nor sex, it was to pluck the secret of their treasure-houses out of them.\nIt is even said that in these conditions the Roman avarice produced some\nadmirable examples of firmness. Some let themselves be tortured to their\nlast gasp rather than reveal where their treasures were hid. At last, when\nAlaric decided that his army was gorged enough with spoil, he gave the\norder to evacuate the city, and took to the roads with his baggage-waggons\nfull.\n\nLet us be careful not to judge these doings after our modern notions. The\ncapture of Rome by Alaric was not a national disaster. It was plundering on\na huge scale. The Goth had no thought at all of destroying the Empire. He\nwas only a mercenary in rebellion--an ambitious mercenary, no doubt--but,\nabove all, a looter.\n\nAs a consequence of this attack on the Eternal City, one after another\ncaught the disease of plunder, which contaminated even the functionaries\nand the subjects of Rome. Amid the general anarchy, where impunity seemed\ncertain, nobody restrained himself any longer. In Africa especially, where\nthe old instinct of piracy is always half-awake, they applied themselves to\nransack the fugitive Romans and Italians. Many rich people were come there,\nseeking a place of safety in the belief that they would be more secure when\nthey had put the sea between themselves and the Barbarians. The report of\ntheir riches had preceded them, exaggerated out of all measure by popular\nrumour. Among them were mentioned patricians such as the Anicii, whose\nproperty was so immense and their palaces so splendid that they could not\nfind purchasers. These multi-millionaires in flight were a miraculous\nwindfall for the country. They were bled without mercy.\n\nQuicker than any one else, the military governor of Africa, Count\nHeraclianus, was on the spot to pick the pockets of the Italian immigrants.\nNo sooner were they off the boat than he had very distinguished ladies\nseized, and only released them when he had extorted a large ransom. He sold\nthose unable to pay to the Greek and Syrian slave-merchants who provided\nhuman flesh for the Oriental harems. When the example came from such a\nheight, the subordinates doubtless said to themselves that they would\nbe very wrong to have the least shame. From one end of the province to\nthe other, everybody struggled to extract as much as possible from the\nunfortunate fugitives. Augustin's own parishioners at Hippo undertook to\ntear a donation from one of those gorgeous Anicii, whose lands stretched\nfurther than a kite could fly--from Pinian, the husband of St. Melania\nthe younger. They wanted to force him to be ordained priest in spite of\nhimself, which, as has been explained, involved the handing over of his\ngoods to the Catholic community. Augustin, who opposed this, had to give in\nto the crowd. There was almost a riot in the basilica.\n\nSuch were the far-off reverberations of the capture of Rome by Alaric.\nCarthaginians and Numidians pillaged the Romans just like the Barbarians.\n\nNow, how did it come about that this monstrous loot took on before the eyes\nof contemporaries the magnitude of a world-catastrophe? For really nothing\nwas utterly lost. The Empire remained standing. After Alaric's retreat,\nthe Romans had come back to their city and they worked to build up the\nruins. Ere long, the populace were crying out loud that if the circus\nand amphitheatre games were given back to them, they would look upon the\ndescent of the Goths as a bad dream.\n\nIt is no less certain that this sensational occurrence had struck the whole\nMediterranean world into a perfect stupor. It seized upon the imaginations\nof all. The idea that Rome could not be taken, that it was integral and\nalmost sacred, had such a hold on people's minds, that they refused to\ncredit the sinister news. Nobody reflected that the sack of Rome by the\nBarbarians should have been long ago foreseen--that Rome, deprived of\na garrison, abandoned by the Imperial army, was bound to attract the\ncovetousness of the Goths, and that the pillage of a place without defence,\nalready enfeebled by famine, was not a very glorious feat, very difficult,\nor very extraordinary. People only saw the brutal fact: the Eternal City\nhad been captured and burned by the mercenaries. All were under the\ninfluence of the shock caused by the narratives of the refugees. In one of\nhis sermons, Augustin has transmitted to us an echo of the general panic:\n\n\"Horrible things,\" said he, \"have been told us. There have been ruins, and\nfires, and rapine, and murder, and torture. That is true; we have heard it\nmany times; we have shuddered at all this disaster; we have often wept, and\nwe have hardly been able to console ourselves.\"\n\nThis capture of Rome was plainly a terrible warning for the future. But\nparty spirit strangely exaggerated the importance and meaning of the\ncalamity. For pagans and Christians alike it became a subject for speeches,\na commonplace of religious polemic. Both saw the event as a manifestation\nof the wrath of Heaven.\n\n\"While we sacrificed to our gods,\" the pagan said, \"Rome was standing, Rome\nwas happy. Now that our sacrifices are forbidden, you see what has become\nof Rome....\"\n\nAnd they went about repeating that Christianism was responsible for the\nruin of the Empire. On their side, the Christians answered: In the first\nplace, Rome has not fallen: it is always standing. It has been only\nchastised, and this happened because it is still half pagan. By this\nfrightful punishment (and they heightened the description of the horrors\ncommitted), God has given it a warning. Let it be converted, let it return\nto the virtues of its ancestors, and it will become again the mistress of\nnations.\n\nThere is what Augustin and the bishops said. Still, the flock of the\nfaithful were only half convinced. It was all well enough to remonstrate\nto them that the Christians of Rome, and even a good number of pagans,\nhad been spared at the name of Christ, and that the Barbarian leader had\nbestowed a quite special protection and respect upon the basilicas of\nthe holy apostles; it was impossible to prevent their thinking that many\nChristians had perished in the sack of the city, that consecrated virgins\nhad experienced the last outrages, and that, as a matter of fact, all the\ninhabitants had been robbed of their property.... Was it thus that God\nprotected His chosen? What advantage was there in being Christian if they\nhad the same treatment as the idolaters?\n\nThis state of mind became extremely favourable for paganism to come back\nagain on the offensive. Since the very hard laws of Theodosius, which\nforbade the worship of the ancient gods, even within the house, the pagans\nhad not overlooked any chance to protest against the Imperial severity.\nAt Carthage there were always fights in the streets between pagans and\nChristians, not to say riots. In the colony of Suffetula, sixty Christians\nhad been massacred. The year before the capture of Rome, there had been\ntrouble with the pagans at Guelma. Houses belonging to the Church were\nburned, a monk killed in a brawl. Whenever the Government inspection\nrelaxed, or the political situation appeared favourable, the pagans hurried\nto proclaim their belief. Only just lately, in Rome beleaguered by Alaric,\nthe new consul, Tertullus, had thought fit to revive the old customs.\nBefore assuming office, he studied gravely the sacred fowls in their cages,\ntraced circles in the sky with the augur's wand, and marked the flight of\nbirds. Besides, a pagan oracle circulated persistently among the people,\npromising that after a reign of three hundred and sixty-five years\nChristianity would be conquered. The centuries of the great desolation were\nfulfilled; the era of revenge was about to begin for the outcast gods.\n\nThese warlike symptoms did not escape Augustin's vigilance. His indignation\nno longer arose only from the fact that paganism was so slow in dying; he\nwas now afraid that the feebleness of the Empire might allow it to take on\nan appearance of life. It must be ended, as Donatism had been ended. The\nold apostle was summoned to a new campaign, and in it he would spend the\nbest of his strength to the eve of his death.\n\n\n\n\nII\n\nTHE CITY OF GOD\n\n\nFor thirteen or fourteen years, through a thousand employments and a\nthousand cares, amid the panics and continual alarums which kept the\nAfricans on the alert in those times, Augustin worked at his _City of God_,\nthe most formidable machine of war ever directed against paganism, and also\nthe arsenal fullest of proofs and refutations which the disputants and\ndefenders of Catholicism have ever had at their disposal.\n\nIt is not for us to examine the details of this immense work, for our sole\naim is to study Augustin's soul, and we quote scarcely anything from his\nbooks save those parts wherein a little of this ardent soul pulsates--those\nwhich are still living for us of the twentieth century, which contain\nteachings and ways of feeling still likely to move us. Now, Augustin's\nattitude towards paganism is one of those which throw the greatest light on\nhis nature and character. And it may even yet come to be our own attitude\nwhen we find opposed to us a conception of life and the world which\nmay indeed be ruined for a time, but is reborn as soon as the sense of\nspirituality disappears or grows feeble.\n\n  \"Immortal Paganism, art thou dead? So they say.\n  But Pan scoffs under his breath, and the Chim\u00e6ra laughs.\" [1]\n\n[Footnote 1: Sainte-Beuve.]\n\nLike ourselves, Augustin, brought up by a Christian mother, knew it only\nthrough literature, and, so to speak, \u00e6sthetically. Recollections of\nschool, the emotions and admirations of a cultivated man--there is what the\nold religion meant for him. Nevertheless, he had one great advantage over\nus for knowing it well: the sight of the pagan customs and superstitions\nwas still under his eyes.\n\nThat the lascivious, romantic, and poetic adventures of the ancient gods,\ntheir statues, their temples, and all the arts arising from their religion,\nhad beguiled him and filled him with enthusiasm before his conversion, is\nonly too certain. But all this mythology and plastic art were looked upon\nas secondary things then, even by pagans. The serious, the essential part\nof the religion was not in that. Paganism, a religion of Beauty, is an\ninvention of our modern \u00e6sthetes; it was hardly thought of in that way in\nAugustin's time.\n\nLong before this, the Roman Varro, the great compiler of the religious\nantiquities of paganism, made a threefold distinction of the doctrine\nconcerning the gods. The first--that of the theatre, as he calls it, or\nfabulous mythology, adapted to poets, dramatists, sculptors, and jesters.\nInvented by these, it is only a fantasy, a play of imagination, an ornament\nof life. The third is civil theology, serious and solid, which claims the\nrespect and piety of all. \"It is that which men in cities, and chiefly the\npriests, _ought to be_ cunning in. It teaches which gods to worship in\npublic, and with what ceremonies and sacrifices each one must be served.\"\nFinally, the second, physical or metaphysical theology, is reserved for\nphilosophers and exceptional minds; it is altogether theoretical. The\nonly important and truly religious one, which puts an obligation on the\nbeliever, is the third--the civil theology.\n\nNow, we never take account of this. What we persist in regarding as\npaganism is what Varro himself called \"a religion for the theatre\"--matter\nof opera, pretext for ballets, for scenery, and for dance postures.\nTransposed into another key by our poets, this mythology is inflated now\nand then by mysticism, or by a vague symbolism. Playthings of our pretty\nwits! The living paganism, which Augustin struggled against, which crowds\ndefended at the price of their blood, in which the poor believed and the\nwisest statesmen deemed indispensable as a safeguard of cities--that\npaganism is quite another matter. Like all religions which are possible,\nit implied and it _enforced_ not only beliefs, but ritual, sacrifices,\nfestivals. And this is what Augustin, with the other Christians of that\ntime, spurned with disgust and declared to be unbearable.\n\nHe saw, or he had seen with his own eyes, the reality of the pagan worship,\nand the most repellent of all to our modern delicacy--the sacrifices. At\nthe period when he wrote _The City of God_, private sacrifices, as well as\npublic, were forbidden. This did not prevent the devout from breaking the\nlaw whenever a chance offered. They hid themselves more or less when they\nsacrificed before a temple, a chapel, or on some private estate. The rites\ncould not be carried out according to all the minute instructions of the\npontifical books. It was no more than a shadow of the ceremonies of former\ntimes. But in his childhood, in the reign of Julian, for instance, Augustin\ncould have attended sacrifices which were celebrated with full pomp and\naccording to all the ritual forms. They were veritable scenes of butchery.\nFor Heaven's sake let us forget the frieze of the Parthenon, and its\nsacrificers with their graceful lines! If we want to have a literal\ntranslation of this sculpture, and find the modern representation of a\nhecatomb, we must go to the slaughter-houses at La Villette.\n\nAmong the heaps of broken flesh, the puddles of blood, the mystic Julian\nwas attacked by a kind of drunkenness. There were never enough beasts\nstrangled or slaughtered to suit him. Nothing satisfied his fury for sacred\ncarnage. The pagans themselves made fun of this craze for sacrificing.\nDuring the three years his reign lasted the altars streamed with blood.\nOxen by hundreds were slain upon the floors of the temples, and the\nbutchers throttled so many sheep and other domestic animals that they gave\nup keeping count of them. Thousands of white birds, pigeons or sea-gulls,\nwere destroyed day by day by the piety of the prince. He was called the\n_Victimarius_, and when he started upon his campaign against the Persians,\nan epigram was circulated once more which had been formerly composed\nagainst Marcus Aurelius (the philosophic emperor!) who was equally generous\nof hecatombs: \"To Marcus C\u00e6sar from the white oxen. It will be all over\nwith us if you come back a conqueror.\" People said that Julian, on his\nreturn, would depopulate stables and pasture-lands.\n\nThe populace, who gathered their very considerable profit from these\nbutcheries, naturally encouraged such an excess of devotion. At Rome, under\nCaligula, more than a hundred and sixty thousand victims were immolated in\nthree months--nearly two thousand a day. And these massacres took place\nupon the approaches of the temples; in the middle of the city; on the\nforums; in narrow squares crowded with public buildings and statues. Just\ntry to call up the scene in summer, between walls at a white heat, with the\nsmells and the flies. Spectators and victims rubbed against one another,\npressed close in the restricted space. One day, Caligula, while he was\nattending a sacrifice, was splashed all over by the blood of a flamingo as\nthey cut its neck. But the august C\u00e6sar was not so fastidious; he himself\noperated in these ceremonies armed with a mallet and clad in the short\nshirt of the killers. The ignominy of all this revolted the Christians,\nand whoever had nerves at all sensitive. The bloody mud in which passers\nslipped, the hissing of the fat, the heavy odour of flesh, were sickening.\nTertullian held his nose before the \"stinking fires\" on which the victims\nwere roasting. And St. Ambrose complained that in the Roman Curia the\nsenators who were Christians were obliged to breathe in the smoke and\nreceive full in the face the ashes of the altar raised before the statue of\nVictory.\n\nThe manipulations of the _haruspicina_ seemed an even worse abomination in\nthe eyes of the Christians. Dissection of bowels, examination of entrails,\nwere practices very much in fashion in all classes of society. The\npagans generally took more or less interest in magic. One was scarcely\na philosopher without being a miracle-worker. In this there was a kind\nof perfidious rivalry to the Christian miracles. The ambitious or the\ndiscontented opened the bellies of animals to learn when the Emperor was\ngoing to die, and who would succeed him. But although it did not pretend to\nmagic, the _haruspicina_ made an essential part of the sacrifices. As soon\nas the dismemberment was done, the diviners examined the appearance of\nthe entrails. Consulting together, they turned them over frequently with\nanxious attention. This business might continue for a long time. Plutarch\nrelates that Philip, King of Macedonia, when sacrificing an ox on the\nIthom\u00e6a, with Aratus of Sicyon and Demetrius of Pharos, wished to inquire\nout from the entrails of the victim concerning the wisdom of a piece of\nstrategy. The _haruspex_ put the smoking mass in his hands. The King shewed\nit to his companions, who derived contradictory presages from it. He\nlistened to one side and the other, holding meanwhile the ox's entrails\nin his hands. Eventually, he decided for the opinion of Aratus, and then\ntranquilly gave the handful back to the sacrificer....\n\nNo doubt in Augustin's time these rites were no longer practised openly.\nFor all that, they were of the first importance in the ancient religion,\nwhich desired nothing better than to restore them. It is easy to understand\nthe repulsion they caused in the author of _The City of God_. He who would\nnot have a fly killed to make sure of the gold crown in the contest of\npoets, looked with horror on these sacred butchers, and manglers, and\ncooks. He flung the garbage of the sacrifices into the sewer, and shewed\nproudly to the pagans the pure oblation of the eucharistic Bread and Wine.\n\nBut what, above all, he attacked, because it was a present and permanent\nscandal, was the gluttony, the drunkenness, and lust of the pagans. Let us\nnot exaggerate these vices--not the two first, at least. Augustin could not\njudge them as we can. It is certain that the Africans of his time--and for\nthat matter, those of to-day--would have struck us modern people as very\nsober. The outbursts of intemperance which he accuses them of only happened\nat intervals, at times of public festivity or some family celebration. But\nas soon as they did begin they were terrible. When one thinks of the orgies\nof our Arabs behind locked doors!\n\nBut it is no less true that the pagan vices spread themselves out\ncynically under the protecting shadow of religion. Popular souses of\neating and drinking were the obligatory accompaniments of the festivals\nand sacrifices. A religious festival meant a carouse, loads of victuals,\nbarrels of wine broached in the street. These were called the Dishes,\n_Fercula_, or else, the Rejoicing, _L\u00e6titia_. The poor people, who knew\nmeat only by sight, ate it on these days, and they drank wine. The effect\nof this unaccustomed plenty was felt at once. The whole populace were\ndrunk. The rich in their houses possibly did it with more ceremony, but it\nwas really the same brutishness. The elegant Ovid, who in the _Art of Love_\nteaches fine manners to the beginners in love, advises them not to vomit at\ntable, and to avoid getting drunk like the husbands of their mistresses.\n\nPlainly, religion was only an excuse for these excesses. Augustin goes too\nfar when he makes the gods responsible for this riot of sensuality. What is\ntrue is that they did nothing to hinder it. And it is also true that the\nlechery, which he flings so acridly in the face of the pagans, the gross\nstage-plays, the songs, dances, and even prostitution, were all more or\nless included in the essence of paganism. The theatre, like the games of\nthe arena and circus, was a divine institution. At certain feasts, and in\ncertain temples, fornication became sacred. All the world knew what took\nplace at Carthage in the courts and under the porticoes of the Celestial\nVirgin, and what the ears of the most chaste matrons were obliged to hear,\nand also what the use was of the castrated priests of the Great Mother\nof the gods. Augustin, who declaims against these filthy sports, has not\nforced the note of his denunciation to make out a good case. If anybody\nwants to know in more detail the sights enjoyed at the theatre, or what\nwere the habits of certain pious confraternities, he has only to read what\nis told by Apuleius, the most devout of pagans. He takes evident pleasure\nin these stories, or, if he sometimes waxes indignant, it is the depravity\nof men he accuses. The gods soar at a great height above these wretched\ntrifles. To Augustin, on the contrary, the gods are unclean devils who fill\ntheir bellies with lust and obscenities, as if they were hankering for the\nblood and grease of sacrifices.\n\nAnd so he puts his finger on the open wound of paganism--its basic\nimmorality, or, if you like, its unmorality. Like our scientism of to-day,\nit was unable to lay down a system of morals. It did not even try to. What\nAugustin has written on this subject in _The City of God_, is perhaps the\nstrongest argument ever objected to polytheism. Anyhow, pages like this are\nvery timely indeed to consider:\n\n\"But such friends and such worshippers of those gods, whom they rejoice\nto follow and imitate in all villainies and mischiefs--do they trouble\nthemselves about the corruption and great decay of the Republic? Not so.\nLet it but stand, say they; let it but prosper by the number of its troops\nand be glorious by its victories; or, _which is best of all, let it but\nenjoy security and peace_, and what care we? Yes, what we care for above\nall is that every one may have the means to increase his wealth, to pay the\nexpenses of his usual luxury, and that the powerful may still keep under\nthe weak. Let the poor crouch to the rich to be fed, or to live at ease\nunder their protection; let the rich abuse the poor as things at their\nservice, and to shew how many they have soliciting them. Let the people\napplaud such as provide them with pleasures, not such as have a care for\ntheir interests. _Let naught that is hard be enjoined, nothing impure\nbe prohibited_.... Let not subdued provinces obey their governors as\nsupervisors of their morality, but as masters of their fortune and the\nprocurers of their pleasures. What matters it if this submission has no\nsincerity, but rests upon a bad and servile fear! _Let the law protect\nestates rather than fair justice_. Let there be a good number of public\nharlots, either for all that please to enjoy themselves in their company,\nor for those that cannot keep private ones. Let stately and sumptuous\nhouses be erected, so that night and day each one according to his liking\nor his means may gamble and drink and revel and vomit. Let the rhythmed\ntinkling of dances be ordinary, the cries, the uncontrolled delights,\nthe uproar of all pleasures, even the bloodiest and most shameful in the\ntheatres. He who shall assay to dissuade from these pleasures, let him\nbe condemned as a public enemy. And if any one try to alter or suppress\nthem--let the people stifle his voice, let them banish him, let them\nkill him. On the other hand, those that shall procure the people these\npleasures, and authorize their enjoyment, let them be eternized for the\ntrue gods.\"...\n\nHowever, Augustin acknowledges a number of praiseworthy minds among\npagans--those philosophers, with Plato in the first rank, who have done\ntheir best to put morality into the religion. The Christian teacher renders\na magnificent tribute to Platonism. But these high doctrines have scarcely\ngot beyond the portals of the schools, and this moral teaching which\npaganism vaunts of, is practically limited to the sanctuaries. \"Let them\nnot talk,\" says he, \"of some closely muttered instructions, taught in\nsecret, and whispered in the ear of a few adepts, which hold I know not\nwhat lessons of uprightness and virtue. But let them shew the temples\nordained for such pious meetings, wherein were no sports with lascivious\ngestures and loose songs.... Let them shew us the places where the gods'\ndoctrine was heard against covetousness, the suppression of ambition, the\nbridling of luxury, and where wretches might learn what the poet Persius\nthunders unto them, saying:\n\n  'Learn, wretches, and conceive the course of things,\n  What man is, and why nature forth him brings;...\n  How to use money; how to help a friend;\n  What we on earth, and God in us, intend.'\n\nLet them shew where their instructing gods were used to give such lessons;\nand where their worshippers used to go _often_ to hear these matters.\nAs for us, we can point to our churches, built for this sole purpose,\nwheresoever the religion of Christ is diffused.\"\n\nCan it surprise, then, if men so ignorant of high morality, and so deeply\nembedded in matter, were also plunged in the grossest superstitions?\nMaterialism in morals always ends by producing a low credulity. Here\nAugustin triumphs. He sends marching under our eyes, in a burlesque array,\nthe innumerable army of gods whom the Romans believed in. There are so many\nthat he compares them to swarms of gnats. Although he explains that he is\nnot able to mention them all, he amuses himself by stupefying us with the\nprodigious number of those he discovers. Dragged into open day by him, a\nwhole divine population is brought out of the darkness and forgetfulness\nwhere it had been sleeping perhaps for centuries: the little gods who work\nin the fields, who make the corn grow and keep off the blight, those who\nwatch over children, who aid women in labour, who protect the hearth, who\nguard the house. It was impossible to take a step among the pagans, to make\na movement, without the help of a god or goddess. Men and things were as if\nfettered and imprisoned by the gods.\n\n\"In a house,\" says Augustin scoffingly, \"there is but one porter. He is but\na mere man, yet he is sufficient for that office. But it takes three gods,\nForculus for the door, Cardea for the hinge, Limentinus for the threshold.\nDoubtless, Forculus all alone could not possibly look after threshold, door\nand hinges.\" And if it is a case of a man and woman retiring to the bridal\nchamber after the wedding, a whole squadron of divinities are set in motion\nfor an act so simple and natural. \"I beseech you,\" cries Augustin, \"leave\nsomething for the husband to do!\"\n\nThis African, who had such a strong sense of the unity and fathomless\ninfinity of God, waxed indignant at this sacrilegious parcelling of the\ndivine substance. But the pagans, following Varro, would answer that it was\nnecessary to distinguish, among all these gods, those who were just the\nimagination of poets, and those who were real beings--between the gods of\nfable and the gods of religion. \"Then,\" as Tertullian had said already,\n\"if the gods be chosen as onions are roped, it is obvious that what is not\nchosen is condemned.\" \"Tertullian carries his fancy too far,\" comments\nAugustin. The gods refused as fabulous are not held reprobate on that\naccount. The truth is, they are a cut of the same piece as the admitted\ngods. \"Have not the pontiffs, like the poets, a bearded Jupiter and a\nMercury without beard?... Are the old Saturn and the young Apollo so much\nthe property of the poets that we do not see their statues too in the\ntemples?...\"\n\nAnd the philosophers, in their turn, however much they may protest against\nthe heap of fabulous gods and, like Plato and Porphyry, declare that there\nexists but one God, soul of the universe, yet they no less accepted the\nminor gods, and intermediaries or messengers betwixt gods and men, whom\nthey called demons. These hybrid beings, who pertained to humanity by their\npassions, and to the divinity by the privilege of immortality, had to be\nappeased by sacrifices, questioned and gratified by magic spells. And there\nis what the highest pagan wisdom ended in--yes, in calling up spirits, and\nthe shady operations of wizards and wonder-smiths. That is what the pagans\ndefended, and demanded the continuation of with so much obstinacy and\nfanaticism.\n\nBy no means, replied Augustin. It does not deserve to survive. It is not\nthe forsaking of these beliefs and superstitious practices which has\nbrought about the decay of the Empire. If you are asking for the temples\nof your gods to be opened, it is because they are easy to your passions.\nAt heart, you scoff at them and the Empire; all you want is freedom and\nimpunity for your vices. There we have the real cause of the decadence!\nLittle matter the idle grimaces before altars and statues. Become chaste,\nsober, brave, and poor, as your ancestors were. Have children, agree to\ncompulsory military service, and you will conquer as they did. Now, all\nthese virtues are enjoined and encouraged by Christianity. Whatever certain\nheretics may say, the religion of Christ is not contrary to marriage or the\nsoldier's profession. The Patriarchs of the old law were blest in marriage,\nand there are just and holy wars.\n\nAnd even supposing, that in spite of all efforts to save it, the Empire is\ncondemned, must we therefore despair? We should be prepared for the end\nof the Roman city. Like all the things of this world, it is liable to old\nage and death. It will die then, one day. Far from being cast down, let\nus strengthen ourselves against this disaster by the realization of the\neternal. Let us strengthen our hold upon that which passes not. Above the\nearthly city, rises the City of God, which is the communion of holy souls,\nthe only one which gives complete and never-failing joy. Let us try to be\nthe citizens of that city, and to live the only life worth calling life.\nFor the life here below is but the shadow of a shadow....\n\nThe people of those times were wonderfully prepared to hearken to such\nexhortations. On the eve of the Barbarian invasions, these Christians, for\nwhom the dogma of the Resurrection was perhaps the chief reason of their\nfaith, these people, sick at heart, who looked on in torture at the ending\nof a world, must have considered this present life as a bad dream, from\nwhich there should be no delay in escaping.\n\nAt the very moment even that Augustin began to write _The City of God_, his\nfriend Evodius, Bishop of Uzalis, told him this story.\n\nHe had as secretary a very young man, the son of a priest in the\nneighbourhood. This young man had begun by obtaining a post as stenographer\nin the office of the Proconsul of Africa. Evodius, who was alarmed at what\nmight happen to his virtue in such surroundings, having first made certain\nof his absolute chastity, offered to take him into his service. In the\nbishop's house, where he had scarcely anything to do but read the Holy\nScripture, his faith became so enthusiastic that he longed for nothing now\nbut death. To go out of this life, \"to be with Christ,\" was his eager wish.\nIt was heard. After sixteen days of illness he died in the house of his\nparents.\n\n\"Now, two days after his funeral, a virtuous woman of Figes, a servant of\nGod, a widow for twelve years, had a dream, and in her dream she saw a\ndeacon who had been dead some four years, together with men, and women too,\nvirgins and widows--she saw these servants of God getting ready a palace.\nThis dwelling was so rich that it shone with light, and you would have\nbelieved it was all made of silver. And when the widow asked whom these\npreparations were for, the deacon replied that they were for a young man,\ndead the evening before, the son of a priest. In the same palace, she saw\nan old man, all robed in white, and he told two other persons, also robed\nin white, to go to the tomb of this young man, and lift out the body, and\ncarry it to Heaven. When the body had been drawn from the tomb and carried\nto Heaven, there arose (said she) out of the tomb a bush of virgin-roses,\nwhich are thus named because they never open....\"\n\nSo the son of the priest had chosen the better part. What was the good of\nremaining in this abominable world, where there was always a risk of being\nburned or murdered by Goths and Vandals, when, in the other world, angels\nwere preparing for you palaces of light?\n\n\n\n\nIII\n\nTHE BARBARIAN DESOLATION\n\n\nAugustin was seventy-two years old when he finished the _City of God_. This\nwas in 426. That year, an event of much importance occurred at Hippo, and\nthe report of it was inserted in the public acts of the community.\n\n\"The sixth of the calends of October,\" _The Acts_ set forth, \"the very\nglorious Theodosius being consul for the twelfth time, and Valentinian\nAugustus for the second, Augustin the bishop, accompanied by Religianus\nand Martinianus, his fellow-bishops, having taken his place in the\nBasilica of Peace at Hippo, and the priests Saturnius, Leporius, Barnaby,\nFortunatianus, Lazarus, and Heraclius, being present, with all the clergy\nand a vast crowd of people--Augustin the bishop said:\n\n\"'Let us without delay look to the business which I declared yesterday to\nyour charity, and for which I desired you to gather here in large numbers,\nas I see you have done. If I were to talk to you of anything else, you\nmight be less attentive, seeing the expectation you are in.\n\n\"'My brothers, we are all mortal in this life, and no man knows his last\nday. God willed that I should come to dwell in this town in the force of my\nage. But, as I was a young man then--see, I am old now, and as I know that\nat the death of bishops, peace is troubled by rivalry or ambition (this\nhave I often seen and bewailed it)--I ought, so far as it rests with me, to\nturn away so great a mischief from your city.... I am going then to tell\nyou that my will, which I believe also to be the will of God, is that I\nhave as successor the priest Heraclius.'\n\n\"At these words all the people cried out:\n\n\"'Thanks be to God! Praise be to Christ!'\n\n\"And this cry they repeated three-and-twenty times.\n\n\"'Christ, hear us! Preserve us Augustin!'\n\n\"This cry they repeated sixteen times.\n\n\"'Be our father! Be our bishop!'\n\n\"This cry they repeated eight times.\n\n\"When the people became silent, the bishop Augustin spoke again in these\nwords:\n\n\"'There is no need for me to praise Heraclius. As much as I do justice\nto his wisdom, in equal measure should I spare his modesty.... As you\nperceive, the secretaries of the church gather up what we say and what you\nsay. My words and your shouts do not fall to the ground. To put it briefly,\nthese are ecclesiastical decrees that we are now drawing up, and I desire\nby these means, as far as it is in the power of man, to confirm what I have\ndeclared to you.'\n\n\"Here the people cried out:\n\n\"'Thanks be to God! Praise be to Christ!'\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n\"'Be our father, and let Heraclius be our bishop!'\n\n\"When silence was made again, Augustin the bishop thus spoke:\n\n\"'I understand what you would say. But I do not wish that it happen to him\nas it happened to me. Many of you know what was done at that time.... I was\nconsecrated bishop during the lifetime of my father and bishop, the aged\nValerius, of blessed memory, and with him I shared the see. I was ignorant,\nas he was, that this was forbidden by the Council of Nice. I would not\ntherefore that men should blame in Heraclius, my son, what they blamed in\nme.'\n\n\"With that the people cried out thirteen times:\n\n\"'Thanks be to God! Praise be to Christ!'\n\n\"After a little silence, Augustin the bishop said again:\n\n\"'So he will remain a priest till it shall please God for him to be a\nbishop. But with the aid and mercy of Christ, I shall do in future what up\nto now I have not been able to do.... You will remember what I wanted to\ndo some years ago, and you have not allowed me. For a work upon the Holy\nScriptures, with which my brothers and my fathers the bishops had deigned\nto charge me in the two Councils of Numidia and Carthage, _I was not to be\ndisturbed by anybody during five days of the week_. That was a thing agreed\nupon between you and me. The act was drawn up, and you all approved of\nit after hearing it read. But your promise did not last long. I was soon\nencroached upon and overrun by you all. I am no longer free to study as I\ndesire. Morning and afternoon, I am entangled in your worldly affairs. I\nbeg of you and supplicate you in Christ's name to suffer me to shift the\nburthen of all these cares upon this young man, the priest Heraclius, whom\nI signal, in His name, as my successor in the bishopric.'\n\n\"Upon this the people cried out six-and-twenty times:\n\n\"'We thank thee for thy choice!'\n\n\"And the people having become silent, Augustin the bishop said:\n\n\"'I thank you for your charity and goodwill, or rather, I thank God for\nthem. So, my brothers, you will address yourselves to Heraclius upon all\nthe points you are used to submit to me. Whenever he needs counsel, my care\nand my help will not be wanting.... In this way, without any loss to you,\nI shall be able to devote the remainder of life which it may please God\nstill to leave me, not to laziness and rest, but to the study of the Holy\nScriptures. This work will be useful to Heraclius, and hence to yourselves.\nLet nobody then envy my leisure, for this leisure will be very busy....\n\n\"'It only remains for me to ask you, at least those who can, to sign these\nacts. Your agreement I cannot do without; so kindly let me learn it by your\nvoices.'\n\n\"At these words the people shouted:\n\n\"'Let it be so! Let it be so!'\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n\"When all there became silent, Augustin the bishop made an end, saying:\n\n\"'It is well. Now let us fulfil our duty to God. While we offer Him the\nSacrifice, and during this hour of supplication, I would urge of your\ncharity to lay aside all business and personal cares, and to pray the Lord\nGod for this church, for me, and for the priest Heraclius.'\"\n\nThe dryness and official wording of the document do not succeed in stifling\nthe vividness and colour of this crowded scene. Through the piety of the\nformal cries, it is easy to see that Augustin's hearers were hard to\nmanage. This flock, which he loved and scolded so much, was no easier to\nlead now than when he first became bishop. Truly it was no sinecure to rule\nand administrate the diocese of Hippo! The bishop was literally the servant\nof the faithful. Not only had he to feed and clothe them, to spend his time\nover their business and quarrels and lawsuits, but he belonged to them body\nand soul. They kept a jealous eye on the employment of his time; if he\nwent away, they asked for an explanation. Whenever Augustin went to preach\nat Carthage or Utica, he apologized to his own people. And before he can\nundertake a commentary on the Scriptures, a commentary, moreover, which he\nhas been asked by two Councils to prepare, he must get their permission,\nor, at any rate, their agreement.\n\nAt last, at seventy-two years old, after he had been a bishop for\nthirty-one years, he got their leave to take a little rest. But what a\nrest! He himself said: \"This leisure will be very busy\"--this leisure which\nis going to fill the five holidays in the week. He intends to study and\nfathom the Scripture, and this, besides, to the profit of his people and\nclergy and the whole Church. It is the fondest dream of his life--the\nplan he was never able to realize. All that, at first sight, astonishes\nus. We ask ourselves, \"What else had he been doing up to this time in his\ntreatises and letters and sermons, in all that sea of words and writings\nwhich his enemies threw up at him, if he was not studying and explaining\nthe Holy Scriptures?\" The fact is, that in most of these writings and\nsermons he elucidates the truth only in part, or else he is confuting\nheresiarchs. What he wanted to do was to study the truth for its own sake,\nwithout having to think of and be hindered by the exposure of errors; and\nabove all, to seize it in all its breadth and all its depths, to have\ndone with this blighting and irritating eristic, and to reflect in a vast\n_Mirror_ the whole and purest light of the sacred dogmas.\n\nHe never found the time for it. He had to limit himself to a handbook\nof practical morals, published under this title before his death, and\nnow lost. Once more the heresiarchs prevented him from leading a life of\nspeculation. During his last years, amid the cruellest anxieties, he had\nto battle with the enemies of Grace and the enemies of the Trinity, with\nArius and Pelagius. Pelagius had found an able disciple in a young Italian\nbishop, Julian of Eclanum, who was a formidable opponent to the aged\nAugustin. As for Arianism, which had seemed extinguished in the West, here\nit was given a new life by the Barbarian invasion.\n\nIt was a grave moment for Catholicism, as it was for the Empire. The Goths,\nthe Alani, and the Vandals, after having laid waste Gaul and Spain, were\ntaking measures to pass over into Africa. Should they renew the attempts\nof Alaric and Radagaisus against Italy, they would soon be masters of the\nentire Occident. Now these Barbarians were Arians. Supposing (and it seemed\nmore and more likely) that Africa and Italy were vanquished after Gaul and\nSpain, then it was all over with Western Catholicism. For the invaders\ncarried their religion in their baggage, and forced it on the conquered.\nAugustin, who had cherished the hope of equalling the earthly kingdom\nof Christ to that of the C\u00e6sars, was going to see the ruin of both.\nHis terrified imagination exaggerated still more the only too real and\nthreatening peril. He must have lived hours of agony, expecting a disaster.\n\nIf only the truth might be saved, might swim in this sea of errors which\nspread like a flood in the wake of the Barbarian onflow! It was from this\nwish, no doubt, that sprang the tireless persistence which the old bishop\nput into a last battle with heresy. If he selected Pelagius specially to\nfall upon with fury, if he forced his principles to their last consequences\nin his theory of Grace, the dread of the Barbarian peril had perhaps\nsomething to do with it. This soul, so mild, so moderate, so tenderly\nhuman, promulgated a pitiless doctrine which does not agree with his\ncharacter. But he reasoned, no doubt, that it was impossible to drive\nhome too hard the need of the Redemption and the divinity of the Redeemer\nin front of these Arians, these Pelagians, these enemies of Christ, who\nto-morrow perhaps would be masters of the Empire.\n\nTherefore, Augustin continued to write, and discuss, and disprove. There\ncame a time when he had to think of fighting otherwise than with the pen.\nHis life, the lives of his flock, were threatened. He had to see to the\nbodily defence of his country and city. The fact was, that some time\nbefore the great drive of the Vandals, forerunners of them, in the shape\nof hordes of African Barbarians, had begun to lay waste the provinces. The\nCirconcelliones were not dead, nor their good friends the Donatists either.\nThese sectaries, encouraged by the widespread anarchy, came out of their\nhiding-places and shewed themselves more insolent and aggressive than ever.\nPossibly they hoped for some effective support against the Roman Church\nfrom the Arian Vandals who were drawing near, or at least a recognition of\nwhat they believed to be their rights. Day after day, bands of Barbarians\nwere landing from Spain. In the rear of these wandering troops of brigands\nor irregular soldiers, the old enemies of the Roman peace and civilization,\nthe Nomads of the South, the Moors of the Atlas, the Kabylian mountaineers,\nflung themselves upon country and town, pillaging, killing, and burning\neverything that got in their way. All was laid desolate. \"Countries but\nlately prosperous and populated have been changed into solitudes,\" said\nAugustin.\n\nAt last, in the spring of the year 429, the Vandals and the Alani, having\njoined forces on the Spanish coast under their King, Genseric, crossed\nthe Straits of Gibraltar. It was devastation on a large scale this time.\nAn army of eighty thousand men set themselves methodically to plunder the\nAfrican provinces. Cherchell, which had already been sorely tried during\nthe revolt of Firmus the Moor, was captured again and burned. All the towns\nand fortified places on the coast fell, one after another. Constantine\nalone, from the height of its rock, kept the invaders at bay. To starve out\nthose who fled from towns and farms and took refuge in the fastnesses of\nthe Atlas, the Barbarians destroyed the harvest, burned the grain-houses,\nand cut down the vines and fruit trees. And they set fire to the forests\nwhich covered the slopes of the mountains, to force the refugees out of\ntheir hiding-places.\n\nThis stupid ravaging was against the interest of the Vandals themselves,\nbecause they were injuring the natural riches of Africa, the report of\nwhich had brought them there. Africa was for them the land of plenty, where\npeople could drink more wine than they wanted and eat wheaten bread. It was\nthe country where life was comfortable, easy, and happy. It was the granary\nof the Mediterranean, the great supply-store of Rome. But their senseless\ncraving for gold led them to ruin provinces, in which, nevertheless, they\ncounted upon settling. They behaved in Africa as they had behaved in Rome\nunder Alaric. By way of tearing gold out of the inhabitants, they tortured\nthem as they had tortured the wealthy Romans. They invented worse ones.\nChildren, before their parents' eyes, were sliced in two like animals in a\nslaughterhouse. Or else their skulls were smashed against the pavements and\nwalls of houses.\n\nThe Church was believed to be very rich; and perhaps, as it had managed\nto comprise in its domains the greatest part of the landed estates, it\nwas upon it chiefly that the Barbarians flung themselves. The priests and\nbishops were tortured with unheard-of improvements of cruelty. They were\ndragged in the rear of the army like slaves, so that heavy ransoms might\nbe extracted from the faithful in exchange for their pastors. They were\nobliged to carry the baggage like the camels and mules, and when they gave\nout the Barbarians prodded them with lances. Many sank down beside the\nroad and never rose more. But it is certain that fanaticism added to the\ncovetousness and ferocity of the Vandals. These Arians bore a special\ngrudge against Catholicism, which was, besides, in their eyes, the religion\nof the Roman domination. This is why they made their chief attacks on\nbasilicas, convents, hospitals, and all the property of the Church. And\nthroughout the country public worship was stopped.\n\nIn Hippo, these atrocities were known before the Barbarians arrived. The\npeople must have awaited them and prepared to receive them with gloomy\nresignation. Africa had not been tranquil for a century. After the risings\nof Firmus and Gildo, came the lootings of the southern Nomads and the\nBerber mountaineers. And it was not so long since the Circoncelliones were\nkeeping people constantly on the alert. But this time everybody felt that\nthe great ruin was at hand. They were stunned by the news that some town\nor fortified place had been captured by the Vandals, or that some farm or\nvilla in the neighbourhood was on fire.\n\nAmid the general dismay, Augustin did his best to keep calm. He, indeed,\nsaw beyond the material destruction, and at every new rumour of massacre\nor burning he would repeat to his clerics and people the words of the Wise\nMan:\n\n\"Doth the firm of heart grieve to see fall the stones and beams, and death\nseize the children of men?\"\n\nThey accused him of being callous. They did not understand him. While all\nabout him mourned the present misfortunes, he was already lamenting over\nthe evil to come, and this clear-sightedness pained him more than the shock\nof the daily horrors committed by the Barbarians. His disciple Possidius,\nthe Bishop of Guelma, who was with him in these sad days, naively applied\nto him the saying out of _Ecclesiastes_: \"In much wisdom is much grief.\"\nAugustin did really suffer more than others, because he thought more\nprofoundly on the disaster. He foresaw that Africa was going to be lost to\nthe Empire, and consequently to the Church. They were bound together in his\nmind. What was there to do against brutal strength? All the eloquence and\nall the charity in the world would be as nothing against that unchained\nelemental mass of Vandals. It was as impossible to convert the Barbarians\nas it had been to convert the Donatists. Force was the only resource\nagainst force.\n\nThen in despair the man of God turned once more to C\u00e6sar. The monk appealed\nto the soldier. He charged Boniface, Count of Africa, to save Rome and the\nChurch.\n\nThis Boniface, a rather ambiguous personage, was a fine type of the\nswashbuckler and official of the Lower-Empire. Thracian by origin, he\njoined the trickery of the Oriental to all the vices of the Barbarian. He\nwas strong, clever in all bodily exercises like the soldiers of those days,\noverflowing with vigour and health, and even brave at times. In addition,\nhe was fond of wine and women, and ate and drank like a true pagan. He\nwas married twice, and after his second marriage he kept in the sight and\nknowledge of everybody a harem of concubines. He was sent, first of all,\nto Africa as a Tribune--that is to say, as Commissioner of the Imperial\nGovernment, probably to carry out the decrees of Honorius against the\nDonatists; and ere long he was made commander of the military forces of the\nprovince, with the title of Count.\n\nIn reality, while seeming to protect the country, he set himself to plunder\nit, as the tradition was among the Roman officials. His _officium_, still\nmore grasping than himself, persuaded him to deeds which the Bishop of\nHippo, who was, however, anxious to remain on the right side of him,\nprotested against by hints. Boniface was obliged to overlook much robbery\nand pillage on the part of his subordinates so as to keep them faithful.\nMoreover, he himself stole. He was bound to close his eyes to the\ndepredations of others, that his own might be winked at. Once become the\naccomplice of this band of robbers, he had no longer the authority to\ncontrol them.\n\nHow did Augustin ever believe in the goodwill and good faith of this\nadventurer full of coarse passions, so far as to put his final hopes in\nhim? Augustin knew men very well; he could detect low and hypocritical\nnatures at a distance. How came it that he was taken in by Boniface?\n\nWell, Augustin wanted his support, first of all, when he came as Imperial\nCommissioner to Carthage to bring the Donatists into line. Generally, we\nsee only the good points of people who do us good turns. Besides, in order\nto propitiate the bishop, and the devout Court at Ravenna, the Tribune\nadvertised his great zeal in favour of Catholicism. His first wife, a very\npious woman whom he seems to have loved much, encouraged him in this.\nWhen she died, he was so overcome by despair that he took refuge in the\nextremest practices of religion--and in this, perhaps, he was quite\nsincere. It is also possible that he was becoming discredited at Ravenna,\nwhere they must have known about his oppressions and suspected his\nambitious intrigues. Anyhow, whether he was really disgusted with the\nworld, or whether he deemed it prudent to throw a little oblivion over\nhimself just then, he spoke on all hands of resigning his post and living\nin retreat like a monk. It was just at this moment that Augustin and\nAlypius begged him not to desert the African army.\n\nThey met the Commander-in-Chief at Thubun\u00e6, in Southern Numidia, where,\nno doubt, he was reducing the Nomads. We must remark once more Augustin's\nenergy in travelling, to the very eve of his death. It was a long and\ndangerous road from Hippo to Thubun\u00e6. Before making up his mind to so much\nfatigue, the old bishop must have judged the situation to be very serious.\nAt Thubun\u00e6, was Boniface playing a game, or was he, indeed, so crushed by\nhis grief that the world had become unbearable and he pondered genuine\nthoughts of changing his way of life? What is sure is, that he gave the\ntwo prelates the most edifying talk. When they heard the Count of Africa\nspeaking with unction of the cloister and of his desire to retire there,\nthey were a little astonished at so much piety in a soldier. Besides,\nthese excellent resolutions were most inconvenient for their plans. They\nremonstrated with him that it was quite possible to save one's soul in\nthe army, and quoted the example of David, the warrior king. They ended\nby telling him all the expectations they founded upon his resource and\nfirmness. They begged him to protect the churches and convents against\nfresh attacks of the Donatists, and especially against the Barbarians of\nAfrica. These were at this moment breaking down all the old defence lines\nand laying waste the territories of the Empire.\n\nBoniface allowed himself to be easily convinced--promised whatever he was\nasked. But he never budged. From now on, his conduct becomes most singular.\nHe is in command of all the military strength of the province, and he takes\nno steps to suppress the African looters. It would seem as if he only\nthought of filling the coffers of himself and his friends. The country was\nso systematically scoured by them that, as Augustin said, there was nothing\nmore left to take.\n\nThis inactivity lent colour to the rumours of treason. Nor is it impossible\nthat he had cherished a plan from the beginning of his command to cut out\nan independent principality for himself in Africa. Was this the reason that\nhe dealt softly with the native tribes, so as to make certain of their help\nin case of a conflict with the Imperial army? However that may be, his\nbehaviour was not frank. Some years later, he landed on the Spanish coast\nto war against the Vandals under the command of the Prefect Castinus, and\nthere he married a Barbarian princess who was by religion an Arian. It\nis true that the new Countess of Africa became a convert to Catholicism.\nBut her first child was baptized by Arian priests, who rebaptized, at the\nsame time, the Catholic slaves of Boniface's household. This marriage\nwith a Vandal, these concessions to Arianism, gave immense scandal to the\northodox. Rumours of treason began to float about again.\n\nNo doubt Boniface took great advantage of his fidelity to the Empress\nPlacidia. But he was standing between the all-powerful Barbarians and the\nundermined Empire. He wanted to remain on good terms with both, and then,\nwhen the hour came, to go over to the stronger. This double-faced diplomacy\ncaused his downfall. His rival A\u00ebtius accused him of high treason before\nPlacidia. The Court of Ravenna declared him an enemy of the Empire, and an\narmy was sent against him. Boniface did not hesitate; he went into open\nrebellion against Rome.\n\nAugustin was thunderstruck by his desertion. But what way was there to make\nthis violent man listen to reason, who had at least the appearances of\nright on his side, since there was a chance they had slandered him to the\nEmpress, and who thought it quite natural to take vengeance on his enemies?\nHis recent successes had still more intoxicated him. He had just defeated\nthe two generals who had been sent to reduce him, and he was accordingly\nmaster of the situation in Africa. What was he going to do? The worst\nresolutions were to be feared from this conqueror, all smarting, and hungry\nfor revenge.... Nevertheless, Augustin resolved to write to him. His letter\nis a masterpiece of tact, of prudence, and also of Christian and episcopal\nfirmness.\n\nIt would have been dangerous to declare to this triumphant rebel: \"You are\nin the wrong. Your duty is to submit to the Emperor, your master.\" Boniface\nwas quite capable of answering: \"What are you interfering for? Politics are\nno business of yours. Look after your Church!\" This is why Augustin very\ncleverly speaks to him from beginning to end of his letter simply as a\nbishop, eager for the salvation of a very dear son in Jesus Christ. And so,\nby keeping strictly to his office of spiritual director, he gained his end\nmore surely and entirely; and, as a doctor of souls, he ventured to remind\nBoniface of certain truths which he would never have dared to mention as\ncounsellor.\n\nAccording to Augustin, the disgrace of the Count, and the evils which\nthis event had brought on Africa, came principally from his attachment to\nworldly benefits. It was the ambition and covetousness of himself and his\nfollowers which had done all the harm. Let him free himself from perishable\nthings, let him prevent the thefts and plundering of those under him.\nLet him, who some time ago wished to live in perfect celibacy, now keep\nat least to his wife and no other. Finally, let him remember his sworn\nallegiance. Augustin did not mean to go into the quarrel between Boniface\nand Placidia, and he gave no opinion as to the grievances of either. He\nconfined himself to saying to the general in rebellion: \"If you have\nreceived so many benefits from the Roman Empire, do not render evil for\ngood. If, on the other hand, you have received evil, do not render evil for\nevil.\"\n\nIt is clear that the Bishop of Hippo could scarcely have given any other\nadvice to the Count of Africa. To play the part of political counsellor\nin the very entangled state of affairs was extremely risky. How was it\npossible to exhort a victorious general to lay down his arms before\nthe conquered? And yet, in estimating the situation from the Christian\nstandpoint alone, Augustin had found a way to say everything essential, all\nthat could profitably be said at the moment.\n\nHow did Boniface take a letter which was, in the circumstances, so\ncourageous? What we know is that he did not alter his plans. It would\nindeed have been very difficult for him to withdraw and yield; and more\nthan ever since a new army under Sigisvultus had been sent against him in\nall haste. A real fatality compelled him to remain in revolt against Rome.\nDid he believe he was ruined, as has been stated, or else, through his\nfamily connections--let us remember that his wife was a Barbarian--had he\nbeen for a long time plotting with Genseric to divide Africa? He has been\naccused of that. What comes out is, that as soon as he heard of the arrival\nof Sigisvultus and the new expeditionary force, he called in the Vandals to\nhis aid. This was the great invasion of 429.\n\nEre long, the Barbarians entered Numidia. The borderlands about Hippo were\nthreatened. Stricken with terror, the inhabitants in a mass fled before the\nenemy, leaving the towns empty. Those who were caught in them rushed into\nthe churches, imploring the bishops and priests to help them. Or else,\ngiving up all hope of life, they cried out to be baptized, confessed,\ndid penance in public. The Vandals, as we have seen, aimed specially at\nthe clergy; they believed that the Catholic priests were the soul of the\nresistance. Should not these priests, then, in the very interest of the\nChurch, save themselves for quieter times, and escape the persecution by\nflight? Many sheltered themselves behind the words of Christ: \"When they\npersecute you in this city, flee ye into another.\"\n\nBut Augustin strongly condemned the cowardliness of the deserters. In a\nletter addressed to his fellow-bishop, Honoratus, and intended to be read\nby all the clergy in Africa, he declares that bishops and priests should\nnot abandon their churches and dioceses, but stay at their post till the\nend--till death and till martyrdom--to fulfil the duties of their ministry.\nIf the faithful were able to withdraw into a safe place, their pastors\nmight accompany them; if not, they should die in the midst of them. Thus\nthey would have at least the consolation of lending aid to the dying in\ntheir last moments, and especially of preventing the apostasies which\nreadily took place under the shock of the terror. For Augustin, who foresaw\nthe future, the essential thing was that later, when the Vandal wave had\nswept away, Catholicism might flourish again in Africa. To this end, the\nCatholics must be made to remain in the country, and the greatest possible\nnumber be strengthened in their faith. Otherwise, the work of three\ncenturies would have to be done all over again.\n\nWe must admire this courage and clear-mindedness in an old man of\nseventy-five, who was being continually harassed by the complaints and\nlamentations of a crowd of demoralized fugitives. The position became more\nand more critical. The siege lines were drawing closer. But in the midst of\nall this dread, Augustin was given a gleam of hope: Boniface made his peace\nwith the Empire. Henceforward, his army, turning against the Barbarians,\nmight protect Hippo and perhaps save Africa.\n\nHad Augustin a hand in this reconciliation? There is not the least doubt\nthat he desired it most earnestly. In a letter to Count Darius, the\nspecial envoy sent from Ravenna to treat with the rebel general, he warmly\ncongratulates the Imperial plenipotentiary on his mission of peace. \"You\nare sent,\" he said to him, \"to stop the shedding of blood. Therefore\nrejoice, illustrious and very dear son in Jesus Christ, rejoice in this\ngreat and real blessing, and rejoice upon it in the Lord, Who has made you\nwhat you are, and entrusted to you a task so beautiful and important. May\nGod seal the good work He has done for us through you!\" ... And Darius\nanswered: \"May you be spared to pray such prayers for the Empire and the\nRoman State a long time yet, my Father.\"\n\nBut the Empire was lost in Africa. If the reconciliation of the rebellious\nCount had given some illusions to Augustin, they did not last long.\nBoniface, having failed in his endeavours to negotiate the retreat of the\nVandals, was defeated by Genseric, and obliged to fall back into Hippo with\nan army of mercenary Goths. Thus it came about that Barbarians held against\nother Barbarians one of the last Roman citadels in Africa. From the end of\nMay, 430, Hippo was blockaded on the land side and on the side of the sea.\n\nIn great tribulation, Augustin resigned himself to this supreme\nhumiliation, and to all the horrors which would have to be endured if the\ncity were captured. As a Christian, he left all to the will of God, and\nhe would repeat to those about him the words of the Psalm: \"Righteous art\nThou, O Lord, and upright are Thy judgments.\" A number of fugitive priests,\nand among them Possidius, Bishop of Guelma, had taken refuge in the\nepiscopal residence. One day, when he lost heart, Augustin, who was at\ntable with them, said:\n\n\"In front of all these disasters, I ask God to deliver this city from the\nsiege, or, if that be not His decree, to give His servants the necessary\nstrength to do His will, or at least to take me from this world and receive\nme into His bosom.\"\n\nBut it is more than probable that discouragement of that kind was\nonly momentary with him, and that in his sermons, as well as in his\nconversations with Boniface, he did his utmost to stimulate the courage of\nthe people and the general. His correspondence includes a series of letters\nwritten about this time to the Count of Africa, which manifest here and\nthere a very warlike spirit. These letters are most certainly apocryphal.\nYet they do reveal something of what must have been the sentiments just\nthen of the people of Hippo and of Augustin himself. One of these letters\nemphatically congratulates Boniface upon an advantage gained over the\nBarbarians.\n\n\"Your Excellency knows, I believe, that I am stretched upon my bed, and\nthat I long for my last day to come. I am overjoyed at your victory. I urge\nyou to save the Roman city. Rule your soldiers like a good Count. Do not\ntrust too much to your own strength. Put your glory in Him Who gives\ncourage, and you will never fear any enemy. Farewell!\"\n\nThe words do not matter much. Whatever may have been Augustin's last\nfarewell to the defender of Hippo, it was no doubt couched in language not\nunlike this. In any case, posterity has wished to believe that the dying\nbishop maintained to the end his unyielding demeanour face to face with the\nBarbarians. It would be a misuse of words to represent him as a patriot\nin the present sense of the term. It is no less true that this African,\nthis Christian, was an admirable servant of Rome. Until his death he kept\nhis respect for it, because in his eyes the Empire meant order, peace,\ncivilization, the unity of faith in the unity of rule.\n\n\n\n\nIV\n\nSAINT AUGUSTIN\n\n\nIn the third month of the siege, he fell ill. He had a fever--no doubt an\ninfectious fever. The country people, the wounded soldiers who had taken\nrefuge in Hippo after the rout of Boniface, must have brought in the germs\nof disease. It was, moreover, the end of August, the season of epidemics,\nof damp heats and oppressive evenings, the time of the year most dangerous\nand trying for sick people.\n\nAll at once, Augustin took to his bed. But even there, upon the bed in\nwhich he was going to die, he was not left in quiet. People came to ask his\nprayers for some possessed by devils. The old bishop was touched; he wept\nand asked God to give him this grace, and the devils went out of those poor\ncrazy men. This cure, as may well be thought, made a great noise in the\ncity. A man brought him another one sick to be healed. Augustin, being most\nweary, said to the man:\n\n\"My son, you see the state I am in. If I had any power over illnesses, I\nshould begin by curing myself.\"\n\nBut the man had no idea of being put off: he had had a dream. A mysterious\nvoice had said to him, \"Go and see Augustin: he will put his hands on the\nsick person, who will rise up cured.\" And, in fact, he did. I think these\nare the only miracles the saint made in his life. But what matters that,\nwhen the continual miracle of his charity and his apostolate is considered?\n\nSoon the bishop's illness grew worse. Eventually, he succeeded in\npersuading them not to disturb him any more, and that they would let him\nprepare for death in silence and recollection. During the ten days that\nhe still lingered, nobody entered his cell save the physicians, and the\nservants who brought him a little food. He availed himself of the quiet to\nrepent of his faults. For he was used to say to his clergy that \"even after\nbaptism, Christians--nay, priests, however holy they might be, ought never\ngo out of life without having made a general confession.\" And the better\nto rouse his contrition, he had desired them to copy out on leaves the\nPenitential Psalms, and to put these leaves on the wall of his room. He\nread them continually from his pillow.\n\nHere, then, he is alone with himself and God. A solemn moment for the great\nold man!\n\nHe called up his past life, and what struck him most, and saddened him, was\nthe foundering of all his human hopes. The enemies of the Church, whom he\nhad battled with almost without ceasing for forty years, and had reason to\nbelieve conquered--all these enemies were raising their heads: Donatists,\nArians, Barbarians. With the Barbarians' help, the Arians were going to be\nthe masters of Africa. The churches, reformed at the price of such long\nefforts, would be once more destroyed. And see now! the authority which\nmight have supported them, which he had perhaps too much relied upon--well,\nthe Empire was sinking too. It was the end of order, of substantial peace,\nof that minimum of safety which is indispensable for all spiritual effort.\nFrom one end to the other of the Western world, Barbarism triumphed.\n\nSometimes, amid these sad thoughts of the dying man, the clangour of\nclarions blared out--there was a call to arms on the ramparts. And these\nmusics came to him in his half-delirious state very mournfully, like the\ntrumpets proclaiming the Judgment Day. Yes, it might well be feared that\nthe Day of Wrath was here! Was it really the end of the world, or only the\nend of a world?... Truly, there were then enough horrors and calamities to\nmake people think of the morrow with dismay. Many of the signs predicted\nby Scripture dazed the imagination: desolations, wars, persecutions of the\nChurch, increased with terrific steadiness and cruelty. Yet all the signs\nforetold were not there. How many times already had humanity been deceived\nin its fear and its hope! In reality, though all seemed to shew that the\nend of time was drawing nigh, no one could tell the day nor the hour of\nthe Judgment. Hence, men should watch always, according to the words of\nChrist.... But if this trial of Barbarian war was to pass like the others,\nhow woeful it was while it endured! How hard for Augustin, above all, who\nsaw nearly the whole of his work thrown down.\n\nOne thought at least consoled him, that since his conversion, for forty\nyears and more, he had done all he was able--he had worked for Christ\neven beyond his strength. He said to himself that he left behind him the\nfruit of a huge labour, a whole body of doctrine and apology which would\nsafeguard against error whatever was left of his flock and of the African\nChurch. He himself had founded a Church which might serve as an example,\nhis dear Church of Hippo, that he had done his best to fashion after the\ndivine plan. And he had also founded convents, and a library full of books,\nwhich had become still larger recently through the generosity of Count\nDarius. He had lessoned his clergy who, once the disasters were past, would\nscatter the good seed of Truth. Books, monasteries, priests, a sure and\nsolid nourishment for the mind, shelters and guides for souls--there is\nwhat he bequeathed to the workers of the future. And with a little joy\nmingling with his sorrow, he read on the corner of the wall where his bed\nwas, this verse of the Psalm: _Exibit homo ad opus suum et operationem suam\nusque ad vesperum_--\"Man goeth forth unto his work and to his labour until\nthe evening.\" He, too, had worked until evening.\n\nIf the earthly reward seemed to slip from him now, if all was sinking\naround him, if his episcopal city was beleaguered, if he himself, although\nstill a strong man--\"he had the use of all his limbs,\" says Possidius;\n\"a keen ear and perfect sight\"--if he himself was dying too soon, it was\ndoubtless in expiation for the sins of his youth. At this remembrance of\nhis disorders, the tears fell over his face.... And yet, however wild had\nbeen his conduct at that time, he could descry in it the sure marks of his\nvocation. He recalled the despair and tears of his mother, but also his\nenthusiasm when he read the _Hortensius_; his disgust for the world and\nall things when he lost his friend. In the old man he recognized the new.\nAnd he said to himself: \"Nay! but that was myself. I have not changed. I\nhave only found myself. I have only changed my ways. In my youth, in the\nstrongest time of my mistakes, I had already risen to turn to Thee, my\nGod!\"\n\nHis worst foolishness had been the desire to understand all things. He had\nfailed in humility of mind. Then God had given him the grace to submit his\nintelligence to the faith. He had believed, and then he had understood, as\nwell as he could, as much as he could. In the beginning, he acknowledged\nvery plainly that he did not understand. And then faith had thrown open\nthe roads of understanding. He had splendidly employed his reason, within\nthe limits laid down against mortal weakness. Had that not been the proud\ndesire of his youth? To understand! What greater destiny?\n\nTo love also. After he had freed himself from carnal passions, he had much\nemployed his heart. He thought of all the charity he had poured out upon\nhis people and the Church, upon all he had loved in God--upon all he had\ndone, upon all the consequence of his labour, inspired and strengthened by\nthe divine love.... Yes, to love--all was in that! Let the Barbarians come!\nHad not Christ said: \"Lo, I am with you alway, even unto the end of the\nworld\"? So long as there shall be two men gathered together for love of\nHim, the world will not be entirely lost, the Church and civilization will\nbe saved. The religion of Christ is a leaven of action, understanding,\nsacrifice, and charity. If the world be not at this hour already condemned,\nif the Day of Judgment be still far off, it is from this religion that\nshall arise the new influences of the future....\n\nAnd so Augustin forgot his sufferings and his human disappointments in\nthe thought that, in spite of all, the Church is eternal. The City of God\ngathered in the wreckage of the earthly city: \"The Goth cannot capture what\nChrist protects\"--_Non tollit Gothus quod custodit Christus_. And as his\nsufferings increased, he turned all his thoughts on this unending City,\n\"where we rest, where we see, where we love,\" where we find again all the\nbeloved ones who have gone away. All--he called them all in this supreme\nmoment: Monnica, Adeodatus, and her who had nearly lost herself for him,\nand all those he had held dear....\n\nOn the fifth day of the calends of September, Augustin, the bishop,\nwas very low. They were praying for him in the churches at Hippo, and\nespecially in the Basilica of Peace, where he had preached and worked for\nothers so long. Possidius of Guelma was in the bishop's room, and the\npriests and monks. They sent up their prayers with those of the dying man.\nAnd no doubt they sang for the last time before him one of those liturgical\nchants which long ago at Milan had touched him even to tears, and now,\nsince the siege, in the panic caused by the Barbarians, they dared not sing\nany more. Augustin, guarding himself even now against the too poignant\nsweetness of the melody, attended only to the sense of the words. And he\nsaid:\n\n\"My soul thirsts after the living God. When shall I appear before His\nface?\"\n\nOr again:\n\n\"He Who is Life has come down into this world. He has suffered our death,\nand He has caused it to die by the fullness of His life.... Life has come\ndown to you--and will you not ascend towards Him and live?...\"\n\nHe was passing into Life and into Glory. He was going very quietly, amid\nthe chanting of hymns and the murmur of prayers.... Little by little his\neyes were veiled, the lines of his face became rigid. His lips moved no\nmore. Possidius, the faithful disciple, bent over him. Like a patriarch of\nthe Scriptures, Augustin of Thagaste \"slept with his fathers.\"...\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nAnd now, whatever may be the worth of this book, which has been planned\nand carried out in a spirit of veneration and love for the saint, for the\ngreat heart and the great intellect that Augustin was, for this unique type\nof the Christian, the most perfect and the most admirable perhaps that\nhas ever been seen--the author can only repeat in all humility what was\nsaid fifteen hundred years ago by the Bishop of Guelma, Augustin's first\nbiographer:\n\n\"I do desire of the charity of those into whose hands this work shall fall,\nto join with me in thanksgiving and blessing to Our Lord, Who has inspired\nme to make known this life to those present and those absent, and has given\nme the strength to do it. Pray for me and with me, that I may try here\nbelow to follow in the steps of this peerless man, whom, by God's goodness,\nI have had the happiness of living with for such a long time....\"\n\n\nTHE END","title":"Saint Augustin","tradition":"scripture-revelation","translated_text":null,"word_count":102344}